Page 39 of Dirty Mechanic
My nails tear at his skin, his shirt. I can't breathe.
“My lawyer will make sure they find my father’s murderer.”
His breath is hot and rancid.
“Doesn’t live far from here, does he?”
He hired a lawyer?
“You sent your mechanic boyfriend to beat me?” he hisses. “You like big hands and dumb morals, don’t you?”
My vision blurs. A truck rumbles in the distance—closer, louder.
With a strangled curse, he releases me and bolts across the field, jumping a fence.
My legs give out. I crumple to the ground, hands clawing at grass and weeds, knees scraping over sharp rock. I drag myself from the ditch, stumbling onto the road, blinking through tears.
A roar of tires on gravel skids to a halt. Derek’s out before the engine cuts, running toward me at full speed.
He catches me just before I collapse.
I gasp for air, choking.
“He’s here.”
I grip his grease-scented shirt.
“He found me.”
“I’ll fix this,” he murmurs, voice shaking with fury and fear.
“I swear, I will.”
She stumbles onto the road, looking like she’s been dropped there by a storm—braid unraveling, one shoe missing, hands scraped raw. There’s a streak of dirt across her cheek and a smear of blood at her temple. Her eyes don’t focus right, like she’s halfway between here and somewhere terrible.
My stomach lurches.
I should’ve been faster. Should’ve never left her alone. That damn banner wasn’t worth five minutes with Simon, no matter how crookedly it hung. I thought I had time, but it’s the same damn lie I told myself with Sarah.
My jaw locks, hard enough to ache. Past and present press in like a vise.
Not again.
Not this time.
I throw the truck into park, jumping out so fast the door bounces. She sways when I reach her.
“He’s here,” she whispers, voice shredded and barely there. “He found me.”
I pull her into me before the words even finish falling from her lips. She folds like paper against me, shaking so hard I can feel her heart echo through my chest.
“I’ll fix this. I swear, I will.”
But I’m not sure how.
I don’t know if fixing it means calling the sheriff, or driving to Mike’s motel and making him disappear. I just know the woman in my arms is breaking, and all I’ve got are these hands—and they’ve failed before.
God help me, they can’t fail her too.
