Page 169 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
xo Emery Rowan
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Jax
The tactical SUV's engine starts making a sound like someone's strangling a mechanical cat, and I know exactly whose fault this is.
"Son of a bitch," I mutter, downshifting and pulling toward the shoulder. "I specifically told Damian to check the transmission fluid before we left. Did he listen? Hell no."
Asher's eyebrow arches as we coast to a stop on the empty stretch of Highway 101. "You diagnosed that from an engine noise?"
"Wasn't hard." I kill the ignition and pop the hood release with more force than necessary. "Sounds like a transmission that's been running dry for the last fifty miles."
Cole leans forward from the back seat, checking his watch with that calculating expression. "Timeline impact?"
"Depends on how badly Damian fucked up my engine." I'm already out of the driver's seat, grabbing tools from the tactical kit. "Could be fifteen minutes, could be an hour."
The hood release fights me—another sign someone's been messing with my vehicle without permission. Everything has a specific way it should be maintained, and clearly nobody else understands that.
"Your engine?" Asher follows me around to the front, phone already out to update Kade about our delay.
"Every vehicle becomes mine the second I start driving it." I lift the hood and immediately spot the problem. "Look at this shit."
Steam rises from the transmission housing, and the fluid reservoir sits bone dry. Exactly what I predicted would happen if someone ignored basic maintenance protocols.
"Transmission fluid," Cole observes, joining us in front of the smoking engine.
"Correct. Gold star for the strategist." I wave my hand at the evidence. "See that brown residue? That's what happens when you run a transmission dry. Metal grinding against metal, heat building up, components destroying themselves."
Asher studies the engine components with professional interest. "How do you fix it?"
"First, we let it cool down before I add fluid, or we'll crack the housing from thermal shock." I grab a bottle of transmissionfluid from the tactical kit—because unlike some people, I actually prepare for mechanical failures. "Second, I get to say 'I told you so' to Damian for the next six months."
"You're enjoying this," Cole accuses, but there's amusement in his voice.
"Damn right I'm enjoying it. You know how many times I've watched people ignore basic vehicle maintenance? It's like they think cars run on hope and good intentions."
I check the transmission temperature with my hand, hovering over the housing. Still too hot, but cooling. While we wait, I start explaining exactly how Damian's incompetence led to our current situation.
"See, transmissions are basically controlled explosions managing gear ratios through hydraulic pressure," I continue, because Asher and Cole are actually listening instead of just nodding politely. "When you don't maintain proper fluid levels, you lose that hydraulic pressure. Then the gears start grinding, heat builds up, and eventually—"
My personal phone buzzes in my pocket. Unknown number, but the area code makes my stomach drop into my boots.
213area code. Los Angeles.
"You going to get that?" Asher notices my hesitation.
"Probably spam." But my hands are already moving to answer, because I know it's not spam. Nobody from the racing circuit has called me in years.
"Jax Ryder," I answer, stepping away from the engine.
"Well, well. The prodigal driver returns." The voice is exactly what I was afraid of hearing. Professional, smooth, with an edge that always gets my hackles up. "Heard through the grapevine you might be heading back to LA."
My blood turns to ice water. "Who is this?"
"Don't play coy. Someone who's been keeping tabs on you. Word is you're coming to visit Velocity's new racing circuit. Thought we should catch up."
The energy drains out of me completely. I glance back at Asher and Cole, who are pretending to examine the engine while obviously listening to every word.
