Page 142 of Sinful
She nods, stays by her truck.
Shadow doesn't move.
Just watches her with an intensity that should be illegal in twelve states.
I work as fast as I can, suddenly desperate to get out of whatever this is.
The tie rod is fine—just needed adjustment.
Easy fix, but the entire time I'm working, I can feel the tension radiating off both of them.
Grace standing rigid by her truck, arms crossed, staring at her phone.
Shadow leaning against the garage wall twenty feet away, watching her like she might disappear if he blinks.
Neither of them speaking.
Neither of them leaving.
The silence is suffocating.
"You're all set," I tell Grace, wiping my hands on a rag. "No charge. Just needed tightening."
"Thanks, Helle." She climbs into her truck fast—too fast, like she's running from something.
Or someone.
Shadow's eyes follow her truck until it disappears down the road.
"You two have history?" I ask carefully, because I'm apparently stupid enough to poke the bear.
His jaw clenches. The muscle ticking in his cheek is the only movement. "No."
The word hangs there.
"Not yet," he adds, so quietly I almost don't hear it.
The way he says it sends chills down my spine.
"Shadow—"
"Leave it alone, Helle." He finally looks at me, and his eyes are dark. Empty. Dangerous. "For your own good. Leave it alone."
He walks to his bike, starts it, rides away without another word about the tune-up he supposedly came here for.
I stand in my garage, grease-covered and confused, wondering what the hell I just witnessed.
Bravos comes in the front door of the shop. "I heard that shit, and fuck was it weird."
"Yeah. Really weird."
"Should we?—"
"No. We should definitely not get involved in whatever that was." I go back to the Softail, needing something normal to focus on. "That's Shadow's business."
"And Grace's."
"And Phantom's problem when he figures it out."
