Page 61 of Heresy

“Technically, I never lied to you. I just gave you generalized statements that you accepted as answers to the specific questions you asked.”

Taken aback by the astute tone to his voice, I rethink my earlier conclusion that Priest is shitty at communicating. If anything, he’s a sly son of a bitch.

I can’t argue with him, though. After reviewing all our past conversations that I can remember, he never actually lied.

“Well, you still stole my car.”

“I did.” He drops his head like a child being scolded.

“And that was wrong.”

“It was,” he agrees.

“But I’m willing to look past it because I couldn’t really afford to pay for all of this anyway. You’ve just done me a huge favor.”

“That still remains to be seen,” he mumbles as he opens his door and climbs out of the van.

Calling out to him before he can shut the door, I ask, “Wait. What?”

His eyes meet mine again, a smile that would melt most panties tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Let’s just get inside, and then you can decide whether you still like me or not.”

Guilt rolls over his expression like earlier, and I genuinely feel bad for him.

Not that I should. This situation is still shady as fuck. But the thought of a free repair is screaming louder at me than the fact I should probably run like hell.

Times are tough, I convince myself. Businesses are doing what they can to survive. I know nothing about the mechanic industry and probably shouldn’t make judgment calls without having all the facts.

Climbing out of the van, I shut my door and round the front end to join him as we walk into the shop.

“What you did was wrong, but you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

His shoulders shake with a silent laugh. Scrubbing at the back of his neck, he turns his head to look down at me. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Just don’t do this again to another person. It really is suspicious.”

I glance up at my car as we pass it and only return my attention to Priest when we stop at a small reception area.

“You wait here,” he tells me as he rounds the filthy desk and heads toward a door. “Let me get the technician. Once we have the information we need, I’ll have you out of here in no time.”

“I thought you had to order the part first—”

The door slams shut behind him before I can finish my question.

I can’t be sure, but it feels like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Figuring he’s probably embarrassed after admitting what he did, I shrug a shoulder and turn around to look at my car.

From here, it appears perfectly fine, but then I don’t know what a starter looks like, so I can’t tell if the part is still on the car or not.

Behind me, muffled voices filter out from the door.

“…fucking asshole. I swear … his head up his ass … like I’m some kind of … and I’m fed up with his shit.”

I can barely make out what the guy is saying, but I do recognize it’s not Priest’s voice. It must be the technician.

“…keep getting dragged into … not a goddamned person snatcher … get your damn acts together … my part in this is…”

That was Priest’s voice, and although he’s speaking louder, I still can’t make it all out.

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