it to Tex. “Here.”
She lowered the hood and headed to the driver’s side. She pushed in the clutch, noting it definitely needed a new one, at the kid hadn’t lied about that. She cranked the engine and eight cylinders of Detroit steel roared to life, extra loudly since the muffler was shot. She made a face at the faint smell of gas and noted that she needed a new fuel system, too. She waved goodbye to Tex and Shooter and rolled her version of a mani-pedi toward her condo.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tex watched Vegas take her piece of classic shit home and shook his head at the skull he was holding in his hands. Shooter grinned. “We just made 1,300 dollars without actually doing anything,” he laughed. Then he glanced down at the list. “Does she know what to with all this?”
Tex grinned. “I sure hope not.”
Shooter shook his head. “I don’t think she’s one of yours, Tex. She put that kid down hard . I’d say she doesn’t have a submissive bone in her body.”
Tex still smiled. “You’d be surprised.”
Shooter raised his eyebrows. “How can you tell?”
Tex shrugged. “I can’t, but just because she wouldn’t let a pissant take advantage of her doesn’t necessarily mean she wouldn’t submit to the right man. If he asked her to.” Tex pocketed the skull and headed back toward the garage, taking a final note of the oil stain on the gravel. He shook his head, smiling. “Let me know when those parts come in,” he called over his shoulder. “Before you call her. ”
Three days later, on Wednesday, Tex pulled his Hummer up outside Abby’s condo at a little after 6 pm. He picked up one of the boxes and headed to her garage, the door of which was one-third of the way up. He heard the faint sounds of Tom Petty.
“Vegas?” He ducked down and entered the garage.
“Tex?”
“Yeah, babe. Got a special delivery,” he replied. Then he kicked himself for sounding like every porno movie ever made. But Abby didn’t seem to notice. It gave him pause. Slick would have laughed. Maybe Abby was too young for him. She was just out of college and couldn’t be older than 23 or 24. Slick wasn’t much older than that, but still. For all of Abby’s professional suits, she was still just a young woman.
“Oh, thanks!” she said, taking the box from him. “You didn’t have to do this. I could have come by the garage.”
He smiled at her. “Delivery’s free.” He looked around the garage. “Whoa,” he said, as he looked off to his left and saw that Abby had laid out a tarp and had parts lined up in rows. He went over to investigate.
“Be careful,” she warned, setting the box down on the concrete in the corner. “I have a system.”
Tex eyed the tarp carefully. It wasn’t laid out in a typical 3-D pattern. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’m...not seeing it.”
She laughed and came up beside him. “It’s alphabetical.”
He stared at it again. “Oh, shit, okay. Now I’ve got it. But, Vegas, no one does it that way.”
“I do!” she insisted. “That’s just how my brain works.”
He chuckled. “You got all this done in just a few days?” he asked, impressed. “By yourself?” He was really hoping she hadn’t been in town long enough to meet anyone.
“Yeah. I work on it in the evenings. It’s kind of nice to just shut my brain off and work with my hands.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, I didn’t mean that you were...stupid...or anything. I’m sorry. I just meant-”
He laughed. “It’s okay. I didn’t take it that way.”
“I just meant that I know this stuff so well, I can do it without having to focus too much. Especially when it’s just taking apart the engine.”
“What are you working on right now?”
“Fuel line.”
“Want some help?”
She glanced at him. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I
She lowered the hood and headed to the driver’s side. She pushed in the clutch, noting it definitely needed a new one, at the kid hadn’t lied about that. She cranked the engine and eight cylinders of Detroit steel roared to life, extra loudly since the muffler was shot. She made a face at the faint smell of gas and noted that she needed a new fuel system, too. She waved goodbye to Tex and Shooter and rolled her version of a mani-pedi toward her condo.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tex watched Vegas take her piece of classic shit home and shook his head at the skull he was holding in his hands. Shooter grinned. “We just made 1,300 dollars without actually doing anything,” he laughed. Then he glanced down at the list. “Does she know what to with all this?”
Tex grinned. “I sure hope not.”
Shooter shook his head. “I don’t think she’s one of yours, Tex. She put that kid down hard . I’d say she doesn’t have a submissive bone in her body.”
Tex still smiled. “You’d be surprised.”
Shooter raised his eyebrows. “How can you tell?”
Tex shrugged. “I can’t, but just because she wouldn’t let a pissant take advantage of her doesn’t necessarily mean she wouldn’t submit to the right man. If he asked her to.” Tex pocketed the skull and headed back toward the garage, taking a final note of the oil stain on the gravel. He shook his head, smiling. “Let me know when those parts come in,” he called over his shoulder. “Before you call her. ”
Three days later, on Wednesday, Tex pulled his Hummer up outside Abby’s condo at a little after 6 pm. He picked up one of the boxes and headed to her garage, the door of which was one-third of the way up. He heard the faint sounds of Tom Petty.
“Vegas?” He ducked down and entered the garage.
“Tex?”
“Yeah, babe. Got a special delivery,” he replied. Then he kicked himself for sounding like every porno movie ever made. But Abby didn’t seem to notice. It gave him pause. Slick would have laughed. Maybe Abby was too young for him. She was just out of college and couldn’t be older than 23 or 24. Slick wasn’t much older than that, but still. For all of Abby’s professional suits, she was still just a young woman.
“Oh, thanks!” she said, taking the box from him. “You didn’t have to do this. I could have come by the garage.”
He smiled at her. “Delivery’s free.” He looked around the garage. “Whoa,” he said, as he looked off to his left and saw that Abby had laid out a tarp and had parts lined up in rows. He went over to investigate.
“Be careful,” she warned, setting the box down on the concrete in the corner. “I have a system.”
Tex eyed the tarp carefully. It wasn’t laid out in a typical 3-D pattern. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’m...not seeing it.”
She laughed and came up beside him. “It’s alphabetical.”
He stared at it again. “Oh, shit, okay. Now I’ve got it. But, Vegas, no one does it that way.”
“I do!” she insisted. “That’s just how my brain works.”
He chuckled. “You got all this done in just a few days?” he asked, impressed. “By yourself?” He was really hoping she hadn’t been in town long enough to meet anyone.
“Yeah. I work on it in the evenings. It’s kind of nice to just shut my brain off and work with my hands.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, I didn’t mean that you were...stupid...or anything. I’m sorry. I just meant-”
He laughed. “It’s okay. I didn’t take it that way.”
“I just meant that I know this stuff so well, I can do it without having to focus too much. Especially when it’s just taking apart the engine.”
“What are you working on right now?”
“Fuel line.”
“Want some help?”
She glanced at him. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I
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