And then those sleepy hazel eyes pinned Brady to the grill of his police issue Chevy Tahoe, and Brady started to sweat.
“No chunk of my soul,” Brady swore. “I mean your soul. I mean….” He gave his best smile and realized he came off as a needy car geek who hadn’t been laid in areallylong time. “I just want to see the car, is all.”
The mechanic pulled the brim of his battered Padres baseball cap a little lower over those stunningly sharp eyes, throwing them into shadow again and giving Brady room to breathe.
“Why?” he asked sharply. “What car?”
Brady wanted to groan. “I swear, Mr., uhm—”
“Atchison. People call me Ace. Why you wanna see Sonny’s SHO?”
Ah! So Ace Sex-on-Legsknewwhat car. And didn’t like playing stupid.
Brady decided he didn’t want to play stupid either. “Listen—I’m not trying to get you into trouble. I know there’s street races here, but I’m not part of that patrol. I’m on human trafficking and meth labs mostly, and the last guy who liked to harass street racers died violently a couple of days ago, so you’re safe.” God rot Roy Kuntz’s soul, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. “I just….” He felt so stupid. “I have loved cars all my life, Mr. Atchison. I stare at books with them, I go to trade shows, Igo on test drives. Thatvee—erm, vehicle is a thing of beauty, and I really want to get a closer look.”
Ace grunted, furrows between his nose and eyebrows digging a little deeper. “What’d he die of?” he asked. “The feller who liked to harass street racers?”
Brady swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. Arlen Cuthbert hadn’t said a word to him since that day, less than a week ago, and neither had most of his coworkers. Brady had apologized for letting the “feebs” take over Donnie Ray’s death scene, but he hadnotapologized for the scene near Roy’s smoking corpse. He couldn’t understand their indifference. One of their own had been killed, yes, but oh my God, didn’t they care what he’d been into! Wasn’t anybody interested in a pedo ring right there in their own station house?
The question—and possible answers—left Brady sick and sad, and he didn’t want to talk about it.
“A car crash,” Brady said shortly, feeling a little nauseous. How much of that had spread, he wondered? How much of that terrible story did the general populace know, and when would the scandal break in the press?
Ace brought his attention back with a chuckle, and the sound had a rough and dirty sand-crackle sound to it.
“Sort of ironic, right?” he asked, and Brady nodded.
“Yes,” he said simply. “He… I didn’t know him well, but by all accounts he, uhm, won’t be missed.”
Ace snorted. “That was mighty unprofessional of you. I approve. Why are you giving me this gift of an SUV from heaven again?”
Brady had to beg. “Ireallywant a better look at your beautiful car.”
And a miracle occurred. This hard man’s face softened a little. “It’s Sonny’s baby,” he said. “You stay here and I’ll askhim. Won’t lie. Got a friend who’ll probably need that Subaru. A donation never hurts. But it ain’t my call.”
Brady knew his eyes widened, because this man…thisman seemed to be in charge of his domain, and for a moment he wondered what kind of man he would have to defer to in order for Brady to get closer to the car. Thevee-hi-cul.
He put his hands in his pockets and waited until Ace disappeared around the corner into the auto bay before sauntering closer to the opening, hoping to hear the conversation.
“Sonny, you wanna work on a Subaru?” Well, Brady thought. That was blunt.
“They payin’ us?”
“Yeah, they’re paying us a Subaru Forester, slightly dented, but I’m bettin’ the engine’s sound, and we might have need of one of those.”
Brady heard a hawk and a spit. “Ain’t had a project since the Kia, and that’s about ready to go live with Ernie. What’s the hitch?”
“Guy wants to pet your baby.”
There was a clatter of what was probably bolts in an oil pan and some swearing that made Brady widen his eyes.
“He wants to fuckingwhat?” the mysterious Sonny finished with, and Ace’s voice next sounded… well, odd. If Brady hadn’t just met the man and found him as cuddly as a cactus, Brady would have said he soundedtender.
“Sonny, quit moving and let me help you. Yeah, you’re bleeding. Jesus, if you could stop jumping like a fucking Chihuahua every time something new is mentioned, we’d go through fewer Band-Aids. Yeah, I’ll get the bolts. You start washing your hands so we can get your head.”
“Don’t know why I’m washing my hands if you’re gonna doctor me.” Sonny sounded young in that moment, and sullen. And hurt.
“Well, maybe I’m gonna have you shake hands with the young police officer lurking around the corner listening to us,” Ace said, some humor lacing his tone. “And then we’re gonna show him your car, ’cause I think he’s got a crush, and it would mean something to him to pet it. You remember what that’s like, right, Sonny? Wanting something like that so bad you just wanted to touch it?”
