Chapter FIVE
MITCH’S BOOTSwere loud on the tiled floor as he stepped through the glass doors on Friday morning and into the brightly lit showroom. The Cummings’s motorcycle business was, at least on paper, successful, and it looked it. Glossy beige tiles, more suited to the entrance foyer of a grand home, covered the entire room, which was massive. Huge columns supported the ceilings,and raised platforms were scattered around. Mitch walked around the platforms, admiring the expensive machines on display. He’d always had a thing for bikes; there was something freeing about hitting the road with the power of the bike and the sound of the wind.
As he wandered, he scoped the place. The far wall displayed accessories with a reception desk in front. The young woman who stood behindthe desk was on the phone. A couple of customers were talking to a sales guy who was showing them a motorcycle. Another staff member sat at a desk filling in paperwork with a suit-clad customer. Adjacent to the desk was a wall with a number of doors, most likely offices and perhaps storage. A large sign above a door at the rear indicated the exit to the service department.
From the corner ofhis eye, Mitch watched the sales guy approach. Jeans, heavy boots, and a navy long-sleeved shirt bearing the CMC logo of Cummings Motorcycles over the pocket. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the ink on his forearms.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
Mitch turned to face the guy, schooling his features when he saw it was none other than Warren Jones, Rocky Cummings’s second-in-command. With hisshaved head and jagged scar across his forehead, his appearance would have been confronting, but his smile was genuine as he gently stroked the leather seat of the Harley.
“Yep,” Mitch said. “Shame she’s out of my price range.”Over fifty thousand dollars would be out of a lot of people’s price range.
“You looking for a bike? Maybe there’s something else I can show you.” The guy waved a handto indicate the showroom, providing a flash of the tattoo on his forearm.Fury flames.
“I wish, mate. Unfortunately I’m just here to see about getting my bike serviced.”
“Yeah? Whatcha got?”
“Harley-Davidson Sportster. It’s a few years old, and I’d love to upgrade, but money’s tight, you know?”
“I hear ya, mate. We just need to win Lotto.”
“Or rob a bank,” Mitch said. “There’s got to be aneasier way to earn some cash than the bloody nine-to-five, and now they want to cut my hours. Boss is an arsehole.” Mitch allowed his voice to trail off. “Sorry about my whinging. You don’t need to hear my shit.”
“No worries, mate. I feel ya. There’s nothing worse than a crap job. Is there anything else I can do for ya today, or just the service?”
“Unfortunately just the service.”
“The workshopis out back.” He pointed at the sign Mitch had seen earlier. “You can walk through that way, but the main vehicle entrance is from the side street.” The guy indicated the direction. “You’ll need to take ya bike in that way. But if you head out back now, you can make an appointment. There’s an office attached to the workshop.”
“Cool.”
Mitch followed him toward the rear door. As they passed thedoors Mitch assumed were offices, one of them opened, and the person coming out nearly knocked Mitch off his feet. He automatically raised his arms and caught the guy who barreled into him.
“Sor—” The words died in Mitch’s throat as Finn looked up at him, eyes wide. The deep golden color of his skin emphasized his eyes, which, now that they were up close, Mitch could see were a striking blue-gray.His face was beautiful, but the scruff ensured he bordered more on sexy rather than pretty.
Chest to chest, Mitch could feel the strength of the body against him and the puff of warm air against his throat. He sucked in a breath.Pine and sandalwood.
“Finn. Get your arse back in here. We haven’t finished talking yet.”
The angry tones of the man calling from the room broke their gaze, and Finnpeered over his shoulder and back into the office. The muscles under Mitch’s palms where he gripped Finn’s arms tensed and bunched.Oh shit!He was still holding Finn close.
Mitch dropped his hands and stepped back. “Sorry. Are you okay?”
Finn snapped his head around to look at Mitch, but he met Mitch’s eyes for only a moment before dropping his gaze and mumbling an apology. “I’m fine. Sorry,it was my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
“No harm done.” Mitch nodded and walked away. He wanted to stay and talk but had no choice but to follow Jones, who was standing holding the external door open.
He couldn’t think of a single opening for conversation anyway, not with all the blood that had rushed away from his head.
FINN STORMEDback into the office. “Whatthe hell was that, Rocky?” he hissed.
“You don’t walk away from me when I’m still talking to you.”
“I think we said all we need to say.”
“I’ll be the one to say when we’ve finished. Don’t you forget that you work for me.”
