“I’ve got to go find my friend.”
He nodded, eyes cooling. “Suit yourself.”
I walked away, wondering how long I’d have to suffer blue balls before my stupid heart would release its grip on a man I couldn’t have.
CHAPTER 2
Flynn
My cell phonerang while I was elbow-deep in a Ford Explorer suspended over my head at Forrester Bros Auto Shop.
I rolled my cinnamon toothpick over my tongue, savoring the flavor as I glanced at the wall clock. Damn. It was already 11:30 a.m. The whole morning had slipped away while I wrestled with this frustrating timing chain job.
Bailey would know where I was going wrong, but he was gone. Gray could give me an idea too, but I didn’t want to look like an incompetent idiot, so I hadn’t asked.
I could text Bailey for some tips…
No. I squashed the thought. I had to learn to stand on my own. I was twenty-eight years old, for fuck’s sake. Besides, a little distance between me and Bailey Steele was a good idea. He was too easy on the eyes for a man who had no business looking.
I’d figure this out. I just had to go through a process of trial and error like Bailey had taught me.
Which meant I really didn’t have time for a break, but that was my parole officer calling for a check-in. I didn’t have a choice.
I grabbed a rag to wipe off my hands and pulled my cell phone from my pocket, hyperaware of Gray watching me from across the garage.
He was crouched down next to a pretty sweet sport bike. It was in for a brake job—or was it the clutch? I was too overwhelmed with stepping into the primary mechanic role after Bailey went off to school to keep tabs on Gray’s projects too.
He managed the motorcycle side of the business, leaving all the other vehicles to me.
A month in, I still didn’t feel as capable as Bailey had been, though. I’d gotten certified as a mechanic over the summer and learned enough to do the job, but I was too dang slow. If I didn’t pick up the pace, I was going to blow the best opportunity of my life.
Enough bellyaching.
I tossed my toothpick into the trash—the flavor was nearly gone, anyway—and answered the call. “Winslow, hey. I’m at work just like I should be.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Winslow boomed. He had a big, joyous voice. You’d never guess he worked with felons all day. He was too damn happy. “You’ve been there since last spring now.”
“Yeah, hard to believe how fast the time has gone,” I said.
Funny how that worked when you weren’t in a prison cell. Days passed slowly on the inside.
“You going to make it permanent?” he asked.
“Uh.” I glanced at Holden’s office door on reflex. “It’s not really up to me.”
As the oldest brother, Holden managed the shop, effectively my boss. The other brothers—Gray, Axel, and Bailey—might give input, but my fate was really in his hands.
“Your probationary period through the Redemption Road work program will be up soon,” Winslow said, as if I really needed the reminder. “You’ll need to convince Forrester Bros Auto to hire you on permanently, or it’s back to square one.”
“Yeah, I hope they will. I don’t know.”
“Well, figure it out,” he said, voice suddenly stern. “You may not know this about me, Flynn, but I don’t like my guys at square one. Square one leads them to thinking there’s a shortcut to square ten. Then, before you know it, they’ve detoured right back to a prison cell. You feel me?”
“No shortcuts,” I said. “I’m not gonna mess up a good thing.”
I was never going back to prison. Those years had been some of the darkest of my life. I still carried the guilt of what had sent me there, but there was no amount of remorse that would make me want to live in a cage with violent, angry, bitter men.
It was the hopeless men who terrified me the most, though. The men who knew they’d never get out. The men who no longer even wanted to leave. They could no longer see a life on the outside. No future but that of a prisoner, an inmate with a number who was dehumanized with strip searches, public showers, and regular cell searches and seizures.
