My focus zoned in on his so-black-it-almost-looked-blue hair that flopped out from beneath the rim of the Rangers cap on his head. “There are two people asking for you in the front.”

“I saw 'em in the camera,” he informed me. I didn’t even know there was a camera out front. Dex handed me a big manila envelope he had under his arm. “Do me a favor. Walk this over to the body shop around the corner, will ya?”

Sonny! I still hadn’t dropped by, then again, neither had he. But it didn’t matter. He still texted me at least once a day to make sure I was alive and hadn’t gotten lost or abducted in my new city.

I must have thought too long about going over to the body shop because Dex cleared his throat, raising a heavy eyebrow. This guy really thought I was an imbecile.

I wasn’t about to let him know I was excited to see Sonny by running the errand, so I nodded at his hair instead. “Sure.”

"You know where it's at?" he asked me.

Anger rose up the vertical muscles in my throat. "Yeah, I know." And then I muttered, "I'm not completely stupid."

He didn't say anything as I took the package from his hand, keeping my eyes everywhere but on his face. Not bothering to say anything else to him, I turned around to walk down the hall.

“Make sure Luther gets it, babe," he called out after me.

Babe. Guh.

It was something so far I’d only heard him call me when he wasn't referring to me as Ritz. In the last two days he’d helped other women who came in but he strictly referred to them by their first name or “sweetheart.” Under normal circumstances, I would have thought that was cute but this was Dex The Dick, so it automatically defaulted to douche-bag language.

Either way, he could shove his pleasantry up his pie hole while I went across the street. I had no idea who the heck Luther was but Sonny would.

Dex walked just a few feet behind me, his heavy footfalls—from the black motorcycle boots I noticed he wore daily—echoed on the tiled floor where my flat ballet shoes didn’t make a sound.

Dirty Biker Guy winked at me as I walked passed him. I flushed just a little but winked back and was out the door, making it through before the two men began speaking with The Dick.

It was pretty impossible not to feel relieved to see my only real friend—slash sibling—in Austin during the day. I’d been getting off work so late we only got to talk for a few minutes before he’d pass out on the couch or bid me goodnight if he didn’t stay up watching television while I ate. I had no idea what time he got up, and to be honest, I figured it was pretty early even though he went to bed a lot later than I would have if the tables were turned.

I’d been parking in the lot for days now, but I hadn’t paid enough attention to see just how large the shop was. Which would’ve been my sign, as I walked up to the body shop, on how big the property was. The ratio was about five to one.

And it was owned by a member of the MC, Sonny had explained in the past.

The garage itself could house eight cars. There was another building adjacent to it. One that looked exactly like the main one minus the bays, probably an office and reception area.

As soon as I stepped onto the lot, I saw Sonny standing in the third open bay from the gate. Hauling my butt over in his direction, he attention darted over to me at the same time I saw a couple of guys in the same jumper suit he had on looking over.

I gave him the “princess wave”—a cupped hand that rotated at the wrist—before yelling, “Hey!”

But Sonny, who had rightfully given me the impression he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought when I saw him walk outside the house in only his boxers one morning when I got up to pee, smiled at me this quick, open grin before walking in my direction too. “Ris, what are you doing here?”

“I have to give this to someone named Luther.” I held the envelope up to his face. “Not that it’s not nice to see you, or that I haven’t been planning on coming to visit you since we work like right next door.”

He shot me an easy smile before gazing down at the package. “This from Dex?”

“He asked me to drop it off,” I informed him, proud of myself for not calling Dex a dick when I had the chance.

"Is he still giving you shit?"

I shook my head. "He just pretends I don't exist and I mess stuff up because I don't ask."

He snorted. "Good girl." Sonny looked over his shoulder, scanning the remaining open bays down the side of the building after he’d glared at some of the employees looking in our direction. “Look for Trip. He’s probably down at the last lift with him.”

I thanked him before remembering what I’d been putting off for days. “I keep forgetting to ask you, do you know where I can get an oil change for pretty cheap?”

Those light brown eyes went blank. “You’re serious?”

“No, you know I just like cracking jokes about car repair.”

"You're a pain in the ass, kid." He let out a deep sigh, placing a hand on top of my head and shaking it. “Ris, I’m a mechanic.” I knew this but it didn't mean I wanted to take advantage of him by asking. “We’ll come in the morning and I’ll do it for you tomorrow.”

“Here?”

“Here,” he confirmed. "Your tires need to be rotated while we’re at it. I can do it faster here."

I grinned at him. “Deal. I owe you.” For a bunch of things but I didn’t have a doubt he was absolutely not keeping track of.

With a light smack to his shoulder blade, I told Sonny I’d see him later and made my way across the forecourt to the last open bay. There were two Harleys parked inside with Trip and an older looking man with what had once been brown hair that was now streaked with gray, standing together and talking in low tones.

Settling on being rude over being nosey, I cleared my throat and forced a grin on my face. “Sorry,” I called out over to them.

Trip turned around, his expression smothered in frustration and what I thought could be anger at first before he spotted me. “Hey beautiful,” he murmured with a head nod as the older man turned his attention to me as well.

The man looked to be in his late fifties, face weathered, expression telling me he wasn’t much of a grinner unlike his younger companion. He had on grease stained jeans, a t-shirt that had once been white, and a distressed leather vest with multiple patches. The Widowmakers' vest—or cut, as Sonny had corrected me back at Mayhem my first night.

I figured I probably shouldn’t waste his time based on the fact that he didn’t look happy to see me and probably didn’t look happy to see anyone, period. Ever. Moving my focus back and forth between Trip and the man I assumed to be Luther, I raised the envelope up.

“I’m looking for Luther.”

The old guy took three steps toward me, reached for the envelope with a grunt of a “Thanks” and turned around to open it, shielding me from its contents.

Trip and I both looked at each other and shrugged.

“I’ll see you later,” I told Trip, who looked even more attractive during the day than he had when I saw him at night the week before. In the natural light, my guess was that he was probably a handful of years older than my twenty-four. He had on the same thing that Luther and the other two guys back at the parlor except his t-shirt was black and his jeans looked pretty new.