Page 39 of Going Home

Chapter Fourteen

Griffin's Beach

Venom

ThejunkyardinRiverviewis supposed to be the best place to find parts for vintage cars. Venom noticed Lex needs a few small repairs on her Mustang, and considering everything going on, it's the least he can do. Her car is likely the last thing on her mind. It may not be a grand gesture, but she's the type to appreciate the little things more than something over the top.

He walks the yard until he finds the row of Mustangs, and he just stakes his head. It never made sense why people don't just take care of their vehicles. Cars aren't made like these anymore, and it's a damn shame to see so many in this condition.

If he had a better skill level than he does with cars, he bets he could take a few of these and restore them to their original glory. The fact remains that he can change oil and make basic repairs like belts and shocks, but that's about as far as he's capable. The downside to riding a motorcycle for the last fifteen years or so years hasn't required him to learn how to fix anything else but his own bike.

"Maybe she'll let me drive the 'stang one day," Venom says to himself as he twists off the antenna to replace the bent one on Lex's car.

Even as he says it, he knows she'd hand him the keys if he asked. That car was her first baby, but she trusts him. Trusts him more than most people ever have in his life.

"Getting parts for your girlfriend's car?" a voice says from behind him.

Whipping around, he all but gapes at the attractive woman standing behind him with the raspy voice. He'd been too lost in his thoughts to let someone sneak up on him, but now that he sees her, he doesn't mind all that much.

"If so, she's not a very good girlfriend if she hasn't let you drive her car yet. What year is it?"

"She's just a friend. She's actually married to another man. I'm just trying to do something nice for her."

Her dark eyebrow lifts, and he can't stop staring at the two piercings on her plump lips. "But you want her to be your girlfriend?"

The number of people who make this assumption is starting to piss him off. "Just because two people of the opposite sex are friends doesn't mean that one or both are interested in anything more from the other. She's like a big sister."

"It's not very often I find men out here looking for parts for someone else's vehicle they're not currently or hoping to someday bed. Not when it's for a member of the opposite sex who isn't a relative. It was a fair question."

"I suppose it was," he says, resigned. "I just owe this friend a lot, and I want to do something to thank her."

Her dark hair wraps up in a messy knot on the top of her head with a handkerchief headband, and he smirks at the realization of who he reminds her of. She's the perfect combination of Kat Von D with her makeup choice, Rosie the Riveter with the outfit, and Jessica Rabbit based on her figure. No one has ever been able to make a mechanic's shirt look so good, and he appreciates the way she leaves her tied-up shirt unbuttoned at the top to showcase two piercings between her tits he's never seen before.

"Like what you see?"

"I don't dislike it," he admits.

"I'm Cinder Hicks."

Tilting his head, he narrows his eyes. "Hicks Junkyard. This place yours?"

"My dad's, but I can tell you that I know more about cars than you ever will."

He laughs and nods. "I won't argue that. They call me Venom."

"Drifters. Dangerous type of guy. My favorite type," she says, and he turns towards the row of cars.

She appears beside him, and there's an obvious attraction and flutter that leads down below the belt he can't deny. He may still be in love with Marnie, but there's something about Cinder that calls to him. And he knows exactly what that attribute is because crazy recognizes crazy.

The look in her eye as she glances up and down his lean but strong frame matches his own. It's only a matter of how explosive they'd be if they come together. And based on the twitching below the belt, his friend really hopes they do.

"What year?" Cinder asks.

"Excuse me?"

She laughs, and he fixates on her pearly white teeth that stand out against her dark red lipstick. "What year is your friend's car?"

This makes Venom stop and think, trying to get blood rushing back towards the top half of his body. "I think it's a sixty-five."

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