Page 152 of Ice Princess

Turning away, the boss walks to his truck as if I’m nothing but a buzzing mosquito in his ears.

I keep step with him, pleading my case. “So you’re saying… we won’t be able to use our garage for months?”

“Ma’am,” he tucks the tablet under his arm and reaches for a clipboard, “your garage is officially under investigation and, according to state laws, you are not allowed to resume business here until our investigation is complete.” With a flourish, he snatches out a piece of paper and shoves it at me. “That’s your official notice. If you have any complaints, you can send them to the address written there. Have a good day.”

“But…” I reach out to him with the arm holding the paper.

The man climbs into his truck and slams the door, nearly whacking my finger off in the process. The hazmat men dive into their vans, pulling away from the garage like clouds getting swallowed up by the night. Trucks rumble and the men leave tire tracks on our grass as they peel out of the parking lot.

Whispers float from the crowd. Their eyes watch me to see what I’ll do next. I’m so shocked, that I can’t even form a sentence.

Delia clears her throat. “Wish you’d thrown a punch or two now, don’t you?”

I glance at her.

She winces. “Sorry. I, uh, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

My lips twitch. “It’s fine. You’re right. I do want to throw a punch. But not at them.”

“At who?”

“At the man responsible for this mess.”

Stewart Kinsey.

This has his grimy paw prints all over it.

While Carol Kinsey hates me, it’s not her style to send men to do her dirty work. She likes watching the life drain out of her opponent’s eyes herself.

Stewart, on the other hand, is underhanded and slimy.

“I came to tell you that I’m not getting through to April,” Delia says worriedly.

Oh right. April usually puts her volume low when she’s with her dad so the phone doesn’t disturb him if he’s trying to sleep.

“Keep trying. Tell her I’ll meet her back here later.” I pull my keys from my jumpsuit pocket.

“I’ll stay here and keep guard,” Delia says, lifting her chin up like a warrior about to be stationed on night duty.

I shake my head, eyeing the yellow tape tensely. “Go home.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find the man responsible for this mess.”

Delia takes one look at my determined face and says, “Do you have a wrench?”

I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s in the tool box in the truck bed. But I won’t need it where I’m going. Violence isn’t going to solve this one.”

“Always good to have a plan B.”

I throw a smile over my shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in this mess, Delia. And don’t worry. No matter what happens, April and I will make sure to compensate you for the work you’ve done and help you find a new job if…” A lump forms in my throat and I can’t finish the words.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rebel.” Delia speaks with conviction. “I signed the contract with The Pink Garage and I’m a part of the team, for better or worse.” She pauses. “But, hopefully, we don’t have to live through ‘worse’ because I do need to pay rent.”

Fear chokes me up and I can’t laugh again, so all I can do is offer a watery smile and send Delia a wave.

As I drive to Stewart Kinsey’s garage, I force myself not to think about what will happen if we can’t operate out of the garage. Where will we go? How will we accept our clients’ cars and keep them safe?

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