Page 12 of Sanction

Then she disappears up the stairwell.

Chapter 8

Travis

I just finished up a sweet El Camino for Mr. Lewis. She runs smooth and quiet now that we tuned her up. Widow tosses an empty oil can into the trash and wipes the sweat from his head with his forearm.

“You done?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nah, Daniella will be here in a minute to work on the 67.”

He nods. “How far along have you gotten?”

“Not very far, the motor is shit.” I laugh.

“It looks like a ground up kind of project.” He chuckles.

“It is. But it’s for Stone.” I shrug.

I would do anything for that man. He’s one of the only reasons I’m standing here today.

“Alright, I’m out,” Widow calls as he struts across to the exit.

“Me too Dom. I got all the bays locked up,” Romeo hollers from the other side.

“Later!” I shout as I gather the tools I need to take out back.

Dani and I spend at least one night a week working on this old 67 Chevy. We’ve kind of created a new normal and I actually look forward to it. Dani has always been a force. Her stubborn streak and no bullshit attitude can make her seem unapproachable, but when she’s in her element, a tool in her hand, tinkering with cars, trucks, or anything with a motor, she’s different. She’s relaxed, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to her. It’s refreshing to watch, but I sometimes find myself wondering what I’m watching and why. Sometimes I catch myself eating up the fact she’s only like this with me. Which in itself is a little fucked up considering her age and the so called “brother” status I hold.

“I’m here!” Her voice echoes through the building as I grab the last tool.

“I got everything,” I tell her as I maze my way through the shit scattered on the floor.

She holds the door open for me, wearing her short as fuck jean shorts and a Knights Mechanics shirt she’s cut off above her navel.

“You need to cover up.” I didn't mean for it to come out so harsh.

She frowns.

I motion with my hand. “You don’t want to get grease on those.”

Nice save Travis. I silently curse myself. Is it really the grease, or the curvy hips that came out of fucking nowhere and I feel like a total perv for noticing?

“Yeah, I got my work shirt out back.” She points to the back door before tossing it open as I follow.

“What’s on the agenda?” She asks, reaching down to tie her converse sneaker.

“Carburetor.”

“Cool, you gonna let me take the lead?” Her eyebrow raised with the question.

“Why don’t you just watch and learn?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. But I’m choosing the music.”

I chuckle, open the hood, and get to work.

I explained every step to her. Showed her what to use, the placement, and rattled off any information I thought would give her a better understanding.

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