Lead Me Home (Fight for Me #3)(47)

Could almost feel it scatter like fall leaves blowing away to reveal what they concealed.

Damp earth.

Darkness.

Blood.

Bones.

Dirt.

That date loomed. Right around the corner. A reminder that Sydney was what I was fighting for.

Ten minutes later, I took a left and then a right, winding down into the industrial section of Gingham Lakes. I passed by warehouses and shops and dingy offices.

Slowing, I made the last right through the big metal gate into Roke’s Restorations. I was itching to get my fingers on something good. Something that could be brought back. Something that was safe.

The massive rolling doors of the shop had been lifted. Gliding to a stop, I set my boots out to balance the bike and kicked the stand. I swung off and rushed a hand through my windblown hair as I ducked through the door and into the shop.

Place was in its usual state.

Disarray with the promise of something good. Cars and bikes and parts sitting everywhere in varying states of repair.

When he heard the thud of my boots echoing on the concrete, Sage eased out from under a hood of a classic Pontiac. He lifted his chin, grabbed a rag. “Hey, man, you made it.”

“And miss the chance at getting my hands on a Bel Air? Think you know me better than that.”

He turned up one of his confident grins. “Which is exactly why I got with you first. Guy said he’d picked it up local and wants to turn it quick.”

We both turned when we heard a car rolling into the lot.

“Ready to check this out?”

“Hell yeah.”

Side by side, we headed out the garage doors.

Rolling into the lot was a four-door sedan that had to be ten or fifteen years old, beat to shit, and seen better days. But it didn’t come anywhere close to looking like the hunk of rusted-out metal being towed in behind it.

How the fuck he even towed it out of whatever dump he’d found it in was beyond me. The tires were flat and rotted, and every inch he moved forward was met with the shrill sound of metal grinding.

Taking a look at the kid behind the wheel of the car, my first thought was desperate times called for desperate measures.

He put it in park and cut the engine. A dude that couldn't have been older than twenty came springing out of the driver’s side, scrawny as fuck with ratted out clothes. Cheap ass, second rate, hacked out tattoos littered his arms.

“You Sage?” he asked.

“Nope.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and rocked back on my heels.

My gut instinct made itself known.

Standing there was something seedy.

I angled my head at Sage, who had to be thinking the same shit. “This is Sage.”

The kid nodded at him. “Caleb. We talked on the phone.”

Sage extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Nervously, the kid looked back at the car. “Well, this is it.”

I wandered over to the rusted-out Bel Air. Windshield smashed to oblivion and all the rest of the windows gone, upholstery cracked and ripped with some of the rods and springs poking through.

Resting my hands on the windowsill, I ducked my head inside and peered around at the old gauges and dials in the dash, old style stereo still in its place.

It was gonna need a full overhaul, that was for damned sure.

It was exactly what I’d been looking for. Exactly like I remembered. I pulled my head back and looked his direction.

“Where’d you find her?”

Twitching, he gestured south with his head. “Down on Roddum. A guy is getting rid of some of his mom’s old things. He said he needed to sell it quick because he needed the cash.”

I stood, crossed my arms over my chest, and stared at the guy, trying to get a read.

Intuition.

My glare promised him I knew something wasn’t quite right.

The punk shifted, about three seconds from pissing his pants.

Knew his type.

Badass until there was someone standing there who was bigger than him.

I ran my fingertips over the hood of the car.

There was something about it that was way too familiar.

Too close.

“What’s the guy’s name?”

Caleb shrugged. “Todd. Said it wasn’t worth anything, and I might as well dump it in the lake.”

Awareness pressed down on my chest. Todd. Nikki’s uncle.

Maybe I should have recognized the car the second the kid had pulled up. Wasn’t like there were all that many of these cars sitting around, which was why I’d been searching for one in the first place.

I’d fallen in love with this very one a long damned time ago.

Summers spent traipsing in and out of her grandma’s house. Playing. Running wild.

We’d sit in this car where it was parked at the back of the lot, turning the wheel and yanking at the gear shift like it might take us to another place.

Fairyland.

Any place we wanted to go.

Todd used to live in a trailer that sat at the very back of Nikki’s grandma’s land. He had always been out working in the yard and the shed, fixing shit up.

Couldn’t even say how long ago it’d been since he’d moved out of town.

Hit with the onslaught of memories, I pressed my palms to the side panel and dropped my head.

Honestly, I wasn’t exactly sure of what Nikki would think of me buying this car.