The Mechanic - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,66

something. She almost did before that fuckface called after her like a dog.

I wanted so badly for her to ask for help. Hell, it took everything inside me not to burst through that fence and not kick the shit out of her piece of shit ex.

“Jesus.” He frowns, still holding the glass. “Olivia said that?”

“Yep.”

“But you said you were getting along. She told you she liked it here.”

“I guess she lied, didn’t she?”

Chris senses the doubt in my voice. He turns back to the bar, raking his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Don’t you think they must’ve done something to her?”

The knotted feeling in my stomach twists. “Like what?”

“That Evelyn bitch could’ve made her a deal. Didn’t she say they were probably behind all these evictions?”

She was crying the second she left my house. I heard her sobbing and assumed it was guilt. Or regret over everything we’d done the last couple weeks. I was too busy having flashbacks of Kara ducking into that taxi to leave me forever to realize that Olivia isn’t like her. Not one bit.

Why the fuck didn’t I see it right away?

I stand, heart pounding in my chest.

You could still be wrong.

“I’ve got to talk to her.” I reach into my pockets, but Chris slaps a ten-dollar bill on the counter.

Christ, how could I’ve been so stupid? A tinge of self-doubt nags at me as I weave through the crowded bar, heading for the door. Squinting in the sunlight, I look for the B&B where she’s probably holed up. Please be there.

I break into a jog, and find the colonial house within a couple minutes, but it’s flanked by bodyguards everywhere. How the hell am I going to get close enough to talk to her? Avoiding the driveway, I walk through the woods and look through the windows. They’re all shut against the outdoors except one on the second floor at the back of the house. I jump, and glimpse a head of black hair. That’s her.

I consider cupping my hands around my mouth and screaming, but that’ll just alert the guards. Breaking out into a run, I reach the wall. Should I throw rocks at her window? No, I’ve got to be in the same space as her. That means climbing this damn thing.

I haven’t done this since junior high.

It’s easy to find handholds, there are plenty of rivets to dig my fingers into, but not so much in the way of footholds. My feet slip on the round columns until I wrap my legs around them and shimmy my way up. Good thing I do shitloads of pull-ups. I latch onto the second floor by grabbing the edge of the open window, and I hear a loud gasp. Then Olivia’s torso leans out.

“Do you mind stepping back just a tad?”

A small smile twitches her lips before she recovers herself, settling into a scornful expression. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I throw my elbow over the edge, my feet dangling. Fuck, I need to find purchase on something. It takes a herculean effort to lift myself over, the window cutting into my stomach. Then I swing my legs into the carpeted floor and stand, my chest pulsing rapidly.

It’s a small room, hardly big enough to hold the queen-sized bed. There’s a white chest of drawers and a matching nightstand, her half-open backpack on the floor. She’s wearing striped, pink flannel pajamas and one of my Aerosmith t-shirts. It’s too big for her, but it still gets my blood pumping to see her in my clothes.

Olivia makes a show of crossing her arms and backing away from me. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Her arms drop to her sides as I take another step closer.

“I never got a vote in this, and I vote no.”

“To what?”

“Whatever the fuck it is you’re planning with the Cranburys.”

She flinches. “There is no plan."

“Babe, my grandmother can lie better than you.”

I gaze into her beautiful, dark pools as my hands slide over her shoulders. Her eyes fracture with pain. She makes no move to get away from me. Olivia’s quick breaths are uneven. “I’m not lying. There’s no future with the two of us.”

“Is that why you look like you’ve been crying all night?” She grabs my wrists as I touch her cheeks, smoothing my thumb over her raw skin.

“Gage, please. Listen to what I’m saying.”

“I am listening. It’s all bullshit.”

She steps away from me, her cheeks pink. “No, it’s not! You’re not my type. You called it

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