But why did her past keep destroying it?
“I’m done. Everyone out,” she said, pulling away from Silas until his hands fell away.
His head down, Cam headed for the door. Silas stomped after him, his thick arms swinging. She knew that attitude. He wasn’t taking no for an answer, and it scared her. Fingers shaking, she took the spare key from the register, carefully leaving an obvious print on the dusty counter. Alone, she listened to the silence, letting it soak in and make a memory knot, tying it to the scent of dust, the chill of an empty room, and the sharp edges of the key pinching her fingers. She didn’t want to forget this place, ever.
Pulling herself up, she dragged her knitting across the counter and threw it away again. Breath held against the hurt, she walked quickly to the back door and shut it behind her.
The sound of distant morning traffic filled the silence of two men standing awkwardly before her. “I’m going to keep following you,” Silas said, the security system at his feet already reset. “I’ll make a mess of things. It would be safer if I was with you.”
But she’d already come to that conclusion, and she aimed the fob at the ramshackle shed at the edge of the tiny parking lot that had once held police barricades. An aggressive baruum of a growl exploded from the garage as the warming engine engaged, and she strode forward, feeling a surge of sexual satisfaction. Yep, it was that kind of a car. She’d been born in Detroit, and the need for power went to her bones.
Both Cam and Silas turned in surprise, the latter laughing in disbelief. “You keep your Mantis here?” Silas asked.
“Yep,” she said saucily, feeling better as she hit the entrance code and the rickety-looking door swung up with the precision of modern electronics behind it. Hips swaying, she strode to the wide gate that led to the alley. Unlocking it, she pushed the heavy wood to the side. Beyond it, Detroit waited in the predawn chill.
“Damn!” Cam swore, his back to her as he stood at the open garage, staring. “Is that a Mantis?” Silas cleared his throat when he reached to touch it, and Cam drew back. “It’s got a six-point-two L, V8, right?” he said, eyes glinting in the sudden light from the headlamps. “Zero to sixty in three-point-eight seconds. The only thing that can outrun it is a Lamborghini. Damn, it’s the premier year, before they took all the illegal stuff off it.”
“And maybe an Aston Martin,” Peri said, coming to a satisfied halt before it. Silas was hiding a smile, but Peri didn’t care. It was a nice car, and she didn’t have much of a chance to show it off.
“I’m on a list, but I haven’t had a Detroit address long enough. Does it really change color?” Cam asked, and Peri went around to the driver’s side.
“As you say, that would be illegal,” she said as she lifted the latch. The car recognized her print, not the fob in her pocket, and unlocked. She slid in, and as the car enfolded her with the scent of leather and suede, she flicked through the onboard screen and toggled the color from its energy-saving white to black with a surge of extra electrons.
“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Cam said, his voice breathy.
“It gets me there.” Relishing his appreciation, she shut her door, eyes closing briefly in bliss at the soft thump that said money. God, she’d missed this. But it wasn’t the kind of car she could go to the store in for cat food.
Silas intentionally bumped Cam as he went between him and the front. “Pick your jaw up before she runs it over,” he said as he reached for the handle.
Peri hit the lock button, but she must have cleared him in the past because it recognized his print and opened. He got in with a hasty lurch—as if she might bolt out of the garage with him half in it. Secure in his seat, he looked across the surprisingly wide expanse, his eyes glinting in challenge.
“You’ll have to shoot me,” he said breathlessly. “I’ll get blood all over your seats.”
Frowning, she hit the start button. “At least if I shoot you, you’ll wake up in the morning.”
Cam’s tall shadow was flitting in front of the car as if not knowing what to do. Peri revved the engine to get him to move, and he darted to her side. Silas put his belt on, adjusted the vent, and turned on the seat warmer. Clearly he’d been in it before, if the lock being primed to him wasn’t enough of an indication. Nodding, he hit a dismiss key on the lighted touch screen. Maybe he’d helped me set it up.
“We going or not?”
Sighing, she twisted in her seat and handed him the Glock from the small of her back. “Fine,” she muttered. “You can come. But you already knew that. Damn psychologist.”
“Just a matter of hitting the right buttons,” he said, clearly relieved. “God, I love this car. Hey, my station is still in the queue,” he added as the car found the satellite and slow jazz lifted from the speakers.
My gut feels good about this, she realized as she pulled slowly forward, the power and ability coiled up in the engine spilling into her through the wheel and gas pedal.
“Peri!” Cam tapped on the window, and she lowered it so he wouldn’t touch it again.
“We have to go,” Silas prompted, and she obstinately put the car in park.
“What?” she asked Cam, ignoring Silas.
Cam pulled his eyes from the lighted dash, his brow suddenly furrowing. “You’re not coming back, are you.”
“Yes I am.”
“No,” he insisted. “You’re not.”