by Evelyn Glass
The walk to Stephan’s wasn’t far. He smiled as he passed a mom and her toddler son who was riding a plastic toy motorbike and wearing an imitation biker helmet. The mom smiled back and turned to examine him from behind.
Oh dear. Had he given her the wrong impression? Women always seemed to be magnetized to him, but he had nothing to give at this point in time. Life was about building up coping strategies, being the best in his new field, and trying to be a good person to honor those that died from his unit. He was only twenty-seven. He needed time to figure things out before he could even contemplate a relationship. That being said, he wasn’t opposed to a little biker convention action every now and then. It wasn’t exactly hard to attract a one-night stand as the big chief. And his good looks, dark hair and muscular frame seemed to be a winning combination. Maybe in time, he’d be ready to devote himself to someone, but right now, the thought scared him shitless. He was content, for now, to go home alone.
He could see the lights on inside Stephan’s and made his way to the door at the side. He pushed the handle and popped his head in.
Who’s the blonde? He thought, his eyes falling upon Sophie as she stood before his Kawasaki with one hand on the waist of her overalls and one hand on her brow. Suddenly, a bell of recognition rung in his mind. He’d seen her in the local newspaper. She was supposedly the hottest young mechanic around. She’d won all sorts of training prizes.
“Is everything alright with that beast?” Zeke called out as he stepped into the shop.
The woman turned around with a start, and her mouth dropped open. “Ah... well... it is now,” she stammered.
Zeke frowned as he stepped closer. He saw her eyes trace over his jacket and stop at the Midnight’s Hounds symbol on his chest.
“You’re Zeke?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Zeke Draper?”
“Yes.”
“Owner of this bike?”
He laughed. “Yes. What’s with all the questions?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s just... there’s.... we found something serious in the exhaust.”
“Jesus, it’s like you’re giving me the prognosis of a relative’s illness. It’s just a bike. I can pay the repairs, whatever the cost is.”
Sophie closed her eyes and shook her head again. “Sorry, it’s just I’ve never had someone bring in a bike in this way before.”
He fixed her with a confused frown. Was she for real? The bike was perfectly fine. All bikes got flats, and holes in their exhausts, if that’s what she was talking about.
“I’d better explain,” she said, wiping her greasy hands down her sides. “Come with me.”
Zeke followed her towards the small office, spying a framed photograph of the blonde holding a shiny spanner-shaped award. So she did know her motors after all.
He tried not to watch her hips sway as she approached the office door. He’d never met a woman like her.
“By the way, I’m Sophie,” she said, pausing at the doorway and turning to him. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m just a little... shell shocked.... hmm... maybe that’s not the most appropriate term.”
Did she know about his history in the army? How could she know about that?
But as soon as he spotted what was sitting on a large metal tray on the workbench in the office, he knew she’d been referring to that. A bomb.
“What the hell is that doing here?” Zeke said, pointing to it.
“So you know what that is?” she asked, eyeing him curiously.
“Of course.” He stepped closer to it and leaned in to get a better look. “It’s quite badly made, but I know what it is alright. Seen far too many of those for my liking.”
“Oh really?”
He turned to her with a frown. “I was in the army for five years. I saw enough bombs to know one when I see one. But how did it get here?”
Sophie swallowed hard. “It arrived inside your bike.”
His head jerked backward in disbelief. “But I rode my bike this morning, just before it got a flat. I called young Wayne, and he took it here for me. How long has the bomb been inside it? It could have killed Wayne.”
“Unless...” Sophie trailed off and bit her lip before continuing. “What if Wayne planted it?”
Zeke shook his head. “He’s the sweetest kid around. He’d have no reason to do that.”
“My boss used to be a bomb disposal expert,” Sophie offered, stepping closer to the offending item. “He’s trying to trace these parts using serial numbers he found with a magnifying glass. He can help you find out who did this.”
“That’s really good of him, thank him for me,” Zeke said, sighing and running one hand along his jaw. “It’s crazy - I spend my days scouring for bombs and weapons to protect my clients and then here I am riding around town on top of some shitty homemade explosive right between my legs. Wow.”
He let out a chuckle at the irony and noticed Sophie was smiling too.
“So, how long have you worked here?” he asked.
She seemed surprised. “Since school. It’s all I know really. Well, that, and spray jobs, but that’s something I’m planning to get into further down the line.” She lowered her face shyly.
“That’s great,” he said, folding his arms and watching her expression change to a beaming smile. “You’re quite unique. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl mechanic before,” he said. “And definitely not one who discovers bombs and doesn’t freak out.”
She laughed. “I might have freaked out just a little bit, to begin with. Anyway, aren’t you worried? Do you have any idea who would have done something like this?”
He looked back at the bomb, sitting there in complete innocence, just a pile of metal and wires on a tray. If its creator had been just a little bit smarter, he’d be dead by now.
“I don’t know who would have done this,” he admitted. “That’s something I’m gonna have to find out. Someone clearly wanted me dead. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this... not that it’s your concern after today. It’ll be out of your shop and out of your hair.”
Sophie shrugged. “Listen, if we can help – Stephan and me – we will. We’ll do some digging and see what we can find out.”
“Is Stephan your boyfriend?” he asked, and then inwardly cursed himself for coming across too inquisitive.
“No,” she said, laughing.
“It’s none of my business anyway, I shouldn’t have asked. And thanks. For any help you can give me. I appreciate it. I’ll think everything over and let you know if I come up with any ideas that might tie in with what Stephan finds.”
“Sure.” Sophie glanced at her watch.
“Is it closing time?” Zeke asked.
“Not yet,” she said with a heavy sigh. “There’s one more repair job, but then I’m out. I’ve got drinks to go to. A girl can’t be covered in grease all the time.”
“No, she certainly can’t,” Zeke said, grinning. She was interesting. He couldn’t help imagining what she must look like all washed up, with no black smears on those porcelain cheekbones, her golden hair let loose... He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. There was no time for distractions. He had to keep his head straight. Especially now he had an attempted murder to solve.
He reached into his pocket for his wallet. “I’d better pay.”
“Oh. Yes. My mind was elsewhere,” she said, rolling her eyes towards the bomb. She processed his payment and handed the card back. Their fingers touched under the card, and Zeke noticed Sophie blush. He smiled. She was so feminine under those work clothes. Her fingers were delicate under their gloves of grease.
Still avoiding eye contact, she walked him towards his bike in silence.
He pulled out a business card from the wallet and handed it to her. She met his eyes and took the card shyly.
“Let me know if you find out anything important.”
“Of course,” she said, rubbing the card between her finger and thumb. “I’ll call y
ou... about the bomb.”
She walked over to the rolling garage door and opened it. Dusk had arrived, and the street lights were casting an orange glow in the deep blue evening.
“See you again,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, I’ll be in touch,” she said, grinning.
Chapter Three
Sophie
Later that evening, Sophie finally made it out of the shop in time to run home for a shower before meeting the girls at Clancy’s Bar.
After blow-drying her long honey-coloured hair she automatically went to pull it up into a ponytail but hesitated in front of the mirror. She ran her fingers through the ends and made a snap decision to wear it down. It was silky and fell in glossy waves down past her shoulders. She looked at the pair of jeans and black T-shirt on the bed and frowned. Tonight, she’d have to make an effort. It had been several weeks since they’d been able to meet up like this, what with Lydia’s study and Kristy’s late nights at the office, not to mention all of Sophie’s shop repairs. Life had been so busy for all of them. This was a special night. Still in her bathrobe, Sophie walked to her wardrobe; a place she rarely spent much time. Fashion never meant much to her – the simpler, the better. She sighed and flicked through the hangers. There was a little black dress that fit her like a glove, but that was a bit too Christmas party/funeral for a night out on the town. She pulled out a pair of skinny jeans, which was a start. She chucked her only pair of high-heeled boots towards the foot of the bed and began analyzing her hangers of shirts despairingly.
There was a knock on the door. Before waiting for an answer, Lydia stuck her head around the door. “What you wearing tonight?” she asked brightly.
“God knows,” Sophie replied flatly, still staring into the sea of nondescript garments.
“Here,” Lydia said, throwing a floaty royal blue top towards her. Sophie caught it with a laugh.
“It’s gorgeous, but it’s a bit tight for me,” Lydia said. “It’ll be perfect on you. And a bright color for a change!”
Sophie laughed. “Thanks. I’ll try it on.”
Lydia went back to her own frantic fashion session in her room, with funk music blaring and the hair dryer being switched on and off at short intervals as she created some kind of elaborate style. It was a different style every time with Lydia. Sophie admired that. She just couldn’t be bothered.
She held up the thin, off the shoulder top and smiled. This could work. Not too girly, but showing a bit of skin and pulled in at the waist. After wearing a coverall all week, it felt good to remember she had curves where they were supposed to be.
The top fitted like a dream and as she pulled on her heels and stood up straight, she liked what she saw. Her makeup was as scant as possible – a lick of lipstick and a quick swish of mascara would do. She was ready a whole thirty minutes before Lydia and sank a beer while watching a sitcom as she waited.
Eventually, when Lydia burst out of her room, arms spread triumphantly and wrapped in neon pink fabric as if she was a prize Sophie had won in a contest, they were ready to head out.
At Clancy’s they met Kristy, a cool, tall brunette, who looked good in anything she threw on – which tonight was a short black shirt dress and tan leather high wedge sandals – and the night was underway.
After the first cocktail, Lydia and Kristy were busy eyeballing a good-looking guy at the bar and laughing. All Sophie could think about was Zeke Draper... and the bomb.
“What’s up with you, Sophie?” Lydia asked, passing her a mojito. “Come on, lighten up.”
Sophie smiled and took the drink. “I’m fine. I just can’t stop thinking about a guy that came into the garage today.”
Lydia and Kristy nudged each other excitedly. “Oooh. Spill all. Was he hot?”
Sophie shook her head. She shouldn’t have said anything. She’d never hear the end of this now. And it suddenly dawned on her that she really shouldn’t say anything about the bomb. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her friends, just that if word spread, things could get messy. It was safer to keep that news inside the shop walls for now. At least until they got the information they needed.
“Well?” Lydia was still waiting for an answer. “You like this guy, don’t you? It’s about time. It’s been ages since you and that creepy ex-boyfriend split up. You need some lovin’ girl.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. Lydia was referring to Greg – the creep who ditched her for someone else and now wanted her back. He kept texting, calling and turning up at the shop, begging her to take him back. Never gonna happen.
“I suppose this guy that came in today was cute... if you like that sort of thing,” she said.
Lydia’s eyes widened with joy. “What sort of thing? Details. Come on.”
Sophie sighed. “Tall, muscly, dark hair, biker...”
Kristy grinned. “If you don’t want him, I’ll have him – he sounds gorgeous. But something tells me you do.”
Sophie shook her head. “No, I don’t. I don’t have time for a guy anyway, even if I did like him. And besides, he probably wouldn’t like me. I’m too much of a petrol head for most guys.”
Lydia downed her drink. “I think most guys would love a mechanic girlfriend. Seriously. Anyway, let’s dance. Are you coming?”
Sophie declined and sat back in her chair, sipping her mojito, while the other two wove their way into the mass of moving bodies on the dance floor. On an ordinary night, she would have joined them, but this was no ordinary night. Since the discovery in that exhaust earlier that day, everything felt different. She had a sense of urgency, like everything she did was meaningless and time-wasting until the would-be bomber was caught.
Chapter Four
Sophie
“Have you heard anything yet?” Sophie asked, tossing a wrench back and forth in her palms.
Stephan looked up at her as she waited for news in the office doorway. “About what, my little grease monkey?”
“You know...” Sophie couldn’t bring herself to say the words again. She’d asked him every day this week. “… the bomb.”
“Not since you last asked me.” He looked at his watch sarcastically. “All of twelve hours ago. I promise I’ll tell you as soon as the team gets back to me. They’re the best. Sometimes I miss working on that unit. Those guys were such a laugh but dedicated. Willing to die for their work. When Ruth came along, and then the first kid, I knew I couldn’t put them through that worry anymore, so that’s why I came out. If I’d stayed single, maybe I’d still be in that line of work... or killed.”
“I’m glad you came out of the forces,” Sophie said, smiling. “I wouldn’t be working here otherwise.”
Stephan sighed. “You could do better than this. Just not yet. I need you.” He laughed and winked at her. “And anyway, why are you so hung up on all this? Does it have anything to do with the fact that our would-be bomb victim is devilishly handsome and the leader of a bikers club? Is he your type? This is interesting. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you lose it over a guy.”
“Shut up,” Sophie said, smirking and turning a shade pinker. “It’s nothing like that. I’m just interested. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever stumbled across. Aren’t you curious? Or worried? I just want to solve this thing.”
Stephan’s face grew serious. “You’re right, Sophie. I’m just messin’ with you. I do want to help that guy solve this. After all, he could still be in danger.”
The truth was that, although Sophie would never admit it, there was something about Zeke Draper that she couldn’t shake from her mind and it truly annoyed her. Relationships, crushes, boyfriends, all that nonsense was for other people - people who’d had parents or siblings and who knew how to relate to others, how to care... how to love. The thought of getting involved with someone terrified her. She’d had one boyfriend, Greg, and that had been enough of a train wreck to put her off men for life. He was clingy and possessive and had nothing in common with her but insisted they were “meant to be.
” If that’s what a relationship was, she’d give it a miss, thanks.
Anyway, Zeke was so good looking, and in a powerful position at the club, and probably in his career from what she could tell. He would never be interested. She looked down at her uniform; it was baggy in all the wrong places, hid her feminine curves, and was smeared with dirt stains. It was the least flattering piece of clothing in existence. And her hair, it was always a bird’s nest at work. Zeke would just think of her as some scruffy chick in a shop. Nothing more.