3. Levi
Chapter 3
Levi
T he last thing I want to do is be here.
But what kind of brother would I be if I bailed on my own damn party?
"Don't even think about it," Carter grumbles as he watches me over the rim of his red Solo cup.
"I'm not doing anything." I narrow my eyes. "What's in that cup anyway?"
"It's just soda, Dad ." He smirks. "Don't worry I'm not gonna get your ass in trouble. I know what this is."
My younger brother finds joy in being a smart ass. But I don't entirely trust him to not stir up chaos. It's basically been his MO our entire lives.
"Good. Because the last thing I need is the underaged crowd you insisted on inviting finding booze stashed around this place. I'd like to keep my business—and my freedom."
I slide a hand into my pocket and survey the garage. Low-level mayhem ensuing. High risk of stupidity.
Besides my crew, everyone else looks... young. Too young to be clients. Too young to hold a conversation without using the word “vibe”.
So why the hell I let Carter talk me into hosting a Halloween party aimed squarely at my son's generation is beyond me.
I haven’t exactly been in my right mind lately. This party is proof of that.
Doesn’t help that a rival shop just opened across the pass, already poaching our regulars and making me suddenly accept every job that comes our way. Long gone are the days where we have a nine month waitlist.
But Carter swears the younger crowd will boost us online. Social clout. Viral buzz. Whatever the hell that all means.
Me? I’d prefer solid connections, word-of-mouth, and not watching two kids grope each other five feet from my office door.
The music is pounding louder than it's ever been in here. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops show up. Honestly, I’m kind of wishing they would. It’d save me the trouble of shutting this circus down myself.
Two teenagers are full-on dry humping in the corner, and I’ve just about hit my limit.
“You know what—”
“I knew you were gonna do this,” Carter groans before I even finish.
“Do what?”
“Chicken out, man. You always do. Trust me, this is exactly the kind of attention SKC needs. When’s the last time the shop got any buzz? 2014?”
“It hasn’t been that long.” Has it? “And anyway, this isn’t what guys my age do, Carter. We don’t throw ragers. We have responsibilities and…” I gesture vaguely toward the twerking mob, “sense.”
“Guys your age?” he repeats, eyebrows raised.
“Hell, guys your age too. You just never outgrew your wonder years.”
Carter and I are ten years apart. But it might as well be decades by the way acts.
“Hey, just admit you’re jealous I’m not full on midlife crisis-ing like you.” He grins.
"Crisis-ing isn't a word," I shoot back, much to his chagrin.
Besides, is forty really mid-life? I feel like I at least have another decade before I can call it that. But maybe I’m in denial.
A kid in a ragged Jack Sparrow costume stumbles by and crashes into the trash can, sending soda cans rolling across the floor. Definitely sneaking booze in.
Carter and I exchange a look. He’s about to say something smart that’ll probably piss me off, but I cut him off. “I need air.”
I rip off my eyepatch, the only pirate adjacent thing I'm wearing, and let it fall to the ground.
Finishing off my cola, I set the can on top of the trash pile before tugging the bag out and cinching it shut. I heave it over my shoulder and head outside to the alley.
"Le-vi." There's an edge in Carter's voice. I hate it when he says my name like that. I feel like I'm letting him down.
Lately, I feel like I’ve been letting everybody down.
I turn to face him. "Don't you go run and hide," he says. "I need you here. This place is you and King's baby. You two need to want this more than me."
Was our baby. It was. When we were two ex-soldiers ready to take on life in the civilian world.
But so many other things have demanded attention from my best friend and I. I just happen to be the only one around at the moment to have to deal with this particular project. The only one around to answer for it.
Letting out a sigh, I push the back door open, stepping out into the cool night. Out here the music isn't quite as loud. Which gives me just enough space to actually think.
There's a small group of partygoers standing around smoking cigarettes as they shiver, laughing about something I don't pick up on.
Joey, our rookie mechanic, is amongst them holding court as he usually does and he lifts his chin in my direction, but doesn't stop talking.
I nod in return but don’t engage.
My fingers twitch, the old craving sparking to life at the sight of their cigarettes. The urge is quick and sharp.
But no more cheap fixes.
No more numbing out just to get through the day.
That man is gone. He's buried beneath mountains of responsibilities, expectations, and people who need me to be stronger than my worst impulses.
Exhaling slowly, I push the temptation down and round the corner to the alley next to my shop. Immediately, I regret letting my brother convince me to have this ridiculous party here.
A woman with fiery red hair framed by blonde streaks on either side of her face shoves a guy that just ran his fingers over her cheek.
Another guy stands off to the side of them keeping guard. His eyes are now glued on me.
"Oh, come on, gorgeous. You get two of us," the creep motions toward his friend. "Promise we'll make it worth your time," the man croons.
Scratch that—boy— not man.
He reaches for her again and without a second thought she slaps him across the face hard.
The sound even has the small group around the corner looking this way. I motion for them to head inside. Joey rounds them up and they scram.
"I said no," she says sternly. Her voice not wavering in the least.
"Hey!" I yell out, dropping the trash bag. The other guy now turns to me and I get a good look at the woman they're harassing.
Green eyes flare as she swallows, arms coming up to her chest as she crosses them.
I slip my hands into my pockets as I approach them, counting to ten like my therapist taught me to do so many years ago.
If I don't put my hands away, they'll go flying right into their faces and I don't know if I'll be able to stop once I start. History’s proven as much.
"Well, look who we have here," the dickhead that got slapped says, rubbing his cheek.
"These boys bothering you, Miss?" I say to her, completely ignoring him.
"What's it to you, old man?" The other jerk says with a sneer.
I look at the gangly teen down my nose. "I wasn't talking to you, kid."
Unfortunately, I know exactly who this piece of shit is. I went to school with his dad. I wonder what the Breaker's Isle Police Chief would think if he saw who his son is now running around town with.
The woman angrily shoves her way out from behind them and starts down the alley and beyond the back gate without another word.
"Now look what you've done. You scared her off. That's the best piece of ass this island's seen since…"
I turn to Dickhead, the glare in my eyes heating to a level that can kill.
"You gonna finish that thought?" I growl out, fists already bunched at my sides.
He laughs and the police chief's son chuckles nervously, his eyes glancing around them to make sure there are witnesses around no doubt.
Privileged little pricks are always looking for ways to be backed up when they're clearly in the wrong.
"Well, we all know about your wife," Dickhead dares to add.
In my mind, I let my fist fly right into his face. And I don't stop. I release the full force of everything I'm holding back until he gets the idea that you don't get to force yourself on women or talk down about them without facing a few consequences.
But I don't even get the chance.
Too fast, somebody at my side throws a right hook into Dickhead's stomach making him keel over.
Theo, my son, stands over him, watching the guy fall onto his knees gasping for air.
"Don't you ever mention my mother again, Duncan." Theo hisses the words out then faces the guy's friend who's now backed into the chainlink fence behind him making it rattle. "You got that?"
The chief's son just bobs his head up and down and though I shouldn't condone fighting, I can't help but feel a little proud.
Duncan— not Dickhead but close enough —is still struggling for air when he gets out, "Oh, you're going to regret doing that little Steele."
Theo reels his fist back about to punch him again, but this time I stop him, his fist landing in the palm of my hand instead. His eyes flash to me as confusion knits his features.
"It's not worth it." I tell him. "Go chill out inside."
"But—"
"Now, Theo!"
Theo pulls away from my grasp, drawing his costume coat into himself and storming away from us, back into the garage.
I watch as he retreats. The ink that creeps out from the collar of his coat is just one of his many intricate designs.
It's also the reason he didn't follow in my footsteps and join the Army when he graduated earlier this year.
The military doesn't bend over backwards to welcome someone with tattoos up and down their entire body. He pretty much sealed his fate when he decided to get them done.
I turn to Duncan. "You have three seconds to leave before I finish what my son was about to do."
Duncan's eyes lose all courage and widen before he stumbles away in the direction the woman left, followed by his lame little yes man.
Shit. I should follow them and make sure they don't bother her and as I reluctantly do so a woman's voice stops me right in my tracks, "Quite the performance."
I turn to see her. Green eyes. That long red hair swirling effortlessly around her shoulders.
She looks about Theo’s age, which makes the fact that she must be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on… just a bit of a hard pill to swallow.
And she's not from around here. I would know. Hell, everybody would know.
She’s dressed like she’s ready to ride. But considering it is Halloween, it's probably a costume like most of the people here.
"I believe this might be yours?” She steps up to me, holding something out for me to take.
I look at what's dangling from her dainty fingers—my eye patch. The one I abandoned inside.
"How'd you know that was mine?" I ask, taking the eye patch and slipping it into my back pocket.
"Heard a guy inside grumbling about how Levi Steele can’t be bothered to just have a little fun as he tossed it in the trash.”
Fucking Carter.
“What were you doing out here anyway?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Avoiding people,” she slips her hands into her pockets and assesses the area around us. “Kinda failed, though.”
“Anyone in particular you’re trying to avoid?” I pry.
“Yeah,” her eyes meet mine. “You, actually.”
Me? What the hell did I do?
“Is… there a reason?”
“Several. But mostly, you’re Levi Steele.”
“I am,” I say, now more confused.
“And this is your garage.”
“It is.”
“So that must mean you didn’t find me fit to work here,” she finally says.
Ah shit.
“Right, you must be the kid Benji interviewed.”
“I’m not a kid, Mr. Steele.” No, she most definitely is not.
We stay staring at each other, a few feet apart but it feels like an invisible string is pulling us together.
I run my hand over the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’m sure you’ll be able to find a job. There are plenty of shops on the mainland.”
We didn’t hire her. She’s hurt because she didn’t get the foreman job.
But could she blame me? I didn’t bat an eye when Benji told me how young she is. But now that I know she looks like sin—the last thing I need is someone drawing the wrong kind of attention to my business.
She doesn’t say anything, just watches me with a gleam in her eye.
“And I’m sorry for the way those guys treated you back there. They shouldn't have done that."
She nods in agreement and steps up to me, again. Suddenly, I'm engulfed in the smell of sweet florals, something I'm not expecting considering her look of pure female badassery.
"Just so you know. I'm more than capable of fighting my own battles, Mr. Steele."
I take a step back and study her to make sure she's being serious.
"Well, you looked really uncomfortable with their… advances."
"Harassment. Let's just call a spade a spade, shall we?" she says, closing the gap I just created. "Which is why…" another grin stretches across her flawless face, "I slashed their tires."
She says it so nonchalant that I wonder if I heard her correctly.
"You did what?" I say, baffled but entirely amused.
Can't say they didn't deserve it.
I hear a frustrated roar down the street from who can only be Dickhead Duncan and the Police Chief's son and when I turn back to her, she's biting her bottom lip into her mouth.
The look on her face is downright devilish.
"See?" She steps to the side of me and picks up the trash bag I dropped earlier, carrying it the rest of the way to the garbage bin at the side of my garage.
"You don't have to do that," I say, following behind her like a puppy.
She tosses the bag in and shuts the lid. "Let me guess, you can handle it yourself?"
"Okay… you've made your point." This woman.
She looks me up and down, her eyes lingering on my left hand for a moment before meeting my gaze again.
"Where's the wife you so nobly defended?" She asks, not withholding her curiosity.
And she has no shame.
"Ex -wife," I clarify. "Though that's not any of your business."
And yet somehow I can't help myself in telling her that detail.
She nods her understanding, holding onto that salacious smirk.
"What’s with all the pirates?" She points behind her at the custom bike shop I built from the ground up.
I cross my arms over my chest. "You've got a lot of questions for someone whose name I don't even know."
She bends down and picks up an old license plate off the ground, flipping it around leisurely in her hands.
"You’d know my name, if you hired me."
Fair. I stand off to the side as she continues to run her hands over materials the crew has haphazardly tossed outside the garage. I've never noticed what a mess it was back here until now.
"Sorry, but the position’s been filled," I inform her.
She places the license plate onto a stack of old tires.
“Fine, then I’d like to interview for the mechanic position.”
“No longer available,” I say without thinking.
What is wrong with me?
We obviously need the help. And neither one of those positions have actually been filled. I just can’t do it. I can’t be around someone like her day in and day out.
She’d wear down my defenses. She’d be a distraction.
Clearly, my body isn’t getting the memo that she’s a no-go. Yeah . I need her far away from here.
She straightens and looks over her shoulder at me, slowly blinking long lashes in my direction.
"That’s too bad. You missed out on a great one."
The look in her eyes is pure fire. And for a split second I reconsider it.
Maybe this girl is exactly what the garage needs. Fresh eyes. Bold spirit.
Then she bends down to pick something up off the ground and I’m reminded of why this will not work. I turn to the side so that I don’t stare. I know other men wouldn’t be able to help themselves.
But I refuse to be like those assholes that felt so entitled to her.
"Look, if you need a job. I know almost every business owner here on the island. I’m sure I can ask around," I offer.
“No need, Mr. Steele. I already told you, I can take care of myself. Thanks though.”
She resumes her perusal of the junkyard I'm now realizing we've created over the years.
"Who are you?” I say, the question almost impulsive.
"Hmm… look who's the curious one now?" She raises a brow.
"I like to know who and what I'm dealing with." I don't move from my spot as she continues running her hand over the old metal tossed about.
"Ah, so you're dealing with me now?"
"I didn't mean it like that."
She chuckles.
"Let's just say I'm someone who appreciates your workmanship."
"So you ride?"
"A little." She motions over her outfit. "Can't you tell?"
I shrug. "It's Halloween. You can pretend to be whatever you want."
"Like you? Wearing an eye patch?”
“It’s an island thing,” I grumble. “Besides I took it off.”
“Huh. Well, there's no pretending. This is me,” she motions to herself. “Take it or leave it, captain."
Take it. My stupid brain tells me against my better judgement. My only answer is a gruff clearing of my throat.
She turns to me just standing there watching her and gives me a look like she knows exactly what's going through my head.
And I feel like a total dumbass for staring. The way she just called me captain had more than my head stirring.
"I better get back inside—"
" Or should I call you Ace ?"
The way she says my old Army nickname—it's soft. Like a caress. A secret. And she has no business saying it that way.
She has even less business knowing it.
My jaw tightens.
"I'm sorry," I say, cocking my head, giving her a once-over. " Who are you?"
She smirks, like she's been waiting for me to ask her. As if this whole interaction is a game that she already knows she's winning.
But before she can answer, the side door slams open and Theo pokes his head out. The music coming from inside floods the empty outdoor space. It’s just me and the woman I know nothing about out here.
"Uh, Dad? I think you should come see this."
Theo's eyes momentarily flick to the woman who's held me captive out here before looking at me again.
I rub my hand down my face, annoyed to be bothered. Whoever she is she knows way more about me than I do about her and that doesn't sit well with me.
"It's Uncle Carter," Theo says, as if that should be enough to get me to come inside.
And it is. I never know what to expect with Carter.
"You should probably go handle that, Mr. Steele." The beautiful woman teases.
Captain. Mr. Steele. Ace. Who is she?
My jaw tenses as her eyes shine with mischief. I step up to her.
"Tell me your name.”
She hesitates, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
“If you don’t, I’ll find out anyways."
She purses her lips in thought just as my brother's name being chanted inside pours out into the area we now occupy.
But she doesn't say anything. She just smiles with a look that says you should go.
I sigh, walking past her and into my place of business that is now the last place I want to be.
The partygoers have gathered in a corner of the garage and my brother is doing a keg stand, surrounded by kids that are most likely not of legal age.
I open my mouth to shut it down but red and blue lights flash outside from the street beating me to it.
The pattern wakes people from their party mode and sends them into a frenzy, immediately pouring out from every possible exit as the music gets cut off.
Great. Looks like I’m going to jail after all.