Chapter One
R olling to a stop, I put the car in park as I lean forward and study the sign on the front of the building.
Saint’s Garage.
Please, fucking please let the owner be a decent human being and not some sexist pain in the ass pig who refuses to hire me because I don’t have the right anatomy hanging between my legs. I need this job so bad I’m not above begging.
I send the quick prayer up, hoping that whoever is supposed to listen hears me.
My mom works two jobs and doesn’t make enough to begin to cover our expenses, and I refuse to let my teenage brother go without even more than I did when I was in high school.
We have always been poor. When I was three, my father ran off. Mom doesn’t like to talk about it, so I never asked, but she always tried to do right by us. It wasn’t until I was ten that I realized the truth.
The pantry we always got food from was one meant for the underprivileged. I thought everyone shopped there until Danny Wilson made fun of me for getting my food there. I gave him a bloody nose and got in trouble for it. That’s when Mom told me the truth. We weren’t rich, but we were making it.
I was sixteen when I found out what a lie that was. Our landlord stopped by while she was at work to collect rent. I asked how much we owed and got sticker shock by the number.
The next day, I went out and got a job at the local fast-food joint. I tried working there and going to the technical college after I graduated, but that didn’t last long. They laid me off, citing downsizing, but really they found someone to do my job cheaper.
After applying to several other places, I realized my only real shot at money is finding a job at a garage. It seemed like a great idea until almost all of them laughed me out of the door.
This is my last shot.
Shaking my head, I get out of the car and head into the garage bay, passing by the front office.
“You lost?” someone calls out, making the men turn my way.
“Shit, I’ll help you find your way,” someone quips, making the guys laugh.
I shove my hands into my jean jacket pockets.
“I was wondering if I could talk to the boss,” I say with false confidence.
“You need work done?” one of the guys asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’m here about a job.”
“Ah, you want the office bitch job,” one of the guys says knowingly.
“Actually, I’m here about being a mechanic,” I say, making the guys all burst into laughter.
One of the guys, a big dude who looks like he could be the size of a bear, points at me as he wheezes. “You, you want to be a mechanic? You’re a little thing, you’d get lost under the hood.”
My jaw clenches as my eye twitches.
I know I should be used to hearing this type of shit, but it never gets easier.
Don’t walk over and hit him in the nuts with a wrench. Don’t do it.
A whistle cuts through the air, making me tense.
“Knock it off,” a man says as he steps into the bay and starts walking my way.
I roll my shoulders back, standing up straight as he takes me in, praying I’m making a good impression.
“What’s your name?” the man asks.
“Sloane.”
He holds out his hand, and I slip mine into his. “Nice to meet you, Sloane. My name’s Smoke, and this is my place.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Did I hear you right when you said you didn’t want the office job but want to turn wrenches?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
“You did.”
“Look, I’ll be honest, we’re not hiring mechanics right now, and even if we were, we don’t hire outside of our family for that.”
My eyes close and my shoulders drop.
Goddammit.
“I understand,” I mutter. “Thanks for talking to me.”
I turn and take a step back to the car when he calls out, “Now where are you going?”
Turning back to him, I frown. “I thought you just told me you weren’t hiring.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not, but I could be convinced. Tell me, Sloane, what do you know about cars?”
“You can’t be serious right now,” one of the guys scoffs.
Smoke doesn’t look away from me. “Not now, Tank.”
The guy named Tank scoffs and walks back into the bay.
“Answer my question, kid,” Smoke says, bringing my attention back to him.
“I’m not a kid, I’m nineteen,” I snap, making the corner of his lips twitch. “I took an automotive class when I was a freshman in high school and got hooked. I always liked taking things apart and putting them back together, but when I took that class, I felt like I found my calling. I was going to school to get my technician degree, but I had to drop out.”
“Why did you drop out?”
I shrug as I swallow hard. “Family.”
A look of understanding crosses Smoke’s face. “Tell me, how many shops have you been to and been turned away?”
“More than I’d like to admit.”
“How about you follow me to the office so we can talk in the air conditioning?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond and turns on his heels, heading inside.
Quickly, I fall into line behind him, keeping my head down. I can feel the other guys in the shop staring, but I pay them no mind.
“You want a bottle of water?” Smoke asks as he steps behind a desk.
“Sure.”
“Good, you can grab two.” He points to a mini fridge on the opposite side of his desk.
I fight back a smile as I bend down and grab them before sitting down in the chair across from him, sliding him his bottle of water.
I feel instantly better when I realize he never even tried to look at my ass.
“What do you know about my shop?” he asks after he takes a drink.
“Besides the fact that people seem to love what you do, nothing.”
He leans back in his chair and nods. “Saint’s Garage is owned by Saint’s Outlaws MC, and I’m the president of our chapter.”
I frown. “Like that biker show that’s always on TV?”
Smoke rolls his eyes and grumbles. “That fucking show.” Sighing, he continues. “Like that, but it’s real life. We’re the real deal.”
“Okay…” I drawl, not quite sure where he’s going with this.
“So if you work here, we’re going to have some rules.”
“Wait, are you hiring me?” I perk up.
Smoke smiles, and holy shit, it hits me how handsome my future boss can be when he wants to. “Yes.”
“I thought you said you didn’t hire outside of the club or whatever.”
“Typically, I don’t and I won’t outside of you,” he says, pointing at me.
“Why me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful, but I’m confused.”
“You can thank my old lady. She works in a male-dominated field and, up until recently, was treated like shit. I’d like to think by hiring you, I’d be doing my part in making sure a woman gets to do what she wants, despite what body parts she has.”
“Th-thank you,” I rasp as relief fills me.
“Don’t thank me yet, kid. You’re going to have to sign an NDA. I won’t risk you overhearing club business and running to tell the pigs.”
My nose crinkles. “Yeah, going to the cops is the last thing I would ever do, but I get it. All I want to do is keep my head down and earn a paycheck.”
“Good, now let’s talk about pay.”
As he lays everything out to me, a feeling of rightness settles in. I don’t care what this club does as long as they don’t bring me into it and they let me work on cars.
The only sound echoing through the shop is my breathing and the sound of tools. The guys think I’m crazy, getting up before the sun every day and jumping into work, but when they are here, it’s loud and chaotic. Everyone needs something, and I feel like I’m being pulled in a million different directions and not getting any real work done.
So I come in early every day to get a little bit of work done.
Someone knocks on the door, and I ignore it. We aren’t fucking open yet and won’t be for almost another hour. Ignoring them, I keep working, but the impatient bastard knocks again on the side door.
Grunting, I get out from under the hood of the car I’m working on and stomp toward the door.
“We’re not open. Come back during the times listed on the office door,” I snap. I try to shut the door in the young girl’s face, only she sticks her foot between the door and the jamb.
Slowly, my eyes trail up her body, and I raise a brow when I get to her face. For a split second, I see a flash of uncertainty cross her face before she locks that shit down.
“I’m not here for a service. Smoke hired me, and this is my first day.”
I frown as I think about it. Smoke told me he hired someone, but I thought he said a mechanic. To be honest, I tuned him out. I figured whoever he hired would be prospecting, but looking at this chick, that ain’t happening.
“Front office is that way,” I point over my shoulder. “You don’t need to show up an hour early to do office shit, but I’ll let Smoke know you’re here.”
The girl rolls her shoulders back. “I’m not your secretary or whatever you call someone who works the counter here. I’m a mechanic.”
I cross my arms over my chest, and I feel my eyebrows raise. “You? A mechanic?”
The little ball of sass rolls her eyes and snaps. “Yes, a mechanic. I work on cars.”
“Are you sure you weren’t hired to work the desk?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Call and ask him if you don’t believe me. I’ll wait.” She crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot on the concrete floor.
Goddamn, someone should spank the attitude out of this one.
Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I pull up his number and hit call.
“Yo, what’s up?” His sleepy voice comes over the phone.
“Do you have something you need to tell me?” I bark.
“No, why?” He sounds genuinely confused, making me wonder if the girl is lying.
“There’s a little spitfire here who claims you hired her to be a mechanic, but I know that can’t be true.” I size the woman up.
Smoke is silent for a minute. “How drunk were you the other night? I told you I hired a girl.”
“Yeah, for the office. Not a mechanic.”
“No, I told you I hired a mechanic who’s a female. I told you that she would be starting today and that I wanted you to remind the guys before I got there to be on their best behavior and that she’s off-limits.”
I turn away from her and hiss under my breath. “Are you serious right now?”
“Deadly.”
“Does she even know the difference between a torque wrench and a timing light?”
Smoke sighs. “Yes, she does. She went to school to be a tech, and she took a shop class for years. Hell, I even had her work on a car in front of me. She’s legit, so stop questioning me.”
“Fuck me,” I mumble.
“No thanks, you’re not my type,” he quips, making me roll my eyes. “Now go show her where she will be working and help her set up if she needs it.”
“Fine. Just know we’re talking about this later.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he says before he hangs up.
Sighing, I put my phone back into my pocket and turn to the girl in question.
A devious little smile plays on her lips. “Believe me now?”
Grunting, I turn back around and call over my shoulder, “Follow me.”
I hear her tiny little feet slap against the floor as she tries to catch up.
“This is your bench. Do you have any tools or will you be working with what we have?”
She tips her chin up at me defiantly. “I have some of my own in my trunk.”
“Good, let’s go.” I start walking back the way we came.
“Asshole,” she mutters under her breath.
I fight back a smile. She probably thinks she said it quietly enough that I wouldn’t hear her, but she’s wrong.
I push open the door and don’t bother holding it open behind me. The girl grunts behind me. I come to a stop next to her car that looks like it was found in a junkyard and wait for her to unlock the trunk with a key.
A fucking key.
I don’t remember the last time I saw someone do that.
“What are you staring at?” she snaps.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “This it?” I ask as I take in her single toolbox that is small. It’s tiny compared to most mechanics.
“Yes,” she says as she grabs it.
For a split second, I consider taking it from her and carrying it for her, but I decide not to.
Slamming her trunk, she follows me back into the shop, only this time since she’s one hand down, I hold the door open for her.
“Thanks,” she says as she breezes by me.
You’re not welcome, I think in my head.
I follow her back to her bench and watch as she sets it down. While she gets set up, I walk over to the wall of work orders and pull a few of the easy ones for her, mostly oil changes and one tire rotation.
“Here,” I say as I slam the papers down on the bench next to her. “Don’t fuck anything up.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” She salutes me.
Spanking, she definitely needs a spanking , I think as my eye begins to twitch.
Grunting, I turn to walk back to the car I was working on.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” she calls out behind me.
Sighing, I turn back to her. “Does it really matter? It’s not like you’ll be working here long enough for it to matter.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Gunner.”
“Sounds like a dog’s name.”
“It’s my road name,” I grit out.
“Ah, that’s right, like the TV show.” She nods. “Well, my name’s Sloane.”
“What kind of name is that?”
She raises a brow, silently asking if I’m really judging her name when I go by Gunner.
She’s giving me a goddamn headache. “Get to work, Sloane. Oh, and I changed my mind. Please feel free to fuck something up so we can fire you.”
“No thanks, I’m going for employee of the month,” she quips.
Grunting, I duck back under the hood. I don’t know why Smoke hired her, but she’s got to go.