Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Killer had found her a car—a solid deal, all things considered.
Fifteen years old, garage kept and holding strong.
It had low miles due to being owned by an elderly couple.
It was a light-blue Volkswagen Bug that looked like it had barely lived.
The radio was basic—no fancy screen or Bluetooth—but it worked.
One window didn’t roll down, which she could live with, and the back bumper had a softball-sized dent where the previous owner, an elderly woman, had reversed into her own mailbox.
The roof carried a fine layer of black soot, a leftover signature from the woman’s husband, who’d used the car to toss newspapers before sunrise.
It smelled faintly of ink and old leather inside, and when she ran her hand along the hood, the paint was warm under the afternoon sun.
It wasn’t sleek. It wasn’t fast. But it was hers—or would be soon enough.
She smiled, already picturing the changes she’d make. A deep clean, a new bumper if she felt ambitious, and maybe some seat covers that didn’t scream “retirement home.” With a little work, it’d shine again.
She took the keys from Killer with a grin that she couldn’t quite hide. They were attached to a plastic daisy keychain, it’s yellow petals dancing in the sunlight.
It was perfect, the dings and dents gave it personality, and it was hers. She slid into the driver’s seat, the worn leather creaking beneath her, and gave the steering wheel a once-over like she was meeting a new friend.
The engine turned over on the first try, settling into a soft, smooth purr. The window that wouldn’t roll down didn’t bother her. She just roll the others open and let the salty coastal air pour in.
Killer knocked twice on the roof and stepped back, giving her a short nod. She caught his reflection in the rearview mirror as she pulled out—arms crossed, shades on, already heading for his bike.
The drive from Fort Bragg to Lampsing hugged the edge of the world.
Highway One twisted and dipped like a ribbon laid across the cliffs, the Pacific crashing against jagged rocks far below.
Her little Bug glided—she didn’t bounce or rattle, but she felt every curve and twist through the steering wheel.
With the windows down and the smell of ocean and eucalyptus in her lungs, she felt. .. free.
Behind her, Killer’s headlight stayed steady in the mirror. Not crowding her. Not rushing her. Just there. Watching her back the way he always did—even when she pretended, she didn’t need it.
She laughed once, quietly, as a sharp turn made her grip the wheel tighter. She tapped the break gently, slowing down a bit. Her nerves were still unsettled after the wreck. “You better not put me on the cliffside, baby,” she muttered to the car. It smoothed out, as if agreeing to the ride.
By the time the outline of Lampsing came into view—its familiar curves nestled between rolling hills and the stretch of ocean behind her—Brandi felt more at ease behind the wheel.
The Bug might’ve been smooth in the turns, but the brakes needed looking at.
The steering was a bit tight but it handled like it belonged to her now.
At the town’s only red light, Killer pulled up alongside her. His bike rumbled low, steady, as he glanced her way and signaled for her to roll the window down.
She rolled it down, the button sticking halfway. “Yeah?”
“Take it to the garage,” he said, voice cutting over the thrum of engines. “I want Wrench to give it a once-over.”
Brandi nodded. “Okay.”
She rolled the window back up and sat still as the light turned green. That tight feeling started to crawl up from her stomach—the same one she’d spent months trying to shake. Taking the Bug to the garage meant there was a good chance she’d see Tool.
She sighed. Lampsing wasn’t exactly sprawling. Running into him was inevitable. They had to learn to live in the same town.
After everything, Brandi had decided Lampsing was home. The only one she’d known since she was a kid. She wouldn’t let a man—especially one who didn’t know how to hold on to her—be the reason she ran.
Gripping the wheel a little tighter, she drove another block down toward the garage.
The sun was high in the afternoon sky, making the town feel more alive.
She kept her eyes forward, worried what she’d find at the garage.
If Tool was there, then so be it. She wasn’t the same girl he’d walked away from. She’d grown over the past few months.
The garage bay doors were open, the scent of oil and steel thick in the air as Brandi followed Killer into the lot. The Bug coughed once as she shifted into park, the engine ticking softly as it settled.
Killer was already off his bike and talking with Wrench, who wiped his hands on a stained rag and gave a low whistle as he eyed her car.
“She run?” Wrench asked with a crooked grin.
“She runs,” Brandi called back, climbing out and slamming the door behind her.
“She’s got a window that won’t roll down and a dent the size of Texas in the bumper,” Killer added, “but it seems to be solid. Give her a look. Make sure nothing’s gonna break while she’s driving it.”
Wrench nodded and walked around the car, tugging the door handle and tapping the roof. “Cute ride,” he said, half-amused. “Needs a bath, maybe an exorcism, but I’ve seen worse.”
Brandi half-smiled, but her eyes were already scanning the garage interior—past the lifted trucks, the stripped-down bike on the stand, and the old jukebox near the back wall. Her heart thudded once, then again, like it was bracing for impact.
“Relax,” Wrench said without looking up. “Tool’s not here.”
Her head snapped back to him.
He chuckled under his breath. “You ain’t exactly subtle.”
Brandi crossed her arms, annoyed but also a little grateful. “Wasn’t looking for him.”
“Uh-huh.”
She exhaled slowly. The pressure in her chest eased, just a little. Tool not being here didn’t change anything, not really. But it made the moment easier. “The brakes felt soft, and the steering is stiff. Also the driver’s side window gets stuck.”
Wrench popped the hood and leaned over the engine. “Come back in an hour. I’ll let you know what she needs.”
“Thanks, Wrench,” she said quietly.
Turning to Killer, she jerked her chin toward the street. “You hungry? I owe you lunch.”
“You buying?” he asked, already smirking.
She rolled her eyes. “You found me the car. Least I can do is feed you.”
As they walked off together, Brandi kept her shoulders square and her head high. Tool wasn’t there. And even if he had been, she wouldn’t let him see her flinch.