Excerpt of Demon's Debt by Celia Phoenix

Alana

The car creeper squeaked as I rolled it under the Aston Martin. I had jacked up the car earlier so I would have enough room to look at the suspension underneath. I had a can of oil in one hand in case Pa asked me what I was doing under the car. The car smelled of old rubber and metal. What a beauty!

It was my dream to build cars, and I had been fiddling with a prototype engine ever since I started working back at the garage.

The car door opened suddenly above me. Someone rifled through the glove compartment and slammed the door shut again. I hadn’t even heard the footsteps. It must be Diego. Always late, the asshole.

“Close her gently Diego, Pa said the owner is a dangerous piece of shit!” I called from under the car

Diego ignored me and I slid out from under the car. Riling him up was always fun. He usually wore brown construction boots, but the shoes standing beside the car were black patent leather brogues that were so clean they reflected the light in the garage. Those definitely did not belong to Diego.

I rolled out the rest of the way, trying to avoid the shoes, and saw the rest of the man wearing them. He was in a well-fitted black suit and a black shirt that was open at the collar, showing smooth skin. The suit hugged his biceps and narrowed down to his slim waist. My heart skipped a beat, heck it skipped two, and my mouth was suddenly dry. He had piercing dark blue eyes, a neat haircut and a day’s growth of beard on his face. He was strangely familiar.

“So, I’m a dangerous piece of shit,” he said

Fuck. He heard that. I tried to stand up as gracefully as I could, balancing the can of oil in one hand, but it slipped out of my grasp and fell to the floor. Oil covered my overalls, sneakers, and his patent leather shoes. He stepped back as if the oil was acid and sneered. I bent down with a rag and cleaned the oil from his shoes. When I got up, the sneer was still on his face and in that moment, I recognized him. From eight years ago.

Pa had taken me to Malibu to work on another dangerous man’s car. I had to wait in the garden because there was nowhere else for me to go. I had stumbled upon a shirtless college kid hosing himself down in the garden and that was the first time my heart had skipped a beat to the male form.

It was the same guy, only with more muscle and a nicer haircut. Ezekiel ‘Zeke’ Zabresky, the mob boss’ son.

“I’m sorry about your shoes,” I said

“Not sorry about calling me a piece of shit though,” he said with a grin.

A dangerous smile played at the side of his mouth. This was a man capable of violence. I could see that.

I opened my mouth for words to come out, but it failed me. Diego said I had the tongue of a flying wench and would probably never get married because of it, but suddenly, I was at a loss for what to say.

“It depends on if you’re going to be a piece of shit to my grandfather,” I mumbled eventually

His face was blank, no recognition.

“So, Roberto’s granddaughter is a chubby female mechanic with questionable manners. I’ll keep that in mind when next I ask him to work on one of my cars,” he replied.

As he talked, I couldn’t help looking at his lips. They were pink and full and inviting. I needed to get away. Just standing there in front of him, taking in his expensive cologne was making my head reel. I took a step back away from him and I slipped on the oil on the floor.

Before I could fall, he grabbed me by the front of my overalls and pulled me closer. He looked down expertly at my cleavage. His eyes betrayed him. He thought I was hot. Now I was close enough to hear his breathing change. My head was just under his chin and he looked down at my lips.

“Don’t come any closer, I bite,” he said in a strangled voice

“What’s going on here?”

Pa had walked in, with Jimmy scowling behind him.

Zeke let go of my overalls deftly.

“Your mechanic was about to fall down in a puddle of oil, so I grabbed her. I wouldn’t want to be in the middle of a lawsuit.”

“What are you doing here? I told your boy the car would be ready by tomorrow?” Pa asked, obviously annoyed.

The said boy, a hefty, bodyguard-looking type, walked in and stood behind Zeke. He was tall, but Zeke towered over him.

“Wrong answer, Roberto. It’s the centerpiece of an exhibition to launch my new racing track and I need it moved with the other cars tonight.”

“What you need is not my problem. I have another mechanic coming in this morning to work on it. You can come and pick it up tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s fucking inconvenient,” said Zeke, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“Get your car out of my garage if that doesn’t work for you,” answered Pa.

“It’s only here because Aston Martin recommended you. I rarely deal with anyone small time,” Zabresky said with arrogance.

My blood boiled. I snapped out of the trance I was previously in and faced Zeke Zabresky.

“You’re very rude. How dare you come here and talk to my grandad like that? You’re a coward hiding behind your bodyguard to protect you!” I yelled at him.

The bodyguard looked afraid, like I had done the unthinkable. Obviously, no one spoke to his boss like that.

Zeke took a step towards me.

“The bodyguards don’t protect me, they protect people from me.”

My grandfather stepped into the space between us.

“I will fix your car by tomorrow. Now leave and go work on your manners. Your father was a made man, but he always treated people with respect.”

“Didn’t you hear? My father’s dead. I’m the new king in town,” said Zeke.

He dusted his pants like the air in our garage was full of Ebola and walked, no strutted out like he was a model at a photoshoot, his bodyguard close behind him.

My Grandpa muttered ‘arrogant prick’ under his breath as he popped open the hood of the car to get to work.

Diego entered at that moment. He had dark silky hair and possibly used a tin of grease per day to slick it back.

“Was that asshole I saw walking out of here the owner of the Aston Martin?” he asked.

I would probably fantasize about that asshole tonight.

“Enough chitchat,” said Pa from under the hood, “Get to work,”

Diego joined Pa at the car while I walked to the changing room to get out of my oil-stained coveralls. I kept wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. How could my body react so strongly to such an obviously mannerless A-hole?

My focus shifted to the Aston Martin. I would get a good look at her engine today while Pa and Diego worked on it. She wouldn’t think I was a chubby mechanic.