Page 10 of The Devil's Reward
After giving a quick salute, I head back to my office. I quickly type off an email to the social worker, letting her know we hired Crypt, and to send any other people like him my way. Within a few minutes, I get a quick email back thanking me, and saying how pleased she is for Crypt to already find employment.
I smirk to myself. In her email, she’s the picture of professionalism, but all I can think about is her sweet, shy voice on the phone. It’s too damn bad I’m not looking for a woman right now, because any other time, I’d be curious enough about that voice to want to put a face to it.
SIX
QUINN
It’s not every day you realize that you’re raising a con artist.
“Why do we have to go to the stupid garage?” Macy gripes as we make our way down the sidewalk towards The Devil’s Garage. I have to bite my tongue not to snap at her. Macy’s been short tempered all morning, and it seems she’s going to carry her attitude the rest of the day. Lord, help me.
I call on every ounce of patience I can muster and answer calmly, “Because the car was due for an inspection today. If it’s not inspected, Mommy can’t drive it, and that means you can’t go to school or to camp this summer.”
Her little lip pokes out in a pout, hating that I’ve made sense and poked a hole in her sassy argument. I swear, I’m not going to survive the teenage years. Maybe by then I’ll have enough saved to afford some decent therapy. I’m definitely going to need it. My daughter is strong willed. And by strong willed, I mean, sassy, stubborn as a goat, and prone to driving me crazy. She’s also far too smart, which means she realizes that I’ve either stretched the truth, tried to distract her, or just not answered far too fast.
She takes after her aunt Peyton, my older sister.
“Can we get pizza after we pick up the car?” Macy asks, giving me a sly glance.
I fight back a sigh. It’s a daily argument. Between pizza and chicken nuggets, those are the only food she chooses. Unluckily for her, it’s not her choice, so she has to deal with the food I make, including the vegetables and fruits that she constantly says she hates, but scarfs down like they’re her last meal.
“We’ll see,” I say noncommittally. With any luck, maybe she’ll forget about it by the time we head home.
Thankfully, we’re close to the garage, and that means we’re that much closer to getting home. It’s been a damn good day, but I’m ready to put my feet up and relax. Macy got her homework done, so she’ll be in her room playing with her dolls and action figures for a few hours before bedtime, while I curl up on the couch and finally start that book I bought the other day. A luxury I rarely get, so I plan on enjoying it as much as possible tonight.
“Is this the place, Mommy?” Macy asks as we finally reach the garage’s lot.
“Yep, this is the place,” I tell her. The building is quite large, with four bays, and a separate office area that has quite a few large windows, showing the open interior where a large motorcycle is on display. The cool air hits us as we walk inside, and I take in the spacious room with a large, long counter and an equally spacious waiting area that has nice leather couches and a coffee area just beside a large TV. Off to the side of that is a vending machine, and I don’t miss the way Macy’s eyes immediately land on it. “No,” I tell her firmly. “You’ll ruin your dinner.”
She gives me a mutinous glare, but quickly loses it when she sees the warning look on my face. She knows her chances for pizza are significantly lower if she badgers or ignores me.
I look up and see a woman sitting behind the desk, with a beaming smile on her face. Her caramel eyes light up when she makes eye contact with Macy. I’d put her in her late forties or early fifties. Her hair is a pretty dark brown, and she’s wearing a shirt that matches the mural on the wall. “Well, hello, little miss. Are you here to pick up your limo today?” she asks Macy.
Macy giggles. “No!” she grins. “We’re here to pick up my Mommy’s car. I can’t drive yet.”
“My mistake,” the woman says with a dramatic wave of her hand. She winks at me, making me smile. “And what is your name, honey?” she asks me.
“I’m Quinn Holt,” I tell her. “My car is in for an inspection.”
She does some tapping on the computer in front of her, and she gives a brisk nod of her head. “Yep, it’s in the bay now. They’re running a few minutes behind, but it shouldn’t be more than about ten minutes. You’re welcome to help yourself to some coffee and relax if you like.”
“I want to sit on the couch,” Macy tells me, and I nod. She skips off and I watch as she scoots her butt up on the couch and looks up at the TV expectantly.
Behind the counter, the woman picks up a remote and changes the channel to a kids’ show. I smile at her gratefully. She grins at me. “We have some kids that come in here with their parents, so I always keep that channel at the ready just in case,” she tells me.
“That’s a good plan. If they’re anything like Macy, they get sucked into it for at least a bit.”
“I’m Rose, honey,” she introduces herself, holding out her hand for me to shake.
“Nice to meet you.”
Before we can fall into idle chit chat, a voice hollers out, “Woman, I’m going to spank your ass red!”
My mouth falls open in shock, and I glance quickly over at Macy to make sure she hasn’t heard. Thankfully, she’s engrossed in her show and isn’t paying any mind to the commotion.
Rose sighs. “I’m sorry, Quinn. That would be my idiot son and his girlfriend arguing again. Let me let them know to keep it down.” Without another word, she gets up and walks calmly towards a large metal door at the end of the length of the counter and out into the bay. I don’t know what’s said, but she’s back quickly and smiling at me. “Sorry, honey, my future daughter-in-law isn’t supposed to be overdoing it, and she likes to test my son’s limits. They’ll keep it down.”
I blink at her. “Uh, okay,” I say awkwardly. I glance at the door, and I can’t stop myself from asking, “Uh, does that happen a lot?” Then I blush at how ridiculous that question is. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. That was a stupid question,” I rush out to say.
