Operation: Marauder
Chapter 1

“Zoey!”

Zoey Adams paused in the middle of putting the finishing touches on her client’s vehicle. There were only a few wires left for her to connect the underglow kit she was installing then she could rid herself of the pretentious douche bag who kept calling in to see when his Porsche 911 would be done--even though she told him it would take a few weeks for the get the kit in. She swore she heard someone in her garage, but when all she was met with was Rob Zombie’s voice, she shrugged and went back to work.

"Zoey!” The speaker cut Rob off in the middle of “Living Dead Girl.” “Fuck’s sake, Zoey, if you’re going to blast something, let it be something decent.”

Zoey slid out from underneath the Porsche on her roller and glared at the portly man who paid her bills. He wore a red flannel shirt and grease-stained jeans, which matched the dark smudges on his fingertips. “Hey, don’t be talking smack about Rob, Carlisle, or we’re going to have a problem.” She waved her wrench at him for emphasis.

Grunting, he reached down for her and hauled her up to her feet. She came up to his chin when standing at her full height; her short stature didn’t stop her from giving him a death glare. “I’ll talk smack about Rob and New Years Eve-”

“Day. New Years Day,” she corrected him sharply. She tossed her black braid over her shoulder in case he didn’t know she meant business. Everyone in the shop knew to just let her do her work--and don’t complain about her music. Only Carlisle got away with it because, well, you know, he’s the one who gave her this job when no other shop in town would. “Don’t tell me you came to my garage to tell me to turn down the music?” She had her own garage in the back where she could do her custom designs in peace while the mechanics in the front dealt with the boring, everyday repairs. She had put her own money into adding some insulation into it so people in the front couldn’t hear it. It was either that or no music. Something about breaking bylaws. She would rather shoot her own foot than to work without her music.

“No.” He gestured to the front door with pudgy fingers. “I’ve got a client for you. Interesting fellow.”

“Oh?” She liked interesting. She went over to her tool table, grabbing a towel, and wiping her hands of grease and grime. “Do tell.”

A fat grin split his face in two; his eyes held a mischievous glimmer, making him look ten years younger. “You’ll see.”

Intrigued, Zoey couldn’t do anything but follow her boss to the front shop. It was an overcast day, a promise of rain in the air. Zoey was quick to follow Carlisle along the gravel path that took her to the back door of the shop; she didn’t mind a little rain, but she liked it more when she was inside.

Her fellow mechanics were working away on the immediate right as soon as they entered the shop. No music. Only the sound of power tools whirring and clunking. On the other side of the counter, waiting in the shop’s lobby, was a mountain of a man. Like, he was easily ten inches taller than Zoey, maybe more. His shoulders were broad, but not in a bulging way, more lean and tailored, complimenting his tapered waist and fine legs. It was too bad he was going to be a client or she’d be asking him if he was single. Which he totally wouldn’t be. That was just her luck with men. The good ones were taken, leaving assholes for all the other unfortunate women. Zoey being one of them.

The man had been watching the cars drive by on the street in front but turned around as they approached the counter. His unique gray eyes--in the shitty white lighting of the shop, there was a touch of purple around his iris--drank her in, head to toe. If he was surprised to replace a woman was going to be working on his vehicle, he didn’t show it. He offered a pleased, charming smile. “You are Adams, I presume.” His accent was faint, hardly distinguishable, but it made her toes curl in delight all the same; she was always a sucker for foreign men.

“You presume correctly, but you can call me Zoey.” She shook his firm hand and smiled back. “Let’s go to my office and talk shop.”

Her office was just off to the left, beside Carlisle’s. Her client closed the door softly behind him and sat in the chair, back straight, shoulders back. Her brother’s hardcore army buddies came to mind; every movement they made was so rigid, all serious, no play. Jack swore they were a fun bunch, but whenever Zoey went to the bar with them, they were as dull as bricks.

She dropped into her cheap leather chair and leaned forward onto her desk. “Okay, Mister. . .”

“You can call me Rowan.”

It wasn’t a name she heard often. It suited him. “Okay, Rowan, what can I do for you?”

He handed her a sheet of paper with a long list of modifications and blueprints he’d like done to his vehicle. Zoey had to reread it a few times, the list was. . . unique. Most people came in asking for body mods, a new speaker system, or a light set up. Rowan wanted bullet proof windows and siding, puncture free-tires, tinted glass. . . and the list went on and on. She was particularly fascinated by the blueprints he provided her; it looked like he wanted her to add some kind of device. It was cylindrical in nature, almost as big as a boat engine. She couldn’t imagine what it was designed to do, but he wanted it to be a part of the console. Finally, she couldn’t stop the chuckle. She set the paper down and leveled with him. “You would have been better off buying a tank.”

He nodded in agreement with a slight pout; he had a look about him similar to a child who was told he couldn’t have the toy he had wanted for months. “Apparently they’re not road legal?” He seemed unsure of the terminology, frowning as if he doubted the words that came out of his mouth.

She laughed, shaking her head. Carlisle was right: he was an odd one. “No, they’re not. But I can make your vehicle as tanky as you want and you can still drive it on the highway.”

All traces of the pout was gone when he flashed her with a toothy grin. “That’s why I’m here. I was told this is the best garage in Connaville.”

Zoey beamed with pride. After struggling to replace a garage that would take her in for so long, she had begun to doubt if she was as good as she thought she was. Just when she was about to give up and try something else, Carlisle took a chance on her and now his business was busier than ever. People were lining up to have her mod their vehicle. All he had to do was let her do her thing.

She took another look at the list, making another for the materials she’ll need to get the job done. She wrote up a quick quote for him and handed it to him. He barely looked at it before agreeing to the price. It took some effort to hide her surprise. Most clients knew the costs of the mods and labour they were asking for and didn’t balk much at the price--though, there was always a haggler--but when the numbers hit the five digit mark, they usually put some thought into it.

“Okay. . . Let me just whip up the paperwork and then you can be on your way.” As she recorded the work needed on the computer, she took a few spying glances at Rowan. He had a cool demeanor about him, eyes taking in every detail of her office subtly while he waited. Zoey couldn’t decide if it was out of fasciation or curiosity. If she didn’t know any better, she would say he’d never seen an office like hers. Sure, it was a little unusual for a car garage to have pictures of a Cessna Skycatcher on the wall, but it was what Zoey lived for. When she wasn’t working on cars, she was in the sky in her Cessna. Well, hers and Josie’s. They went halfsies on it and took turns flying it over the countryside. Connaville was perfectly nestled between the valley and endless, flat farmlands. Depending on their mood, they could take a leisure flight over the colorful plains in the East, or take an adventure in the mountains in the North--as long as they didn’t get too close to the Connaville Army Base.

Rowan’s gaze landed on the telescopic image of the Milky Way on the right; emotion she couldn’t interpret crossed over his features in a matter of seconds before he recovered his composure. He looked at her with different eyes, wary yet admiring. “That picture. . .”

“It’s the Milky Way Galaxy. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” It was one of Zoey’s favourites. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut,” she confessed, not entirely sure why she was telling him. The man probably just wanted to sign the papers and get on with his day, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something about him. . . maybe if she shared something of herself, he’d tell her more about him. A man who wanted to tank up his SUV and appeared to be interested in the wonders of space was a man she wanted to know better.

Just don’t ask him out, then you’re not breaking any of your rules, she reminded herself. It was okay to be curious about a client, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like she was going to date him, get him a job here, then replace out he was a cheating scumbag, and put her coworkers in an awkward situation of picking sides.

Rowan relaxed, settling against the back of the chair more comfortably, which in turn eased her nerves. “Used to? What made you change your mind?”

She snorted, forgetting entirely this was a business meeting, and tried to desperately save herself by clearing her throat and sitting a little straighter, more professionally. Though, there was nothing professional about jean overalls and an In This Moment band shirt. “I grew up. I’m more likely to win the lottery than go into space. Besides,” she dismissed, playing it down, “I’m not the most academic person out there. I think my brain would explode before I could actually apply for the program.” She bit her lip a little too late. This whole opening up to your client thing isn’t working out for you. Stop while you’re ahead.

Rowan frowned, studying her again. “I see. But you fly?” He gestured to another picture of Zoey with her arm flung over Josie’s shoulder in front of their Cessna; they wore the aviators and bomber jackets they bought along with the plane, because they wanted to be just like Maverick and Goose.

“I do,” she said with pride. “The best way to see the world is from above.”

A deep frown settled in his features, both troubled and thoughtful. “I replace if you look at the world from above too much, you forget what’s on the surface. You forget what makes the world so stunning in the first place. It’s something I’ve recently discovered.”

Zoey wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, aside from kidnapping the man, throwing him on her Cessna, and flying over the countryside to prove him wrong.

Before she could think of a way to change his mind, her phone rang. Embarrassingly so, because it was her brother calling and his ringtone was a flat out scream from a horror movie. Rowan was on his feet in a flashed. His head whipped around, fists clenching at his sides, as he searched vigilantly for the source. Zoey dove for her cell and canceled the call.

“I am so sorry.” She threw her phone in her purse and made plans to murder Jack later for calling her at work. “I should really change my ringtone.”

“Ring. . .tone?” Rowan narrowed his eyes on her purse as if her phone had deeply insulted him. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah.” God, she was fighting every urge to duck under the desk and pretend this meeting never happened. He didn’t help, acting like people didn’t have gimmicky ringtones. “Again, I can’t apologise enough. It’s supposed to be a joke; that was my brother calling. He loves horror movies. Like too much.”

Rowan raised a curious eyebrow at her. It was quite possibly the hottest look a man had set on her; it made her wonder what kind of look he’d give her in bed.

Down, girl.

She shook the dirty thoughts running through her mind away and focused on the waiver she had pulled up on the computer a while ago. All she needed to do was print it and have him sign it then she wouldn’t see him for two weeks and he would have hopefully forgotten all of this by then.

“Right, so where were we?” Did Carlisle crank the heater again? The fall weather wasn’t the best for the arthritis he was in denial about, but it wasn’t that cold today. Definitely not in this room.

Resisting the urge to fan herself, she printed off the documents and told Rowan where to sign. Not that he was looking at the paper; his eyes were on her, dark with desire. She felt like a test subject to a sex-crazed scientist. Which wouldn’t be the end of the world. . .

He seemed to catch himself staring and shook his head before signing the papers. He handed them back to her; when she reached for them, he pulled them back slightly, just out of her reach, catching her gaze. “What are you doing after work?”

Fuck. It wasn’t just her imagination running wild. He wanted her. Damn it, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want him too.

Focus. . .

She cleared her throat, reorienting herself in a way that didn’t make her internal struggle obvious. In the end, though, she didn’t want another Dean, so she sighed, pulled on her big girl pants, and looked at him head on. “Nothing, but I don’t go out with clients.”

“Oh.” He didn’t seem to know what to do about that and frowned deeply. “Well, that’s disappointing. When will you finish doing the modifications?”

“Two weeks.” She didn’t have to think about it. He was the only client she had as of today; she was free to work on it without interruption. No matter how much he wanted done to it, she could get it done.

He was surprised. “Really? Only two weeks?”

She crossed her arms and gave him a look to quit doubting her if he wanted her to work on his vehicle.

“I mean,” he corrected, “I’m used to things taking much longer. On the base, everything takes so long to get done. I don’t actually know how anything gets done.”

“You work on the base?” She could see it. He had that polished look about him, boots shined, cargos flat ironed, dark hair cropped short. Not to mention his reaction to her stupid ringtone.

He stood rigid for a moment and looked like he was mentally chastising himself for letting it slip, though she didn’t understand it.

“It’s okay,” she assured him with a disarming shrug. “My brother works on the base too.” Zoey hated it when Jack suddenly left for an unknown amount of time, but she was thankful the base wasn’t too far out of town, so when he was here, he spent most of his time with her.

Rowan eased up, soothing a smile that melted her bones. “I do contract work for them.” He rose to his full enormous height and stepped closer to the desk, leaning toward her. She had to hold her breath to stop herself from making an even bigger fool of herself than she already had. “Now, about those two weeks. . . would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me when I am no longer your client?”

She smiled, glad he respected her rules--even when she really wanted to throw them out the window. “I think I can make that work.”

“It’ll be a long two weeks, but something tells me one drink with you will be worth the wait.” His eyes trailed up and down, definitely mentally ripping her clothes off, then turned for the door. “Pleasure doing business with you, Zoey.”

As soon as he was gone, Carlisle came into her office, leaning on the door jamb, arms crossed like a disapproving father. “He was here a while.”

Zoey threw him a sharp look. “He had a very specific list.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t believe her. After the Dean incident, Carlisle watched every man that set foot in her office like a hawk. “He seemed very happy with your offer.”

Rolling her eyes, she slapped the bill on his chest. “You’re welcome.”

His eyes bulged at the zeros. “Damn. He really did have a specific list.” He cleared his throat, suddenly sheepish. “Sorry, Zoe.”

“Don’t be. I appreciate you looking out for me, but not every guy is a Dean.”

Because her brother was merciless and persistent, her ringtone went off again, giving Carlisle a heart attack. “Jesus Christ, woman! Change that goddamned ringtone!” He staggered out of the office, muttering and cursing all the way to the lunch room.

Grinning, Zoey shut the door and answered the call. “You’re so fucking lucky you’re not in my office right now.”

“Hey, Zoey. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” Sarcasm dripped off her brother’s tongue.

“I told you not to call me at work. You almost scared away my client.”

“Maybe you should have your phone on silent, then. Very unprofessional, Zoe.”

Ugh. The smug big brother returns.

“What are you up to tonight?” Jack pressed onwards. “It looks like I’m going to be home for a bit if you want to do something.”

Well, if she wasn’t going on a date, seeing her brother was a good second. “Wanna watch movies and eat pizza?”

“You know I do. What are you in the mood for ‘The Virgin Sacrifice’ or ‘Full Moon’s Deception’? I think you can guess the plot with their titles.”

“They both sound terrible.”

“Terribly good! I’ll bring both. See you later, Zoe!”

Dreading a night of bad horror movies, Zoey headed back to her garage to make sure her other client’s car was set to be picked up tomorrow.