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“Nope!” My words are rushed, and a little too high-pitched, holding an edge of deliriousness. “Not at all.”
“That wasn’t the least bit believable.” He pulls out his phone and punches in something before putting it to his ear. A moment passes before he says, “Hey, Bossman. I’m here with Mac, and she’s kinda freakin’ out.”
I glare at him. “I’m not.”
His mouth curves upward at me before he murmurs, “You got it, boss.” Placing it on speaker, he holds the phone closer to me. “Okay, she’s right here.”
A man’s deep timbre greets my ears. “Hey, Mac.”
“Hi.” Damn, I hate how my voice quivers.
“Steve’s there to help in any way and to keep an eye on things. Make sure you’re safe.” His Hispanic accent rings with a familiar tone, reminding me so much of Daniel’s that it incites a fresh wave of grief washing over me. I swallow it down.
“On whose orders?”
The line goes silent for a moment. “Does it matter?”
Yes. No. Maybe? God, I don’t fucking know anymore. “I guess not.” The words feel as if they’re sticking to my vocal cords, but I force them out. “You said Steve’s here to keep an eye on me. To make sure I’m safe. But why?”
There’s no way Bronson doesn’t know what I’ve done. That I killed his best friend’s sister. So, why the hell would any of them care about my safety?
A beat of silence greets my question before his accented voice rumbles through the phone. “That’s a loaded question. Why don’t we just leave it at that.”
Rolling my eyes, my tone is ripe with sarcasm. “Thanks for that non-answer.”
I smooth a hand over my hair, gripping the ends of my ponytail when a thought suddenly strikes me. “How long is Steve going to stick around?” I pointedly meet the man’s gaze. “Because I plan to put him to work.”
He grins at me while Bronson chuckles. “You do that. And in the meantime, I got some contacts that’ve been looking for some parts. You mind if I pass along your info?”
“Not at all.” I clear my throat. “I’d appreciate that.”
“No problem.” A woman’s voice calls out in the background, and he sounds like he moves away from the phone. “Be right there, baby.” Then he adds on, “Hey, Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“We’ll be in touch.”
Without another word, he ends the call, and I stare at Steve wide-eyed. “Ho-ly shit. Bronson Cortez just spoke to me on the phone.”
He smirks, dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “You want me to get his autograph for you, I will.”
“Shut it.” I swat at him and nearly bruise myself against the hard muscle.
He just laughs, a deep rumble emanating from his chest that’s so infectious my lips twitch with the urge to smile for the first time in a week. “Now, put me to work, Macaroni.”
I cut my eyes at him. “I know you didn’t just call me that.”
He grins wide. “You like it, dontcha?”
“Not even one bit.”
“Nah?” He lifts one broad shoulder. “How ’bout Mac Lite?” When I just pin him with a sharp glare, he continues. “Mac Attack.”
I spin on my heel and head for the garage. “How about you’re fired?”
His deep laugh reverberates throughout the large space as he trails after me.
64
