From Prey to Precious

Unexpected Reaction

Rachel's POV:

"Hey Wayne, can you hand me that socket wrench?" I ask as I slide out from underneath the 1964 Ford Thunderbird I'm currently working on.

"No problem Rache," he says as he reaches over and grabs the wrench that I asked for but instead of giving it to me holds it just out of my reach. "Is this the one you were looking for? Come on Rache, you can grab it," he says teasingly as he continues to keep the tool just out of my grasp.

I stop trying to reach for the tool and fix Wayne with a glare and begin tapping my foot impatiently. I know it's impossible to really look all that threatening when you are covered in grease & dirt and laying down on a Mechanics Creeper, but I give it my best shot.

"Oooooh scary face," Wayne laughs as he leans forward and hands me the socket wrench. But rather than continue on to his own work station he leans against the work bench and crosses his legs at the ankle.

I shake my head slightly as I wheel myself back underneath of the Thunderbird and tighten the bolt on the firewall. "Was there something you needed Wayne? Or are you just using me as an excuse to be lazy?" I ask with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as I wheel back out from underneath the car and switch out tools.

Wayne chuckles as he crosses his arms over his chest as he looks down at me, "Nah, I'm just enjoying the view. Besides, since when have I ever needed an excuse to be lazy?"

I laugh as I continue to work on a particularly stubborn bolt. "Yeah I guess that's true," I grunt as the bolt comes free unexpectedly and I bash my knuckles against the car. "Damn, that hurt," I swear softly as I get back to work.

Wayne uses his foot to gently tap my calf to get my attention and I wheel myself out from under the car once again. My sarcastic comment dies on my lips as I look up at him and his whole demeanor seems to have changed. He actually looks rather nervous. So I scoot a little farther out from under the car and sit up and rest my elbows on my knees as I look up at him with concern.

"Do you really think you pulled it off Rachel?" he asks quietly, his voice laced with concern and maybe even a little fear.

I know what he's referring to. When Wayne saw me bring in the bike this morning he looked like he was going to have a stroke. All sputtering and arms flailing, shouting and running his fingers through his hair. He wouldn't even help me wheel the bike through the shop, just kept dancing around in front of it and asking me if I was deranged for even agreeing to lay a finger on the bike.

I push myself up off of the Creeper and lean against the front fender of the car as a grab a nearby rag to wipe my hands off. Once I get most of the grease off of my hands I tighten my pony tail and look up at the ceiling for a moment before looking over at Wayne with a smirk on my lips.

"Oh I know I pulled it off. That was never a question. I think someone's just scared that my skills are so much better than theirs," I say as I pick up the dirty rag and throw it right at Wayne's face.

He barely moves as he easily catches the dirty rag, his facial expression never really changing as he maintains eye contact with me. I don't know why but that really unnerves me at the moment. Wayne was one of the first mechanics at Black Widow to really accept me and he was always willing to lend me a hand around the shop. Whether that be on a project or helping me to give Darci a little payback for whatever petty crap she tried to blame me with. But right now the carefree smile that he normally wears is no where to be seen as he places the dirty rag on the work bench.

"I'm serious Rachel, if there is even one thing wrong with that bike, he will kill you. I know you've never met him, so you don't really understand how he is with his vehicles. But he will go absolutely bat-s**t crazy if you mess something up on one of them."

I give an exasperated sigh as I lean back against the Thunderbird and put my hands on the front fender. "Look, I get it, the guy is super protective over his vehicles. Honestly, I'm the exact same way. I would straight up murder someone who laid a finger on my bike that didn't know what they were doing. But I know what I'm doing. I know motorcycles better than I know cars and I know cars pretty damn well. I'm not going to say that the bike wasn't challenging, because it sure as hell was. But I'm not going to doubt my competency or my abilities and I don't appreciate you trying to rattle me about it either. If you're so worried that I might have screwed something up, then why don't you take your ass out back to the loading area and take a look under the tarp for yourself, huh?" I snarl at him as I push off from the car so I'm standing and sharply point my finger in the direction of the bike in question.

Wayne just continues to stay leaning against the work bench with his arms crossed over his chest, the same unwavering expression on his face. "I'm not trying to insult you capabilities. I'm trying to protect you. You'd understand that if you weren't being so stubborn."

I drop my pointing arm and let my hand rest on my hip as I c**k it out to the side, "Uh huh, and you really think I'm some little princess who can't defend herself? I don't need protecting Wayne. I've done just fine on my own and I don't need some guy with a white knight complex trying to come to my rescue. Especially when I don't even need rescuing," I tell him matter of factly as I take a few steps by him and grab the orange jug of water perched on the corner of the work bench. I take a few swallows and then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before putting the jug back down.

Wayne gives a defeated sigh and hangs his head slightly, "I'm sorry Rachel. I'm really not trying to get under your skin of question your skills. I know you're amazing and that's one of the reasons I'm so nervous. The guy is a lose cannon when it comes to his vehicles and I don't want to lose one of the best mechanics that have ever wandered into this shop.

"Can you at least do me one favor? Can you please make sure to get out of here before he shows up tonight? Please, can you do that for me?" he asks as he turns towards me and gently puts a hand on my shoulder.

I glance down at Wayne's hand on my shoulder before looking back over at him. His expression is back to one of genuine concern and normally this wouldn't phase me, but I can't help but be a little worried now. Wayne never acts like this with me and if it makes him feel better, I can bugger out of work a few minutes early.

"Alright, I will. But you're going to have to finish up on the T-bird for me then. The customer is planning on picking it up tomorrow and I still need to finish the oil change and checking the brake system before it's ready."

Wayne gently pats my shoulder before removing his hand and smiles at me, "You got it. Go ahead and get yourself cleaned up and I'll get started on checking the brake system."

I shake my head slightly and smile at him before I take another swig of water out of the jug as Wayne pushes off from the work bench and settles himself onto the Creeper. Before he wheels himself under the car he flashes another smile up at me and says, "Thank you Rachel. I really appreciate it."

I nod slightly and then make my way through the shop back to the employee locker area. Once inside I slip out of my work boots and peel my filthy coveralls off and toss them in the laundry bin. I then head over to the bathroom and put a few pumps of the orange pumice soap in my hands to try and scrub off the remaining dirt and grease on my hands before slipping my boots back on and running a brush through my hair. Between the dirt, sweat and knots my hair is an absolute mess. It's one of the curses about having long wavy hair and working in a garage. But it's nothing a nice hot shower won't fix and I have every intention of doing just that the minute I get back to me apartment. 

I slip on my leather jacket before grabbing my helmet and backpack out of my locker and then make my way towards the back of the garage where my bike is parked. Just as I reach for the door, I hear the purr of a car engine as it pulls into the loading area. We unfortunately have customer's do that all the time. For some reason they think that the loading dock is where we need them to park when they are dropping off their cars despite the many signs stating otherwise. I shake my head and release my hold on the door handle as I walk towards the loading dock.

I'm just about to say something to the driver of the Impala that's parked right in the middle of the loading area when I realize that he's making a bee line for the tarp covered bike. Rather than screaming at him for going anywhere near the bike, I just watch him. Something inside me is telling me that this is the owner and I'm finally able to get a good look at him.

I'm guessing that he stands a little under six feet tall, maybe only an inch or two taller than me. His frame is as thin as I remember it, but without the masking affect of the riding leathers he was wearing the last time I saw him I can actually appreciate his build. I've never really liked the look of really muscular men. Just something about them always turned me off. This guys has the broad shoulders and a trim waist but he's wiry. I can tell even from here although he doesn't have much to show in the way of muscles, he still exudes this aura of strength and power about him. His long blonde hair is pulled back into a simple braid being held back by a black hair elastic, leaving me an excellent view of his profile. His brow ridge and jawline weren't as predominant as I thought that they would be, but this just confirms his Viking heritage. His straight nose and and furrowed brow, as he draws closer to the tarp covered bike definitely explained why Vinnie had used the term 'savage' to describe him. The tattoos that I could see snaking down his arms from underneath the sleeves of his black T-shirt also added to his aura of savagery.

I continue to watch with fascination as he places a hand on the tarp and takes a breath to steady himself before ripping it off to expose the bike underneath. I watch the expression on his face change instantly from one of annoyance to pure unadulterated shock. At first I can't tell if he likes what he's seeing as he just stands there with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open, the forgotten tarp still held in his grip. I watch his eyes as he looks over the bike before finally releasing his hold on the tarp and walking the few steps closer to the bike and kneeling down in front of it.

He closes his mouth as he begins to go over the bike from top to bottom. Examining all the work that I've put into it, the slight changes I've made and the parts I've improved on. I can tell whenever he comes across something new because he frowns for an instant before realizing the point of the change and then his face relaxes as he continues to examine the bike. He completely ignores the large red bow that's been stuck to the windshield and the card taped to the seat as he continues to make his way around the bike.

Finally he stands and gives a small smile while gently gripping one of the handlebars and I can tell he's pleased with the results. For some reason this fills me with more joy and satisfaction than I've ever felt at the completion of a project. Maybe it's because this guys is my boss. Maybe it's because he can truly appreciate the work that I put into this bike. I'm not sure, but I just go with the unexpected feeling as I back away from the loading area and pull open the door to the employee exit.