"Fuck," Riley grumbled, twisting to make sure she was correct. Nope, she didn't have the right tool.

　　It was late at night and all the guys had gone home so she couldn't call out to one of the other mechanics and ask them to hand it to her. Damn. With a sigh of aggravation, she pushed herself out from under the car. Shoving her long ponytail out of the way, she crawled toward the toolbox and rifled through until she found what she was looking for. Loud, thumping music filled the garage from where her iPhone was plugged into its port on top of one of the tool benches.

　　Turning back toward the '69 Camaro, Riley adjusted her lamp and prepared to slide back under. This baby was a thing of beauty. It called to her from the moment it entered her shop, which is why she was still working on it at 2:00am. If she did it up right she'd be able to turn a pretty profit on this little sweetheart and take Cilia on vacation. They desperately needed some bonding time.

　　The music switched off and a deep voice reverberated through the darkness of the garage. "I'm looking for Mr. Bancroft."

　　Riley froze for a few precious seconds before her head snapped up, judging the distance between a shadowed man and the gun in her toolbox. He stepped forward into the circle of her light, closing the distance between them. Riley's heart slammed against her ribs as his face became visible and she recognized the most ruthless man in the city. Soloman Hart, mafia kingpin, was standing in her garage, staring down at her with cold intent. He now stood directly between her and her gun. Not that she thought it would do any good against a man like him.

　　Riley felt incredibly small and grimy next to his large, well-dressed frame. She sat crouched on the concrete beneath him, wearing her usual tank top and grimy, oil-stained overalls with the top left to hang down. Her shiny, dark brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she wore no make-up.

　　He seemed to be looking her over, taking in every inch of her with interest. Her eyes narrowed in return. She was used to guys staring. She was a thirty-year-old female mechanic, working in a garage full of men. She looked younger than she was and knew she was attractive. Definitely fantasy material for some guys. Which is why she tended to work in the office and on cars in the back, well away from the clients. Very few people knew who actually owned the garage.

　　"How did you get in here?" she demanded, pushing herself up and standing to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than him. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. She had a damn good security system or she wouldn't have been alone in the shop blaring music in the middle of the night.

　　He ignored her question and raised a dark, thick brow. "Mr. Bancroft?" The single question sent a chill down her spine, letting her know that the next words out of her mouth better be an answer, because Soloman Hart was not a man known for patience.

　　Riley pressed her lips together for a moment and wondered how best to answer him. The truth of 'Mr. Bancroft' was complicated. And Riley was starting to suspect she may be in some danger. The likelihood of a man of this caliber showing up in her garage for any reason was slim. Which meant something not good was going down. Soloman had men to deal with his car issues, he didn't handle with things like this himself.

　　She moistened her lips and then stopped when his sharp eyes followed the movement. Taking a breath, she said, "Mr. Bancroft is dead. He died two years ago."

　　His brows drew together in a frown that made Riley shiver from head to toe. Yeah, he didn't want to play games with her. His next words confirmed this thought.

　　"Don't fuck with me, little girl," he growled. "Everyone knows Alan Bancroft is dead. I'm looking for the owner of this garage. Alan's son, Riley Bancroft."

　　"Okay," she whispered. "Why are you looking for Riley?"

　　Holy shit, she was going to die! The look on his face suggested that the last person that questioned him instead of instantly giving him the answers he was searching for had died a really extra terrible death.

　　Surprisingly, he answered, his deep voice clipped as he spoke. "Someone stole one of my vehicles yesterday. It was my favourite and I want it back. Thought it might show up here."

　　Shock flickered across her face. Who would be stupid enough to steal one of Soloman Hart's cars? Well, that explained why he would show up on her doorstep himself at 2:00am looking for answers. She ran the biggest chop shop in the city. Only very few people knew she ran the garage. She had a very good team of mechanics, mostly inherited from her father, that helped keep her safe behind the scenes. Few people even knew the name Riley Bancroft. Except, somehow Soloman did.

　　"Wh-what kind of car?" she asked hesitantly, hoping like hell it hadn't gone through her shop. She usually did her homework and found out where the vehicles came from so this kind of shitstorm didn't come down on her head, but that didn't mean things didn't get under her radar once in a while.

　　"Koenigsegg Regera." His voice held no inflection as he named one of the most expensive vehicles in the world. A car that would be one of a kind in the United States.

　　Riley took a few seconds out from her terror to be impressed. Damn. Soloman must like him some nice luxury racing automobiles. Too bad the man was such a cold-hearted, ruthless bastard. Under different circumstances she wouldn't mind getting under the hoods of his fleet, see what he had going on up in there.

　　She breathed a sigh of relief. "Nope, I definitely would've noticed one of those. Never even seen one in person, let alone had one in here."

　　He nodded, still studying her carefully as though taking in every minuscule expression that crossed her face. Finally, he said, "I'd still like to have a conversation with Mr. Bancroft."

　　Fuck. That was going to be a problem since there was no Mr. Bancroft. Instead, she nodded her head.

　　"Sure, no problem. I'll have him call you tomorrow." She'd get one of the other mechanics to call and reassure him that his car was never there and if it showed up he would be the first person they called.

　　He reached out and took her hand before she realized what he was about to do. He held her fingers in a grip that told her she shouldn't pull away from him. He had a brutal looking tattoo on the back of his hand that begged for a closer look. She resisted the urge. He looked down at the black, chipped nail polish on her fingers and rubbed his broad thumb over the tops of her much smaller nails. She shivered at his touch. Based on his reputation and the few glimpses she'd had of him she'd always considered Soloman Hart cold, but his hand was surprisingly warm.

　　"What's your name?" he demanded, his voice deep and compelling.

　　Riley tried to pull her hand away, but he continued to force his touch on her. She turned her body away and said in a haughty voice, "None of your business."

　　He stiffened next to her and she bit her lip, worried that she was about to find out what made this powerful man so feared among their underworld set. He chuckled lightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. "I think you'll find I can make it my business."

　　She shivered and dropped her eyes, still refusing to answer. She did not want this man finding out who she was. For more reasons than the obvious. When he was alive, Alan Bancroft had taught Riley everything he knew, but he'd kept her existence on the down low in case they ever needed to pack up shop and run. There was also the complication of her mother. Cilia Bancroft, shady accountant to the super rich, was a handful and best kept out of the notice of men like Soloman Hart.

　　"You can fly, little bird," he said quietly. He looked down at her, capturing her brown eyes with his bottomless dark eyes. "I will let you go for now."

　　"F-for now?" Riley asked hesitantly.

　　He released her hand and stepped closer, towering over her, his chest nearly brushing hers. Riley gasped at his unexpected movement and tried to move back. Her leg bumped against the car she'd been working on and she was forced to stand still next to him. Her head swam as his subtle, masculine scent enveloped her. It made alarm bells go off in her head. He didn't immediately move away from her.

　　"For now," he confirmed, his gaze roaming intently over her. "I think the day will come that we will see... a lot more of each other."

　　Her mouth opened and she stared at him. Was that a threat? He was looking down at her with something she couldn't entirely define. Speculation? Possessiveness? But how was that possible? He didn't even know her. Though she'd seen him before, they were just meeting officially for the first time.

　　His eyes brushed over her one last time and she had a keen awareness that she was being granted some kind of reprieve. But it came with a time limit. One that would quickly run out. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

　　"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

　　She blinked and then nodded slowly.

　　"Say my name," he demanded.

　　Riley gaped up at him for a moment and then, desperately wanting the dark man to leave, gave him what he wanted. She licked her lips and whispered, "Soloman."

　　He turned and strode away from her, resetting the alarm before leaving the garage.