your dramatic parking situation.”

He glanced toward the broad man.

The rear SUV backed up enough to clear the lane.

Amelia looked at the dead Bentley, the hidden device, the cut harness.

She should have packed her tools and driven until the industrial district disappeared behind her.

Instead, she heard her father’s voice as plainly as if he were under the hood beside her.

A person in a broken-down car is just a person, Amy.

You help him, no matter what.

She hated that voice sometimes.

It had cost him free labor, unpaid invoices, and nights spent fixing strangers’ cars because they had children in the back seat or a job to reach by morning.

It was also the reason Hayes Auto had once meant something.

“You still need to get out of here,” Amelia said.

Luca studied her.

“You are offering to finish?”

“I’m offering to make the car move.

I’m not offering to join whatever this is.”

“That distinction matters to you?”

“It matters a lot.”

For another moment, he simply watched her.

Then he stepped back from the engine bay.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Space.

Light.

Nobody touching my tools.

And if anybody else here knows what this device is before I explain it, I’m leaving.”

The corner of Luca’s mouth moved.

“Reasonable.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“I know.”

Amelia went to work with her pulse beating in her throat.

She did not give anyone a lesson.

She did not narrate the wires.

She kept her body between the engine bay and the men from the SUVs, using her Maglite, insulated gloves, and the instincts her father had drilled into her since she was old enough to sort sockets by size.

The device was clever.

That annoyed her.

It had been tucked where heat, shadow, and the Bentley’s immaculate design made it look like nothing.

But clever work still had edges.

It still had weight.

It still had a reason for being exactly where it was.

After twelve minutes of cold fingers and careful pressure, the red light stopped blinking.

Amelia set the dead device on a folded shop rag.

“There.

Now it’s just an expensive car with a very expensive injury.”

Luca looked at the small object as if it were a snake with its head removed.

“Can it be traced?”

“Not by me at two in the morning in a storm.” She closed her toolkit.

“And before you ask, no, I’m not keeping it.”

“That was not my question.”

“Good.”

Now she performed the ugly part.

The temporary bypass was not pretty and would not last long, but it did not need to.

It only needed to carry the Bentley out of the trap and into a place where Amelia was no longer the only honest witness on a dark road.

When she finished, she stood back.

“Start it.”

Luca got in.

The dashboard lit up with warnings.

Chimes protested from inside the cabin.

Then the engine caught, rough for half a second before it settled into a low, powerful idle.

The sound changed the whole street.

Luca stepped out and shut the door behind him.

“How far will it go?”

“If you baby it, far enough to reach a secure garage.

Not a dealership.

Not tonight.

Somebody close to you had access, so