"That bitch." The hole in the hood of his car looked worse in the harsh light of day, and the muttering that had started when he'd dragged ass out of the club after nearly getting said ass handed to him by the slack-jawed behemoth added to his dance card at the last minute continued as if he'd not slept in between one moment and the next.
The card left behind weighed nearly as much as the knife used to pin it to his car, and Jason frowned at both where they lay on his kitchen table. Kyle's Garage. No secret where she'd come from, nor why, but finding one's dream pinned to your car with a knife was worth an extra moment of consideration. Or twelve. Not that any of them changed the fact that Jason had known where he'd be headed from the moment seen her perched among the riffraff like a queen, and after tossing the dregs of his morning coffee down the drain, Jason grabbed his bag and tucked the knife away, the card slipped into a front pocket.
Cosmetic damage aside, his baby purred all the way to the garage, and Jason honked once to clear the guys standing just inside an empty bay, pulling up and into the garage, as if he belonged there. Hell, if by the end of the morning he didn't, his baby sure as fuck did, and he had a card to prove it.
A card Jason presented by unwrapping the scout's knife and pinning it to the garage wall, before turning to lean against it, arms crossed and jaw set. "Jason Scott. Mr. Kyle is expecting me."