No one stopped him so he went to his room, took off his clothes, and fell into bed.

He laid in bed and as he did it, he smelled the fading scent of fabric softener on his sheets.

So he did it thinking of Carissa.

And he didn’t sleep.

* * *

The next day, Joker rode his bike onto the cement that made up the forecourt of the two-bay garage. The place was a mess, cars everywhere, tires stacked all around, the large square-paned windows of the office dirty, one cracked and held together with tape. He saw the doors of both bays up, cars in each, men working on them.

Taking it in, Joker knew it wasn’t rundown because it was rundown. It was rundown because they had so much work, they didn’t have time to straighten it up.

He liked this.

He parked, swung off his bike, and stood by it, eyes on the bays.

He’d come. Finally.

Now the man had to come to him. He didn’t know why, but he figured it had something to do with Carissa. She’d been around him more than once, took his tongue, whimpered into his mouth (and Christ, he had to bury that shit as well, that whimper alone had him near to losing control and ripping her clothes off), and still, she didn’t know who he was.

This had to go a certain way.

If it didn’t, he’d get on his bike and leave it behind.

All of it.

Forever.

He saw a man come to the end of the bay, wiping his hand on a rag.

“Yo, bro! You need something?” he yelled.

Joker didn’t reply. Just stood by his bike, cut on—the patch on the back he had no clue if the man had seen. But if he had, the guy would know he was dealing with Chaos, and how he handled that would tell the tale. Joker also had his arms crossed on his chest, shades covering his eyes, which were aimed at the bay.

“Dude, seriously, you need something?” the guy shouted.

Joker didn’t move.

The man stared at him, swung his head to look behind him, then his eyes came back to Joker. A few beats later, a big black guy came walking to the end of the bay.

There he was.

The owner of this establishment. The man who’d bought it five years ago and made it thrive.

Joker braced.

The man looked at him, and even from a distance, Joker could see him looking harder.

He felt his insides draw tight.

Then Linus Washington’s face broke into a big smile and he hooted, “Holy fuck!”

Joker felt his body loosen as Linus started to jog, heading Joker’s way.

“Holy fuck! Car!” he shouted as he jogged. “Jesus! Fantastic!”

He made it to Joker and didn’t hesitate before snaring his hand, holding it firm in his, and moving in to bump chests and round Joker with an arm, pounding him on the back.