"Put her in the garage," Talon said.
Without alerting him, she went to the garage and searched her car.
Jule eased out of the garage and closed the door behind him.
As she stepped into the armory in the corner of the large garage, she was struck by the care he took of the large collection.
The car ain't due back at the garage 'til tomorrow but we gotta figure some way of returning it or they're gonna get miffed.
Once the garage door was secured, she pulled away from the house.
A gray brick house dominated the landscape, its ranch style sprawling in a U shape with a garage on one end.
More gunfire deafened her in the small confines of the garage, and men screamed and fell.
Anxious never, ever to run into Talon or his men again, she left the garage and drove through the streets.
The day before, she'd found quite a few treasures, to include the backpack, a flashlight, the key locker for the cars in the garage, and Jake's wallet, which happened to have a credit card, which she had secretly used to book a flight from Tucson to Virginia.
"Guess I won't be going to any more auctions or garage sales with Fred," she muttered.
Even his customary perusal of the newspaper garage sale listings were peppered with comments about keeping his eyes peeled for baby clothes.
Once again he reached behind his seat, this time pulling out a child's red polka-dot umbrella, no doubt another garage sale bargain.
Dean was about to ask him if his nineteen-fifties sweater came from the same garage sale as the skis but he proceeded directly to the parlor.
He came to the garage when she parked the car, opened the door and began removing groceries without comment.
She walked him to the garage and waited while he backed out of the garage - then watched as his truck bounced down the drive.
The Garage Tinkerer who Invents The Next Big Thing.
She should be looking for a replacement vehicle, but having another car in the garage would only be a reminder that there was no one left to drive it.
As the garage door lifted, sunlight reflected off the polish she and her siblings had applied that last day of their lives.
The lackey picked her up and carted her to the garage, which served as a makeshift barracks filled with cots and sleeping men.
None had time to grab the weapons under their cots before gunfire exploded through the garage door and slammed into them.
She couldn't run, couldn't move and she tried hard to convince herself to pass out as the garage door was wrenched open.
Two men in black darted through the bodies and into the house while two more hung back at the garage entrance.
She was silently thanking the heavens for rescuing her, until one of the men in black entered the garage and began shooting the downed men a second time around.
He nodded his head towards the garage door.
He led her through the apartment building to an underground garage and to a sleek, black sports car with black interior.
The woman flung open the door to the garage and ran into it.
Jule looked again towards the garage, growing concerned he hadn't heard a car or garage door motor yet.
The garage door behind him opened, and he whirled.
At long last, he heard the sound of a car leaving the garage, and he maneuvered the guardsman away from the garage to ensure the immortal didn't take off after her.
She was his current waltzing widow—first choice to fill his dance card when he wasn't surfing the net, tracking down an auction or garage sale or devouring a mystery novel.
"We're going down to get some…" his voice was drowned out by the opening of the garage door behind her.
The car was backing out of the garage when she grabbed the door on the passenger side.
The truck was in the garage, but Alex was nowhere to be found.
She stopped at the garage door.
And yet, when the garage door lifted, his truck was parked inside.
It was just a garage that rents old junkers and they ain't particular.
One hundred fifty-six Maid Marian Lane was a neatly kept ranch to which a one-car garage had been added.
The clothing Martha brought with her was made up of a rag-tag collection of cast-offs that made most garage sale clothes look like they'd been purchased in a boutique.
Fred finished his breakfast in a rush and hauled out the pair of his garage-sale skis.
Fred O'Connor, back from his second stint at the library and historical museum, was now poring over the newspaper and circling the Saturday garage sales in the classified ads.
I bought 'em at a garage sale right down the street.