Page 7 of Loki's Luck

“I will,” I say, but we both know I’m lying. I would probably have to be bleeding out in the street before asking for a favor from anyone other than my sister. People always expect those favors to be returned, and I ain't in that business.

Beau waves as he leaves, hopping on his bike and peeling away. I take my phone out and text my sister.

Me: Hey sis :)

Ashy-bee: What do you want?

Me: Hey, that one hurt a little? What if…

Ashy-bee: and don’t say “What if I just wanted to talk” I know you better than that.

Me: Fine. Can I borrow your car?

Ashy-bee: What happened to your car?

Me: Oh nothing, just needs a tuneup.

Ashy-bee: You don’t even know what a fucking tune up is?

Me: How dare you? **Gasps in dramatic**

Ashy-bee: Halle… Don’t make me fucking ask again. One call to the station…

Me: Ugh, whatever. Someone vandalized it.

Me: BEFORE YOU FREAKOUT.

Me: I have help and I’m handling it.

Ashy-bee: Take my car. I'll be home to HELP in a few days.

I roll my eyes at that last text. I love her, but it will be a lot longer than a few days if she knows I'm fine. She’ll probably send some of her goons to look out for me if she can't on her own.

It's only thirty minutes before my shift ends, so I stock shelves and mop until relief comes in. Once he does, I call an Uber.

Luckily, my sister lives only fifteen minutes from here and is in a very respectable neighborhood. I pay the Uber driver before opening Ash’s garage and finding her car keys on the hook just inside the door. Quickly, I get in and take off toward my house. I just want to get out of these clothes and soak in a hot bath, forgetting all this shit. It brings back too many memories. Memories of my younger life, of what my sister and I had to do to survive. Dark days that carried on for years still carry me to this day, but that’s life, and all you can do is pull up your granny panties and try to move past, too. Try being the keyword.

When I make it to my house, nothing seems out of place, so I head inside. I’m just shutting the door when I feel a hand come down over my mouth and lips press to my ear.

“Told you I’d get you one of these days,” is said right in my ear, and the heat on my face makes me want to gag. So, this is the fucker that trashed my car, left me those notes, and basically tried to control my life for months.

Finally!

Let’s have some fun, fucker.

Four

LOKI

After fighting with Grease, I drag myself out of the gym and into the main building. I walk through the halls, wincing when I lean too far to the right and my ribs pull. Grease got in a good hit to them, and there’s no doubt they will be bruised tomorrow. I got in a few good licks myself. He’ll be sporting a new scar right above his left eye from a split. The fucker is probably in his room right now, gluing it shut as we speak.

When I reach my room, I strip quickly before jumping in the shower. I lean my head against the sidewall of the shower, watching as streams of red swirl with the water and wash down the drain. Watching the rivers of blood is hypnotizing and calms my heart and mind. Grease and Hitter are the only ones who can land a solid punch on me. Swift has gotten me a few times, but it got more challenging for him once I matched his speed. We haven’t sparred in years, though. Keeping the club running smoothly takes too much of his time. I finish washing up just as I hear a pounding on the door.

“Loki, fucker, I know you’re in there. Come on, I need you,” I hear someone yelling from the other side of the door. It sounds like the Prospect, but I can’t be sure. “We’re all waitin’ in the common room.”

I hear the slight twang to the voice, and I know for sure that’s Beau. What the fuck is he doing, beating on people’s doors and yelling like that? He’ll be lucky if I don’t pistol-whip his bitch ass or, better yet, tie him to a wheel, spin it around, and practice my aim with my knives. I shake my head at that thought, smiling but hurrying to get dressed. I’ve never heard his voice so frantic. He’s coming into the fold and will soon be a full-fledged brother. I get dressed and get to the common room. Beau is the only prospect in the room, but most of my brothers are at the bar—Grim, Hitter, Swift, Comp, and Grease. The only ones missing are Cutter, who's probably tattooing some high-end client, and Volt and Drift, who are still on the road.

“What the fuck is all the yelling about, fucker? You’re lucky I was in the shower and didn’t stab your ass through the fucking door,” I bark, staring down Beau. Usually, that would make a man gulp and think twice, but it looks like Beau is too far gone.

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