Page 40 of Charger

“It’s a girl’s intuition. Besides, as you know, I like to wake up early and work out. But you’ve been in here at the ass crack of dawn. I’ve left you alone because you looked like you needed it. And while a girl could appreciate looking at someone as hot as you, I’ve been missing my alone time.” She comes over and slaps my arm. “So, whatever it is you need to do so I can have my gym time back, please fucking do it already.” She winks.

“Ha, can’t make any promises. But I need a sparring partner. Help a guy out?” I clap the boxing pads together.

“All right, stud, but I’m going first. Give me those gloves.”

I take out my phone and connect my Bluetooth to the speakers. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing? If I have to hear one more Avril song, my balls are gonna shrivel up.”

She laughs. “The fact that you know who she is tells me that you might secretly listen to some Avril.”

“Not a chance.” I tap on a Disturbed song. “Now this, this is a workout song.” I hold up the boxing pads for Angel while she hits them with her closed fists. One by one, my hands vibrate from the blows.

After a couple of rounds, Angel taps out and leaves the gym.

Left to my own devices, I decide to do some high-intensity interval training. I change the song to “Talk to a friend” by the Slaves.

Using the battle rope, I slam each of the ends to the floor until I do my set, then I rush over to the pull-up bar. With each rep I do, her face flashes in my mind, sweat beading down my body, muscles flexing with intensity.

Her smile.

One.

Her lips.

Two.

Her eyes.

Three.

Am I justified in calling myself a monster? Damn right. I hurt the only girl I have ever felt anything for.

Landing palms down on the mat, I start with a few push-ups, knocking out a rep then five more. My back muscles break down with each pump. Yeah, I’m the one who ghosted her. I’m the one who left, but every day without her fucking sucks. Every day since that day has changed me. I’m not the same boy she used to know. I’m Charger now, and that boy back in high school is gone.

With my palms flat on the tiled shower wall, I slouch over with my head hanging low, letting the hot water pour over my sore muscles. That workout left me drained, sore, tired. Not that I had much energy to begin with. I can’t shut my mind off.

A fist bangs on the bathroom door and I hear Tank on the other side. “Church starts in ten. Chain says if you’re late, you gotta work the pit.”

Church is what we call our club meetings.

I shake my head under the water, letting out a laugh. The pit, the underground fighting arena we have in the back of the bar. Every week there’s a fight that goes down and I (in particular) like to get my hands dirty with some of those fights. It’s UFC-style fighting and I hold the title for first place. My signature move: charge, drop, and tap the fucker out.

But when Tank says working the pit, he isn’t referring to fighting. He means cleaning up the aftermath. Blood, sweat, broken beer bottles, and the used fucking condom wrappers. Usually, it’s the prospects’ job but if you fuck up, you get sent there. Like a poor student with detention.

Shutting the water off, I wrap the towel around my waist and open the door that leads to my bedroom. I throw on what’s probably a dirty pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.

“You look like shit.”

“You’re not the first one to tell me that today.”

Tank and I round the corner and head downstairs. When we walk into the room, cigarette smoke hits my face. Everyone’s sitting around bullshitting. Hush is the only one standing in the far back, feet crossed at his ankles and arms to his chest. Weird fucker, quiet and strange. No one knows much about him, but he’s basically a psychopath with good intentions so no one questions him.

Chain looks at his invisible watch, then gives Tank and me a glare. “All right, assholes.” He pauses when he looks at Angel, who’s giving him a disgusted look. “And ladies.” She winks in satisfaction. “Since these two decided to finally join us, let’s start this shit, shall we?” Tank and I find a seat next to Angel and Throttle. “Got some good news and some bad news…” I’m looking at our Pres, but not really hearing a word he’s saying. My mind wanders off. Jules’s face is swirling in my visions. She looked the same. More grown up obviously, and more beautiful than I remember from high school, which I didn’t think was possible. And it makes me miss her and Garrett all over again. Even though I never stopped missing them both.

Chain grunts at the head of the table and the room gets quiet. All eyes are on me including Chain’s. He’s resting his chin on his fist.

Fuck.

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