Page 33 of Journey

Remember, Wren… a biker is a biker is a biker. They’re all the same.

CHAPTER 17

JOURNEY

I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.

“You about done?”

I glance up at Screamer, who’s wiping the grease from his hands with a rag. We both work for a local mechanic, and our specialty is motorcycles. I’m finishing up a Harley Softail, but apparently, I’m not going fast enough for him.

“Should be in a few minutes,” I tell him. “Just want to double-check everything before signing off on completion.”

“Well, there’s a woman out front, and she’s asking for you.”

I lift my head so fast I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash. “A woman?”

Screamer smirks. “Judging by the level of rage and disgust in her expression, I’m guessing she’s some chick you fucked and ducked.”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “This can’t be good.”

“Definitely not. Be glad Jared isn’t here today,” he says, referring to our boss. “I’ve got a feeling there’s about to be a big scene.”

After setting my tools down, I rise to my feet and stretch, buying myself a few seconds before I come face to face with someone who apparently hates me.

When I step into the front of the shop, my stomach drops.

“Wren?”

“Wait,” Screamer says as he steps up next to me. “This is Wren?”

Wren stares at me with fury as I respond, and I notice she’s holding a brown paper bag close to her chest. “Uh, yeah, this is Wren.”

Screamer throws his head back and laughs. “I was right. There’s definitely gonna be a fucking scene.”

“Walk away, Screamer,” I order.

“Aw, c’mon, Jou?—”

“Walk. Away,” I bark.

“Buzzkill,” he mutters as he returns to the shop area.

“I gotta say, I’m surprised to see you,” I comment when Wren and I are alone.

“Really?” she lashes out. “You leave this in my home, and you thought I’d let it slide.”

Wren sets the bag on the counter and gently slides it toward me. Her movements are so slow and in complete contraction with the malice in her tone. I look in the bag, and my own rage surfaces.

“Where’d you get that?” I demand.

“Like you don’t know,” she snaps. “It was in my nightstand, right where you left it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I reach behind my back and pull my own gun from my waistband to show her. “I’ve got my piece. There’s no way I’d have left it behind.”

“You didn’t leave anything behind. You broke into my apartment and put it right where he told you to.”

“Where who told me to?”

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