Page 3 of Stealing the Biker

“Yeah, well. Your uncle says differently.”

“My sperm donor doesn’t even remember what I look like. I’m the last person he’d reach out to. Link’s being overprotective.”

“I’m not going to be the one facing his wrath if something happens to you because I ignored his orders.”

She fingers the pearl choker that’s wrapped around her throat, seeming to think about what her uncle will do if I don’t follow through. “Whatever. Just make yourself invisible.”

Her bitchy attitude has me wanting to laugh. She looks sweet and innocent, but she’s anything but that when she opens her mouth. “No problem.” I follow her into the building as the bell for the next class rings, having no damn clue how to stay close and not be discovered. I follow her through the hallway surrounded by a loud crowd of teenagers living their lives obliviously, wrapped up in their dramas and aspirations.

They have no clue how good they have it right now. No idea what’s waiting for them once they enter the real world. Once they are considered an adult and no one is holding out a hand to help them navigate life.

I was forced to grow up young and fast due to the shitty circumstances I was born into. I’ve never known anything easy.

Kiesha doesn’t realize how lucky she is to have a family who gives a fuck.

“I have drama this period so you can hangout in one of the changing rooms backstage. No one uses them unless we have a costume fitting or a show. But if anyone asks, we’ll say you’re a cousin who came to visit this week or something.”

“Right. I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.” I shouldn’t be offended, but for some reason, I take the dig personally. Like she’s embarrassed to be seen with me. I’m not the best-looking guy in the club, but I’m damn sure not the ugliest.

Kiesha glances back at me once more, the golden flecks in her hazel eyes glittering like the embers of a fire that won’t easily be extinguished in the dim light of this dark and forgotten room.

I sit on the burnt orange colored couch that looks like it’s been here for three decades. I glance around the room at the mismatched props and musty smelling costumes that look like they’ve been here as long as the couch. I pull out my phone to doom scroll while waiting for the next hour to pass, biting my bottom lip in an attempt to resist lighting up a cigarette.

I didn’t even consider the fact that I’m not going to be able to smoke until I’m off school grounds.

My phone vibrates in my hand as I’m about to nod off from boredom alerting me to a slew of new text messages from Sabrina, her frustration and anger increasing with every unanswered question about where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m doing.

She knows I can’t tell her anything about what I’m doing. And even if I could, she won’t be understanding or forgiving.

I’m trying to work. Stop texting every five minutes. You’re distracting me.

I know the message is harsh, but it’s true. I can’t focus on her when I have to be on alert. When I have to concentrate on keeping Kiesha safe.

I can’t afford to be distracted by Sabrina’s petty arguments.

Not with my future in the club possibly at stake.

Chapter Two

I can’t believe this. I don’t need some scrawny prospect following me around my classes like a guard dog. My father doesn’t care about me or my sister. His choices since I was born have proven time and again how little he loves me. If he ever has, it would be news to me. I can’t even remember the last time I had contact with him.

He walked straight past me like a stranger the last time I crossed his path. He looked right through me. Inconsequential. That’s exactly what he is. I hate him. Sometimes I wish he would disappear forever. None of my friends understand what it has been like for me. I’ve always been in my sister’s shadow. She’s older and prettier. Looks like our mother and has her long legs. I was cursed with inheriting my father’s genes. I’m short with wide hips and thick thighs. But she actually has some good memories of our father. I have none. Not even bad ones, really. He’s never been present.

I stare at this goofball with thick brows, wondering how he got volunteered for my protection duty. He doesn’t look that strong.He’s tall and lanky, but he does have killer ink and nice brown eyes.

Not that I care. He could look like Hyunjin, one of my favorite K-Pop singers. I wouldn’t be interested. Not when I’ve been working overtime to get Jonesy Ripley to notice I’m alive. He’s the hottest senior and I’ve had a crush on him since he transferred to our school last year.

No one has been able to land him, and I’ve made it my personal mission to be asked to homecoming by him. I even talked Sam into nominating me for homecoming queen. Not that I expect to win against Lisa Nichols, the captain of the cheerleading team. The only reason she’s not on Jonesy’s arm is because she’s been dating Bobo Spradlin since freshman year and he’s a monster in size. Dude could squish pumpkins between his thighs. He’s been wrestling since he was a toddler.

This prospect had better not mess this up for me. I’ve been going to every game to cheer for Jonesy. Sitting by him and his meathead friends at lunch. Doing anything and everything short of throwing myself at him to catch his eye.

Of all the days to place me under club protection, my uncle just had to pick the day I’m hoping my number one crush will ask me out. That’s not going to happen with Jimmy stuck up my ass. I know it isn’t the prospect’s fault. I know how the hierarchy in the motorcycle club works. My sister got with Navarro when he was prospecting and now our mom is dating Prodigy, another Royal Bastard club member. I’ve grown up around the motorcycle club since my Uncle Link is a member.

I’m not new to any of this. Danger and threats have always been a part of our lives by association. I just never thought I would ever be a direct target, and by my sperm donor at that.

Jimmy follows me into the auditorium, and I hurry him to the changing rooms before my classmates or Mrs. Bledsoe lay eyes on him.

“Lock the door and don’t unlock it for anyone. Give me your phone number and I’ll text you when it’s safe to come out.”

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