Page 4 of Kash
It’s quite themotherfuckingconundrum.
But as I stand there, the ocean roaring, I see Spike again in my mind.
The boy with his skateboard and that fearless stare.
Spike’s trouble, no doubt about it.
And I’ve got a feeling he’s gonna make hiding a hell of a lot harder than I planned…
Chapter 2
Spike
The pier’s my kingdom, always has been.
The salty breeze whips through my hair as I grind my skateboard along the railing, the metal screeching under my wheels.
Cresthaven’s quiet tonight, just the way I like it—no tourists clogging up the place, no cops hassling me for “loitering.”
They say I’ve got a bad attitude. But all I want to do is have fun and be left alone to live how I want to live.
No rules. No silly laws. Justfun.
The sun’s gone, leaving a purple bruise across the sky, and the ocean’s roaring like it’s got something to prove.
I land a heelflip, the board smacking the pavement with a satisfying crack, and I grin. Twenty-four years old, and I’m still out here pulling tricks like I’m sixteen.
Some things never change.
I’ve been skating since I was a kid, back when my mom was still around, before she split and left me with my uncle, who barely notices I exist. My uncle always liked to drink—and drink is precisely what he did when he was meant to be looking out for me.
Whatever.
That’s the past.
I’m more than happy to keep looking out for myself.
Cresthaven’s home, but it’s a cage too—small, suffocating, full of people who think they know me. “That Spike kid,” they say, “always causing trouble.” They’re not wrong. I’ve got a rap sheet—petty stuff, vandalism, a couple of fights—but nothing serious. Just enough to keep life interesting.
I kick the board up, catching it in one hand, and lean against a bench, scanning the street.
That’s when I think about him again.
The biker.
Kash. That’s what he called himself. I saw him earlier outside the general store, all leather trousers and muscle, with that sexy white and black hair falling over a scar that makes him look like he’s lived a hundred lives.
Kash is older than me. He kinda looks old enough to be my father. But I can’t deny it… he’s hot as all kinds of hell.
His eyes, hidden behind those mirrored shades, felt like they could see right through me. And that bike—God, that Harley was a beast, all black and chrome, growling like it could eat this town alive.
I’ve always wanted to ride one, feel the power between my legs, but guys like Kash don’t let just anyone touch their machines. Still, the way he looked at me, all gruff and guarded, made my pulse kick up a notch.
Trouble’s my middle name, I told him, and I meant it.
But Kash is trouble too, I can tell.
The kind of trouble and danger I want to get into.
