Page 5 of Kash
I drop the board and roll toward the skatepark, a rundown slab of concrete by the pier where the local skaters hang out. It’s just me tonight, though, the others probably off drinking cheap beer or pretending they’ve got lives outside this dead-end town.
I’m halfway through a 50-50 grind when I hear voices—two guys from the diner, leaning against a pickup truck, their words carrying over the crash of the waves.
“You hear about that fugitive?” one says, lighting a cigarette. “Some biker guy. Killed a cop, they say. Straight shotgun blast to the chest. No mercy.”
My ears perk up, but I keep my head down, focusing on the grind.
Fugitive? Biker?
My mind immediately goes straight to Kash, the way he moved like he was carrying a secret, the way he dodged my question about being new in town.
No way.
He’s too…something… to be a cop-killer.
But the pieces fit too well—a stranger, his motorcycle, that haunted look in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t watching.
“Police are offering a reward,” the other guy says. “Five grand for any tips. They think he’s hiding out somewhere along the coast. I’ll be damned if I get involved in any crazy ass cop shit. But five grand ain’t nothing to be sneezed at…”
I miss the landing, my board skidding out from under me.
“Shit,” I mutter, picking myself up. The guys glance my way, but I play it off, kicking the board back into my hand.
My heart’s pounding now, not from the fall but from the idea of Kash being on the run.
It’s crazy, but it makes him even hotter.
Dangerous. Forbidden. Exactly my type…
I need to know more. I skate back toward the main street, the town quiet except for the hum of a few streetlights.
Kash’s bike was parked near that old cabin on the bluff when I passed by earlier, the one Gus rents out to whoever is dumb enough to give him money in exchange for staying at that piece of crap joint.
If Kash is hiding, that’s where he’d be.
I can’t look though, can I? I mean… what if Kash actually is a killer?
Hey, you only live once, right?
My board’s wheels hum against the pavement as I head that way, the thrill of doing something stupid buzzing in my veins.
I’m not gonna rat him out—hell no—but I want to see that bike again.
Maybe talk to him.
Maybe push his buttons a little…
The cabin comes into view, a dark shape against the starry sky. The Harley’s parked out front, gleaming under the moonlight, and my fingers itch to touch it. I roll to a stop, my sneakers silent on the gravel. The cabin’s windows are dark, blinds drawn tight, but I can feel him in there, watching, waiting.
A guy like Kash doesn’t let his guard down.
I know I don’t actually have a clue who Kash is. But I sensed something about him. That danger, that aura… that special something that’s meant I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since our brief meeting.
I prop my board against a tree and creep closer, sticking to the shadows.
The bike’s even more beautiful up close, all sleek lines and raw power.
I run a hand along the handlebars, imagining what it’d feel like to ride it, the engine roaring, the wind tearing through me.
