Page 12 of Kash
Kash told me to stay away, but that’s just a challenge. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s breaking rules…
The bluff comes into view, the cabin’s dark shape looming against the starry sky.
“Hmmm… no bike,” I mutter, looking around for signs of the bike.
Smart. If the cops are sniffing around, a bike like that’s a dead giveaway. Kash has clearly hidden it.
I prop my board against a tree and creep closer, my sneakers silent on the gravel.
The cabin’s windows are dark, blinds tight, but I know he’s in there.
A guy like Kash doesn’t sleep easy, not with the kind of secrets he’s carrying. And it’s way too early for bed too. No, he’s inside. Probably taking a nap or something…
“Let’s see if I can find this bike,” I whisper, my mischievous side bubbling up to the fore.
It takes a few minutes, but I find the bike, half-covered by branches, its chrome glinting against the torch light from my cell phone as I flash it around the brush.
It’s a beast, all power and menace, and my fingers itch to touch it again.
I know I shouldn’t. Rule one and all that bullshit.
But I’ve never been good at listening, and the idea of taking it for a spin—just a quick ride, just to feel it—makes my heart pound. I glance at the cabin, my pulse racing.
If Kash catches me, I’m fucked.
But that’s half the fun, right?
I ease the branches aside, my hand grazing the handlebars.
The leather seat’s cool under my fingers, and I can almost feel the engine’s growl, the way it’d vibrate through me.
I swing my leg over, settling onto the bike, imagining myself tearing down the coastal highway, wind in my face, Kash’s rules left in the dust.
I’m not gonna start it—not yet—just want to feel it, pretend for a second I’m not stuck in this cage of a town.
The porch creaks, and my heart stops.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, boy?”
Kash’s voice is a low growl, cutting through the night like a blade. He’s standing there, all muscle and menace, his dark eyes blazing with something between anger and heat.
He’s in a black t-shirt, no jacket, his tattoos peeking out from the sleeves—I know enough to know Wolf Rider ink when I see it, I’m sure, though I can’t make out the details.
My stomach flips, but I don’t move.
I keep my ass planted on his bike, my grin defiant.
“Just testing the seat,” I say, leaning back like I own the damn thing. “Pretty comfy. Youeverlet anyone else ride this?”
Kash stalks closer, his boots crunching on the gravel, and I can feel the air shift, like a storm’s about to break.
“I told you not to touch my bike,” Kash says, his voice dangerously calm. “You think you can just waltz in here, break my rules, and get away with it?”
I shrug, my pulse hammering.
“Figured I’d take my chances. You gonna make me regret it,biker guy?” I’m pushing him, hard, and I know it. Part of me wants to see how far I can go, how much it takes to crack that iron control of his. “Vroom! Vroom!Pffft. This thing probably isn’t even that fast.”
Kash is on me in a second, grabbing my arm and yanking me off the bike.
