Page 21 of Shattered Skull

It wasn’t something I was going to do forever. But until I saved enough to open my shop and started making an honest living working on bikes, it’s what got me through life. I didn’t fuck with the stuff much. I had in the past, but now my drug of choice was weed.

The guys dabbled, but I wanted my head as clear as possible. It was challenging to put the things in my body that turned the people who were supposed to care and love me into monsters.

I was just another street rat, scarred on the outside and ruined on the inside—so mentally fucked-up, I couldn’t let anyone other than my boys get close to me. I had learned a crucial thing during my life—people were shitbags who beat you down and took from you.

No one would be taking anymore of me ever again.

The city melted away, and the streets became treelined. The day was shifting to night, and the stars were beginning to blink above us. My breathing echoed inside my helmet, the heat from my breath spreading across my skin behind my handkerchief.

Riding at night was peaceful, especially on the country roads. Sometimes I would leave the city to ride, speeding down the back roads with only the echo of my breaths and the scream of my engine. Those were my favorite times. I could almost forget what I had become—a dealer with blood on my knuckles and an empty heart.

I followed behind Joker when he swung a sharp left onto a side road. The switch from asphalt to gravel shifted my tires, and I let up on the gas. The trail went for a bit before the trees opened, and an old farmhouse came into view. It was nestled in the center of giant live oaks and azalea bushes, its age showing in the crooked siding and sinking foundation.

A brand-new Mustang was parked out front, looking familiar as fuck, and sitting beside that was a blue Hayabusa straight off the line. I could practically smell the fresh rubber on the tires. Someone had been doing dirty deeds and collecting. You couldn’t join The Border Lords without a bike, and so they had put him to work and made sure he could afford one.

Fucking clown.

He had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

We pulled up close to the large front porch, and I revved my engine, hoping whoever he was would come out and meet us, but there was no such luck. We cut our engines, knowing what our next move was. First, we would breach, and then we would beat the shit out of the newbie and get our girls back.

6 Everly

IT WAS FOUR IN THE AFTERNOONwhen I finally climbed out of bed and began to move about the house. I was dragging, sleep still tempting me to go back to bed, but I had never been one to sleep all day, and already my day felt off.

I needed coffee—stat. It would get me through until it was an appropriate time to go back to bed.

I was surprised to find Erik downstairs on the couch, playing with his phone and eating a bag of chips. He looked hungover with a sizeable black eye, but I didn’t say anything. Once I had my coffee and a second to think straight, I would find out what happened the night before.

I pretended not to notice and asked, “Have fun last night?”

Instead of answering, he held up a thumb’s up sign, and I shook my head and chuckled.

Pulling a coffee cup from the cabinet, I set up the coffee maker, filling it with enough coffee and water to make a full pot. I would be drinking more than one cup after the night I had.

A short time later, the coffee maker bubbled, filling the pot with what I needed to make it through the rest of my Saturday. I still had a few boxes of books I needed to unpack, and there was a quaint spot on the front porch I had been dreaming about turning into a reading nook since we moved in.

Standing in front of the kitchen window, I peered out over the large yard and the massive oak trees lining our property. The sun was setting, and the corners of the yard were growing dark with shadows.

Stars blinked down from the pink sky, ready to light up the purple night. My eyes shifted over the foliage closest to the house, still green with hints of fall touching the tips before landing on Erik’s car and a new bike parked beside it.

“Erik?” I called out.

“Yeah?” His voice echoed from the living room.

“There’s a bike outside. Is someone here?”

He was quiet for a bit before he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a massive grin on his face. “Nope. It’s mine.”

Not possible.

There was no way he had hoarded enough of Dad’s money to buy a new bike.

“But it looks brand new.”

He nodded. “It is. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Um … how did you afford that?”

---