overtly threatening… just icy cold. In my experience, the icy cruelty is far scarier. I wonder what the hell my stepfather has gotten himself into.
“Saves us the trouble of having to collect in another, more painful way. Because we both know you aren’t much for pain.” I feel goosebumps on my arms. Whoever this man is, my stepfather is no match for him.
“I already told you, just give me until tonight. The lawyer said there was some formality. But you’ll have your money. Everything I owe.”
The man takes another long drag from his cigarette. “Funny how you said the same thing to me last week. You seemed so sure. And that was before your rich wife even had her accident.” The man takes another drag of his cigarette. “I pegged you for a chickenshit, but maybe you’ve got balls after all.”
My stepfather’s voice is tremulous. “I don’t know what you are implying.”
“Never mind. I remember now how you’ve got a shit poker face. It’s what got you into this mess in the first place. Get my money to me ASAP or you’ll be joining your pretty bitch of a wife in the grave. I’ll help you the way you helped her, got it?”
I hear steps walking away and then my stepfather slump against the shrubbery. He’s still so close to where I am hiding and I can’t believe what I just heard.
But what did I just hear?
The man had implied that my stepfather had something to do with my mother’s death. I hear my stepfather stand up straight and take a step toward the party just as my phone beeps. It’s a text from my grandmother asking me where I ran off to.
I freeze, icy blood in my veins. My stepfather pauses, then, as I practically hold my breath in fear, he shuffles off back toward the party.
Did he know I was here? That I just heard some scary gangster imply that he murdered my mother to pay off some debt he owes?
And if he could do that to her, his own wife, what will he do to me if he realizes I know the truth?
I shiver, suddenly chilled to the bone.
Chapter 2
Lincoln
I finish bleeding the brake fluid and tighten up the brake line on the Harley Davidson CVO Limited I’m working on, then wipe my hands clean on an old rag.
This bike is one of the most expensive on the market, and it is in pristine condition, mostly because the owner is a fat banker from the rich side of town who only rides her once or twice a summer to show her off. He probably nearly shits himself the entire time, but brags about how much of a bad-ass he is is for the rest of the year.
I fucking hate those rich idiots, even if I make a shit ton of money fixing up their trophy bikes and occasionally their fancy cars. At least their business keeps the IRS off my back and keeps my repair shop looking legitimate and on the up-and-up. But I still can’t stand the assholes.
My bike shop may be on the wrong side of Chino, but everybody knows we’re the best, and stuck-up, rich pricks like working with the best. They wouldn’t so much as grunt a friendly hello if they passed me on the street, but they’ll let me work on their bikes all day long.
I’ve got a bit of a reputation in this town, one that scares the shit out those polo shirt and loafer wearing pansies. Maybe they’re right to be scared. I’m not above using my fists if it protects me and mine. Trust me, you don’t get to be head of Savage Souls MC if you aren’t willing to crush skulls and bury your enemies, it just comes with the territory.
I toss my wrench into the nearby toolbox angrily.
I grew up rough - plain and simple and I did what I had to do to protect myself and my little sister. Nobody handed us anything in this world and I had to figure out a way for us to survive as we were getting passed from one foster home to the next. Eventually our mother would decide she wanted us for a while, and then ultimately that she didn’t again. We were nothing more than burdens to her, we were never going to be anything more than that.
As a teenager, my anger was destructive, at least until I got involved with the local motorcycle gangs early on and