“I’m not gonna shoot him,” I mutter, though the thought has crossed my mind more than once. “But if he keeps it up, I’m gonna make damn sure he remembers who he’s talking to.”
Spike’s lips twitch…half warning, half understanding. “Handle it how you need to, just don’t let it break the club.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Still, as I head for the door, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s already cracking beneath the surface and Knuckles might just be the one holding the match.
Chapter Four
Eli
I’ve been sitting in the garage for hours, and no one’s shown. I don’t even know when to expect the new owner. Patrick didn’t leave me any way to contact him, and he’s not answering my texts.
I sigh and grab a notepad. I’m not sitting here all day. I’ll tape the note to the door with my contact information.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I jump and look up. A big man stands in the doorway, arms folded, face set like he’d rather be anywhere else. My heart races, but my body doesn’t seem to be on the verge of fainting.
“I…uh…work here?” I say. The words sound smaller than I feel. “Can I help you?”
“You must be that man Skip was talkin’ about,” he says, exhaling like this is already a hassle. “If it was up to me, I’d kick your ass to the curb right now. Heard you don’t know shit about working on bikes. But I promised the asshat I’d give you a shot. You’ve got one month, kid. That’s it. One screwup and your ass is gone. Got it?”
“Umm…yeah. Got it.”
I don’t tell him that sometimes I can’t keep myself upright. Not today. Not to this guy.
“Good. Name’s Knuckles. Show me around and let me see what needs upgrading.”
“Most of it.” I step around the desk and gesture him forward. “This place is old and in need of a good shine.”
I try to hide my disappointment as we walk, that this broody man is the one who showed up, and not the guy from yesterday.Did Knuckles just say his name was Skip? That’s a weird name… even for a biker.
“This dump ain’t worth half what we paid for it,” Knuckles says when we finish the tour. He rubs a hand over his jaw. “Alright, kid, hope you’re ready for hard labor. I want these hunks of metal out on the lot so they can go to the scrap yard.”
My stomach drops. I’m not built for that kind of work. My body won’t let me do that much physical labor. But I keep my mouth shut. I need this job. No one else will give me a chance. I can’t afford to blow it on day one by sounding like I’m making excuses.
I keep thinking about the guy from yesterday who caught me when I fell. He already knows a little because of that. Maybe he’ll show up tomorrow. Maybe he won’t. Maybe I’ll make it through the first day without passing out.
If I don’t, I promise myself I’ll at least try to collapse somewhere out of Knuckles’ line of sight. It usually only takes a minute for me to come back. Hopefully, that minute will be enough.
***
I made it… barely. Every muscle in my body aches, and I can feel my body wanting to shut down. But I fight it…which always ends up making it worse. Once the adrenaline rush drops, that’s when I’ll be out. Hopefully, I’ll be home by then.
“You’re not used to hard work, are ya, boy?” Knuckles says, tone sharp enough to cut. “No wonder you’re fat.”
The words sting, but before I can react, another voice cuts through the garage…cold and lethal.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
I turn, heart skipping. Skip’s standing in the doorway, hands clenched at his sides, eyes locked on Knuckles like he’s one breath away from losing it.
“He won’t last a week, let alone a month,” Knuckles says. “Fucking waste of space if you ask me.”
The words don’t bother me. It’s nothing I haven’t heard a few dozen times before. It’s the way he says them that makes me step back.
Knuckles has been cold to me since the moment he walked through the door, and I’ve barely said more than a handful of words to him. But every time his eyes land on me, he sighs or rolls them like I’m a burden just for breathing. Now, his voice is different. Flat. Empty. Cruel.
