These people are my family, yet there’s something missing in my life.
“You ever think about getting out?” I ask Draven.
“Out of what?”
“This.” I gesture towards the bar, the noise, the leather cuts and stitched on egos.
Draven snorts. “You’re the SAA enforcer. If you wanted out, you’d be gone. But here you are. Same bar, same whiskey, same ghosts. Same as me.”
I don’t answer because he’s right. I could walk. But I don’t. I sit in this bar, night after night, shoulders tight, heart locked up, because it’s the only family I have and the only thing I’ve ever known.
Draven leans over the table, lowering his voice. “I got a call from Oak today. Wanted me to get a message to you.”
I lift my head. “Why didn’t he just call me?”
Draven shrugs. “He called the bar. Probably safer that way.”
My stomach tightens. “What is it?”
“He needs you to check in on his sister. Needs you to keep her safe.”
“Faith?” Little Sunshine. Haven’t seen her in years. She was always tagging along behind us with scraped knees and a cheeky grin.
Oak always said she was too soft for our world. Always kept her away from the garage and the club after his dad died.
And now he’s entrusting me to keep her safe?
I toss the whiskey back, then rise from my seat. “If he calls again, you tell him I’ll find her… and I won’t let her out of my sight.”
This is a bad idea.
A beautiful, dangerous kind of bad, but I owe Oak my life. He took one for the club and got himself banged up in the process. It should be me doing time right now.
I ridethrough the dark night, the engine purring under me like a beast I’ve finally tamed. Streetlights flicker past, and the wind bites through my cut. I keep my eyes on the road, while my mind is still on the message from Oak.
Keep Sunshine safe.
He didn’t say where she was, just that she needs me.
I don’t tell the rest of the club. Until I know what I’m dealing with, there’s no point in getting anyone else involved. I owe Oak, and he’s entrusted me with this, not the rest of the club.
By the time I roll into the gravel lot behind the garage and turn off my engine, there’s a heavy silence that only comes aftermidnight. No club noise. No engines. No voices. Just the buzz of the floodlight above the door and the ticking of my bike cooling down behind me.
The garage is dark—shuttered up for the night. The familiar scent of oil and rust catches in my nose. Home.
I take the steps two at a time towards the unit above the garage. A small one bed space that I call the bunk. Hairs prickle on the back of my neck. The air’s too still, like it’s holding its breath. Then I see her.
Sunshine. But there’s a grey cloud hanging over her, dulling the sparkle I remember.
Curled up at my door, hoodie pulled over her head, arms wrapped tight around her body, but I’d know her golden hair anywhere.
I stop cold, chest locking up like I’ve taken a punch.
Her teeth chatter in the cold night air—unless it’s me making her shake as I tower over her.
Fuck
She doesn’t look up. Just shivers like it hurts and keeps her head down like she’s trying to disappear into herself.
