Page 20 of Obey

But Tinker’s bike?

It was a price I wasn’t willing to pay.

I’d helped him build that bike when I was younger. He’d taught me a lot of the things I used every day as we built it, and he’d used the experience to not only train me on mechanics but also build a bond with me. Hell, we’d done almost as much planning for the future as mechanical tinkering, during that project, and I’d come out of it with an attachment to Tinker that had never gone away.

That wasn’t just his bike. It was our bike, and it was all I had left of him. There was no way I’d part with it. Not even if my life depended on it.

“It’s not for sale,” I said quickly.

Stu snorted. “I didn’t say I wanted to buy it. I said I was willing to send you soldiers for your little war in exchange for the bike.”

Oh, I’d heard him. That didn’t change anything, though.

“The answer’s no,” I repeated. “I’m not letting that bike out of my sight. I’m not selling anything of Tinker’s.”

“And why’s that? It’s not like Tink is using it anymore.”

He sounded like he was laughing at me, or like this was just some casual conversation, and I felt my teeth grinding together. Tink’s stuff—the things he’d left here, for us to remember him by—was anything but casual. And to suggest that Tink wasn’t using it anymore, and that it might therefore be some sort of fair game...

I could almost feel steam coming out of my ears, my fury was so hot.

That didn’t, however, mean I could piss Stu off. I still needed him to stay out of the coming war.

“Call it sentimental value,” I said, hoping it would come off as a joke. “I’ll give you anything else, Stu. My very own bike, if you want it. But Tink’s stuff isn’t available.”

And it never would be. Losing Tinker was bad enough, and I didn’t want anyone else sitting on his bike. Or riding it around. Or, heaven forbid, wrecking it and taking what was left of Tink out of this world. Besides, I remembered how much Tinker had loved that bike, and I knew how he’d treated it. Letting anyone else manhandle it and do who knew what to it would be disrespecting Tink and his memory. They might change what he’d done. They might ruin it.

Hell, they might destroy it. Strip it for parts that they’d use on some other bike, like cannibals.

The idea turned my stomach, and I swallowed heavily. I couldn’t let it happen. There had to be something else. Anything else.

“I don’t want your piece of shit bike,” Stu grunted. “I want Tink’s bike. I’ve been wanting that bike for years, and he would never sell it to me. He’s not around to protect it anymore, though, and I figure you don’t have any use for it. You’ve already got your own.”

“Tink’s bike isn’t for sale,” I said through tightly clenched teeth. “And that’s my final answer. I’ll sell you any other bike in our club.”

“And I don’t want any other bike,” he repeated. “I want Tink’s. Give me his bike and I’ll send you those soldiers. I’ll make sure you win the war.”

I closed my eyes, trying hard to find a balance between my need to keep Tink’s bike and my need to win the war. Win the war, get Saraya back, ensure that Devil never bothered us again. Gain some safety for my crew. Some security for my clients.

Or keep Tink’s bike with me for the rest of my life, touching it every so often when I thought I might be forgetting the way his eyes had glinted when he smiled. Keep it where I could take care of it and remember all the things he’d ever taught me. Make sure it was safe from anyone else ruining what we’d built.

“The bike isn’t going anywhere,” I told him firmly.

“Then I guess you don’t want to win that war as badly as I thought you did. Without my help, kid, Devil will destroy you. And you know it.”

There was no mistaking the threat in his voice, and I knew exactly what that meant. It was either give him the bike and get his help or refuse the bike and ensure that he went to Devil’s side.

Like I said, the guy was a slimy piece of shit. You could never trust anything he said, and even his deals came with loopholes you weren’t going to like. They always had. It was why I’d worked so hard to stay away from him in the past... and why he and Devil had always found themselves on the same side of the line.

“If that’s the way you feel, then I guess that’s my answer,” I muttered. “I’m not giving you the bike, Stu. And I’m not as vulnerable to Devil as you seem to think.”

That was the truth. He didn’t know that the Hell Hounds had already given me their word—or at least I didn’t think he did. If he had, he would have realized that he didn’t have as many bargaining chips as he seemed to think.

“Give me that bike, boy, or the deal is off. Me and all my men will be sitting this one out—or even siding with Devil. We could be at the forefront, taking your people out.”

This time, I snapped. I didn’t take well to people calling me “boy,” and I certainly didn’t take well to people threatening me. Over a bike, no less.

“In that case, you can go right to hell with Devil,” I snapped. “Fuck off, Stu. I’ll be the one pulling the trigger that ends your life.”