Page 5 of Piston

I stand up, joints popping like firecrackers. Time to hit the sack, rest up for another day in the life. The bottle's empty now, just like me. But there's no rest for the wicked, especially for a man running from his own demons. I'll face them again tomorrow, like always. It's the only way I know how to survive in this world.

Jenny's face flashes through my mind again, uninvited. Those dark eyes, the way they seemed to see right through my bullshit at the bar. I shake my head, trying to dislodge her image. I can't afford any distractions, not in this life.

But she's stuck in there now, like a goddamn splinter under my skin. The way her hair fell across her shoulders, the quirk of her lips when she caught me staring. Shit. I'm acting like a fucking teenager with a crush.

I pace the room, my boots heavy on the scuffed floorboards. This is stupid. I'm not built for anything more than a quick fuck and a goodbye. Seen too much, done too much. My heart's a blackened lump of coal in my chest, good for nothing but keeping the engine running.

So why can't I shake this feeling? This spark she's ignited in me, like a live wire under my ribs. It's dangerous, a liability. In my world, attachments get you killed or worse.

I slam my fist against the wall, welcoming the sting of split knuckles. Physical pain I can deal with. It's the other shit that's gonna tear me apart. I've spent years building these walls,layers of scar tissue and indifference. And now, one bartender with a sharp tongue and a knowing look has me questioning everything.

Fuck me. I need to get my head on straight. The club, the missions, that's what matters. Not some pipe dream of a normal life, a happy ending. That shit's not for men like me. We're the ones who live in the shadows, the ones who do the dirty work so everyone else can sleep easy at night.

I sit back down, my knees cracking like gunshots in the stillness. The bottle's calling my name again, but I resist. Need to keep a clear head, stay sharp. Can't let myself get soft, not now. Not ever.

But even as I close my eyes, she's there. A flicker of warmth in the darkness, a promise of something I can never have. I curse under my breath, resigned to another restless night haunted by a woman I barely know. Just another ghost to add to my collection, another reminder of the life I've chosen.

The memory of that first night at Perdition is seared into my brain like a brand. I'd just finished a job, adrenaline still pumping through my veins, when I walked into the bar looking for a drink and nothing more. And there she was, all fiery eyes and no-bullshit attitude.

"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice cutting through the din of the crowded bar.

I leaned against the counter, trying to play it cool. "Whiskey, neat. And a smile, if you've got one to spare."

Her eyes narrowed, and I knew I'd stepped in it. "Fresh out of smiles, but I've got plenty of whiskey. That'll be eight bucks."

I slid a ten across the bar, my mouth running before my brain could catch up. "Keep the change, sweetheart. Maybe you can buy yourself a sense of humor."

The bar went quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I felt a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. Mason, the club's enforcer, stood there with murder in his eyes.

"You got a problem, brother?" he growled, his grip tightening.

I held up my hands, realizing too late the line I'd crossed. "No problem, man. Just a misunderstanding."

Mason leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "That's Jenny, Carlie's best friend. She's off-limits, you hear me? You don't talk to her, you don't look at her, you don't even think about her. Or we're gonna have a real problem."

I nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. I'd disrespected Mason's old lady's friend, and in this world, that was a sin that couldn't go unpunished.

"My bad, brother. Won't happen again," I assured him, hoping to defuse the situation.

Mason released his grip, his eyes still boring into mine. "See that it doesn't."

As he walked away, I glance at Jenny. She’s watching me, her expression unreadable. I wanted to apologize, to explain that I wasn't usually such an asshole, but the words stuck in my throat.

I grabbed my drink and retreated to a corner booth, my mind reeling. I'd always prided myself on being smooth, on knowing how to navigate any situation. But with Jenny, I'd been thrown off balance, my usual charm deserting me.

I nursed my whiskey, stealing glances at her as she worked. The way she moved, the confidence in her every gesture, it was like a siren song calling to me. But I knew I had to stay away, had to keep my distance.

Getting involved with Jenny would be like playing with fire, and I'd already been burned too many times. The scars on my body were nothing compared to the ones on my soul, the ones that never seemed to heal.

I finished my drink and slipped out of the bar, the cool night air a welcome relief. But even as I straddled my bike and revved the engine, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, that my world had tilted on its axis.

Jenny was a complication I couldn't afford, a distraction I didn't need. But damn if I couldn't get her out of my head, couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to see her smile, to hear her laugh.

I gunned the throttle, the roar of the engine drowning out my thoughts. I had to focus on the road ahead, on the next job, the next mission. Anything to keep me from thinking about the one woman I could never have.

The open road stretched out before me, a ribbon of black asphalt cutting through the darkness. I pushed the bike harder, feeling the wind whip against my face, the vibrations of the engine thrumming through my bones.

But no matter how fast I rode, I couldn't outrun the memory of Jenny's eyes, the way they seemed to see right through me. It was like she could sense the shadows that clung to me, the ghosts that haunted my every step.

---