Chapter 11
Sloane
Staringup at the popcorn ceiling, Isighed.
Morning light was inching its way through the cracks in the venetian blinds, and the sounds of the city waking up were amplified through the open window. Man, it was hot in here. Hot, sticky, anduncomfortable.
Last night had been awkward as hell. I didn’t know who Marini was anymore. I didn’t know much about him in the first place, but he’d seemed to have gotten more violent and erratic than ever. I was living easy right now. He’d made that clear and also reinforced the fact I had no powerhere.
That was where he was wrong. He’d underestimated the Hollow Men, and he’d underestimatedme.
I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realized he’d lost his life’s work to his daughter. The daughter he was going to sell off forscrap.
Rolling out of bed, I dragged myself into the shower, scrubbing the sleep from my body. I pressed my forehead against the tile and thought about Chaser. If I closed my eyes and thought about it hard enough, I could feel him step into the spray behind me and press his body against mine. The hard plane of his chest, the heat of his erect cock sliding against my ass, his hands kneading my breasts, and his fingers pinching my tautnipples.
It was easier to handle being apart from him during the day. Other people were around. But when darkness fell and I was alone in bed with my own thoughts…that was when I missed him themost.
Today was yet another day we had to spend apart, but it was also a day closer to getting what wewanted.
After I’d gotten dressed and succeeded in avoiding Sam—I seriously didn’t know who was avoiding who after our post-Harley bashing conversation—and scrounged up some cereal in the kitchens, I went out to thegarage.
I was on the outs with the other women after the pool cue incident, though I knew it was more to do with their relationships with their men and Fortitude than it was to do with right and wrong. They gave me the cold shoulder out of loyalty to cock and the safety that being one-half of a biker duo provided. Couldn’t blame them. Survival came at a premium aroundhere.
Standing in the middle of the empty garage, I wiped the back of my hand over my sweaty forehead and breathed in the smell of grease, rubber, and oil. Doing a lap, I examined the car Spike had been working on the other day, had a look over the motorcycles in various stages of their builds, and peered into the room where someone had been spraying metallic red paint onto a pair of bikefenders.
Being a mechanic wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind when I enrolled in online college, but it was something. A life skill, you could call it. Everyone should know how to change a flat tire and make sure enough oil was in the engine. And something about radiator fluid. The most I’d ever known was how to fill up the little bottle of water that cleaned the windshield. Besides, who knew how long I would be here? This seemed to be a great way to integrate into the club, for better orworse.
“Well, here’s a sight for soreeyes.”
I turned as Gasket emerged from the office, his muscles accentuated by the loose tank top he was wearing. He’d become ripped in his old age. Even more than I remembered. Gasket had always been a tough SOB, but he was leveling up to Yoda as more gray appeared in hishair.
“What brings you out here at this shithole of anhour?”
“Marini said I could hang out here,” I replied. “I know you talked to him aboutme.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You call him by his first namenow?”
“It doesn’t seem right to call him dad.” I shrugged and glanced around the garage. Chaser’s bike wasgone.
“Marini sent him on a job last night,” Gasketsaid.
I snorted and turned my attention back to the biker. “So what do you want me to do around here? Is this anapprenticeship?”
“You want to be a mechanicnow?”
“Life skills.” I made the peace sign with myfingers.
“What were you doingbefore?”
“Working a bar and going to college on theInternet.”
Gasket scowled, looking rather disappointed at how average my life post-Fortitude had become. Pouring Johnny Walker in a strip club and studying Political Science—because I legitimately didn’t know what I was interested in—at a fast-food restaurant in my downtime wasn’t exactly the glamorous ‘better life’ I’d hoped for, but anything was better than the fate my father had planned forme.
“Gasket, what did you think I went and did? Become a Wall Street banker?” I rolled my eyes. “I had to keep a lowprofile.”
“What did youdo?”
“If you really want to know, I had to live on the street for a year before I got enough cash together to get fake IDs. Then it was another couple of months before I got a job and enough to rent my ownplace.”