Page 4 of Sinful Need
“I’m not running a halfway house here.”
“I thought maybe Jase could prospect for you. You said you wanted to grow the club.” Hawk looks Jase over.
Jase rocks back on his heels, his fingers still tucked awkwardly in his front pockets. He doesn’t say a word and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“You think this kid has the balls to prospect for my club?” Hawk locks his stare on Jase.
“I think he’s braver than people give him credit for.”
“Being a prospect means doing what you’re told without question. I take what I want and might throw you scraps but don’t ever fucking ask to eat at my table. Do you even know how to ride?”
Jase lifts his head, leveling his eyes with Hawk accepting his challenge. “I can ride.”
The two are locked in an intense stare down that surprises me. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous tonight.”
A snicker escapes my lips but I snap it off quickly when Hawk narrows his eyes on me. I know I need to walk a fine line if I want Hawk to let Jase stay.
“There’s a mess of mangled metal in the back. If you can repair it and ride it, you can stay. In fact, I’ll even let you have it.”
“That's my dad’s bike.” I blurt out, the heat rising in my cheeks.
“You prefer I throw your boyfriend out on his ass? Cause that can be arranged.” There’s a warning in Hawk’s voice I know I better not ignore.
I swallow the lump in my throat, blink back the tears in my eyes and shake my head no. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Hawk coils his hand in my hair, yanking my head up towards his and slobbers a nasty wet kiss on my forehead. “That's good princess because you won’t always be jailbait.”
Hawk lets go of me sneering a callous laugh that sets a chill in my bones. “You’ve got one month to prove yourself, Prospect, but if you can’t pull it off, you’re out.”
Hawk grabs one of the club girls nearby, tossing her over his shoulder. She squeals when his enormous hand lands with a hard thwack on her ass, all the while staring me down. “Oh and you bunk with Storm. We prospect in pairs. If you fuck up, he fucks up. If you don’t cut it, he don’t cut it.”
“But I’m not a prospect.” Storm corrects him, earning him a sneer from Hawk. He doesn’t like to be corrected.
“You are now.” Hawk turns away carrying his temporary conquest out of the room.
A smile threatens to twist Storm's lips but he’s fighting it back. That's when I see it. What Storm has wanted all along. His chance to be a patched member of the Viper’s Den. With our fathers gone, there’s no one to hand him his legacy. If he wants a patch, he’s going to have to fight for it and so will Jase.
Chapter 3
Fuel
If I look up the definition of insanity in the dictionary, I’d expect to find a picture of me. I have to be insane to continue to endure the endless torment Hawk, Digger and the rest of the Viper’s Den like to dish out at my expense. They're hard on all of us, but Hawk has a particular hard-on for me. This way of life has been an adjustment and there’s no learning curve with these guys. My only reprieve is working on this bike. At the end of the day, when things get to be too much to handle, I come out here and escape. Focusing on the feel of the metal under my hands calms me and my still aching heart. It’s been two months since Brady died and there’s not a single day I don’t miss him.
I’ve poured every free minute I have into restoring this bike. It’s therapeutic in a mind fuck kind of way. Rayne’s parents died on this bike. All I know about them are the stories she tells me while she watches on, but it's like her father’s guiding my hand. Helping me heal from my own wounds and offering her a chance to reconnect with what she lost.
I started by carefully washing away the blood stains that still marred the bike's surface. I couldn’t stand Rayne seeing them and I’m certain is the reason Hawk left them there. He’s a manipulating son of a bitch. Then, I turned my attention to the bike's body. It was a mess, the frame bent and twisted, the paint scraped and chipped. But I was determined to bring it back to life. I knew it was important to Rayne to have this connection to her parents. I began by carefully straightening the frame. It was a painstaking process, but I refused to let this bike remain a symbol of tragedy. It had to become a symbol of resilience, like Rayne. Next, I worked on the paint. I sanded down the original sheen and carefully applied a fresh coat, choosing a shade that matched Rayne’s eyes. Then came the engine. It had taken a beating in the accident, but I disassembled it, cleaned every part, and replaced the damaged parts. It was a meticulous process, one that required both skill and patience to make the bike run again. A challenge everyone thought was impossible. What they didn’t know was that the quiet boy Rayne dragged home had a hidden talent. I’ve always been good with my hands. I started taking things apart to rebuild them at a young age. My brother, Brady, used to say I was a mechanical genius. I’m certainly no genius with real life or I would ditch this place too and take my chances with CPS. I only need one more month until I’m eighteen and then they can’t touch me.
I glance up, stealing a glimpse of Rayne sitting on the front stoop of the clubhouse, the afternoon sun glimmering off her tan legs. I follow their long line up to the hem of her yellow sundress. I can’t help but wonder about the secrets hidden underneath. A smile tugs at her lips as she watches Storm and me, her eyes filled with gratitude. That look is what keeps me going. She’s the reason I’m doing this.
My fingers move with precision as I add the finishing touches. Storm is right by my side, handing me tools as needed.As I step back to admire my handy work, I can see the surprise in Storm’s eyes.
He runs his hand over the freshly painted metallic blue tank. “Damn Bro, I can’t believe you pulled this off.”
“I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
Storm shakes his head, “I owed you one. If it wasn’t for you showing up here, Hawk would never have made me a prospect. Someday I’m gonna have that gavel.”
I nod my head in silent understanding. Storm is the only prospect here that already has a road name. It was given to him by his father before he was even old enough to become a prospect. Like Rayne, Storm’s father was a founding member, which meant his membership in the club should have been a given, but Hawk was hellbent on icing him out.
