Page 24 of Kash
I growl, pulling him close for one last kiss, hard and quick, before pushing him toward the door.
“Get to the skatepark. Spread that rumor about the quarry,” I command. “Then come back here. ASAP. We’ll figure out the next move. But there isn’t a moment to lose now. The clock is ticking.”
Spike nods, his board under his arm, and slips out into the night. I watch him go, my heart heavy with something I can’t control.
The Vipers, the cops—they’re closing in, and I’m running out of time.
But with Spike in my corner, I’m starting to think I might just have a chance.
Or maybe he’s just the spark that’s gonna burn us both down…
Chapter 8
Spike
I skate back to Kash’s cabin, my board’s wheels humming against the smooth trail before I have to flip off and carry my wheels over the rougher track.
The adrenaline is still pumping through me from the skatepark.
I did what he asked—spread the rumor about a biker heading north to the old quarry, dropped it casual-like to a couple of guys at the pier, let it ripple out like a stone in a pond.
But I took it a step further, and I’m not sure if Kash is gonna love me or spank me for it.
Probably both, knowing him. My ass tingles at the thought, a reminder of that night over his lap, his voice calling meboyin that way that makes my blood sing.
The cabin comes into view, dark and hunched against the bluff, the Harley still hidden under its tarp and brush.
I prop my board against a tree, my sneakers silent as I creep to the door.
My heart’s pounding, not just from the skate but from what I’m about to tell Kash.
I tap softly, the signal we agreed on, and the door swings open.
Kash fills the doorway, looking every inch the irresistible fugitive from the law. He’s in a black t-shirt, his tattoos peeking out, and I can’t help but stare at the way his muscles shift under the fabric, strong and boulder like.
“Get in,” he growls, stepping aside. I slip inside, the familiar smell of mildew and whiskey hitting me as the door shuts.
The cabin’s dim, just a single lamp casting shadows on the walls.
Kash is pacing already, his boots heavy on the creaky floor, his hand brushing the knife at his belt like it’s an old friend.
“Well?” he says, his voice low, urgent. “You spread the rumor? All good?”
I lean against the wall, trying to play it cool despite the nerves buzzing in my veins.
“Yeah, Daddy,” I say, flashing a grin. “Told a couple of guys at the skatepark I saw a biker tearing north toward the quarry. They ate it up, already passing it around. Should hit the diner by morning.”
Kash nods, his jaw tight, but his eyes narrow as he studies me. “That’s it? No detours, no risks?”
I hesitate, my grin faltering. Here it comes…
“Well… I might’ve told a cop too,” I say, rushing the words out. “I saw one cruising by the pier, so I flagged him down, said I heard some biker was headed north. Figured it’d get them off your trail faster.”
Kash freezes, his hand stilling on his knife.
For a second, I think he’s gonna explode, his eyes flashing with that stern Daddy look that makes my knees weak.
“You told acop?” Kash says, his voice dangerously calm. “You think that’s careful, Spike? You think a cop’s gonna buy your bullshit without sniffing around? What if he smelled a rat?”
