The Biker's Fate Chapter 631

Teagan

"I WANT TO show you something," Cash said, motioning for me to follow him.

"Oh, no. I'm not about to fall for the old, 'I wanna show ya somethin',' trick."

Cash laughed as he led me to the far end of the shop, where the smallest, and least used auto bay was. In the center of the bay was what I assumed to be a motorcycle under a canvas tarp.

"Do you know what's under that?" Cash asked, motioning to the tarp.

"I'm really hoping it's a pizza oven because I am starving."

Cash rolled his eyes. "I'll give you one more guess."

"Then I'm gonna have to say a motorcycle. Final answer."

"Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner," he said, removing the tarp to reveal a vintage Triumph.

"Ooooh. What a beautiful bike," I said.

"Every now and then some of the crew will work on a shop project together. We'll all throw in some money to buy some old hunk of shit and do our best to restore it to its former glory. Then we sell it and split the profit."

"What's the story with this bike?"

Cash let out a long whistle. "This here beauty is a nineteen sixty-three Triumph Bonneville TT Special. One of only sixty-seven built in that year. It has a six hundred forty-nine cc parallel twin engine, which produces twelve to one compression ratio, and hits a top speed of one hundred twenty miles per hour. We call her Bombin' Bonnie."

I walked around her and let out a quiet hum. "She's pretty."

"Alaskan white," Cash said, running his hand over the gas tank. "And let me tell you, creating a paint color that perfectly matches the 'fresh off the line' factory color was way harder than you'd think. We must have gone through eight or nine different samples before we nailed it. I thought Razor was gonna completely lose his shit after all that time in the paint booth."

"Where did the bike come from?"

"Believe it or not, the bottom of Lake Michigan."

"What?"

"No joke. The original owner was some guy from Traverse City, Michigan. It was his pride and joy, but he lost it to his wife during a nasty divorce. Apparently, the day she took custody of the bike she paid a couple of guys to dump it into Lake Michigan. She also had them take pictures of the bike sinking to a watery grave, which she sent to her now ex-husband. He got so worked up when he saw the pictures he had a heart attack and died on the spot. So, the bike remained in the shallow depths of Lake Michigan for ten years before a fisherman found it and had it towed to his garage. He put the bike up for sale online and I snatched it for eight grand."

I gasped. "You spent eight thousand dollars on a motorcycle parked in Davy Jones's locker for a decade?"

"Four of us did. And it'll pay off for all of us once we sell it."

"How much do you expect to get?"

"Somewhere between sixty-five and seventy thousand."

"Holy mackerel. Can we take her for a ride?"

"She's almost done but I need to finish the electrical work first. Do you wanna help me with the wiring system?"

"Who, me?" I asked jokingly, looking to my left and right.

"Yes, you, sexy."

"Wait, this is the project bike you were telling me about?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"This isn't a project bike, honey. It's something of value. I don't know the first thing about wires or electrical systems of any kind."

"No time like the present to learn, eh?"

"What if I royally fuck something up? You'll lose money. I don't know that I want to be responsible for that."

"I'll be here to guide you the whole way," he promised.

"Okay then," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "Oh, but we are going to have to order a pizza. I really am starving."

He pulled out his phone. "I can do that. Combo no anchovies?"

"You're seriously going to deny me anchovies?"

"You want my mouth?"

I sighed. "Fine, no anchovies."

He grinned. "Correct answer."

Once he'd ordered the pizza, we got down to work.

A week later, Huck's dad was involved in a bad car wreck and he and Daisy flew to Montana to be with him while he recuperated. Unfortunately for us, Booker insisted on Cash going, along with Razor, to have her back.

I was not happy about Cash leaving, and I was especially unhappy because I couldn't talk to Daisy about it. I still hadn't had the chance to talk to her about it (because I was a big, fat chicken), and Cash was getting a little irked with waiting. I was determined to do it when they got back and said as much as he kissed me goodbye.

For the moment, however, I was working in the club shop in an effort to distract myself when I heard Buzz call over the intercom.

"Shop's closed. All personnel head out for the day."

Gloria hit a few keys on the computer then turned to me. "I wonder what that's all about."

"Don't know, but I'd enjoy the afternoon off," I said.

"Oh, I plan to."

"Have a good one," I said.

Flea came out from the back office, glanced around, then locked up.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Daisy hit her panic button."

"What?" I screeched. "She's in Montana."

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know that."

"What the hell are we supposed to do if she's in Montana?"

"Not sure. Booker's trying to figure it out. Good thing Cash and Razor are there." He waved me toward the door to the club. "Come on, let's go see what they know."

With my heart in my throat, I grabbed my purse and followed him.

Cash

I was at the motel bar with Razor, my second beer and what was supposed to be a burger in front of me, but it rather resembled hamburger helper on a bun. I wasn't sure, but there was no way in hell I was putting it in my body.

"What the fuck's that supposed to be?" Razor asked, peering at my plate.

"Cheeseburger."

"Note to self. Don't order the cheeseburger."

"No shit," I said, feeling my phone buzz in my pocket. I took a swig of beer as I thumbed my screen open and nearly dropped my glass. "Jesus, fuck."

"What?" Razor asked.

"My sister hit her panic button."

"Goddammit."

We dropped money on the bar and headed for the rental truck, calling my dad on the way.

"Hey," Dad said.

"What the fuck's goin' on?" I hissed.

"Not sure. I want you to get to Huck's place, pick him up, but have Razor track Daisy in the meantime."

"I should be trackin' Ducky."

"I need you to handle Huck right now."

"Dad—"

"Son, I need you to handle Huck. I know you want to find your sister, but she will want you to protect her man, and Razor knows the area better than you do. He'll find her faster."

"Fuck," I hissed. "Fine."

"Right, gonna let you go so I can get workin' from this end."

I pulled up to Huck's parents' place and Huck leaned in the window. "Where's Razor?"

"Following Ducky's signal. You wanna tell me how you let her out of your sight, prospect?" I snarled.

"Well, unlike you, I let your sister make decisions for herself. I don't keep her on a leash or locked in some dungeon. She has full autonomy over her person." He sighed. "That being said, had she fucking told me she was leaving, I would have gone with her."

"Perhaps a bell would be good."

"Isn't that why she wears the bracelet?" he challenged.

"You have a point." I glanced at my phone. "Ducky means everything to me, man. If anyone hurts her again… I just…"

"Yeah, Cash, I get it," he said. "We're gonna find her, and whoever took her is gonna die."

"On that we agree."

"I'll follow you." Huck headed to an old truck parked off to the side of the house and then we hauled ass to find my sister.