Chapter 2
Spike
The pier’s my kingdom, always has been.
The salty breeze whips through my hair as I grind my skateboard along the railing, the metal screeching under my wheels.
Cresthaven’s quiet tonight, just the way I like it—no tourists clogging up the place, no cops hassling me for “loitering.”
They say I’ve got a bad attitude. But all I want to do is have fun and be left alone to live how I want to live.
No rules. No silly laws. Just fun.
The sun’s gone, leaving a purple bruise across the sky, and the ocean’s roaring like it’s got something to prove.
I land a heelflip, the board smacking the pavement with a satisfying crack, and I grin. Twenty-four years old, and I’m still out here pulling tricks like I’m sixteen.
Some things never change.
I’ve been skating since I was a kid, back when my mom was still around, before she split and left me with my uncle, who barely notices I exist. My uncle always liked to drink—and drink is precisely what he did when he was meant to be looking out for me.
Whatever.
That’s the past.
I’m more than happy to keep looking out for myself.
Cresthaven’s home, but it’s a cage too—small, suffocating, full of people who think they know me. “That Spike kid,” they say, “always causing trouble.” They’re not wrong. I’ve got a rap sheet—petty stuff, vandalism, a couple of fights—but nothing serious. Just enough to keep life interesting.
I kick the board up, catching it in one hand, and lean against a bench, scanning the street.
That’s when I think about him again.
The biker.
Kash. That’s what he called himself. I saw him earlier outside the general store, all leather trousers and muscle, with that sexy white and black hair falling over a scar that makes him look like he’s lived a hundred lives.
Kash is older than me. He kinda looks old enough to be my father. But I can’t deny it… he’s hot as all kinds of hell.
His eyes, hidden behind those mirrored shades, felt like they could see right through me. And that bike—God, that Harley was a beast, all black and chrome, growling like it could eat this town alive.
I’ve always wanted to ride one, feel the power between my legs, but guys like Kash don’t let just anyone touch their machines. Still, the way he looked at me, all gruff and guarded, made my pulse kick up a notch.
Trouble’s my middle name, I told him, and I meant it.
But Kash is trouble too, I can tell.
The kind of trouble and danger I want to get into.
I drop the board and roll toward the skatepark, a rundown slab of concrete by the pier where the local skaters hang out. It’s just me tonight, though, the others probably off drinking cheap beer or pretending they’ve got lives outside this dead-end town.
I’m halfway through a 50-50 grind when I hear voices—two guys from the diner, leaning against a pickup truck, their words carrying over the crash of the waves.
“You hear about that fugitive?” one says, lighting a cigarette. “Some biker guy. Killed a cop, they say. Straight shotgun blast to the chest. No mercy.”
My ears perk up, but I keep my head down, focusing on the grind.
Fugitive? Biker?
My mind immediately goes straight to Kash, the way he moved like he was carrying a secret, the way he dodged my question about being new in town.
No way.
He’s too… something… to be a cop-killer.
But the pieces fit too well—a stranger, his motorcycle, that haunted look in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t watching.
“Police are offering a reward,” the other guy says. “Five grand for any tips. They think he’s hiding out somewhere along the coast. I’ll be damned if I get involved in any crazy ass cop shit. But five grand ain’t nothing to be sneezed at…”
I miss the landing, my board skidding out from under me.
“Shit,” I mutter, picking myself up. The guys glance my way, but I play it off, kicking the board back into my hand.
My heart’s pounding now, not from the fall but from the idea of Kash being on the run.
It’s crazy, but it makes him even hotter.
Dangerous. Forbidden. Exactly my type…
I need to know more. I skate back toward the main street, the town quiet except for the hum of a few streetlights.
Kash’s bike was parked near that old cabin on the bluff when I passed by earlier, the one Gus rents out to whoever is dumb enough to give him money in exchange for staying at that piece of crap joint.
If Kash is hiding, that’s where he’d be.
I can’t look though, can I? I mean… what if Kash actually is a killer?
Hey, you only live once, right?
My board’s wheels hum against the pavement as I head that way, the thrill of doing something stupid buzzing in my veins.
I’m not gonna rat him out—hell no—but I want to see that bike again.
Maybe talk to him.
Maybe push his buttons a little…
The cabin comes into view, a dark shape against the starry sky.
The Harley’s parked out front, gleaming under the moonlight, and my fingers itch to touch it.
I roll to a stop, my sneakers silent on the gravel.
The cabin’s windows are dark, blinds drawn tight, but I can feel him in there, watching, waiting.
A guy like Kash doesn’t let his guard down.
I know I don’t actually have a clue who Kash is. But I sensed something about him. That danger, that aura… that special something that’s meant I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since our brief meeting.
I prop my board against a tree and creep closer, sticking to the shadows.
The bike’s even more beautiful up close, all sleek lines and raw power.
I run a hand along the handlebars, imagining what it’d feel like to ride it, the engine roaring, the wind tearing through me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kash growls, making me almost jump out of my skin.
Kash’s voice cuts through the night, low and rough, like gravel under boots.
After my initial shock, I freeze, my hand still on the bike.
Kash is standing on the porch, a silhouette in the dark, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Even without seeing his face, I can feel the intensity rolling off him, like a storm about to break.
My pulse spikes, but I don’t back down.
I never back down, ever.
And I’m not about to start now.
“Just admiring,” I say, flashing a grin. “Didn’t mean to touch your baby.”
Kash steps forward, the porch creaking under his weight. The moonlight catches his face—sharp jaw, rough stubble, that scar above his eyebrow.
No shades now, just dark eyes that pin me in place.
“You don’t touch a man’s bike,” he says, his voice a warning. “Not without permission.”
I shrug, leaning against the bike like I own it, testing him.
“Didn’t know you were so precious about it,” I say, a light tremble in my voice. “Anyway. I thought you were just passing through.”
Kash’s jaw tightens, and he closes the distance between us, stopping just close enough that I can smell leather and smoke on him.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Spike,” Kash says, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “You don’t know me. And that’s probably for the best.”
“Maybe I want to know you,” I shoot back, holding his gaze.
Those eyes—fuck, they’re intense, like they could burn right through me. My skin’s buzzing, my body reacting to the way he’s looking at me, all stern and commanding. I’ve always had a thing for guys who take charge, but Kash is on another level.
He’s not just some biker. He’s a force.
“You need to walk away,” Kash says, but there’s a crack in his voice, a hint of something else. Want. Need. It’s enough to make me push harder.
“What if I don’t?” I step closer, close enough that our chests almost touch. I’m shorter than him, but I’m not intimidated. I’ve faced down bigger guys than Kash, used my cunning, and walked away smiling. “What you gonna do about it?”
For a second, I think he’s gonna shove me back, tell me to fuck off.
But then Kash’s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist—not hard, but firm, like he’s claiming me.
My breath catches, and I don’t pull away.
His touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to my core.
“You’re trouble,” Kash mutters, his eyes searching mine, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“Told you,” I say, my voice quieter now, teasing. “Trouble’s my middle name.”
Kash lets out a low chuckle, the sound rough and warm, and it does something to me, makes my knees feel weak. His grip on my wrist tightens just a fraction, and I can see the war in his eyes—wanting me, but holding back.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into, boy,” Kash says, the word boy hitting me like a spark.
It’s not an insult. It’s something else, something that makes my blood run hot.
“Try me,” I say, leaning in, my lips inches from his.
I’m playing with fire, and I know it, but I can’t stop. I want to see how far I can push him, how much of that control he’s willing to let go.
Kash releases my wrist, stepping back, and I feel the loss of his touch like a punch.
“Go home, Spike,” Kash says, his voice hard again. “This ain’t a game you wanna play.”
I smirk, picking up my board.
“We’ll see about that, biker guy.”
I turn and skate off, the wheels humming against the gravel, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole way.
My heart’s pounding, my body alive with the thrill of it.
Kash is hiding something—maybe he’s that fugitive, maybe not—but I don’t care.
I want him. I want his bike too. And I’m not going to let him spoil my fun on either front.
As I hit the main road, I hear a distant siren, faint but unmistakable.
Police.
My stomach twists, thinking of what those guys at the diner said. Five grand for a tip. If Kash is the guy they’re looking for, this town’s about to get a lot less quiet…
I glance back at the cabin, its dark shape barely visible now.
Whatever Kash is running from, I’m not gonna rat him out.
But I’m not gonna stay away either. Kash is a puzzle I want to solve, and I’ve never been good at leaving things alone. And if he turns out to be a total asshole, then that five grand might suddenly seem a lot more appealing too…
I’m kidding. Maybe.
I skate back toward the pier, the night wrapping around me.
Cresthaven’s always been my cage, but tonight, it feels like something’s shifted.
It’s like Kash rolled into town and cracked the whole place wide open.
Trouble’s my middle name, sure, but I’ve got a feeling Kash is gonna teach me a whole new definition of the word—and sooner rather than later…