Chapter 6
Spike
The ocean’s a dull roar in my ears as I skate back toward Cresthaven, my board’s wheels humming against the pavement as I kick-push my way onward.
In my mind, my ass still stings from Kash’s spanking last night, a warm reminder of his hands on me, his voice calling me boy in that way that makes my knees weak. And then that moment on the trail, his mouth on my cock, taking me to the edge and leaving me there—fuck, he’s cruel in the best way.
“Daddy’s in charge,” he said, and I’m still reeling, my body buzzing with want even now.
But it’s not just that.
It’s the way Kash looked at me after, like he was letting me in, just a little. Like I’m more than a reckless skater to him now. Or at least I hope that’s what he was thinking.
I shake my head, focusing on the road ahead.
The town’s waking up, the morning light glinting off the diner’s chrome sign, a few early risers shuffling around.
I’ve got a job now—Kash’s lookout.
He didn’t want to agree to it, but I pushed, and he caved.
The thing is, I know every corner of this town, every hidden trail, every spot the cops don’t check. If they’re sniffing around for him, I’ll see them coming.
But it’s not just about keeping Kash safe.
It’s about proving I’m not just some skater boy with a smart mouth. I can handle this. I can handle him.
The skatepark’s my first stop, the concrete slab by the pier where I can blend in, watch the town without looking like I’m trying.
I drop my board and kick into a 50-50 grind, the scrape of my wheels loud in the quiet morning.
My eyes scan the street—pickup trucks, a delivery van, no cruisers yet.
But those rumors from the diner keep nagging at me. Fugitive biker, cop-killer, five-grand reward. Kash didn’t deny it outright last night, just dodged my questions with that gruff tone of his.
Kash is hiding something big, and I’m in deep now, whether I like it or not.
I land a kickflip, my sneakers smacking the pavement, and that’s when I see them—two guys from the diner, same ones who were talking about the reward. They’re leaning against a truck, cigarettes glowing, their voices low but carrying over the crash of the waves.
“Heard the cops are doubling down,” one says, exhaling smoke. “Got a tip about a guy on a Harley, hiding out on the bluff.”
My stomach twists, but I keep skating, pretending I’m not listening.
They’re talking about Kash. I know they are.
The bluff’s where his cabin is, and that bike of his is hard to miss, even if he’s got it hidden.
“Five grand’s nice,” the other guy says. “But I ain’t tangling with no cop-killer. Let the police handle it.”
I miss my next trick, my board skidding out from under me.
“Crap,” I mutter, picking it up, my heart pounding.
Five grand’s loud, and Cresthaven’s full of people who’d sell their own kids for less.
I need to warn Kash that people are talking like this, but I can’t just skate up to his cabin in broad daylight.
Too risky. I glance at the guys again—they’re not looking my way, but the paranoia’s creeping in, making my skin itch.
I head toward the pier, weaving through the morning crowd—fishermen, a few early joggers, the usual small-town faces.
My board’s my cover, letting me move fast without drawing attention.
I’m supposed to watch for cops, strangers, anything off, like Kash said.
But it’s more than that now. After last night—the ride, his mouth, the way he called me boy—I’m not just helping him. I’m invested. Maybe too invested.
Kash has got secrets, and I want to know them, not because of the reward but because of him. Because of us.
Back at my uncle’s place, I slip in quietly, avoiding the living room where he’s probably passed out in a haze of vodka and a life of regrets and stupid decisions.
My room’s a mess—skateboards, hoodies, empty energy drink cans—but it’s mine.
I grab my phone, checking for messages. I gave Kash my number before I left, but he hasn’t been in touch. Not that I expected anything. He’s paranoid about his burner phone, probably worried the cops are tracking it.
I want to text him, tell him about the diner guys. But I’ll wait until I see him later. The last thing he needs is non-urgent messages that could be used against him if I get caught out or searched by the cops.
I spend the day skating, hitting my usual spots—the pier, the skatepark, the back alleys behind the diner.
Everywhere I go, I’m watching, listening.
A cop car rolls by around noon, slow and deliberate, like they’re looking for something.
Or someone.
My pulse spikes, but I keep my head down, pulling a lazy ollie to blend in. They don’t stop, but it’s another reminder: Kash’s time is running out. And if I’m with him, so is mine…
By dusk, I’m back at the skatepark, the sky turning that bruised purple I love. I’m grinding a rail when I hear it again—another police radio, faint but close, coming from the direction of the main street. I freeze, my board clattering to the ground.
The static’s sharp, a voice cutting through: “Unit Two, check the bluff again. Got a report of suspicious activity.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
Suspicious activity? That’s Kash’s cabin.
Someone’s talking, and it’s not just gossip anymore.
I grab my board and skate toward the bluff, sticking to the back trails I know the cops don’t patrol. The air’s cool, the ocean’s roar a constant hum in my ears.
My mind is racing. Kash is in real danger, and I’m the only one who can warn him.
I’m not just his lookout… I’m his lifeline.
The cabin comes into view, dark and quiet, the Harley still hidden. I prop my board against a tree and creep closer, my sneakers silent on the gravel.
The blinds are tight as always, but I know he’s in there. I tap on the door, soft but urgent, and wait.
Come on, open up.
I know you’re in there, Daddy…
A moment later, it opens, and Kash fills the doorway, his salt-and-pepper hair a mess, his dark eyes narrowing as he sees me.
“What the fuck, Spike?” Kash growls, keeping his voice low. “I told you not to come unless I say so.”
“Cops,” I say, stepping inside before he can stop me. The door shuts behind me, and I’m hit with the familiar smell of mildew and whiskey. “They’re talking about the bluff. Got a tip about suspicious activity. You need to move.”
Kash’s jaw tightens, and he moves to the window, peering through the blinds.
“How’d you hear this?” he asks, his voice sharp but not accusing.
“Skatepark,” I say, leaning against the wall, trying to play it cool even though my heart’s pounding.
“Guys at the diner were talking about the reward again this morning. Five grand. That’s a lot of money around these parts.
We don’t like snitches, but for that kind of dough, you’d be surprised how quickly people will turn.
And I heard a police radio, saying they’re checking the bluff. They’re closing in, Kash.”
Kash curses under his breath, pacing the small room, his boots heavy on the creaky floor.
“Fuck. Someone’s talking. Probably that damn clerk at the store.” He stops, looking at me, his eyes searching. “You didn’t have to come here. You could’ve stayed out of this.”
“Yeah, well, I thought we already established I’m not good at staying out of things,” I say, flashing a grin, but it’s weaker than usual. The weight of this is hitting me—cops, rewards, a man on the run. “You gonna tell me what’s going on? The truth this time?”
Kash hesitates, his hand brushing the knife at his belt, a habit I’ve noticed when he’s stressed.
“You don’t need to know everything,” he says, but his voice is softer now, almost tired. “The less you know, the safer you are.”
“Bullshit,” I say, stepping closer, my defiance flaring. “I’m already in this, Kash. You think I’m gonna run because it’s dangerous? I’m not some kid you need to protect. Tell me something, at least.”
He looks at me, really looks at me, and for the first time, I see something crack in his armor.
“Fine,” he says, sinking onto the couch, his hands resting on his knees.
“I didn’t kill that cop. The Vipers, a rival MC, set me up.
Planted evidence, almost certainly paid off the someone in the police.
I was… somewhere else when it happened. Somewhere I can’t talk about without fucking myself worse. ”
I nod, piecing it together.
“Somewhere like a heist?” I say, half-guessing, but his flinch tells me I’m right. “Jesus, Kash. That’s heavy.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “And if I come clean, it’s thirty years in a cell. Probably longer. If I don’t, it’s a bullet. That’s why I’m here. Hiding. Waiting for my brothers to find something to clear me.”
I sit next to him, close enough that our thighs brush. “Your brothers. Your club men?”
He nods, his eyes distant. “They’re working on it. But it’s slow, and the Vipers don’t play fair. They want me gone, and they’ll take out anyone who gets in their way. Including you.”
The weight of that settles over me, but I don’t flinch. “I’m not going anywhere,” I say, my voice steady. “I told you, I’m in.”
Kash turns to me, his eyes softening, and for a moment, he’s not the gruff biker or the stern Daddy. He’s just Kash, a man carrying too much. I lean in, my hand resting on his thigh, and he doesn’t pull away.
“You’re too damn stubborn,” Kash mutters, but there’s a warmth in his voice, a crack in his walls.
“Part of my charm,” I say, grinning, and he chuckles, low and rough.
I want to kiss him, to close the distance, but I hold back, letting the moment stretch. It’s not just about the heat between us anymore. It’s about trust, about him letting me in.
But his rules are still there, hanging over us like a shadow.
“You gotta follow my orders, Spike,” Kash says, his voice firm again. “No more taking risks. You do what I say, or this ends.”
I roll my eyes, my defiance flaring.
“You and your rules,” I sigh. “You really think you can control me, Daddy?”
His eyes darken, that spark igniting again.
“Keep pushing, boy,” he says, his voice low, a warning and a promise. “You know what happens when you break my rules.”
My ass tingles at the memory, and I grin, leaning closer.
“Hmmm. I certainly do,” I smile.
Kash takes my chin, his thumb brushing my lips, and my breath catches.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Kash mutters, but there’s no anger in it, just want.
We’re inches apart, the air thick with tension, when a sharp crackle cuts through—a police radio, louder this time, right outside the cabin.
“Unit Two, suspect’s bike spotted near the bluff,” the voice says, clear as day.
My heart stops.
Kash’s hand drops, his body tensing as he moves to the window, peering out.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “They’re here…”