Chapter 6 Gabe
GABE
MAY PRESENT DAY
“Shane!” I shout, nearly tripping over the socket set laying in the middle of the garage.
I took over the auto shop and the club when my dad passed almost six years ago. It’s not that I don’t love it, I’m just here damn near all day, every day.
I make my way through the building to my office that sits at the back of the clubhouse. The place I play both president and shop manager as if one wasn’t enough of a headache.
A couple of the members are already perched at the clubhouse bar, having their afterwork beers as I pass.
Once inside my office, I slip out of my coveralls and pull jeans on over my long johns, before shrugging on a sweatshirt and grabbing my shit. I lock my office up before heading back through the clubhouse to the shop.
Before I can open the door to the front office, Dean says from behind me, “Gabe. You got a minute?”
Not really.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
Dean was my dad’s best friend when they were young. I grew up with his son JT, and we’ve been inseparable practically from birth.
“Got word today, the missing shipment? It was Pineview.”
“You’re sure?”
He nods.
Fuck me. We’ve managed to coexist with the other clubs for the most part over the years, but in the last six months, things have shifted. Now it feels like every week a new club’s breathing down our neck.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Let me know what I can do.” He claps me on the back before walking away.
I take one last deep breath to cool my temper before flinging open the door and waltzing into the front desk area.
Lily sits behind the counter, checking out the last customer. Before he leaves, she smiles wide. “Have a good night.”
Coming up behind her, I wrap my arms around her and press my lips to the shell of her ear. “That it?”
Lily’s hot. Like Sports Illustrated hot. Long red hair, bright green eyes, and an ass that would have any man on his knees. She’s been hanging around the club since she graduated high school, and before he passed, Dad gave her the job. We’ve been sleeping together off and on for years.
We aren’t together; it’s just physical. The sex is good, and she doesn’t ask for much—not that I’d give it to her. Those who get close… get hurt. We both still sleep with whoever we want, but when all else fails, we end up with each other.
“Yep—well, except for the car Shane brought over at lunch.” She points to the Honda Accord sitting in the garage.
“Is it done?”
“Yeah, I think it needed a new rim and tire. He ran down the road. Said he’d be back to get it.”
Meaning Nik’s pissed at him again, and he went down to the bar she works at to smooth things over. Honestly, I love the guy, but I don’t know why she stays. I’ve watched him screw her over more times than I can count, but she always takes him back.
Shane’s been my best friend since he moved here. At this point, he’s more like my brother, but the kid I met almost twelve years ago is almost unrecognizable.
And I’m the one at fault.
He wouldn’t have picked up his little habit if I hadn’t brought him around the Ravens Ridge Riders when his dad ran off, but I thought I was doing him a favor by giving him somewhere to belong.
I pick up the plastic sleeve for the Honda. There’s no name, but it has a familiar address.
“Whose car is it?”
She shrugs, quirking a brow. “Weird, huh?”
No fucking way. It’s weird that she’s thinking it too though, right?
“I’m gonna move it out to the lot after I lock up. You can head home. I’ll come by later.” She nods before grabbing her purse and walking out the front door.
Pulling the keys out of the sleeve, I freeze when my eyes land on a pink jewel “A” keychain.
“Fuck me,” I mutter to myself. Blood rushes in my ears, and my heart does a somersault.
I could be wrong. Surely, it’s not hers. Why would it be?
I unlock the car and climb in. The moment my ass hits the seat, my suspicions become reality. It smells like her perfume.
Why the fuck is she still wearing that goddamn perfume? Don’t girls switch that up or something?
For weeks that sweet vanilla scent clung to my sheets.
For months she occupied my every thought.
For years I’ve told myself I would be okay without her.
I guess I am technically, but I wasn’t for a long time.
When she left, I felt like someone had cut off a limb, but I’ve never regretted it. Not really.
I pull out of the garage, my fingers curled around the steering wheel so tight my knuckles blanch. As I’m about to pull into a spot in the parking lot, my better judgment flings itself right out the driver’s side window, and I pull out onto the main road.