The Curse Of Spring (Book Two of The Seasons Trilogy)

Chapter 1

Harley

The bike revved loudly as Jay pulled on the accelerator, waiting for the inevitable backfire.

"Yep, your carburetor is fukked. Gonna have to replace it and tune the motor a bit," Jay told the middle aged man in a fancy leather jacket who wrung his hands nervously, looking as if he were waiting for a doctor to tell him the prognosis of a loved one.

"How long will it take," the man asked, running his hand over his balding head. "The boys and I have a road trip planned for the weekend."

"Sheesh, well it usually takes a week but I can try and prioritise your bike over the others and get it done by Friday afternoon. It will cost you though," Jay said with false sympathy.

The man quickly agreed to Jay's outrageous price, climbed into the waiting taxi and sped off.

"One day one of these city slickers are going to realise they've been ripped off and are doing to be pissed off enough to sue you," I called to him from inside the garage, wiping the grease from my hands onto the rag I'd grabbed.

"What do you mean, angel? He's getting an absolute bargain for a new carb and a tuneup," Jay responded innocently.

I rolled my eyes at him as I picked up a bottle and tossed it to him. "The i***t just agreed to pay five hundred bucks for carb cleaner."

Jay shrugged but I could see the mischief in his brown eyes. Shaking my head, I unzipped my overall and hung it up on the hook just inside the workshop door, preferring to enter our house grease-free.

"I'm going to go make us some lunch, but you'd better at least wash that man's bike before he gets it back," I retorted as I walked past him only to have him chuckle at me in response.

"Yes, angel. Wouldn't want his midlife crisis to be subpar for what promises to be a mediocre boys weekend."

Jay always said that I fell from the sky when he needed a reason to live, his angel who saved him from despair. It was why he'd always called me his angel.

To the outside world, I was his daughter - only he and I knew that I wasn't, but that didn't matter to us. For all intents and purposes, he was my dad.

He had a real kid out there somewhere, but his ex-wife had filed and won sole custody of their son when Jay was sentenced to twenty years in prison. I'm not sure what Jay had done - something to do with his old biker gang - but he was let out after fifteen years for good behaviour. A few months later, he rescued me.

It was probably a good thing that Jay had kept up his relationships with some of the felons he was in jail with, because within two weeks he'd managed to get me a whole new identity and I was legally linked to him - and so, Harley James was born.

I smiled to myself as I watched Jay start to disassemble the bike, giving it a good look over as he did so. Say what you might, Jay never let a bike leave his shop in a less than perfect condition. With the smile on my face, I trod the stone pathway to the small cottage we shared.

It may have been small but it looked as if it had been launched from a story book and I loved it - it was the perfect home in my opinion. From the painted window boxes filled with colourful flowers, to the front door painted blue, the farmhouse styled kitchen with the stone countertops, open plan lounge and two small bedrooms; it was perfect. The shared bathroom was a bit of a hack, but it was doable.

I pulled out the bread I had baked the day before and cut four slices, slathering them with butter and homemade strawberry jam.

"Lunch is ready," I shouted from the kitchen window.

Jay washed up in the basin by the garage before he joined me at the kitchen table where we ate all of our meals, opening a beer before he took a bite of his simple sandwich. I felt my eyebrow rise in question, indicating the beer with my eyes as he glanced at me.

"Liquid courage, angel. I'm meeting with the lawyer this afternoon to see if he managed to track down my son."

I nodded as I chewed, the day Jason had turned twenty one Jay had set out to look for him. It wasn't that Jay wanted to necessarily reconcile, he just needed to know that his kid was alright.

"Do you want me to come along?" I asked, knowing how much formal meetings made Jay uncomfortable.

"Nah, I'll be fine. Besides, I need you here. Mr. Jones is coming to pick up his Bugatti, but I'll meet you for dinner at Jacky's."

That evening I found Jay sitting at our usual table at Jacky's Pub and Grill - merely a biker bar without the constant police presence. He looked gaunt as he nursed his beer, the condensation pooling at the base of the glass as it rested on the table.

"Is everything alright? What did the lawyer say?" I asked as I pulled out my chair and say beside him, turning to face him.

He stared down at his drink for a bit longer and I could see that he was trying to process whatever information he'd been told.

"It's bad, angel. It's really bad."