The Biker’s Obsession

Chapter 5: One More Ride

Ryder :

By the time I reached the house, Bella’s motorcycle was missing from the garage.

I killed my engine and stared at the empty space beside mine.

Her helmet wasn’t there either.

“Looking for something?”

Mrs. Collins stood in the doorway with a basket of folded laundry balanced against her hip.

“No.”

“Wonderful. Then you can stop blocking the driveway.”

I moved my bike.

She walked past me, shaking her head.

I followed her inside, pulled open the refrigerator, and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Bella went out with a friend,” Mrs. Collins said.

I twisted the cap off. “Good for her.”

“She said she might be late.”

“Did I ask?”

“No.” She took the stairs with her laundry. “You just have that face again.”

I drank half the bottle in one go.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Jace.

JACE: Tomorrow. Nine a.m. Don't be late.

I typed a reply.

ME: Not your employee.

His answer came before I could put the phone away.

JACE: Employees get paid. You're doing this for free.

I snorted.

Then another notification appeared.

Bella had posted a picture.

She stood beside a mural painted across a brick wall, wearing a denim jacket and smiling at someone outside the frame. A paper cup sat in one hand. Her hair blew across her cheek.

The caption read: Finally exploring.

I stared at the picture long enough for my screen to dim.

Then I locked my phone.

“Pathetic,” I muttered.

My phone buzzed again.

This time, it was Bella.

BELLA: Mrs. Collins said you got home.

I frowned at the message.

ME: And?

BELLA: I left my charger in the living room. Can you put it outside my door?

I looked toward the staircase.

Her charger lay on the side table, tangled beside a magazine.

I could have carried it upstairs.

Instead, I typed:

ME: Get it yourself when you return.

Three dots appeared, vanished, then appeared again.

BELLA: Never mind. I'll buy another one.

I dropped the phone onto the counter.

“Christ.”

I picked it up again.

ME: I'll leave it outside your room.

No reply came.

I shoved the charger into my pocket and went upstairs.

Her bedroom door was shut. I placed the charger on the floor beside it and turned away.

A photograph on the wall opposite her room caught my attention.

It had been taken a few weeks after we arrived at the Reinforts' home. Bella stood between Mr. and Mrs. Reinfort, laughing while I stood at the edge of the picture with my hands in my pockets.

I remembered that day.

Mrs. Reinfort had insisted we take a proper family photograph. Bella had spent ten minutes trying to make me smile. I'd told her that if she kept poking my ribs, I'd throw her into the swimming pool.

She'd done it anyway.

I'd caught her wrist before she could escape, and she'd laughed so hard she nearly fell.

I looked away from the photograph.

My phone buzzed.

JACE: And bring your own tools. I'm not lending you mine just because you have a pretty bike.

I sent him a middle-finger emoji.

He responded with a laughing face.

I went downstairs and took my keys.

The garage was too quiet, and I didn't feel like sitting in it.

The next morning, I arrived at the Iron Vultures' garage at nine minutes past nine.

Jace stood beside a stripped motorcycle with a wrench in his hand.

He checked his watch.

"You're late."

"You're alive. We both have to live with disappointment."

He tossed me a pair of work gloves.

"Put those on."

I caught them.

"What are we doing?"

"Fixing that."

He pointed at the motorcycle.

Its rear wheel was off, and several parts lay arranged across a workbench.

I pulled on the gloves and crouched beside it.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Owner says it keeps losing power."

"Then why is the rear wheel off?"

"Because I was checking something else before you arrived."

I looked at him.

He grinned.

"Welcome to the garage."

For the next hour, he made me do most of the work while offering advice that was occasionally useful and frequently irritating.

I discovered that Jace could identify a problem with an engine by sound alone. He also had a remarkable ability to lose tools that were directly in front of him.

At ten thirty, Deke appeared carrying two paper bags.

"Food."

Jace abandoned the motorcycle immediately.

I watched him grab a sandwich.

"Thought you were working."

"I am. Eating is part of maintaining peak performance."

Deke handed me a bag.

Inside was a sausage roll and a bottle of water.

I looked up. "I didn't order anything."

"Congratulations. It's a free country."

He moved away before I could return it.

I sat on an overturned crate and ate.

Nobody asked me about the orphanage. Nobody asked why I lived with the Reinforts or why I looked ready to bite someone whenever my phone rang.

They argued about football, complained about the price of spare parts, and debated whether Jace had ever completed a job without breaking something.

Apparently, he had once set fire to a rag.

Jace insisted it wasn't his fault.

"It was one rag!" he protested.

"One rag in a bucket of engine oil," Deke replied.

"The circumstances were unfortunate."

"The circumstances were you being an idiot."

I laughed before I could stop myself.

Both men looked at me.

I immediately took a drink.

Jace pointed his sandwich at me. "There. I heard it."

"Heard what?"

"A human noise."

"Must've been Deke."

Deke raised his middle finger without looking up from his food.

Jace nearly choked laughing.

I shook my head and finished my meal.

For once, the silence inside me wasn't demanding to be filled.

At noon, Kane arrived.

The conversations didn't stop, but several men acknowledged him as he crossed the garage. He spoke briefly with Deke before approaching the motorcycle Jace and I had been working on.

"How's it coming?"

"Ask your new mechanic," Jace said. "He's been doing all the hard work."

Kane looked at me.

"Enjoying yourself?"

I tightened a bolt before answering.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

"Not that I know of."

He leaned against the workbench.

"You're welcome here, Ryder. But if you're going to spend time around my men, I expect you to respect the rules."

I straightened.

"Which rules?"

"Don't bring trouble to the clubhouse. Don't involve the club in your personal disputes. And don't mistake a friendly welcome for permission to do whatever you please."

I held his gaze.

"Anything else?"

"Plenty. You'll learn them as you go."

He started to leave, then paused.

"Jace tells me you've got a good hand with engines."

"Jace talks too much."

"That he does."

Kane's mouth twitched.

Then his expression settled.

"See you around."

He walked toward the office at the back.

I returned to the motorcycle, but my attention had shifted to the door he'd disappeared through.

A few minutes later, another man entered the garage.

He wore a black jacket despite the heat, and his eyes moved across the room before settling on Kane's office.

He didn't greet anyone.

He simply walked to the office door and knocked twice.

Kane opened it.

The man handed him a small envelope.

Their exchange lasted less than a minute.

When the stranger left, Kane slipped the envelope into his pocket.

I watched him return to the garage.

His gaze met mine.

Neither of us spoke.

Then Jace shoved a wrench into my hand.

"Stop staring and finish the job."

I turned back to the motorcycle.

But I'd seen enough to know that something had just happened.

And I had a feeling it had nothing to do with engines.

By late afternoon, my hands were black with grease and my shoulders ached.

Jace declared the motorcycle finished, started the engine, and listened with exaggerated concentration.

"Beautiful."

"It sounds exactly the same as it did twenty minutes ago," I said.

"That's because it was already beautiful twenty minutes ago."

I tossed the gloves onto the workbench.

"I'm leaving."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Don't push your luck."

He followed me outside.

The sun was beginning to sink, throwing long shadows across the parking area.

I pulled my helmet on and swung onto my bike.

"Hey, Ryder."

I looked at him.

Jace held up his phone.

"There's a ride tonight. Nothing serious. Just a few of us heading out beyond the city."

"Why?"

"Because we own motorcycles."

"Convincing argument."

"Seven o'clock. You coming?"

I considered refusing.

Then I remembered the photograph I'd seen on Bella's phone the previous evening. Her smile. The unfamiliar place. The fact that she'd gone out without telling me where she was going, and that she'd seemed perfectly happy doing it.

I started my engine.

"Maybe."

Jace laughed.

"That's almost a yes."

"Get used to disappointment."

I pulled out of the parking lot before he could answer.

At seven, I was back.

I told myself it was because riding with other people was safer than riding alone.

Jace took one look at me and grinned.

"You came."

"Don't make it a moment."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Four motorcycles waited near the garage entrance. Deke was there, along with two men I'd seen playing cards the previous day. One was tall and lean, with a silver ring through his left ear. The other had a broad smile and a habit of tapping his fingers against his handlebars.

Introductions were brief.

The tall one was Mercer.

The other was Theo.

Neither asked me about my past.

We rode out of the city as the sky darkened, the engines merging into a steady roar.

For the first few miles, I kept my distance.

Then the road opened into a long stretch bordered by trees, and Mercer accelerated.

Jace followed.

Deke was right behind him.

I twisted the throttle.

My bike surged forward.

The wind struck my chest, and the city lights disappeared behind us. For several minutes, there was nothing but the road, the engine, and the steady rhythm of the men riding beside me.

At the next intersection, we stopped at a roadside diner.

Theo ordered enough food for six people and complained when Jace stole a chip from his plate.

Mercer disappeared to make a phone call.

Deke sat opposite me, drinking coffee from a chipped mug.

"First group ride?"

"Does it look like it?"

"Actually, yes."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You keep checking where everyone is," he said. "You'll stop doing that eventually."

"Maybe I like knowing where people are."

"Fair enough."

He took another sip.

Then his phone rang.

He answered, listened, and his expression changed.

"Where?"

A pause.

"How bad?"

He stood before the call ended.

Jace looked up. "What happened?"

Deke grabbed his jacket.

"One of ours went down on the eastern road. They're taking him to the hospital."

The table emptied almost instantly.

Chairs scraped across the floor. Mercer ended his call and was already pulling on his helmet before he reached us.

I followed them outside.

Jace caught my arm.

"You don't have to come."

I looked at his hand until he released me.

"Then stop wasting time."

We rode back toward the city.

The trip that had begun with laughter ended beneath the harsh white lights of a hospital entrance.

A motorcycle lay on its side in the parking area, its fairing cracked and its handlebar bent.

Deke was off his bike before the engine died.

A club member stood near the doors, his face pale.

"Where is he?" Jace demanded.

"Inside. They took him straight through."

Nobody joked.

Nobody complained.

Mercer paced the pavement while Deke spoke quietly to the man who'd brought the injured rider in. Jace stood with his hands braced against his hips, staring at the hospital doors.

I remained beside my motorcycle.

I'd known these men for barely two days.

Still, watching them wait for news made something in my chest tighten.

When a nurse finally appeared, everyone moved toward her.

The injured rider was alive. His leg was badly broken, but he was stable.

The relief was immediate and unguarded.

Deke lowered his head. Jace swore under his breath. Mercer leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Nobody pretended they hadn't been afraid.

I looked away.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

A message from Bella.

BELLA: Are you coming home tonight?

I stared at the screen.

For once, I didn't make her wait while I decided whether answering would give away too much.

ME: Yes. Why?

Her reply came a minute later.

BELLA: I made dinner. There's enough if you want some.

I looked through the hospital doors at the men gathering around one another.

Then I typed:

ME: Save me a plate.

I pocketed the phone.

Jace came to stand beside me.

"Everything okay?"

I nodded.

He glanced at my motorcycle.

"You riding back with us?"

I pulled on my helmet.

"One more ride."

He smiled, but didn't tease me.

We left the hospital together.

And when I reached home that night, Bella was still awake.

There was a plate covered with foil on the kitchen counter.

Beside it sat a glass of water.

She was nowhere in sight.

I carried the food upstairs, stopped outside her bedroom, and lifted my hand to knock.

From inside came the sound of laughter.

A man's voice followed.

I lowered my hand.

Then I looked at the plate in my other hand, turned around, and walked to my room.

For the first time, I wondered whether I was the only one who had started finding somewhere else to belong.