Divorced And Claimed By A Biker

2

**Vito

Our old man had called for help as a fight was happening in his barber shop, so I and five other patched members of the Thunder Road MC headed there to get things sorted out for him.

Before we even arrived, two men already lay dead on the floor, and the barber shop was empty without even our old man. I had to reach out to the Prez that moment, explaining what had happened, so he called one of the detectives he was friends with to come across and check on the corpse before it was taken away by the ambulance.

I was the head Enforcer, and the VP was with his lady, who was heavily pregnant and had been acting weird like he would push out soon, so everything fell upon the rest of the Enforcers and me.

It took hours before everything was rounded up, and we had to find our old man, sixty years old and an old member of the club. It got dark by the time we found him, but unluckily for me, my bike developed a Jamming Chain, making it risky to even ride on the bike back to the club base.

“What will you do now? I'll suggest leaving it here and two-up with me.” Drake suggested going back to the barber shop, but I refused and insisted on finding a mechanic workshop that night.

I disliked two-up with anyone regardless of gender, and I knew some workshops would still be active by now.

Our mechanic had left us and joined the Road Reapers MC, and since then, the Prez wasn't interested in training anyone for the role anymore. So if your baby has an issue, you go to any workshop outside there to repair it, and that was the only alternative for me.

I'd planned out my next day and wouldn't want to have this bike holding me down when it was its turn to ride down the highway this week.

“You all return. I'll ride slowly to any mechanic workshop and get it repaired real quick.” I said to Drake, and he shrugged. So as they all zoomed off, I managed my speed in a way I could fully control and not lose it.

The several workshops I passed had been locked up, and since this small town hadn't ended, I needed to check till the end and be sure there was no hope for me. I found one and rode in, but was stunned to see a woman there, in her work uniform, but drinking heavily on the floor.

She looked like her world was ending soon, and she needed to drink it all. Tears gathered in her eyes, her face not looking good. She saw me, yet didn't give a damn; instead, she grabbed the third bottle of beer beside her and uncorked it with her teeth.

I thought, ‘Was she really a woman? She was drinking so much and didn't care that someone needed her service now.’

But for the first time, something shifted in me.

I have low tolerance with people who do not take their job seriously. If I walked into your workplace and you behaved this way, I just don't roar at you, but still leave. It pisses me off each time I met such people.

And truly, this was my first time seeing a female mechanic. All the workshops I used were all handled by men. And seeing her in that state told me a lot about her emotional instability, because no woman or even a man in their right senses would be drinking this much while at work.

I simply sat on my bike, watching her as she emptied the last bottle of beer and dropped it beside her again. She relaxed on the wall, her knees crouched towards her chest.

What could be the problem with her? Should I just go and search for more places? There was no guarantee that she would attend to me right here.

Yet after I pondered so much, I still found myself not wanting to even leave. I sat there, watching her as though I were her guardian, until I saw her head slipping to each side all the time.

‘She dozed off? What the f**k could this be called?’ I thought, somehow pissed and at the same time pitying the poor woman. I didn't even know there was a part of me still emotional until now, because I couldn't stand her sitting there just like that.

I pulled out my jacket and walked towards her, covered her from her neck down to her belly and her arms with it, then I sat beside her and made sure her head leaned on my shoulder. That way, she slept without being disrupted, and I couldn't stop staring at her face.

Strands of hair covered some side of her face and could get into her mouth, so I slowly raised my left arm and, with my fingers, adjusted them to the side.

Could she be the owner of this place? She was the only one, and there were lots of motorcycles parked around here. The compound was a bit huge that it contained that amount of bikes, and she seemed to have a lot of work ongoing.

Then how did I not know of her until now?

Something vibrated at my side, and I realised I was sitting almost on her cell phone. I grabbed it, my eyes darting around the workshop when it buzzed once again. The pop-up notification displayed the message she had gotten, and it seemed to have been from a man.

I muttered the name of the sender, “Dante…” then continued reading the whole text that was shown there. “She's his wife? She's married and is here?”

But that was like a threatening message. What husband threatens to make sure their wife loses herself for dumping him?

Wait! She dumped her husband? Do women do that too?

I flinched as the phone buzzed again, so I read the message sent by the same person. I narrowed my gaze, read the text again and again to be sure I wasn't mistaken. ‘He cheated with her best friend and still had the guts to threaten her?’

Oh f**k! Why do they always do this? They always cheat with best friends, yet act as if they are the victim.