Claimed By My Outlaw Stepbrother

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

SIENNA pov~

"The floor beneath my boots felt like it completely dropped away.

The twenty-grand gambling debt was a total distraction. The real twist hit me like a physical blow to the ribs my deadbeat father hadn't just lost cash at a casino.

He had been targeted by the Jacks because he was the perfect weak link to destroy the Reapers' entire shipping line. And my garage was the exact choke-point they needed to execute the strike.

"You i***t," I hissed, shoving his hands off my shoulders. "You brought a federal case to my garage doors."

Thomas let out a pathetic, high-pitched whimper. His boots shuffled backward against the greasy floorboards until his spine hit the tool rack behind him, sending a cluster of loose sockets rattling down onto the concrete.

Before I could drag the rest of the truth out of his mouth, a sudden, dramatic cough echoed from the side tool bay.

"Uh, excuse me, captain of the doom ship? I value my life, and I am currently experiencing a massive panic attack."

I looked up. My best friend and assistant mechanic, Leo, was leaning against a stack of industrial truck tires, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand and his eyes wide with absolute horror. He had his denim overalls unbuckled on one side, his face looking completely pale.

"Leo," I groaned, running a grease-stained hand over my forehead. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that I look terrible in orange jumpsuits, Sienna!" Leo hissed, tossing his sandwich into a clean oil bin and waving his hands wildly.

"Federal prison? A smuggling ledger? I am too pretty for a cell block! My hair needs specific conditioner! Why is your father trying to get us audited by the government?!"

"Keep your voice down!" Thomas stammered, his eyes darting toward the open garage bay doors like a stray dog looking for an exit.

"Oh, don't tell me to be quiet, Thomas!" Leo fired back, stepping into the light of the bay. "You just swiped a master key from a woman who looks like she eats broken glass for breakfast.

If that giant Vice President stepbrother tracks that iron back to this garage, he’s going to turn me into a human wrench!"

Before I could answer, a loud, predatory roar exploded from the highway.

It was a single, massive engine screaming at a redline pace, the sound tearing through the morning air like a physical crack of thunder.

Leo let out a high-pitched squeak and instantly dove flat behind the tire stack, his heavy work boots sticking out from the rubber.

Gage’s custom chopper skidded sideways right into the garage bay, throwing a massive cloud of white dust and sharp gravel all over my clean floorboards.

He kicked the kickstand down with a loud thud, his massive, heavily tattooed frame launching off the black leather seat.

He looked absolutely furious, but he also looked like he was running on three hours of sleep. His black leather club cut creaked as he strode across the concrete, his gray eyes pinning me to the spot.

Then his gaze flicked to my father, who was currently trembling near the oil bins, and a pale Leo peeking over the top of the tires.

"What is going on here?" Gage growled, his voice deep enough to make the loose sockets on the floor vibrate.

"What's going on is that you're ruining my driveway, Vandal," I fired back instantly, stepping right into his personal space to block his view of my sweating father.

I held up my iron wrench, tapping the flat steel right against his broad, tattooed chest.

"You just threw half a pound of desert dirt onto my workspace. I thought I told you to go do your dramatic alpha routines across the compound yard."

A slow, genuinely amused twitch hit the corner of Gage's mouth. The terrifying Vice President mask dropped for a split second, revealing a dark, teasing hunger.

From behind the tire stack, Leo whispered loudly, "Sienna, please don't poke the giant biker with a wrench. I value my life."

Gage ignored him, his gray eyes locking onto mine as he reached down, his large, calloused hand wrapping around my wrist with a firm, warm grip that pinned my tool in place.

He leaned down, his lips so close to mine I could taste the heat in his breath, completely crowding out my lungs.

"I came back to pick up my stepsister," Gage murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, starved register that sent a frustrating wave of heat straight down my spine.

"The President wants a headcount at the house for breakfast. You're coming with me right now."

"I have a flatbed truck to finish, Gage," I hissed back, tilting my chin high to match his gaze, even though my fingers automatically dug into the fabric of his shirt.

The stolen master key felt heavy and burning inside my denim shorts pocket. "I don't leave my shop just because your father called a mandatory family meal."

"You're a real pain in my ass, Sienna," he whispered, his fingers tightening on my wrist just enough to let me feel his absolute, terrifying strength.

He looked over at Thomas, who was currently sliding toward the side exit like a thief. "Get on the back of my chopper. Now. Before I have to lift you onto the leather in front of your audience."

Leo raised a hand from behind the tires. "For the record, I support the giant biker's timeline. Go eat breakfast, Sienna. Please."

I glared at Leo, then turned back to Gage, my heart thumping like a broken piston against his ribs. The lie was getting bigger, my dad had stolen a master key, and the clock was officially ticking on our lives.

Gage didn’t break our stare. His grip on my wrist didn’t loosen, but the pressure shifted, his broad thumb sweeping a slow, deliberately teasing circle against the raw pulse point of my skin.

The contrast between his rough, split knuckles and the slick coat of transmission fluid on my forearms made my breath tangle instantly in my throat.

"Leo," Gage growled softly, his gray eyes never leaving my face. "Get out."

"On it! Gone! I am currently a ghost!" Leo's boots scrambled frantically against the concrete as he bolted out the side tool bay, dragging my trembling father right along with him by the collar of his shirt.

The side door slammed shut with a loose rattle, leaving the garage completely, suffocatingly quiet.

The heat under the tin roof instantly felt like a physical weight. Gage stepped closer, his heavy leather cut brushing against the front of my grey work tank top, completely caging me against the bumper of the flatbed. but his chest expanded with a deep, heavy breath that crowded out the remaining oxygen in my lungs.

"You're hiding something from me, stepsister," he whispered, his voice dropping into a dark, starved cadence that vibrated straight down my spine.

He leaned down, his jaw tight with a dark line of stubble as his lips grazed the hot skin right beneath my ear, his hot breath making my whole body go completely rigid.

"I'm hiding a headache from your exhaust pipes, Vandal," I hissed back, my voice trembling just enough for his pupils to blow pitch-black as my chin tilted high to meet his gaze.

My rough fingers dug hard into the cotton of his shirt, my fierce independence completely fraying under the absolute, terrifying friction of his body pinned flush against mine.

"We play the part downstairs," Gage murmured against my neck, his hands sliding down to grip the back of my hips, pulling my center an inch closer to his until there wasn't a single bit of daylight left between us on the shop floor.

"But the second we get up those stairs and lock that deadbolt... I'm done sleeping on the floorboards."

He let go of my waist just enough to kill the contact, his jaw locking back into a hard stone mask as he kicked the chopper's starter line.

The engine erupted with a predatory thump that shook the concrete floorboards, and I climbed onto the black leather behind him, my hands gripping his rigid torso as we tore out toward the compound gates.