Claimed by the Biker Giant

Chapter 6

Maxine POV

I was guided to a washroom on the side of the workshop, which had a deep steel sink and a shower, but no mirrors. There was a cupboard under the sink containing soaps and cleaning products, as well as a shelf with dark-colored towels. A door that led to a toilet, which was cleaner than I had expected. So far, this whole gang house had been cleaner than I thought a load of men would leave it.

I had underestimated the guys and made assumptions about how guys I knew from school or parties would act; none of them were like that. Maybe it was because they are mostly men, whereas my experience had been with boys my age and lower.

I cleaned the grease off my hands and arms and dried them.

As I went through the routine of cleaning myself up, I thought about the party they had been pushing me to attend and how it had churned up my stomach. The last few times I went to a party, I was with my ex-boyfriend, and he ended up with my sister, so parties were not my thing. I always seem to lose something at parties. Mostly friends, who don’t like the fact that I don’t drink, I have never been a drinker, I might drink a beer to be sociable, and it would take me ages to finish it. Still, I never take shots and am never blind drunk. I had only once been drunk, and I didn’t like the feeling or the way it took me all day to recover, nor the hangover that seemed to be more than a headache. My friends get drunk, and I spend a lot of time cleaning up the messes they make, so I seem to be the one doing the cleanup most of the time, as they know I have their backs, even when I prefer not to do that part of it.

I had just finished cleaning up when Tank came in, took one look at me, and started to chuckle.

“What?” I asked, looking confused as he laughed.

What did I do that was so funny?

He didn’t say a word.

He leaned over, picked up a cloth, and soaped it up, then gripped my chin in his huge hand, and gently wiped the side of my face, his eyes concentrating on the task, as if it was the most important job he had to do with care. He was so gentle, touching my face with soft, quick movements.

His eyes then met mine, and I was lost in the deepest blue orbs I have ever seen. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat and blinked a few times to break the trance he had put me in, and took a step back, my body hitting the sink behind me.

“You had some grease on your cheek.” He whispered in a husky voice so deep that it had my lady parts jumping for joy and need, something I am not familiar with.

“Thank you,” I whispered back, my voice croaking, and I was shocked by the sound of my own voice; it was lower, sexier, and surprised me as much as Tank's did. His eyes widened at the husky sound.

He took a step back and motioned with his hand for me to move past him.

I quickly left the washroom and waited in the workshop, taking in the wrecks and wondering how badly the rider would have been hurt if the bike had looked like this. Hoping no one lost their lives.

I thought about that for a while.

I loved my bike, but I would never ditch it because I was scared. That the thought of falling off had never entered my mind, if I died while riding my bike, then I would have been doing what I love doing. I found I was okay with that. Not that I want to die, but I have thought about how I would like to go when my heart has been broken.

“Hey, what are you doing still in here?” Rocket asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Hiding?” I joked back, giving him a sheepish smile. He chuckled and came to stand beside me, looking at the bike I had been staring at.

“Can it be fixed? It’s been sitting here for a long time, with no one having the skill to start repairing it. Well, they could give it a go, but this bike is so old that parts are almost impossible to get.”

“Yeah, I can give it a try. I have some contacts who can obtain parts, but I can also manufacture some parts. I'll see what I can do. Perhaps I can come over on weekends and dedicate some time to it.” I suggested it would be a shame to let this panhead go to waste. There are enough pieces of the wrecked bike left to serve as a starting point.

“Sweet, it will be good to see this bike out on the road again.” Rocket looked genuinely pleased that the bike could be restored. I restore old cars, trucks, and bikes with Grandpa. I have the equipment stored in a shed for when I have a place of my own to use the machines. I wonder if they have a shed where I can put them. I will need one of the machines.

“Ready?” Tank asked; he had shed the work shirt and pulled on a gang shirt. His muscles are on display. Yummy. He makes me feel tiny when I am beside him.

“Tank, Max said she can restore the baby.” Tank’s head turned to look at the wreck, and then at me.

“For real? Max, can you do that?” Tank looked surprised. After spending a few hours with me, working on bikes, he had to ask that?

“Yeah, I can, need to talk to the Prez about some space, but I can do it.”

Both guys frowned and looked around the workshop. But they didn’t say anything. Or question me further. Tank put his hand on my lower back and gave a slight push, making me start to walk out of the workshop. It was dark out. Tank guided me to the back door, Rocket leading the way. He opened the door for me and waved me in, as if I were someone important.

Causing me to giggle.

Yeah, you heard me; I giggled like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, and not something I had ever expected to come out of my mouth. The guys didn’t even blink at the giggle.

The place was warm inside, vibrating with the loud thump of the bass. You could hardly hear the person next to you speak over the heavy music. It reeked of cigarettes and booze.

The girls who had been at the door waiting to get in were busy with patch members kissing and almost doing the deed right there on the chair. Some were grinding their hips against the man below them, and the small amount of clothing they had on was even less now. I assumed they were well on their way to being drunk. This was a classic visual of why men lose respect for some kinds of women. I am embarrassed to see it in front of me. I looked around the room and saw my friends still with Sticks, and a couple of guys hanging around nearby.

My friends look like they are having fun, and they have a few patch members who seem friendly to them. I hope the girls know what they are doing. The gang life was not for everyone.

Dad had once spoken badly about gangs, and he hated it when I became an apprentice at the bike shop. Grandpa was the one who encouraged me to have an apprenticeship. He hated that Dad and Mum were backing my sister in everything, and maybe encouraging me to be a mechanic at the bike shop was his way to get back at Dad.

Dad had even tried to get me to leave the bike shop when Grandpa had died. But I had made a pact with Grandpa that I wouldn’t give in to Dad. To live the life I want, and never give in, no matter what the consequences are. I wonder what Grandpa would say if he were alive and saw Dad kick me out of the family home, for the sake of my sister. He would be livered, that’s for sure. But I did as Grandpa said, stood firm, and stayed true to myself.

“Hey Maxi Max, come join us. Cricket, grab Max an iced water.” Sticks patted the chair next to her, and before I could move to sit beside her, Tank grabbed me around the waist and took a couple of giant steps to the chair, and sat down, holding me on his lap. The girls looked at each other, then, between Tank and me, the confused look changed to a grin and a nod —whatever that was about.