Page 8 of Storm

“You have such a skill, Kenz. You shouldn’t be wasting it here with the dead.”

“You mean like actually having to deal with the living? No thanks,” I laugh, causing him to laugh along too.

“You’re right. You’re a bitch to most living people.”

“Now you’re getting it!” I tell him as I walk over to the lockers and grab my shit out. I toss a wave over my shoulder before heading out the back door and climbing on my bike. Uncle Jenson taught me to ride at a young age, knowing that’s what my dad would have wanted. I hate that it wasn’t my dad who taught me. I hate that he isn’t here with me.

I sigh before tugging my helmet on and revving up my bike before taking off.

I’m in my happy place on this bike. It makes me feel connected to my dad in more ways than one.

I ride through town when some asshole cuts me off. Anger surges in my veins as the edge of his bumper hits my tire. The bike skids sideways, and I try to regain control, but it’s too late. I lay the bike down, the road ripping the skin on my arm open. I groan in pain as the asshole takes off.

“Are you okay?” I hear someone ask. I nod my head and drag my ass off the ground to see a man standing next to me looking concerned.

“I’m fine. Assholes never look where they’re going,” I grumble.

“I know. He pulled right out in front of you,” he adds. “You sure you’re okay? You’re bleeding.”

I twist my arm to see what he’s talking about and groan at the sight. I had a tattoo planned for that spot, and now it’s going to scar, I know it.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, you tore that up pretty good.”

“That’s not what I was hoping for today,” I mumble as he walks over and helps me pick my bike up off the ground. Traffic keeps moving around us as I reach for my bike and begin to climb on.

“You want me to take you somewhere for that?”

“No. I’ve had worse,” I tell him.

“You sure you’re okay? Didn’t hit your head?”

“Are you a doctor or something?” I ask, a little amused by his line of questioning.

“Not an actual doctor, no. I’m a vet.” I glance over at him once more and smile.

“Yeah, I can see that. Thanks for stopping,” I tell him, ready to continue on my way.

“Can I…I don’t know, get your number?” he asks, looking shy. It’s kind of cute but he isn’t at all my type, but he might be a good fuck. I ramble off my number and watch as he types it into his phone.

“I’ll call you,” he says. I nod and take off before this conversation gets any weirder.

When I make it back to the clubhouse, a few of the guys are outside. I pull up and park, pulling my helmet off and tossing it on the ground.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Patch asks.

“You see this shit? Look at the fucking scratch on this!” I snap, pointing at the side of my bike. He whistles and walks closer to examine it.

“How the fuck did you do that?”

“Some asshole pulled out in front of me, and I went down,” I tell him. Immediately, his head jerks in my direction and his eyes travel my body.

“You hurt?”

“Just my arm,” I tell him, flashing the mess at him before walking away.

“Kenz, you need that looked at!” he calls out to me.