Bikers, Chains and Bad Boys

Chapter 11

(unedited)

Bikers, Chains and Bad Boys: Chapter 11

The parts I ordered on Monday didn't get here until Friday afternoon. To say I was annoyed would have been an understatement. I was so busy with customers, though, that I didn't get to work on it and was too tired to even do anything after closing. I was too busy to think half the time, but I honestly didn't mind the distraction from my own thoughts. That just meant I could focus on something other than the fuckery that'd been going on in my life.

I was itching to get my bike done, though. While I really appreciated the bike Andy let me borrow, it just wasn't the same. I missed my bike. It was the only thing I had left that kept me connected to my mother. I loved that bike. Luckily, Saturday I only had one job scheduled, so when I was done with that, Andy said I was free to finish up my bike.

The wound on my arm had healed for the most part. I was able to keep it uncovered now, thank god. Those wraps were itchy and annoying. I held it with a butterfly bandage at the center of the puncture, so it didn't pull apart again. It could finally air out and begin to scab over.

I hadn't seen or heard from Snake or Dave since the diner incident. While I was relieved at that fact, it unnerved me. I didn't think they just gave up. No way they just gave up after all that bullshit. I knew without a doubt Dave meant every word he said to me. Whether I was being stupid or not, I didn't care. I knew Dave would do it and I wasn't going to chance it. My Dad was all I had left, and I wasn't going to let some skeevy little biker bitches take him away from me, too. He left them for a reason and there was no way I was going to let them hurt him any more than they already had.

I got more and more paranoid as each day passed, though, waiting for one of them to pop up out of nowhere and attack me. I still hadn't told anyone, and I wasn't planning on it. I just had to make sure no one else found out and keep Tyson from saying anything, not that there was any proof anymore. No one knew what was happening and the one person who saw something, didn't have a clue who was doing it. I felt stupid for leaving those notes in such an open space as the glove box, but Dad never got in my truck and I knew he would never find them there. I was still beating myself up, though, for not remembering they were there when Tyson was in the truck. I was stupid.

Tyson had been trying to get me to call the cops all week. When no one was around, he'd slink over and tell me I needed to tell someone because those threats were real, and I could get myself killed. Of course, I knew he was probably right, but I wasn't involving the cops. Or anyone for that matter. I wasn't taking the chance with my dad's life on the line.

"Harley." I groaned internally. I was already in a sour mood and spending any amount of time trying to convince him to leave it alone sounded dreadful right now. It was hot and stuffy even with the shop doors open and three fans on around the floor, and it was making me irritable to say the least.

"Stop, Tyson." I sighed. "Please. Just don't. I'm not in the mood right now."

"Harley, you need to call the police." I turned to face him. His brows were drawn in concern and a frown marred his face. "They can protect you!"

"The cops can't help me." I sharply replied. He huffed as I headed to the work bench to my right and grabbed a socket wrench to tighten the last few bolts on my bike. I sighed happily when I was done, grateful to finally have my bike back.

"If you're going to bother me, then at least make yourself useful." I sighed, gathering up some of the tools on the floor to return to the toolboxes up against the wall. He grabbed the last few and followed behind me. I wiped my hands on a shop towel as I returned the keys for the bike Andy let me borrow to the hook by the back door. No offense to Andy, but I was happy to be rid of it just because I preferred my own bike.