Chapter Four

Bones

I leaned back and wiped the sweat off my forehead as I admired the custom bike in front of me. It was a beauty, and I had to admit, it had come out better than I’d even hoped. Black and gunmetal gray, with a fresh coat of high-gloss paint that gleamed under the lights. It was sleek and fierce. The chrome accents caught the light just right, and I’d added custom leatherwork to the seat, too—a detailed flame design, subtle but sharp, matching the ghosted flames I’d painted along the tank. This bike would make one hell of a Christmas present.

I grabbed my leather jacket and headed to open one of the overhead doors, needing a bit of fresh air. I needed to take this thing for a spin before I handed it over to the customer. The cold air blasted me in the face, and I knew more snow was likely headed our way. It was a good thing the town was good at keeping the roads cleared, so I was able to still do test drives in the winter.

As I stepped out, a familiar voice barked from down the driveway, gruff but warm. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

I looked over and grinned as I spotted Mickey. We did that quick, manly handshake-hug thing, and I clapped him on the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here, man?”

Mickey shrugged, and a lazy grin spread across his face. “Been a minute since I’ve been out here.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and I noticed two other familiar figures making their way up the driveway. “Nut and Wick tagged along for the ride.”

Nut and Wick both nodded as they joined us. Nut was built like a boulder, all broad shoulders and thick arms, while Wick was leaner but had a look in his eyes that said he wasn’t one to mess with. Mickey was the president of the Brazen Chrome MC, and Nut and Wick were solid members, trusted guys who’d always backed him up. When I first moved to town, I’d thought about joining the club. Still hadn’t, but I’d managed to get most of them to be regular customers—my best advertising was word-of-mouth, and Brazen Chrome knew how to spread the word.

We all went through a round of handshakes, each sizing up the bike like they knew a good machine when they saw one. Nut nodded toward it; his eyes narrowed with interest. “You do all of that, man?”

“Yeah,” I said and patted the leather seat. “Fresh paint job, tuned up the engine, swapped in some custom parts. Chrome accents, new exhaust… She’s got some power behind her now, too.” I smirked, giving the bike a once-over like it was some high-maintenance lady. “Think it came out pretty damn good.”

Nut whistled low and walked around the bike to take in every detail. “You ain’t wrong about that. That paint job alone is a work of art.”

I chuckled. “Wait until you hear her purr.”

Wick leaned in close to the handlebars, his fingers tracing the custom detailing. “This the one you said you’d been working on for that Christmas order?”

“Yep,” I nodded and felt a spark of pride as they admired it. “Customer wanted something special, something one-of-a-kind for her husband. Didn’t want him ridin’ around on a stock model like everyone else. She wanted this bike to stand out, and I think it’ll do just that.”

Mickey crossed his arms and studied the bike with a practiced eye. “No doubt about that. You’ve got a hell of a hand for detail, Bones.”

I shrugged, but the compliment hit home. Coming from Mickey, who’d seen more bikes than he could probably count, it meant something. “Just put in the time, that’s all.”

Mickey smirked and gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Time and talent. Don’t sell yourself short, man.”

“Why haven’t you joined up with us yet?” Nut asked and crossed his arms as he leaned back on his heels. “Hell, most of us are already here every other week anyway.”

“I’m thinking about it. We can talk after the New Year. That okay?” I asked Mickey, looking over at him.

Mickey nodded, his usual easygoing grin on his face. “Sounds like a plan, man.”

Wick raised an eyebrow, glancing between us. “You up for some company?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just need to take this for a test drive before the trailer gets here to pick it up.” I gave the bike a once-over, the sleek black and chrome catching the light just right.

Nut wandered into the garage with his hands in his pockets. “As if there isn’t enough around here to keep us busy. Beer in the fridge?” he asked, his tone more statement than a question.

I laughed and nodded. “You know it. Help yourselves.”

With a round of nods, the guys headed into the garage. Nut made a beeline for the fridge, and Mickey and Wick followed behind. I knew they’d keep themselves entertained while I took the bike for a quick spin. No sense in letting all the heat out, so I closed the overhead door after wheeling the bike out and felt the satisfying weight of it beneath me.

I swung my leg over and settled onto the seat. I wrapped my fingers around the handlebars and felt that familiar anticipation with the rush that only came with riding. I leaned down, turned the key, and the bike roared to life beneath me. The sound was deep and smooth, just as I’d tuned it to be. I gave it a couple of quick revs and grinned as I felt the power hum through the frame. Every piece and every adjustment felt perfect.

This was the moment I always waited for—the proof that all those hours, all the adjustments, the sweat, the setbacks, had paid off. All that was left was to make sure it rode as good as it sounded.

With a quick nod to myself, I kicked it into gear and roared down the driveway. The bike responded instantly as I leaned into the turn and sped down the street. The air bit at my face, crisp and sharp, but it only added to the thrill. I loved this feeling—the surge of adrenaline, the freedom that came with being on two wheels. Nothing but the road in front of me. Out here, I felt alive in a way nothing else could match.

Free and alive. This was what it was all about.