Chapter 15

(Sinn)

Learning to Fly with Crooked Wings

Wincing, Sinn pressed his cheek to the back of Saint’s shoulder and let out a low groan as the bike bounced, reminding him of the delicious aches Saint had left him with. Hips, lower back, the handprints on his ass, his ass in general, they’d fucked many times before, but this time had felt different, like Saint was trying to brand himself on every inch of Sinn, inside and out. His growls had set Sinn’s soul on fire, but his whispered words of possession and praise had been what had melted away the rest of Sinn’s surliness.

In the stillness of the night, when Sinn had lain among the tangled sheets with Saint wrapped around him, he’d tried to imagine how he’d react if something like what had happened to him happened to someone he loved.

Yeah, it was a no brainer. He’d have been an asshole too and determined to bind them in ropes and suspend them from the ceiling of his bedroom if that’s what it took to keep them safe. He’d have been no less willing to burn the world down to get them back and exact revenge for what had happened, so it was easy to accept the man’s forgiveness and treat him to soft caresses while he slept.

The only thing that would have made the past two nights better was having Night with them.

It pissed him off that the prospect had slipped away without saying goodbye, but what infuriated him more was knowing the man had driven off alone to attend the funeral of someone he hated, especially when that death had followed days of different family members blowing up his phone, demanding that he return. Sinn just hoped he remembered what they’d talked about on the ride from Texas to North Carolina and didn’t allow himself to be dragged into bullshit while he was with his family. Unlike Sinn’s frank admission of where he’d come from, Night had been vague about the area, only admitting to having grown up in the mountains in a place no one would ever find unless they knew how to get there.

He should have pressed, Sinn just never considered the information important until Night used their conversation to help the club locate him. Saint eased the bike around the speedbump at the entrance to the assisted living facility, then backed his machine into one of the parking spots beside the trailer they’d set up for Dalton.

What had begun as a mission to build a specially modified trike so Dalton could enjoy the pleasure of riding with them again and become something much more than a mobile workshop. As a founding member of the club, along with Saint and Mark’s father, Dalton not only had club knowledge to pass along, but he’d crafted damn near every type of modification to a machine known to man and several he still hadn’t shared. If anyone could help sort out what was wrong with Kong’s bike, it was Dalton.

Sinn’s rear gave a twinge, and he leaned over Saint’s shoulder to nip his ear, drawing a startled hiss from the man.

“What was that for?”

“Hitting every rut in the road between the house and here,” Sinn groaned before nipping him again, which just made Saint chuckle.

“That you complaining or angling for a repeat?”

“If you intend to bend that boy over your bike and have your way with him, you’d better wait until I maneuver myself out there so I can watch, or I swear to god I’m going to help Cody install the macarena horn on your bike,” Dalton called from inside the trailer. “Will be the best damn twenty bucks I’ve spent in years too.”

“Not sure what would be funnier,” Sinn remarked as he dismounted the bike, Saint grumbling curses and threats about what would happen to Sinn’s rear if he tried it. “It going off, or folks along the sidewalk breaking into the dance when it did.”

Dalton’s chuckle ended in a series of coughs, but Sinn could see the shadow of him seated in his wheelchair at the top of the ramp leading into the trailer.

“Hey, can’t those things be triggered by a key fob too?” Sinn asked as he strode up the ramp to join him.

“Sure can.”

“If so much of a note from that song comes out of my baby…!” Saint threatened as he followed Sinn up.

“You’ll deal with it or figure out how to disable it yourself,” Dalton replied, laughing again. “And I promise I won’t make it easy.”

“You suck!” Saint grumbled, but he was laughing too and leaned to embrace Dalton when he reached him.

Sinn had already grabbed a seat on a leather padded bench after fist bumping the man and was busy unwrapping the pieces of Kong’s machine that he’d brought for Dalton to examine.

“So, I hear there is to be an actual shop, finally,” Dalton remarked as Saint took a seat beside him. “You narrowed down the location yet?”

“Creature and Mark looked at a couple places the other night,” Saint admitted. “I was supposed to go with them, but I was too busy pinning my mouthy boy to my bed and giving him better things to do with his lips than spit snark.”

“Please note that he conveniently left out the part about me dragging him up to his room and riding him until he took over,” Sinn added.

“Oh, you’ve met your match with this one,” Dalton said. “But I’m shocked you didn’t bring your prospect along. Seemed like you three were gonna be a thing.”

“Still will, once he gets back,” Saint replied. “He’s off at a funeral.”

“And you didn’t think to join him?” Dalton asked.

“Thought about it then dismissed the thought,” Saint admitted. “Seems that I was being a bit smothering and didn’t want to piss off both my boys in the same night.”

“Ahhh.” Dalton replied as he wheeled over to position his chair in front of them. “I’ve been accused of that a time or two myself.”

“That mean you were guilty?” Sinn asked.

“You know it,” Dalton admitted. “Hard not to be sometimes, especially back when we were firmly entrenched on the wrong side of the law. Lost a lot of brothers in those days. Lost some civilians too. Those were the hardest casualties. Always left you wondering if you’d done enough or made too many bad choices. I’m glad to see you boys taking things in a positive direction.”

“Wouldn’t have known how to take the first step if it wasn’t for you and Rick,” Saint admitted.

“Damn, I miss that bastard,” Dalton replied. “When we landed here, we joked about needing an old bikers’ home where we could still raise a bit of hell in the time we had left on this rock. There just wasn’t enough of us left to warrant it.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t do better about keeping our senior members closer,” Saint said. “I wouldn’t know fuck all about what that entailed but Wreck would. We’ve always looked out for our own. Seems a shame that we stop doing it once they’re unable to be out on the road with us.”

“Oh now that’s bullshit boy and you know it,” Dalton said. “Club pays my tab to be here, and I see more of you guys now than I did when I was in the thick of things. I appreciate it, by the way, so don’t you go thinkin’ I’m complaining. You and I both know Wreck decided to get his nursing creds when Rick got admitted here. Him getting Cody hired on means I’m always up to date on what happens at chapel and Mark spends at least one night a week losing to me at poker. I’ve never had cause to feel like the club has turned its back on me and what you all did, setting up this mobile garage, has put me back in the thick of things again.”

“Good to know,” Saint said. “Since we’re hoping you’ll have a hand in setting up the new facility.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“The place two doors down from Iron Butt Ink is supposed to go up for sale soon,” Sinn said. “That’s the rumor that was swirling around when I was down there. A guy who was getting ink done when my Koi was being worked on, said the place was kicking off a month-long fire sale and closing its doors when it was through. Donating whatever was left to charity too.”

“He say why?” Dalton asked.

“Naa.”

“Are you talking about the old furniture store?” Saint asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Sinn replied. “Big building on the corner with all the lights across the front?”

“That would be the place,” Dalton said. “It would make for a hell of a storefront. It’s bound to catch someone’s eye with those raised platforms in front of the windows. Plenty of room for displaying bikes and custom leather pieces too.”

“Hadn’t heard anything about it,” Saint admitted.

Sinn could hear the rustle of him pulling his phone out of his pocket and the blip of each of the letters he hit, no doubt firing off a message to Mark to make him aware of the potential opportunity.

“One of the best features, if they haven’t torn it down since I saw it last, is the loading dock out back that leads into the alley,” Dalton said. “Will make unloading and test driving a sinch.”

“Yeah, I know all about that alley,” Sinn grumbled.

“Heard that’s where you disappeared from,” Dalton said. “Seems way too convenient to me. You guys ever figure out if anyone tipped your people off that you’d be there?”

“No tip off, they just somehow managed to case the place for days without anyone noticing a big ass van with Texas license plates,” Sinn grumbled, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Dalton tisked, while Saint muttered something under his breath that Sinn couldn’t fully make out.

“Care to speak up so these old ears can hear ya?” Dalton asked in a tone that left no room for argument.

“There might not have been a tip off, but the van didn’t go unnoticed,” Saint said. “Bruce and Lenny recognized it when we were down in Texas. Said they’d seen it in the parking lot a couple times but didn’t think anything of it. The guys that snatched him up took part in the raid. After I bloodied one of them up a bit, he admitted that they never expected to make it all the way to Texas with Sinn. Said they roared past someone with what they thought was a Joker emblem on his shoulder and swore up and down they made eye contact. Was shocked that was the first we were hearing about it. Near as we’ve been able to figure, it was Teddy they passed in the alley on his way to pick up the evening receipts. He was in the shop when Lenny went outside to tell Sinn he had the colors set up for the next phase of his tattoo and couldn’t find him. Teddy said absolutely nothing about seeing a van take off up the alley at what the guy driving it described as a high rate of speed considering Sinn was fighting them tooth and nail. They expected bikes in their rearview before they made it five miles.”

“Son of a bitch!” Sinn growled. “It’s no wonder Gramps was certain you wouldn’t bother coming after me.”

“Pretty much what he said when he learned what we were discussing.”

“According to Lenny, Teddy went on to his next pickup even after learning that you were missing,” Saint said. “Mark’s livid and keeping him at arm’s length until he decides what to do with him.”

“Let me get my hands on him and there won’t be anything more for Mark to worry about,” Sinn snarled.

“You’ll get your chance.”

“I’d better.”

“This is just a bit of unsolicited advice from an old man so do with it what you will,” Dalton said. “But you should make sure Doc is on hand for that. I’ve only met Teddy a handful of times, but he came across as soft to me. More like an ornament or a pet. Unlike your boy here. He’s a scrapper, with or without twenty-twenty vision on his side.”

“Yeah, I’m learning that about him,” Saint admitted.

“You’d do well not to forget it,” Dalton cautioned. “Something tells me he won’t be so forgiving if you keep smothering his sense of self. You might even loose him, which would be entirely on your head.”

“True that,” Sinn muttered.

“As his Dominant, your job is to figure out what he needs from you and see to it that he gets it,” Dalton said, his voice firm as he addressed Saint. “Yes, you are to protect him, but protect doesn’t mean stifle and it should never mean that you make him feel like less of a man. If he wants to do something, then you need to do everything in your power to figure out how to make that happen within the parameters of his capabilities. You don’t take over and you sure as hell don’t try and sit him on the sidelines while you do it for him. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Saint replied.

“Good, then lecture over. If I have to give another one it won’t be as nice,” Dalton declared. “You’ve got a good boy here. Smart, capable, and driven to create. I hope you’ll support the proposal that’s been made to put him and Creature in charge of the bike shop. Oh, and before you ask who made the proposal, it was me. After seeing those frames he helped unearth, I can’t think of anyone better.”

“Nor can I,” Saint admitted.

“You know,” Dalton went on while Sinn basked in the high praise from both men. “Old Gus Mathison was blind for most of his life. Couldn’t even make out the difference between light and shadows, but he built the sweetest machines I’ve ever had the privilege to ride. Taught me a good chunk of what I know about bike building too. Said there were times when he was glad not to see anything. That sight made it too easy to make judgements without discovering what lay beneath the surface. There’s been a time or two in my life when those words have come back to smack me upside the head just when I was about to say something stupid. And I’m grateful for them.”

“Even when my eyes still worked right, I learned to see with my hands,” Sinn admitted. “There’s a huge garage attached to the house I grew up in and I spent hours in there hovering over the shoulder of anyone who’d let me. I could build a machine from the frame up before I was legally old enough to ride one, not that it ever stopped me. Once my hands learned what to do they didn’t falter even when my eyesight faded. Mom thought it would make it easy for me to learn braille, but the callouses on my fingertips were too thick by then for me to catch on to it. Technology has made that a non-issue though. I get my phone or laptop to read the manuals to me, while I try and work out what’s wrong with the parts, though I’ve got to admit that this carburetor of Kong’s has stumped more than just me.”

“Well then, pass it on over here so I can take a look,” Dalton asked, holding out his hands for the pieces and humming when Sinn placed the first one in his palm.

That humming soon turned to laughter once Sinn had passed over the last of the parts.

“Let me guess, you’ve got it solved already?” Sinn asked.

“Can’t solve the unsolvable,” Dalton replied, passing one of the pieces back. “Feel that?”

“Yeah, it’s been bugging the hell out of me. What kind of gasket is it? I’ve never felt anything like it and Creature couldn’t figure out who the manufacturer was.”

“I’ll bet he was pissed. Prolly be more ticked off when he learns it’s cardboard and some kind of sealant. Feels like it was wrapped over the original metal and molded into place while it dried. Let me guess, you couldn’t get it to fit back together?”

“Not for lack of trying.”

“It’s an old school trick. Someone jerry rigged the hell out of more than just that gasket though,” Dalton said. “I can’t figure out what the hell this is melted to the inside of the cylinder.”

“Neither could I, and I couldn’t get it off either.”

“I’m all for salvaging parts but this is junk,” Dalton declared.

“Which means I need to go over the engine with a fine-tooth comb to be certain it didn’t get damaged,” Sinn deduced. “The spark plugs were all fouled up too and Kong said she was running rough and getting difficult to start.”

“Absolutely,” Dalton said “And tell him he waited too long to have maintenance done if it was performing like that. I swear some of these guys will ride their machines into the ground before they ask someone else to look at them. I don’t know if it’s a trust issue or an arrogance issue, but a club owned shop might make all the difference in preventing bullshit like this.”

“In all fairness to Kong, he just traded for the bike a few weeks back, said the Softail he’d been riding was hell on his back.”

“Of course it was, the big bastard should have known better than to get a machine built for a smaller man,” Dalton replied. “Well, since there’s no fixing this, Saint, why don’t you find Cody and tell him to hook us up with some lemonade and more of those peanut butter chocolate chip cookies they baked last night. I know he stashed extras away for me, he always does. We can sit and visit awhile, and I’ll tell you more about old Gus and the time he bought a demilitarized tank and used the panels to create a trio of almost indestructible motorcycles. Man, when we went crashing through the Malicious Bastard’s clubhouse doors, the looks on their faces were priceless, especially when bullets started bouncing off the bikes and the armor he’d made for us too.”

“Holy shit,” Sinn breathed, with Saint echoing the sentiment.

“Exactly. Now go get those snacks, boy. I’ve got some tales even you haven’t heard yet.”

As Saint hurried off, Dalton rested a hand on Sinn’s shoulder. “He’s a good man. A bit of a hothead, but as solid as they come. Put him in check when he gets overbearing, but always remember this: If something happens to you on his watch, he’ll never forgive himself. Pretty sure that goes for your prospect too. So pick your battles wisely and remember that sometimes there is victory in conceding.”

It took a moment, but the old man’s words sunk in, and Sinn understood exactly what Dalton was trying to tell him. Independence was a glorious thing, but reckless indifference to his limitations was only going to get him dead.