Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

but I’ve done enough. It’s better that I don’t go back home. The wind whipping against my face calms me somewhat, but nothing can stop the heartbreak slowly working its way through my chest.

I pull into a lot overlooking the ocean, and I kill the roaring Harley before swinging my leg over the seat to stand tall, but the moment I look out over the blue water, the view blurs. I don’t cry. Never have. But when I blink, the cool, salty emotion trickles down my cheeks.

Settling on a rock precariously balanced on the edge of the cliff, I look up to the sky, which is turning a soft pink as the sun sets. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I tell nobody in particular. “I fucked up.” I know she’s up there with my sister. “Banks, I’m fucking sorry, sis.” My voice cracks on the last word, and my lungs stop working. The tightness becomes worse with every breath I try to inhale, and I know that I’ll forever be the unforgiven. They’re not here to absolve me of my sins. They’re not here because I spouted off my fucking mouth to an asshole who thinks he can take a life without repercussions.

It’s my fault.

All on me.

I did this.

And I’m going to make it right.

One way or another.

1 Trinity

Present Day

The evening sky has already turned a deep shade of purple when I look up from the chapter I’d been reading. As summer lingers for a while longer, I wonder if I would ever see my dad again. Mom said he had to go away, but I’m not sure why, and I’m not sure where.

It’s been a year, twelve long months, and even though I trust Mom, my mind has been racing with the possibilities of why he would up and leave. She doesn’t seem all too bothered with his leaving. Since the morning I opened my eyes to no Dad and Mom sitting alone at the kitchen table, she’s acted as if all is fine.

As much as I want to believe her, I don’t. I drop my gaze to my book again, hoping my studying will sink in before tomorrow’s exam. Writing my finals has been challenging with all the stuff that’s happened in the town lately. With Anchor Bay’s tourist season coming to an end, I wonder what winter will bring. It’s still a while away, but the anticipation of what’s to come has always kept anxiety twisting in my stomach.

Mom says I worry too much. But I think she doesn’t worry enough. Dad has always been here for us through the snowy months when nothing could be done outside. But with her working late shifts and me needing to finish my online studies, I’m not sure how we’re going to survive on her salary alone.

And it’s not much.

The rumble of bikes in the distance is testament to where I am. My attention rapt at the four bikers passing by the house, and I offer them a wave. The Kovenant MC is a family. My family. My dad made sure the members were there for Mom and me, but now that he’s gone, I wonder if they’ll still look out for us.

They’re a myriad of men and women who found each other through loss, through love, and through connection. Their passion for the open road brought them here, and even though our community is small, these people would die for each other. A thundering grumble of a truck catches my attention, causing me to look up from my schoolbook.

I should be studying, but the vehicle circling our enormous driveway keeps my attention locked. Behind the truck is a blacked-out SUV, similar to Dad’s. When it comes to a stop at the house next door, I can’t tear my curious gaze away.

Eighteen years I’ve lived in this town, and I haven’t ever seen newcomers move in. Everyone who lives here has been here since before I was born. As the driver emerges from the SUV, I notice his tattoos that snake up his arms, just like my dad’s do. But when the passenger door shoots open and long limbs draped in dark denim appear, my breathing halts.

The guy who gets out is tall, broad-shouldered, as if he plays football. I recognize the build of his tapered torso from our own football team at school. I don’t go there anymore, but I recall the boys in their senior year, vying for the cheerleader’s attention. Dad pulled me out of the school after I was bullied for being a biker’s kid. Now, I stay in Anchor Bay and go to school online.

He rounds the car, heading to the truck, and helps the movers with the boxes. When he sets one down, he turns his head, and his dark eyes land on me. He’s built bigger than most of the boys I went to school with. He straightens before shoving his hands into his pockets and locks his intrigued stare on me, and everything around me disappears.

Chocolate-brown hair hangs over his forehead, a lock slipping into his left eye as his full lips quirk. His chiseled features are classically beautiful, but from here I can see that he’s definitely not the squeaky-clean footballers we have at school.

No. There’s a glint of silver in the corner of his lower lip and in his right eyebrow, which shimmers in the sunlight as well. Two piercings. And for a short moment, I wonder what else he has pierced.

Shaking my head, I manage to drag my stare away from him to the men now emptying the truck. Next door, the house that had been standing empty for months is being filled with furniture and boxes.

Mom comes up behind me, her legs encased in the black leather pants she loves to wear to work. Down at Davey’s, the bar where my mom tends every weeknight, there’s no uniform, but my mother loves to show off her figure.

“New neighbors,” she remarks, taking in the man and his son.