Wrecker (Fallen Lords MC Book 4)

by Winter Travers

  “So, your brothers take care of you?”

  “Ha, more like I take care of them. If it weren't for me, they’d spend all their time under the hood of a car.”

  “What’s your name?” Here I was giving this girl a ride home, and I had no idea what her name was.

  “Frankie.”

  “I’m Violet, by the way, if you didn’t hear me before,” I glanced at her, smiling.

  “Neat name. Never heard it before.” That would be because my mother was an old soul who thought to name me Violet would be retro. It wasn’t. It was a color.

  “Eh, it’s OK.”

  I pulled up in front of the body shop and shut the car off. It was raining even harder now, the rain pelting against my windows. “I’ll come in with you to make sure someone is home.”

  “I’m fourteen years old. I can be left alone.’

  “Whatever. Let’s go.” She was right, but I didn’t care. I was pretty pissed off that her brother had left her all alone to walk home in the rain.

  We dashed to the door, my coat pulled over my head, and I stumbled into the door Frankie held open. “Oh my God, it’s really coming down,” I mumbled, shaking my coat off. My hair was matted to my forehead, and I’m sure I looked like a drowned rat.

  “I think Luke is in the shop, I’ll go get him.” Frankie slipped through another door that I assumed lead to the shop, and I looked around.

  Apparently, I was in the office of the body shop. There was a cluttered counter in front of me and stacks of wheels and tires all around. Four chairs are set off to the side, which I assume is the waiting area, and a vending machine on the far wall.

  The phone rang a shrilling ring, making me jump. I looked around, trying to figure out what to do when the door to the shop was thrown open, and a bald, scowling man came walking through. He didn’t even glance at me, just picked up the phone and started barking into it.

  “Skid Row Kings,” he grunted.

  I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but I could tell Baldy was not happy. I looked down at my hands, noticing my cute plaid skirt I had put on that morning was now drenched and clinging to my legs. Thankfully I had worn flats today, or I probably would have fallen on my ass in the rain.

  “What can I help you with?”

  My head shot up, baldy staring at me. “Um, I brought Frankie home.”

  He looked me up and down, his eyes scanning me over. “Aren’t you a little too old to be hanging out with a fourteen-year-old? You’re what, sixteen, seventeen?”

  “Try twenty-seven.” This guy was a piece of work. He was looking me over like I was on display and he thought I was a teenager.

  His eyes snapped to mine, and his jaw dropped. Yeah, jackass, I’m older than you are probably. “What the hell are you doing with Frankie?”

  “She works at the library. You know, the place you promised to pick me up from today?” Frankie said, walking back into the shop. She had managed to find a towel and was drying herself off. I would kill for a towel right now.

  “Fuck,” Baldy twisted around and looked at the clock behind him. “Sorry, Frankie. Mitch and I were tearing apart the tranny on the Charger.”

  She waved her hand at him and tossed the towel to me. Oh, thank you sweet baby Jesus. I wiped the water that was dripping down my face and squeezed all the water out of my hair into it.

  “How the hell did you get so wet if she gave you a ride home?”

  “Because I started walking home, Luke, until Violet was kind enough to stop and give me a lift.”

  He watched me dry my hair, confusion on his face. “Violet?” he muttered.

  “That’s me,” I said, sticking my hand out for him to shake. “I didn’t want Frankie to get sick walking home. Plus, it’s getting dark and someone her age shouldn’t be out then.”

  “She’s fourteen years old,” he sneered. “I was out on the streets when I was twelve.”

  “Oh, well. If that’s how you want to raise her.” Luke was a gearhead that was also an ass. I didn’t have time for this. My bath was definitely calling my name now that I was soaking wet. I tossed the towel back to Frankie and pulled my jacket over my head again. “You’re welcome for bringing your sister home.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “I know,” I turned to Frankie and smiled. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.” She nodded her head at me, smiling, and I turned to walk out the door. I twisted the handle, and the door blew into me, rain pouring in. I glance back at Luke one time, a scowl on his face, and figured the pouring rain was better company than he was.

  I pulled the door shut behind me and sprinted to my car, dodging puddles.

  Once I was safely in my car, I looked up at the two-story building and sighed. I wish I could say this was a hole in the wall garage, but it was far from that. The building itself was a dark blue aluminum siding with huge neon letters that boasted, Skid Row Kings Garage, also known as SRK Garage. There were five bay doors that I’m assuming is where they pulled the cars into and over the office part is where I believe they lived. It was monstrous. Everyone in town took their cars here, especially the street racing crowd.

  I had never been here before, mainly because I have never really needed repairs done on my car. I always went to the big chain stores to get my oil changed and thankfully hadn’t needed any major repairs.

  I started my car, thankful to be headed home. I turned around, the big looming building in my review as I headed down the street.

  Hopefully, that was the last time I would ever step foot in Skid Row Kings garage and never see Luke again. He seemed like a total ass.

  *

  Check out the Karate Hotties!

  Dropkick My Heart

  Powerhouse MA

  Book 1

  Chapter 1

  Kellan

  “Left, Ryan.” I shook my head and watched Ryan punch to the right. “Your other left, Ryan.” In my fifteen years of teaching martial arts, I discovered left and right was a concept that was hard learned by anyone under the age of ten, especially when they were just excited to be punching and kicking the shit out of stuff.

  “Okay! Lock it up.” I stood in front of my class of twenty-five under belts and watched them all fall to the floor, eagerly looking up at me. I waited for all eyes to fall on me. “Good job today, guys. We need to work a bit longer on delta, but for only working on it one day, you guys are killing it.” Clinton raised his hand eagerly, and I tipped my chin at him. “Go ahead, Clinton.”

  “Mr. Wright, when are we going to get to put all of the combos together?” he asked meekly.

  “As soon as we learn them all,” I assured him. Clinton asked the same question every class. The kid was the most eager to learn, but he had the attention span of a squirrel. I surveyed the class, then looked over the crowd of parents waiting to pick up their kids. “Now, remember that belt graduation is in three weeks, and you need to have your homework turned in before. Otherwise, you don’t graduate.” Everyone groaned at the word homework, and I couldn’t help but smirk. They didn’t have any clue how much homework I had done to reach sixth-degree black belt. “Everyone up,” I said, motioning up with my hands. “And bow,” I ordered, placing my hands at my sides and bowing.

  All the kids started running up to me, giving me high fives and then scurrying off to their parents.

  “Is Mr. Roman going to be here next time?” Carrie asked me as she high-fived me.

  “He should be. He had a couple of things to do today and couldn’t make it to class.” Like sleeping until noon and screwing me over completely. Thankfully, it was the last class of the day, and I could hopefully find some time to sit down for five minutes.

  Finally, the last parents left with their kids, and I locked the door behind them. I loved classes on Saturday, but they were exhausting when I was the only instructor.

  The phone rang on the desk, and I knew it was Roman with some lame-ass excuse for why he didn’t make it in today. Roman and I were business part
ners with Dante and Tate, but most of the time, it was all on me to make the school a success.

  Roman’s name flashed on the caller ID, and I picked up the phone. “So, what’s your excuse this time?”

  “Ugh, I’m fucking sick, man.”

  I shook my head and sat down behind the front counter. “That’s called a hangover, Roman. Drink some fucking coffee, and get out of bed.”

  “Nah, man. This is worse than a hangover. I think I got food poisoning from the burger I ate last night at Tig’s.” Roman moaned into the phone, and I sighed.

  Food poisoning from Tig’s was a definite possibility. “I guess you should stop eating nasty shit while you’re getting shit-faced every night.”

  “It’s not every night,” Roman grumbled.

  “Sure, keep fucking telling yourself that.”

  Roman sighed. “Look, I was just calling to tell you sorry about not coming in today. If you wanna take off next Saturday, you can. I’ll take care of the monsters all by myself.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about.” I made the mistake once of trying to take off a Saturday. Roman had called me halfway through the day, and I could barely hear him over yelling parents and screaming kids. I ended up coming in and spending most of the day putting out fires he had started between yelling at the kids and telling the parents to shut it while he was teaching. “Just get better, and I’ll see you Monday night.”

  “What time do classes start?”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “Four. Same as every Monday,” I reminded him.

  “Got it. I’ll be there.”

  I hung up the phone and sighed. Roman was one of the most talented guys I knew when it came to karate, but his adulting skills were severely lacking. At the age of twenty-eight, he should have his shit figured out.

  When Roman, Tate, Dante, and I opened Powerhouse, we expected to help kids the way we were taught when we were young and just starting karate. Roman, Tate, and I began karate at the same time and worked our way through the belts together. Dante was a red belt when we were white belts, but he took us under his wing, and we all became close friends.

  While Dante was almost ten years older than most of us, I was the highest black belt. Dante was a second-degree black belt, while Roman and Tate were fourth-degree. I was going for my sixth degree this year.

  We all came together to start the school, because we all had our own specialties that, when put together, created a karate studio unlike any around. Dante was an international sparring champion six times over, while Roman and Tate were geniuses when it came to kamas and bo staff. I rounded us out with my expertise in forms and people skills the three others lacked at times.

  The school had only been open for six months, but Dante and Tate already thought we needed to open another location. Not only had Roman bailed on me today, but so had Tate and Dante to go look at a space two towns over for a new studio.

  I was in the minority when I said we should just focus on the Falls City school. Dante and Tate had decided between themselves that if we were doing so well here, another studio would be a goldmine. I didn’t think they were wrong, I just wanted them to slow down, and wait for all of us to agree.

  I threw my phone on top of a pile of new student paperwork and propped my arms on my head. I pushed off on the floor and spun around in the chair. Most days, it was hard to believe this was my life, and today was another one of those days. Dante, Tate, and Roman were my closest friends, but sometimes it felt like everything rested on my shoulders, while they were off somewhere enjoying life, and spending all the money we were making.

  The days we didn’t have classes, I was giving private lessons, or working on lesson plans for each class. Most of the time, the Kinder-kicker class was like herding a pack of cats that were all hyped up on catnip, and the Little Ninja class wasn’t much better. Although, I still tried to teach them forms and basic karate to help them get to white belt. Once the kids hit white belt, things became more serious, and I buckled down on the curriculum.

  The highest belt level we had right now was an orange belt, but in the stack of paper on the desk, there were three kids wanting to transfer over to Powerhouse. One of them was a purple belt, and the other two were red belts. I was rather shocked the two red belts wanted to transfer schools when they were close to being black belts, but I knew it was because in the short time we had been open, we already had a reputation of being the best.

  If you were even a little bit into karate, you would have at least heard of one of us. We were the best, and we had the trophies and medals to prove it. That reputation was bringing in students left and right, but I couldn’t keep doing this on my own anymore.

  But, I wasn’t going to stress about that right now, because a knock on the front door made me jump, and I turned to see my next private lesson through the glass.

  My five-minute break was up, and it was back to the grind.

  Someone had to make Powerhouse a success, and that someone was going to be me.

  ******

  Get your engine running with the first book in the

  Nitro Crew Series!

  Burndown

  Nitro Crew Series

  Book 1

  Chapter 1

  Remy

  “You need to call your mother.”

  “I talked to her last week.”

  Lo cleared his throat. “We are talking about the same woman, right?”

  “The woman who treats me like I’m thirteen and not twenty-six.” I sighed and dropped the wrench on the workbench.

  “Okay, we’re talking about the same woman. So, you should know you need to call her, because if you don’t call her, then I have to deal with her, and while I love the hell out of your mother, I don’t want to deal with her like that.”

  “I’m well aware of the ways you like to handle my mother.” I shook my head, still trying to remove the image of what I had walked in on the last time I had been home. Thank God I had only seen Lo’s ass and my mom’s hand waving frantically. “You guys really shouldn’t do that on the kitchen table. People eat there.”

  “And most people knock before they walk into someone's house.”

  I ducked out the side door of the shop and leaned against the brick wall. “This is what you called to talk to me about?”

  “When did you become such an asshole?”

  “Got that from you,” I mumbled.

  “Humph. You might wanna tone that down when you’re talking to me. I could kick your ass.”

  “I always do enjoy these talks, Lo.” He was an ass half of the time, but he was a good guy. Plus, he kept my mom happy, so I couldn’t really find any fault with him.

  His deep chuckle traveled through the phone. “Just call your mom when you get the chance. And by that, I mean call her today.”

  He disconnected the call before I could say any more. That was his way. He said what he needed to, and that was it.

  “Don’t you think you should be working on the car instead of gabbing on the phone?”

  I shoved my phone into my pocket and twisted around to see Roc walking across the parking lot with a cup of coffee in his hand. From talking to one asshole to another.

  “Just talking to Lo.”

  “Should I care who Lo is?” He stood in front of me with his hand in his pocket, looking like the asshole he was—ripped and tattered jeans, black boots, and a tight shirt stretched across his chest. I don’t think I have ever seen him in anything other than what he was wearing today other than the color of the shirt varying. Today, he had on the same blue as the main sponsor for the Brooks Cummings Racing Team. Also known as the race team I was finally part of.

  I shook my head. “Probably not. Just my mom’s husband.”

  “Well, you can chit-chat on your own time. Right now, I need that new engine dropped into the car before five. We have time at the track tomorrow afternoon to see if it’ll run well enough for the first race of the season.” Roc nodded to the shop. “Once the engine is droppe
d, you can help with the clutch.”

  Roc wandered off around the building, leaving me stewing.

  This was my dream job, but I fucking hated it because it wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined my dream job. I was working for a top five NHRA team, but all I did was assist the clutch and driveline specialist. That was the job I really wanted. A specialist.

  I needed to be grateful for the job I had since I was one of the youngest pit crew guys out there, but damn if I didn’t want more. I could do the job. I just needed to put in my time and prove that I was here to stay.

  “Get to work, Grain,” Roc called.

  Son of a bitch. That guy was on me like white on rice. I looked around but didn’t even see Roc. How the hell did he know I was still standing here if I couldn’t even see him?

  “You need me to talk to him? Ask him to go easy on you?”

  Fucking Frankie. “Still think you showed him your tits to get on his good side.”

  She stuck her head out the side door and laughed. “He’s too old for me. I’m more into guys who couldn’t pass for being my dad.”

  “That picky attitude is what’s keeping you from finding a guy, Frank.”

  She shook her head. “Probably has to do with the fact people call me Frank, and I always have grease under my nails.”

  I grabbed the rag out of my back pocket and tossed it at her. “That’ll help.”

  She rolled her eyes. “A dirty shop towel sure is going to fix all of my problems.” She held open the door. “You helping me get the computer hooked up would actually help me more.”

  “You really think they are going to let me help you? Roc thinks the only thing I’m good for is standing over Ronald and handing him a wrench now and then.” I hadn’t been as lucky as Frankie. We had both gone through High Performance Engine Building in school, along with ten other courses that had prepared us to be on the Cummings Racing Team, but Frankie had stood out with her natural ability with computers and her eye for detail.