Page 2 of Alpha Biker Daddy

"That could have been fatal," he remarked, and I nodded as I sat down at the table, careful not to bump my bandaged hand on anything.

"Broke my wrist and nearly dislocated every bone in my fingers," I told him when I noticed the way he was staring at my cast. "Chase wasn't happy either way. He wanted Hank out the second he saw how badly my narrow miss had messed up my hand." Jagger shook his head as he sipped his coffee.

"Better you than his precious bike," he allowed as he watched me. "Any idea how they plan to make up for being short their best mechanic and painter?" I shrugged as I stared down into my coffee.

"Chase said something about some new worker who owes some big debt coming in to work off the debt as a mechanic," I informed him, still bitter from the news. "Whoever the sap is, I hope they have more common sense than Hank when it comes to vehicles, or Chase may go out for blood." Everyone knew that, if there was one thing Chase loved more than money, it was his bike.

"I'm pretty sure anyone with more intelligence than a chicken has more common sense than Hank," Jagger chuckled as he sipped his coffee. "That being said…" We both burst into laughter, and I narrowly avoided a misdirected nudge into my cast. Meanwhile, Hank came into the kitchen, a playful expression on his face.

"I heard that," he remarked as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "Anyways, how's your hand?" I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"Better than it could be, no thanks to you," I told him. "The next time you decide to go running around the shop, make sure you don't go running into solid objects. You're not a ghost or anything, so you can't walk through solid objects." Hank made a funny face, mocking me, before dipping his coffee.

"Well, sorry about your hand," he continued, his tone nonchalant and a bit smug. "I guess I'll be stuck making all the repairs and doing the paint jobs for the next few months." Unable to take how annoyingly stuck up Hank was acting, Jagger shook his head.

"I wouldn't be so sure," he warned him as he got up to pour himself more coffee. "Chase got himself some more help for the shop, so you won't be left to do all the work by yourself." Hatred and anger, followed by disbelief, flashed in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Is he serious?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Some poor sap owed a lot of money, so Chase hired him on as extra help," I recounted. "Also, the next time you decide to tip over someone's bike, make sure it's anyone's but Chase's. He would have killed us both if you had so much as scratched the new paint." Hank shrugged as he sat down.

"Well, good thing you caught it," he breathed before taking a sip of coffee. "Though, in my opinion, it would have been all the better if you hadn't broken your wrist in the process." Anger rose in me as I rose to my feet.

"Listen here, you conniving shit stained weasel," I snapped, but movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned to look at the new arrivals.

Chase stood there in the doorway, and he looked more pissed than he had been all day. He was dressed in his standard oily muscle shirt and ripped jeans, and, behind him, stood a tiny woman with long, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Immediately, I felt my attention shift to the woman as Chase spoke.

"What did I tell you about fighting in the house?" Chase demanded as he looked around the room. Hank stopped and looked innocently at him.

"It's not my fault, boss," he protested, trying to play the part of the loyal henchman perfectly. "I was just asking how he felt when he snapped at me. It's probably the meds they put him on for the pain." Chase narrowed his eyes as he stared Hank down, cold rage deepening his expression.

"Shut the hell up," he ordered, and Hank's mouth clamped shut as if under some sort of spell. "The only reason why I'm not kicking your ass out onto the streets is because I can't afford any more workers leaving." Taking a deep breath, he took a step back, revealing the woman. "Anyways, meet our new mechanic, Sarah Andrews." The three of us stopped and stared in amazement at the woman before us.

She was wearing the gray mechanic uniform from Andrews Auto Shop from across town, and the name finally clicked. She was the daughter of Darren Andrews, a local mechanic who got diagnosed with cancer, and he had taken out a loan from Chase in order to help pay for his treatment and the cost of business being down due to how sick he was. I felt really bad for him and often offered to help him with his clients, but he continuously turned me down because he didn't want to owe us more than he already did. I saw her on occasion when visiting him, but I never paid much attention to her. Seeing that Chase had brought her in to help repay her father's debt, I began to feel a little worried. Hank seemed to recover faster than I did and smiled at her.

"Well, this is a surprise," he said as he offered her his hand. "Might I assume you'll be here for a while?" Chase shoved him away from her, seeming possessive over the new recruit.

"She's only here until she repays her father's debt," he reminded us. "I won't allow any funny business. If any of you do anything to hurt her or anything that she doesn't consent to, I'll have your balls hanging off my bike as a decoration. Am I clear?"

CHAPTER THREE

Sarah

Even though Chase made it perfectly clear that no one was allowed to touch me, I had never felt more uncomfortable where I was standing in all my life. I felt as though I was in a cage with a pack of hungry wolves, all of whom would close in for the kill at any point. All I wanted was to get out of there and back to the work I loved, but fear was starting to set in again, making tears threaten to stream down my cheeks. Seeing my discomfort, Chase continued with the introductions.

"Sarah, this is Jagger, Adam, and Hank," he said, pointing at each man individually. "They'll be keeping an eye on you and making sure you have everything you need to pay off your debt." Adam, the one with the broken wrist smiled as he offered me his left hand, the one that wasn't broken.

"It's nice to meet you," he said politely, and I gave an awkward smile as I attempted to shake his hand. After three failed attempts thanks to how awkward and unnatural it felt, he waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. "Anyways, you want me to show you around?" After seeing the hungry look of the other men, I nodded eagerly, hoping to escape their watchful gazes and get somewhere a little less awkward.

"Yes, please," I said, and he motioned for me to follow him. All eyes were on me, burning holes into me as I walked, and I grew even more eager to escape them all.

Adam led me out the kitchen door and out into a dirt lot that was brimming with activity. There was a warehouse that seemed to double as a repair shop across the lot, and the only other signs of life were three other houses nearby. Several motorcycles occupied the area, and the occasional rider passed by, waving at Adam before riding off or disappearing into one of the houses. The back lot looked a lot different up lose than it had from the front of the house when I first arrived that morning with Chase. As we walked, Adam smiled and looked over his shoulder at me.

"Chase is a bit rough around the edges, but everyone else is pretty nice," he reassured me, but I didn't feel any better. As if sensing my hesitation, he continued. "You know, if anyone tries to hurt you, you can always come to me. I'm only a mechanic, but I can hold my own in a fight regardless." I raised an eyebrow at him as my gaze landed on his cast.

"Is that how you hurt your hand?" I asked, my curiosity causing the words to escape me before I had a chance to stop it. Rather than taking offense, he chuckled and looked down at his arm.

"No, that was a different situation," he admitted, looking a bit sheepish as he spoke. "One of the guys I was working with knocked over a bike I was painting yesterday, and I broke my wrist trying to catch it before it got damaged." It was at that exact moment I realized the truth.