Page 24 of Sin

“What are you doing?”

“Well, this customer wants the body to be taken up over the wheel.” I point to the area, “This is the fender. Normally I would bend and form the metal on a machine, but this was an afterthought, so I wanted to see what I could do by hand first. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll go back to the usual way of doing things.”

“You really enjoy doing this don’t you?”

“I do. Creating and designing are a few of the things that bring me joy. I wanted to be doing this for the military, but it didn’t work out.” I look over to her and see that she’s paying attention. “What are your dreams, Savannah?”

“I’m not sure really. I want a life that I can be proud of. I want to be my own person. Maybe make a name for myself somehow.”

“Those dreams aren’t unrealistic.” I tug at the metal. “Can you hand me those pliers?” I point to the blue handled pliers that are by her feet. She holds them out and I take them, brushing her hand in the process. Our eyes lock when we touch. She gives me a small smile, pulling away and tucking that same wayward strand behind her ear again.

“What are your dreams?” She asks me.

“Not everyone has dreams, Savannah. Not everyone has the liberty to have them.” I pull at the metal, working the sharp edge, bending it. I hear the rolling of the stool as she comes closer to me. She puts her hand on my jean-clad thigh.

“Not everyone may have the liberty, but everyone deserves them.” The warm air from her breath on my neck causes chills to roll over my body.

I place my hand on top of hers. She turns hers over and pushes her fingers through mine, intertwining them. There's grease under my nails, dirt that has worked its way through the rough calluses of my hands. Hers are clean with polished nails and smooth, soft skin. The contrast between the two is so remarkable. My rough hands, hands of a man who has let down so many who have depended on him. Hands, which are so strong but can also, be so weak. Her hands, hands of a woman who still has dreams. She can accomplish everything she wants with those hands.

My gaze settles on her and I feel as though I’m really seeing her for the first time. She has sprinkles of soft freckles along the bridge of her nose. There’s a small scar on the top of her lip. I want to ask her what happened, but I’m afraid of her answer. The bruising along her face is fading; the swelling gone. Her eyes are a clear blue; they remind me of a summer day. She squeezes my hand bringing me back to the present. I swallow, my mouth overly dry. “What’s your dream, Savannah?” I repeat.

“To be happy.” She answers as she searches my eyes.

“Then you’ll be happy.” I give her a small smile and remove my hand from hers.

*****

Her dreams and what she wants out of life are always on replay in my mind. I remind myself on a daily basis that she deserves so much more than I can ever give her. She deserves a man who can cherish her without disappointing her. A man who can give her the house, the family and the dreams of her happiness. She wants a life she can be proud of and there isn’t anything about me to be proud of. I won’t taint her beauty with my sin. I can’t let what I’ve done ruin a life she’s finally able to live. I won’t allow it. There are still some things in my life I can control.

I squat down at my bike, getting ready to wrench. I’d notice it hasn’t been running as it used to, it’s time that I break it down, take it apart. My eyes flick to where Savannah and Hawk are still talking. I need distractions from her. Distractions are key when you’re trying to keep yourself from making huge mistakes, and there isn’t a better distraction than a custom Fury super low bike with a V-Twin Engine.

The revving of an unfamiliar engine makes me stop what I’m doing. A couple of the other guys around the garage also turn to see what is happening. This isn’t typical, but it’s always safer to know what’s going on around us. Especially when the last bounty we took care of is so fresh. Retaliation isn’t something that’s uncommon in our line of work. That’s another reason why I want Fury to take off, so our backs are no longer in danger of being taken out. A black SUV comes barreling down the street, into view, screeching its tires as the driver slams on the brakes. The car jerks to a stop behind my mother’s car and the passenger door flies open as a dark-haired man steps out. He’s in a suit, and looks to be younger than I am, maybe in his mid-twenties. Realization hits me as to who the fucker is.

“Get Cut, now!” I yell over my shoulder as I take off in a full sprint. I hear Hawk’s voice over the pounding of my heart and the swooshing of blood that has suddenly filled my ears.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, man?” He stands next to Savannah, who has gone completely still, her face pale with fear. I approach them and go straight for Savannah, making sure she sees my face, letting her know it’s going to be okay.

Tyson ignores Hawk’s outburst; he ignores me as well. He’s only looking at Savannah; his only concern seems to be her. “Oh, my God, Savannah, I’ve been worried sick.” He looks up at the sky, running his hand over his face. “I didn’t know what happened.” He tone is soft, his expression seeming sincere. “I came home and you were gone. Jesus, baby. I’ve been freaking out.”

He takes a step towards her, holding out his hand just as I pull her to me. He flicks his eyes to me, his jaw tightening and his nostrils flaring. It’s the little things that are the telltale signs of being pissed off and Tyson may show concern on his face, but his rigid body tells me he’s pissed. I keep my stare trained on him as I hear others approach. I catch the closing of my mother’s screen door, signaling that she’s watching at well.

“Sugar.” I squeeze her wrist letting her know that I’m here; everything’s going to be alright.

“I didn’t think to look into the GPS on your car. I would have been here a lot sooner. I’m such an idiot.” He begins to pace as my eyes follow his every movement. I haven’t let go of her wrist, and I don’t plan on it. Her pulse is racing, she’s beyond scared.

“What do you want?” I ask.

He stops and finally acknowledges me, he eyes falling behind me, probably taking in the five or six huge ass motherfuckers I know are at my back. “I’m here for Savannah.” He steps forward and extends his hand to me. “I’m Tyson Redding, Savannah’s fiancé.” There’s no way I’m shaking this fuckers hand. Dropping his hand, he gives me a small smile and a nod of his head.

“I don’t think so.” My voice is low, making his hand drop.

“Sin.” My brother says my name in warning.

I size Tyson up. He’s slightly smaller than I am in stature and certainly not close to me in girth. You can tell he’s had his life handed to him on a silver platter. There isn’t anything hard about this man. Total desk jockey, through and through.

“I don’t know who you are or why she’s here, but thank you. Thank you for looking after her.”

“You mean like you look after her?” Savannah places her hand on my forearm.