Page 5 of Born to Scar

CHAPTER 3

INDY

My bike. My bike. My fucking bike. Gone. I’m not going to be able to pay to fix this. How did this go from one of the best nights to one of the worst? In seconds. Not the worst. Not by far. But that doesn’t take away from this shit show. The police are finally gone, and Micky tells me he’s called Bik and told him everything that went down here tonight.

The old man who crushed my bike is standing silently by his SUV, waiting for the hotel to send a tow truck and another driver to pick him and Cameron up. The fuck do they need a tow truck for? That SUV isn’t fucked. My bike is fucked.

Fucking Cameron. If he hadn’t come here tonight, my bike wouldn’t be a crumpled mess.

“I need a drink,” I mutter, walking back inside, taking a lowball glass full of bourbon and sucking it back in one sip. After pouring another, I suck that back too. I pour another. Everyone who stayed is at the bar.

“You need to pace yourself, Indy.” Micky’s voice breaks through my panicky inner dialogue. “I won’t be able to take you home tonight if you can’t hang on,” he reasons.

“Fucking throw me off a bridge instead,” I grit out, earning me a chuckle from the men at the bar; though, I’m being very, very serious.

That bike is my lifeline. If the hotel doesn’t pay, my insurance will skyrocket, and I can’t afford that. I slam my fist down and throw the lowball at the wall by the door just as Cameron walks through, stopping him dead.

“That wasn’t on purpose,” Kia calls out.

Except it was. He was walking back in, and I’m pissed. Too bad I missed his head. He nods and approaches us. My eyes stay narrowed on him. My jaw clenches. He’s a lawyer, and that makes my skin crawl.

“I have the photos you’ll need. If you give me your number, I can send them to you,” he says, pulling his phone out.

“Cameron, I don’t have the money to fight this, but thanks.”

“Cam.”

“What?” I snap.

“I prefer Cam.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, Cam. I don’t have the time or money to fight this.” My eyes well with more tears. “I won’t be able to race,” I whisper, lowering my head to my hands.

I haven’t missed a race since I met Bik.

“Judging by the damage and age, the insurance company would probably pay you out before fixing it. But it will be lengthy. Like I said, they will do anything they can to avoid paying for this, and part of that is dragging out the process. Legal fees,” Cam adds not realizing my world is falling apart around me.

The door flings open, and Bik comes strolling through. He is a big, muscle-baring man with long blond hair pulled into a man bun, tattoos, and a split tongue. He is older but only has fifteen or so years on us.

I run over to him, and he wraps me in a hug. He’s like a dad to me. He’s never once wanted anything from me, except for me to finish school and be safe. That’s much more than I can say about my actual father, but he knows my story. He was there when I got my scars covered. He was the one who pushed me to do it.

“We’ll figure this out, kiddo,” he reassures me. I love that he still calls me that after all these years. “So, the cops had to come?” he asks, with me still in his embrace. The men at the bar nod.

“Yes. For her to get the payout she is owed, she has to do everything the correct way,” Cam answers.

Bik nods. “Who are you?”

“Cameron Beck. My rental car broke down, and this was the closest place to stop. The at-fault driver came here to pick me up,” he says, sounding apologetic.

Bik’s eyes narrow on him for a second but soften quickly. He doesn’t trust him. “So, what now?” he asks.

“I don’t have the time or money to fight the hotel. And if I do this through my insurance, I’ll have to get a second job at Tongue and Groove to cover that bill.”

The men at the bar chuckle, except for Ray, and Bik looks pissed I’d even mention T&G.

“Tongue and Groove?” Cam questions.

“The hottest strip club in the city,” Jared answers, staring at me, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip.