Piston (Iron Reapers MC #2)

Chapter 2

TWO

PISTON BLACKSTONE

The dingy walls of my apartment close in on me like a goddamn coffin. I shift in the creaky wooden chair, my back aching from another day of riding. The half-empty bottle of Jack stares back at me, begging to numb the memories that won't quit. Some nutjob drones on about lizard people in the government on the podcast, but I can't focus for shit.

Just got back from a run for the club, delivering a "package" up north. The kind of job that keeps the cash flowing but eats away another piece of your soul. Can't shake the images - the pleading eyes, the sound of bones snapping. It's enough to make a grown man puke his guts out. But weakness ain't an option in this life. You bury that shit deep and keep moving.

I take a swig straight from the bottle, welcoming the burn. Memories of my army days flash like muzzle flashes in my mind. The screams of my buddies as bullets tore through them. The weight of their dog tags in my hand as I sent them home in boxes. And for what? So some suits could play their political chess games?

Fuck, I need to get out of my own head. The road is the only thing that helps, the rumble of the engine drowning out the noise. But even that's just a temporary fix, a bandaid on a gushing wound. This life, it marks you, stains your soul until you can't recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.

The podcast cuts to a commercial, something about dick pills. I turn it off and toss back another shot. Gotta be ready for whatever the club needs next. This is the only family I got left. The only thing that gives me purpose, even if it's just being another cog in the machine.

I stand up, joints popping like firecrackers. Time to hit the sack, rest up for another day in the life. The bottle's empty now, just like me. But there's no rest for the wicked, especially for a man running from his own demons. I'll face them again tomorrow, like always. It's the only way I know how to survive in this world.

Jenny's face flashes through my mind again, uninvited. Those dark eyes, the way they seemed to see right through my bullshit at the bar. I shake my head, trying to dislodge her image. I can't afford any distractions, not in this life.

But she's stuck in there now, like a goddamn splinter under my skin. The way her hair fell across her shoulders, the quirk of her lips when she caught me staring. Shit. I'm acting like a fucking teenager with a crush.

I pace the room, my boots heavy on the scuffed floorboards. This is stupid. I'm not built for anything more than a quick fuck and a goodbye. Seen too much, done too much. My heart's a blackened lump of coal in my chest, good for nothing but keeping the engine running.

So why can't I shake this feeling? This spark she's ignited in me, like a live wire under my ribs. It's dangerous, a liability. In my world, attachments get you killed or worse.

I slam my fist against the wall, welcoming the sting of split knuckles. Physical pain I can deal with. It's the other shit that's gonna tear me apart. I've spent years building these walls, layers of scar tissue and indifference. And now, one bartender with a sharp tongue and a knowing look has me questioning everything.

Fuck me. I need to get my head on straight. The club, the missions, that's what matters. Not some pipe dream of a normal life, a happy ending. That shit's not for men like me. We're the ones who live in the shadows, the ones who do the dirty work so everyone else can sleep easy at night.

I sit back down, my knees cracking like gunshots in the stillness. The bottle's calling my name again, but I resist. Need to keep a clear head, stay sharp. Can't let myself get soft, not now. Not ever.

But even as I close my eyes, she's there. A flicker of warmth in the darkness, a promise of something I can never have. I curse under my breath, resigned to another restless night haunted by a woman I barely know. Just another ghost to add to my collection, another reminder of the life I've chosen.

The memory of that first night at Perdition is seared into my brain like a brand. I'd just finished a job, adrenaline still pumping through my veins, when I walked into the bar looking for a drink and nothing more. And there she was, all fiery eyes and no-bullshit attitude.

"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice cutting through the din of the crowded bar.

I leaned against the counter, trying to play it cool. "Whiskey, neat. And a smile, if you've got one to spare."

Her eyes narrowed, and I knew I'd stepped in it. "Fresh out of smiles, but I've got plenty of whiskey. That'll be eight bucks."

I slid a ten across the bar, my mouth running before my brain could catch up. "Keep the change, sweetheart. Maybe you can buy yourself a sense of humor."

The bar went quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I felt a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. Mason, the club's enforcer, stood there with murder in his eyes.

"You got a problem, brother?" he growled, his grip tightening.

I held up my hands, realizing too late the line I'd crossed. "No problem, man. Just a misunderstanding."

Mason leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "That's Jenny, Carlie's best friend. She's off-limits, you hear me? You don't talk to her, you don't look at her, you don't even think about her. Or we're gonna have a real problem."

I nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. I'd disrespected Mason's old lady's friend, and in this world, that was a sin that couldn't go unpunished.

"My bad, brother. Won't happen again," I assured him, hoping to defuse the situation.

Mason released his grip, his eyes still boring into mine. "See that it doesn't."

As he walked away, I glance at Jenny. She’s watching me, her expression unreadable. I wanted to apologize, to explain that I wasn't usually such an asshole, but the words stuck in my throat.

I grabbed my drink and retreated to a corner booth, my mind reeling. I'd always prided myself on being smooth, on knowing how to navigate any situation. But with Jenny, I'd been thrown off balance, my usual charm deserting me.

I nursed my whiskey, stealing glances at her as she worked. The way she moved, the confidence in her every gesture, it was like a siren song calling to me. But I knew I had to stay away, had to keep my distance.

Getting involved with Jenny would be like playing with fire, and I'd already been burned too many times. The scars on my body were nothing compared to the ones on my soul, the ones that never seemed to heal.

I finished my drink and slipped out of the bar, the cool night air a welcome relief. But even as I straddled my bike and revved the engine, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, that my world had tilted on its axis.

Jenny was a complication I couldn't afford, a distraction I didn't need. But damn if I couldn't get her out of my head, couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to see her smile, to hear her laugh.

I gunned the throttle, the roar of the engine drowning out my thoughts. I had to focus on the road ahead, on the next job, the next mission. Anything to keep me from thinking about the one woman I could never have.

The open road stretched out before me, a ribbon of black asphalt cutting through the darkness. I pushed the bike harder, feeling the wind whip against my face, the vibrations of the engine thrumming through my bones.

But no matter how fast I rode, I couldn't outrun the memory of Jenny's eyes, the way they seemed to see right through me. It was like she could sense the shadows that clung to me, the ghosts that haunted my every step.

I knew I should stay away, knew that getting involved with her would only bring trouble. But there was a part of me, a part I thought had died a long time ago, that yearned for something more, something real.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I was a fool to even consider it, to think that someone like Jenny could ever understand the life I led, the choices I'd made.

The Iron Reapers were my family, my brothers in arms. We looked out for each other, had each other's backs no matter what. But the price of that loyalty was high, and I'd paid it more times than I could count.

I couldn't drag Jenny into that world, couldn't risk her getting caught in the crossfire. She deserved better than that, better than me.

I turned off the highway, taking the exit that would lead me back to the clubhouse. I needed to focus on the next job, needed to bury myself in the work until the memory of Jenny's face faded away.

But even as I pulled into the parking lot, I knew it wouldn't be that easy. Jenny had gotten under my skin, had awakened something in me that I thought was long dead.

I just had to make sure it stayed that way, had to keep my distance no matter how much it hurt. Because in the end, the only thing that mattered was keeping her safe, even if it meant walking away from the one thing I wanted most.

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, but it did little to numb the ache in my chest. I set the bottle back on the table with a heavy thud, my eyes drifting to the shadows that danced across the walls of my dimly lit apartment.

I couldn't shake the image of Jenny from my mind, the way her brown hair fell in soft waves around her face, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. It was like a goddamn disease, eating away at me from the inside out.

I never should have gone back to Perdition, never should have let myself get drawn into her orbit. But there was something about her, something that made me want to spill my guts and lay all my cards on the table.

"Get a grip, Piston," I muttered to myself, running a hand over my face. "You're no good for her, and she's sure as hell no good for you."

But even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were a lie. Jenny was everything I wasn't - kind, compassionate, full of life. She made me want to be a better man, made me want to leave behind the violence and the chaos that had defined my existence for so long.

It was a pipe dream, of course. I was too far gone, too broken to ever be the kind of man she deserved. But that didn't stop me from wanting her, from imagining what it would be like to wake up next to her every morning and fall asleep with her in my arms every night.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my mind. It was a dangerous road to go down, one that could only lead to heartache and pain. I had to keep my distance, had to protect her from the darkness that followed me like a shadow.

But as I sat there in the stillness of my apartment, the loneliness that had been my constant companion for so long seemed to press in on me from all sides. I was tired of being alone, tired of pushing everyone away for their own good.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to let Jenny in without putting her in danger. Maybe I could find a way to balance my loyalty to the Iron Reapers with my growing feelings for her.

But even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew it was a fool's hope. The life I lived, the things I'd done - they would always be a part of me, always be a barrier between me and anyone who tried to get too close.

I reached for the bottle again, taking another long swig of whiskey. It was going to be a long night, but at least the alcohol would help dull the ache in my chest, even if only for a little while.

The Iron Reapers were my family, my brothers. We'd been through hell and back together, and I owed them everything. The club gave me a sense of purpose, a reason to keep going when the demons of my past threatened to drag me under.

I thought about the missions we'd been on, the people we'd helped. It wasn't always pretty, and it sure as hell wasn't legal, but it was important work. We made a difference in the world, even if no one else knew it.

But the cost was high. I'd seen good men die, watched as their families mourned them. I'd taken lives myself, all in the name of the club. It weighed on me, the knowledge of what I'd done, what I was capable of.

And now, with Jenny in the picture, the cost seemed even higher. I couldn't drag her into this life, couldn't put her at risk. She deserved better than that, better than me.

I drained the last of the whiskey, feeling the familiar burn as it slid down my throat. I had to focus on the club, on the next mission. There was no room for distractions, no matter how much I might want them.

I stood up, grabbing my cut from the back of the chair. It was time to get to work, to do what needed to be done. I had to bury my feelings for Jenny, had to push them down deep where they couldn't hurt anyone.

It was the only way to keep her safe, the only way to keep the club strong. I'd chosen this life, and I had to see it through, no matter how much it might hurt.

As I stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting my face, I felt a sense of resolve settle over me. I was a member of the Iron Reapers, a soldier in a never-ending war. And I would fight until my last breath, even if it meant losing everything else along the way

The roar of my bike cut through the stillness as I tore out of the parking lot, gravel spraying behind me. I didn't know where I was going, just that I needed to ride, to feel the wind against my face and the power of the machine beneath me.

My thoughts were a tangled mess, images of Jenny mixing with memories of the club, of the battles we'd fought and the brothers we'd lost. It was all so fucking complicated, and I didn't know how to make sense of it.

Part of me wanted to say screw it all, to walk away from the club and the life I'd chosen. But I knew I couldn't do that, not after everything we'd been through together. The Iron Reapers were my family, the only one I had left, and I couldn't turn my back on them now.

So I rode, pushing the bike harder and faster, the engine screaming as I flew down the highway. I let the rush of adrenaline wash over me, let it drown out the doubt and the confusion, until there was nothing left but the road ahead.

I didn't know what the future held, didn't know if I'd ever find a way to balance my loyalty to the club with my growing feelings for Jenny. But for now, all I could do was keep moving forward, keep fighting for what I believed in, even if it meant sacrificing everything else.

As the miles flew by, I felt a sense of clarity start to take hold. I was a warrior, a fighter, and I would never back down from a challenge. Whatever came next, I would face it head-on, with the strength and determination that had gotten me this far.