Chapter FIVE

MITCH’S BOOTS were loud on the tiled floor as he stepped through the glass doors on Friday morning and into the brightly lit showroom. The Cummings’s motorcycle business was, at least on paper, successful, and it looked it. Glossy beige tiles, more suited to the entrance foyer of a grand home, covered the entire room, which was massive. Huge columns supported the ceilings, and raised platforms were scattered around. Mitch walked around the platforms, admiring the expensive machines on display. He’d always had a thing for bikes; there was something freeing about hitting the road with the power of the bike and the sound of the wind.

As he wandered, he scoped the place. The far wall displayed accessories with a reception desk in front. The young woman who stood behind the desk was on the phone. A couple of customers were talking to a sales guy who was showing them a motorcycle. Another staff member sat at a desk filling in paperwork with a suit-clad customer. Adjacent to the desk was a wall with a number of doors, most likely offices and perhaps storage. A large sign above a door at the rear indicated the exit to the service department.

From the corner of his eye, Mitch watched the sales guy approach. Jeans, heavy boots, and a navy long-sleeved shirt bearing the CMC logo of Cummings Motorcycles over the pocket. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the ink on his forearms.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

Mitch turned to face the guy, schooling his features when he saw it was none other than Warren Jones, Rocky Cummings’s second-in-command. With his shaved head and jagged scar across his forehead, his appearance would have been confronting, but his smile was genuine as he gently stroked the leather seat of the Harley.

“Yep,” Mitch said. “Shame she’s out of my price range.” Over fifty thousand dollars would be out of a lot of people’s price range.

“You looking for a bike? Maybe there’s something else I can show you.” The guy waved a hand to indicate the showroom, providing a flash of the tattoo on his forearm. Fury flames.

“I wish, mate. Unfortunately I’m just here to see about getting my bike serviced.”

“Yeah? Whatcha got?”

“Harley-Davidson Sportster. It’s a few years old, and I’d love to upgrade, but money’s tight, you know?”

“I hear ya, mate. We just need to win Lotto.”

“Or rob a bank,” Mitch said. “There’s got to be an easier way to earn some cash than the bloody nine-to-five, and now they want to cut my hours. Boss is an arsehole.” Mitch allowed his voice to trail off. “Sorry about my whinging. You don’t need to hear my shit.”

“No worries, mate. I feel ya. There’s nothing worse than a crap job. Is there anything else I can do for ya today, or just the service?”

“Unfortunately just the service.”

“The workshop is out back.” He pointed at the sign Mitch had seen earlier. “You can walk through that way, but the main vehicle entrance is from the side street.” The guy indicated the direction. “You’ll need to take ya bike in that way. But if you head out back now, you can make an appointment. There’s an office attached to the workshop.”

“Cool.”

Mitch followed him toward the rear door. As they passed the doors Mitch assumed were offices, one of them opened, and the person coming out nearly knocked Mitch off his feet. He automatically raised his arms and caught the guy who barreled into him.

“Sor—” The words died in Mitch’s throat as Finn looked up at him, eyes wide. The deep golden color of his skin emphasized his eyes, which, now that they were up close, Mitch could see were a striking blue-gray. His face was beautiful, but the scruff ensured he bordered more on sexy rather than pretty.

Chest to chest, Mitch could feel the strength of the body against him and the puff of warm air against his throat. He sucked in a breath. Pine and sandalwood.

“Finn. Get your arse back in here. We haven’t finished talking yet.”

The angry tones of the man calling from the room broke their gaze, and Finn peered over his shoulder and back into the office. The muscles under Mitch’s palms where he gripped Finn’s arms tensed and bunched. Oh shit! He was still holding Finn close.

Mitch dropped his hands and stepped back. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

Finn snapped his head around to look at Mitch, but he met Mitch’s eyes for only a moment before dropping his gaze and mumbling an apology. “I’m fine. Sorry, it was my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

“No harm done.” Mitch nodded and walked away. He wanted to stay and talk but had no choice but to follow Jones, who was standing holding the external door open.

He couldn’t think of a single opening for conversation anyway, not with all the blood that had rushed away from his head.

FINN STORMED back into the office. “What the hell was that, Rocky?” he hissed.

“You don’t walk away from me when I’m still talking to you.”

“I think we said all we need to say.”

“I’ll be the one to say when we’ve finished. Don’t you forget that you work for me.”

“I—”

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t finish that thought. Do you think I’m stupid? I know you’re pissed off that I’ve made you come back, but it’s time you paid back for everything I’ve done for you.”

“What have you done for me, Rocky? ’Cause I’m having trouble remembering.”

“Don’t be a smart-arse, boy. Who do you think paid for your education? All those fucking years at uni.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “It was Carl who supported me when I wanted to study. You didn’t want me to go. It was Carl who encouraged me and told you to back off.”

“And Carl isn’t here anymore, is he?” The cold in Rocky’s voice sent a shiver through Finn. “You’re just lucky I let you stay in Melbourne. I could have easily made you come home.”

“The only reason you allowed me to finish my degree was so you could get your pound of flesh.”

“Now that’s the smart boy I know. I let you get that stupid piece of paper so you could start paying back. We’ve had this little chat before, and I’m not going to keep rehashing the same shit. You’ll work here for as long as I tell you. You’ll do the accounts and oversee the pub finances until I say I don’t want you around anymore.” Rocky rested his hands on the desk and leaned across toward Finn, hatred flaring in his eyes. “And when I don’t want you around anymore, you will definitely know about it.”

Finn swallowed hard. “I—”

“Good. I’m glad we’ve got that clear. I need you to hit the ground running and clean up Stan’s mess. Forty fucking years and we’re left in the lurch.”

“The man had a heart attack, for God’s sake. I don’t think he actually planned to leave things hanging.”

“Whatever.” Rocky straightened and walked around the desk. “We’ve wasted enough time. Now come out the back and I’ll show you around, introduce you to everyone.”

Show no fear. Don’t be pushed around. Finn straightened his shoulders and followed Rocky out of the office. He shot daggers at Rocky’s back, but it was fulfilling. Arsehole! How dare he lord it over Finn and try to rule his life? Finn snorted. Who was he kidding? Rocky did rule his life. He had Finn’s head in a noose, and that rope was getting tighter and tighter every day until Finn thought it would be only a matter of time until all the life was squeezed right out of him.

The door closed with a bang, the heat immediately hitting Finn as he walked across the concrete parking area toward the large machine shop. Huge roller doors were open, exposing the inner workshop, where mechanics worked on a range of bikes. The sun bounced off the ground, and Finn wished he were wearing shorts, not the heavy jeans that encased his legs. It was a relief to step into the shade of the building, although the temperature in the workshop wasn’t that much lower than outside.

Rocky stopped at an office with a large glass window that overlooked operations. Finn assumed it was the manager’s office. He’d never spent any time out there, mechanics not being something he was remotely keen on, and while he was growing up, he had done everything he could to avoid hanging out anywhere near Rocky. Rocky was a mechanic by trade, so this area was his domain. The closest Finn had got to the business was spending time with Carl after their father’s death. Carl had taken him under his wing and given Finn an overview of the operation, all their time spent safely in the main building and well out of Rocky’s way.

They waited outside the door, but it was only a moment or two before the occupants came out.

Finn’s heart nearly stopped beating when he saw it was the guy he’d run into earlier. Their gazes locked, and a strange electricity surged through him. The guy was gorgeous. He must have had at least four inches on Finn, forcing Finn to look up due to their close proximity. His brown eyes stared for a moment before he blinked.

“Sorry. Excuse me,” he murmured as he slid past. Finn watched his retreating back before Rocky’s voice snapped him back to the present.

“Another satisfied customer?” Rocky asked.

“Not yet. He’s booked his bike in for a service, though, so you never know.”

Rocky nodded. “Frank, this is Finn. I’m not sure if you remember him. Finn, this is Frank. He looks after the workshop now that I don’t have time to do it.”

Frank extended a hand, and Finn returned the handshake, glad when he could release the grease-stained fingers.

“G’day. Most people call me Blue. Nice to have Rocky’s little brother on board. You must be relieved to have finished school, and we’re bloody lucky to have you join us, what with what happened to Stan and all.”

Finn glanced at Rocky. “Sure,” he said reluctantly. “I’m really looking forward to putting everything I’ve learned into practice.”

“Good. Good.”

Rocky grasped Finn on the back of his neck as he addressed Blue. “I want the two of you to spend some time together once Finn gets a handle on what needs to be done. I trust you’ll work well together.” He squeezed his hand around Finn’s nape.

Frank nodded but didn’t look overly thrilled to know he’d have Finn looking over his shoulder. “I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

There was no point putting it off. Finn knew he had to face the inevitable, and there were reasons for getting to know the ins and outs of the operation.

He forced a smile onto his face. “Great. How about we start Monday? That’ll give me the weekend to get my stuff sorted, and then I’m all yours.”

Finn knew it was the right thing to say when Rocky beamed at him.