Lonely Souls (Book 10)

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If I thought I was annoyed with the airport travel and delays to get from California to Colorado, I should have waited until I got to the house to loose my shit.

"What the actual fuck, Jake?" I stood on the street, gaping at the monstrosity that my family had called a house.

It looked like it had once been a green, with a nice two part white porch, but now the paint was peeling, if not completely missing, it needed a new roof and was that a bird's nest in the actual storm gutter?

"We told you, it needs a lot of work," He chuckled, "No one's been there in a while."

"It needs a fucking bulldozer!" I whined, "Grams would die all over again if she saw this!"

I gaped at the the parts I could see from the sidewalk, between the overgrowth of plants and grass. It looked like a tree was growing through the damn porch itself.

"Hey now, that's prime realistate." He scolded me.

"Yes," I scoffed, "Right on a busy street, next to," I looked to the right and snorted, "A tattoo parlor. Shocker."

"They're bikers, Chloe," He told me, "I'd be shocked if Sparks didn't still own that place. You should head in and get inked up."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass." I rembered Sparks, and with the amount of booze that old guy consumed, it wasn't happening.

"Jake, when was the last time you were even here?" I gaped at the property.

"I don't know," He scoffed, "Around ten years ago."

"You are fucking scum!" I hissed, "I can't believe this!"

"It's been in our family for years," He huffed a sigh.

I looked around the house and found a garage that matched the broken down appearance of the house, but the driveway was so overgrown and narrow that no cars could get through. Although, apparently motorcycles could. Two Harley-Davidson's were parked in front of the decrepit thing.

"What are the chances that people are using your driveway as a parking lot?"

"Highly likely," He told me, "I mean, I haven't been there in years, but the tattoo shop always used it."

"If I go in there and squatters kill me, I'm going to haunt your ass!"

"I highly doubt the bikers next door would allow squatters." He chuckled again, "You're the only one I know who's capable of fixing that place up, since Grams taught you to do all that repair shit."

"You tricked me!" I shouted, "All of you! This is another trick to keep Chloe out of the way until someone pulls some shit or needs something done for them! I expected it from the others, but not from you! I'm not even your lawyer!"

"Actually, no one knows where you are," I could hear the smile in his voice, "We didn't want your location leaked, so Uncle Nick had it so all of your calls from anyone in the bands or at label company are being forwarded to Aunt Liv and Brianna, an actual cousin. You get to take your hiatus in a mountain town, with no one bothering you."

"You suck!"

"You need a fucking break." He snorted, "Chill out, update the house, focus on you and ignore the bullshit going on in New York, Maine and Cali."

"Who did what now?!"

"Chloe, we all love you, but Aunt Liv and Uncle Nick are worried about you. You've been working around the clock for years now. You're too young to die of a heart attack."

"Maybe my speeder will take me out." I grinned.

On my way from the airport, we drove this long, flat strip, with no traffic lights, no houses, no cars and beautiful views. I couldn't wait to get on my bike and check it out.

"That's not even something to joke about Chloe." His voice was stern and cold.

"Jake, did I say something to piss you off? It was just a joke."

"It wasn't a good one," He sighed, "I Love you, little cuz. Please be careful out there."

"Jake," I scratched my forehead, "I don't even know where to begin on the house. It's a mess."

"Have you even gone inside yet?"

"No," I whined, stomping my foot, "I'm scared."

"You will love the layout," He told me, "I promise."


"Ah, man." Smokey chuckled, "That bitch spread so quick I thought she was gonna pop a tit or something."

He was tellin' my client and me 'bout his latest one nighter and we were just havin' a good ole time.

"I don't know." My client chuckled, "I like a challenge."

"You a one chick kinda guy?" I asked my client.

"You kiddin'?" He scoffed, "My Ole Lady would kill me if I so as looked at another woman."

"Come on!" Smokey chuckled, "Your tryin ta tell me that if you an your Ole Lady were on a bike and a bangin' chick jogged across the front of it, that your head wouldn't jog along with her?"

"Yeah, then my head would be buried right feet under with my body."

"She watches that true crime shit don't she?"

"Hell yeah!" His eyes went wide, "She even told me exactly how she'd do it, what she'd do to my body and how she'd bury it."

"I'm a cop," Smokey chuckled, "And even I have to admit, these bitches know how to get away with shit nowadays."

Something caught my eye and I looked out my shopfront, where a chick that looked a little like a pixie stood on the side of the road, talkin' on her cell phone.

"What's she lookin' at?" My client asked.

"I think she's scoping out the empty property next to my shop." I didn't look away from her as I tried to figure her out.

She had a t-shirt on, but it was tucked into her dress pants. Dress pants? With heels? On the side of the road in a biker town?

"Who's the premadonna on the sidewalk?" Ali, my newest apprentice, asked as she walked into the front room, scoping the chick out.

"Who the hell knows." I shrugged and went back to inking the fucking bomb-ass Skull and Harley wheels on my client.

"She's shouting at someone on her phone." She scoffed, "She could be a crackhead."

"Nah," I smiled, "Kid's too clean cut."

"That chick's hot." Smokey nodded, "She's got a nice rack too."

I stopped and looked back at her. My friend was right, she was pretty fucking hot, for a college chick.

She had long reddish brown hair, pulled up in a tight ponytail with bangs that almost covered her eyes.

She looked like she belonged in the city with them clothes. The ticked in shirt did make her tits look big, and her waist small, but who the hell tucked their t-shirt into their pants around here?

"You want me to talk to her?" Smokey cocked a brow at me.

"I wonder if she bought that house." Ali whispered as she watched the girl, "She looks familiar, but I can't place her..."

"You go to school with her?" I asked.

"Maybe," She shrugged, "I hated those kids."

"We did too," Smokey told her, "You're Ole Man was down there almost every damn day."

"It's called droppin' her ass off an pickin it up," I shook my head with a chuckle, "Moron."

"Still took time away from the important shit, like chillin here with me." He was joking. I knew he was. My kid was just as important to him as she was to me.

We were thick, had been since we were kids, and he'd been my high when I hit rock bottom. He and Ali were the ones who brought me back.

"That thing hasn't been up for sale since Claire and Bruiser bought it back in the seventies." Ali stared curiously at the girl.

"And it hasn't been occupied since-"

"Don't fuckin' go there!" I glared at Smokey then turned back to work on my client. I wasn't going there in front of Ali and Smokey knew it.

I did my fucking time for my crime, but my time was nothing compared my damn sins. There was a reason they called me Church now.

"Oh, Church," Ali jumped with glee, "She's goin' inside! She is going inside!"

"What?!" I stood and put my pen down.

My client jumped.

"Sorry! Hold on!" I shouted as I ran outside to confront the chick. She was obviously trespassing. What the fuck was she doing?!

I used that driveway. She'd better not be fuckin' with my bike.
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