Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 214

Cloe POV

Dad had always been a pain; he put my sister, Mia, first, in everything, even when she failed in school, he rewarded her like she was top of the class, whereas I was ignored, but was in the top five; she was all Dad ever wanted in a daughter. When she would ask for something, she got it straight away, no questions asked. All she had to do was sit on his lap, purr like a kitten, and bat her eyes at him, and he was putty in her hand. I had to do chores, or just didn’t get it at all, because he didn’t think I needed whatever it was I had asked for. I wouldn’t reduce myself to sitting on his lap; I might end up with another black eye if I tried anything like that.

He would never hit Mia, but me, yeah, when he was drunk, or had a bad day, I was hit punching bag, not to the stage where I am out cold, don’t think he would kill me, but a hit, or two, even a punch that broke my nose, then he would tell me to stay out of sight till I was healed, so he wouldn’t have to see the damage he had done. Doubt he was feeling guilty, just didn’t want to have to explain to his friends that he gave me a shiner. It was bad for his image; he wanted others to see.

The violence all started when my mother died four years ago, from breast cancer.

My brother Richard left home, he didn’t want to put up with Dad’s anger at the world, not that he got hit or anything, but they had lots of angry arguments and was not coping with the BS that was at home now, and then after my brother left, Dad suddenly had Mia with him all the time, like she was filling the void he had from losing mum, she looked more like her than I did, I had Dad’s brown hair and green eyes, where Mia was blonde hair, blue eyes, like Mum.

“Dad, don’t you think you should move the truck a bit further forward, you know, further off the road?” I asked, looking at the truck, which was not parked well, if you asked me, leaving it like this might hinder some of the larger trucks. I have my bike license, the moment I was old enough to get one, and I recently got my car license, and the lessons were still fresh in my head. The tail end of the truck was right up against the road, barely room for one of the larger trucks, a foot or two tops.

To me, it should be a good foot further in; there was plenty of space to move forward just a little bit more.

“Stay here and clean up the back of the truck. I want it spotless when I return, and Cleo! Just because you got your car license doesn’t mean you can tell me how to fuking drive and park my truck.” He growled at me and left with Mia by his side. She smirked over her shoulder at me and did a wave with her fingers as she sashayed away, loating that she didn’t have to work.

I put on some music on my phone and place one earbud in my ear, so I could hear if Dad yelled for something, which he often does. Instead of sending Mia to collect it, he yells at me to bring it to him, or if too far away, he will phone me. Yep, that’s my dear ole Dad for you. He has a girl right next to him, but calls out to me to do all the fetching and carrying, and the dirty jobs. Sometimes I feel more like a slave than a daughter.

A song I loved came on, and I was singing to it, shaking my azz to the music as I finished folding up the blankets, ready for when the car was back on the back of the truck, and swept the back, not that any dirt would dare land on the back of his truck. When I heard the sounds of Harleys, I thought, “One day, I will own one of those.” I love the heavy, deep sound it makes, a sound all of its own; it makes your chest vibrate with its rumbling noise. No other bike sounds like that, although some tried, but it’s never quite the same. I moved to the back of the truck, dangling my legs over the side, and looked at them as they moved about, the skill they had in moving those heavy bikes with ease. I rocked my legs to the music and sat back to enjoy the show of bikes as they rode nearby. There were a lot of bikes at this show and shine. I heard that the local bike club had someone good at artwork, and I was looking forward to seeing some of the designs on the bikes. My love for bikes came from my Mum; she loved to ride until she got too sick.

I was enjoying the bikes as they rode by, that was until a loud screech of metal hitting metal, and the truck lurched and vibrated, and then some intense pain, nothing I have ever endured before, it was so painful, it had me screaming my lungs out, and I fell backwards from the jolt of the truck and from the shock and pain, not sure what happen or what to do, I hurt so much, and I couldn’t even say where the pain originated from, it was out of this world, and I was lost to the pain, my brain not yet kicking in, telling me check out the pain origins.

So I lay there, trying to get a grip on myself and get over the shock and pain.

I have had pain before, nothing this bad, but pain nonetheless. I need to think.

Breathe, that’s it, deep, slow breaths, one deep one in, then blow it out slowly.

Not working, the pains too great, I thought through gritted teeth.

Then an angel was there, right in front of my face. He had the bluest eyes I have ever seen, staring at me with concern. I wanted to wipe that worry off his face. No one looking as good as him should ever have pain and worry on his face like that.

He was talking to someone about belts, and he was fiddling with my thighs, what?

Is he touching me?

Was he playing with my legs?

I can’t feel anything but pain, coursing through me.

Oh no, did I shave lately?

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