Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 220

Storm POV

The show and shine was over for me. It was good to see all the bikes, but the cars, I lost interest in the moment I saw Mr. Dawson and his skank daughter. I bet she bedded more guys than our Saturday night girls. She looked to be the time, with the way she acts around her Dad, I wouldn’t be shocked if she bedded him too. As sick as that sounds.

I ate two steak sandwiches and downed a bottle of water before we headed home. For something I had been looking forward to for weeks, today was disappointing. We would normally stay a lot longer, but my heart just wasn’t in it. Yesterday spoiled it all.

“What are you doing home so soon?” Mum asked, her arms full of washing.

“Saw Mr. Dawson and lost interest.” She looked at me, searching my face as I replied and nodded

as if she found or didn’t find what she was looking for. Dad can read me better than Mum, but I think she was worried about me. After the shock, I guess she was expecting me to lose it or something, and if not for my buddies, I might have done something stupid today.

“Come, I have your present.” We followed her to the workshop, and she turned on a spotlight.

There, in the light gleaming in all its glory, was a Fatboy, with my name painted on the tank and our club logo on the rear guard. It was beautiful, the mural was of a Dark storm cloud, and a silhouette of a face in the clouds.

My mates whistled as I walked closer to inspect the bike. Dad materialised from the darkness at the back.

“Happy birthday. Your mother has been working on this for weeks, wanting it to be perfect.” Dad stood his arm around Mum’s waist, as they both watched me looking over the bike. Mum had her phone out, I assumed, taking pictures of me and the bike.

“It’s beautiful. I love the storm.” I whispered in awe, walking around the bike.

“You can pull out your torch; you won’t find any hidden mistakes,” Mum smirked as I did as she said.

There, hidden in the paintwork that only a torch would reveal, was my name, hidden in the storm, in flowing scroll work,

“What did she hide in there?” Sprocket, always the quick one, moved around to see and slapped me on the back.

“Fixer, that’s one hell of a paint job, love it.” Sprocke praised, and the others came to look.

My facial expression must have said it all, because when I looked up, Mum and Dad had huge, beaming smiles on their faces.

“I won’t take it out now, got too much to do with the party, but I am looking forward to taking her out for a spin.” I had thrown my leg over the bike and was running my fingers over the tank, taking the bike to this advantageous point: what I would see when riding it.

“No rush, the bike’s not going anywhere.” I climbed off as I did, Doom called out

An overnight bag packed, along with my laptop and snacks, I took the stairs two at a time. No one was up yet. I made a pot of coffee and grabbed some leftovers for breakfast before I climbed in my truck and headed out for the hospital. The streets were quiet, making the trip quicker. The hospital car park is almost empty.

I parked close to the entrance, grabbed my bag and laptop, and took long strides to the entrance, lifted my hand to lock the truck, and was greeted by locals who knew me by sight and by those who wished me a belated happy birthday as I moved down the hallway, and up the lift.

Cloe had been moved to a private room, monitors everywhere, she was still being treated like she was still in intensive care, and a nurse was sitting by her bed, monitoring her. No doubt Dad’s doing, now that he has control of Cloe’s health. The nurse lifted her head at the sound of me walking into the room.

“Morning?” I greeted her before moving to the side of the bed and looking at Cloe.

“The doctor had removed meds to keep her asleep she should wake today. You staying?” She asked with a hopeful voice.

“Yep, can you bring in a cot? This will be where I’ll be for a bit,” I replied, not looking at the nurse, but taking in the look of Cloe and how much color had returned to her face, and the heartbeat was pounding out a better rhythm.

“Good, use the call button the moment she wakes. have things to do.” She was out the door so fast, I hardly got a chance to ask any questions.

There was a nice soft armchair in here. I dragged it closer to the bed, brought the small table closer, pulled out my laptop, placed a drink and snacks, a textbook, and as the laptop woke up, it did its thing, pulled out the extension cord, plugged it in, and the last thing I did was pull out my phone and place it on the table.

Everything was set up, I couldn’t think of anything else I needed, and I got to work on my assignment.