Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 253

Cloe POV

So much of it involves money; I am trusting they know what they are talking about. I am useless with that side of things. Glad Storm will guide me through it, all the jargon, his Dad and Tandy gave me was great, but most of it made little sense.

We are on the way to the ice rink, and I am a bit nervous, alright, a lot nervous. My legs are covered with a team-themed blanket, so I don’t look out of place. I have a hat, scarf, and pompoms, all courtesy of Penny, who made the hat, scarf and pompoms herself. I was proud to be wearing them. I feel the part, hoping that would hide the nerves. While sitting in the wheelchair, you can’t see much ahead of you, but you do get to see a lot of people’s backsides, and believe me, that’s not always a good thing to see. Some have their jeans so low you wonder how they stay on their hips, and others have their undies showing; some are so long they are walking on the end of their jeans, and others have their jeans tucked into socks. The variety has kept my mind off the nerves of being in public. Dotty gave me some painkillers before we left, and I can take more in a few hours if it gets too painful. These ones won’t make me drowsy as the nighttime ones do. I can feel everyone watching me closely, and I bet if I sneezed, they would be at my side, checking if I was cold or had a fever. I was glad to be out of the house, but the hovering around me was claustrophobic.

We were right at the glass; other than being on the ice, I have never been this close before. I love it. The people who made this section for disabled people were very thoughtful and didn’t stick them somewhere further back, but right where they could enjoy it.

At the beginning of the game, it was tense, both sides wanting to do well, and nervous being in front of a crowd of people, who were loud and making lots of noise to encourage the teams on, and the slams on the glass were hard. Poor Razor will need that hot tub tonight; he seemed to be the focus of most of the other teams, slamming into him often, even when he didn’t have the puck. But when he scored that first goal, I screamed my lungs out and waved the pompoms in the air. He zeroed in on me, and we shared love hearts, all nerves gone. My focus was on Razor and the game. Razor scored again, and I screamed and waved again. He didn’t skate over to me, but that was fine. He hugged and fist-pumped his teammates, and that’s how it should be. Break time, and I was given a cup of soup that Fixer had brought from home in a thermos. The others left to get hot dogs and sodas, which was fine; I couldn’t handle something like that now.

I looked around the area and froze. There, halfway down the aisle on the other side of the rink, sat my Dad, with a bunch of men I’ve seen before, chatting amicably. What was he doing here? He never went to games. Never to mine, at least, didn’t even think he liked ice hockey. He had to know I was here; few would have missed the first goal, and Razor shouting it was for me. I felt like cold water had just been poured over me.

“What’s wrong?” Fixer asked, having noticed the change in me.

“My Dad’s here, opposite, halfway up the aisle,” I whispered, but I have no idea why, it wasn’t like he could hear me from over there. But at that moment, he looked up and stared at me, his face stern, almost angry.

Fixer saw him looking this way and cursed more profoundly than I did.

“What’s going on?” Tank had arrived, offering a hot dog to Fixer. She explained, and at that moment, the noise rose as the teams came back out on the ice. Storm cursed as badly as Fixer. Tank pulled out his phone and made a few calls while I tuned out Dad and concentrated on the game.

The team scored two more goals, and the opposition only one; the cheers when it was over were loud. I watched Razor wave to the crowd, blowing out kisses and heart shapes. No doubt he was the man of the match.

I was tired, but content. I needed to be out of the house, and this was the perfect setting for my first outing.

The storm pushed me out towards the car park. The moment we reached the outer doors, security surrounded us. I think seeing my father had the family as rattled as I was. But how did he know I was here? I asked myself again, could it be a coincidence? The laughter and chats around me faded away as I thought of how father knew where I was, like I didn’t make that decision till last night, who would have told him? It was driving me bonkers, trying to work it out. Could this be related to Grams being shot? Or another coincidence? My mind was working overtime, coming up with different scenarios.

“You are quiet, Cloe.” Storm leaned in, nudging my shoulder.

“Huh?” I replied, looking up from my hands, that I had been twiddling.

“Did you enjoy the game?” Tank asked, with a chuckle, they must have asked me and I had completely ignored them, how rude.

“It was fantastic. Are they always that rough? Like, I mean, they’re still only fifteen?” Tank and Fixer both chuckled.

“Yeah, that was mild. I had seen Razor get far worse. When he plays on teams above his age group, like Dad and me, he grows tall early, and that’s a great advantage. Luckily, he hasn’t broken bones yet.”

“It was in the lounge room getting charged up.” I was confused; it still didn’t make sense to

“Anyone could have done that, picked up your phone, found the number and downloaded the app. Gave your Dad your new number.” Tank growled out, his hand hitting the steering wheel in frustration.

“There were a lot of uninvited, anyone could have done it,” Fixer added, with her famous cold tone, which you don’t want to be the receiver of.

“How about that chick that was hitting on you?” I threw it out there because I don’t know the names of the people who came or those who were booted out.

“Possible, she did make some threats, as she was being removed, had the opportunity, and could have done it before you asked her to leave. But that would mean she came for that purpose, and chasing Storm was an added bonus. But then how did she know that was my phone? It wasn’t the only phone in the lounge, which guests weren’t supposed to enter, which is why it was outside. Maybe took a guess that it was mine, being brand new and my birthday, and not a colour a man would have on their phone.”

“It would have been easy, your picture was on the screen, until you changed it,” Fixer called from the front; I had forgotten that. Fixer had taken my picture and put it on the screen, teaching me how to use the phone.

“We shall have the investigation, and I want your phone for a little while, see if our guys can trace a signal back to your Dad or something.” Storm pocketed my phone, leaving no doubt that Tank would get it checked out.

“Could Dad be the person behind the shooting? Like he was after me all along, maybe both of us were the target? Sorry, this still doesn’t make sense. Does my father hate me that much that he would have me shot?” I never knew he hated me that much.