Ride With Me (Paige and Jace) novel Chapter 130

Summary for Chapter 130: Ride With Me (Paige and Jace)

Ride With Me novel Paige and Jace by Kylie K Chapter 130

CHAPTER 81-2

Several club members followed behind him. One of them held his arm against his chest and blood

stained the sleeve as my stomach dropped.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Minor gunshot wound.” Liam replied.

“He’ll live.” Liam added and the injured member grinned.

“I feel very reassured.” Jace said but Liam ignored him.

“Inside.” Liam said.

The workshop transformed instantly and motorcycles rolled onto lifts. Tools appeared and people

started working.

The organized chaos felt strangely familiar. Lawson Customs had become a recovery zone and I

followed Liam into the office treatment area.

“What do you need?” I asked as he looked at me.

“Help.” He said.

That answer came quickly enough to make me smile.

“Fair.” I said.

The next hour passed in a blur. Bandages, disinfectant, medical supplies and stitches. Nothing life threatening. Nothing catastrophic. Just the kind of injuries that happened when people survived

something ugly.

Liam worked steadily while I assisted and the injured member complained dramatically

throughout the entire process.

“I think I’m dying.” The member said.

“You aren’t.” I said.

“I feel like I am.” He said.

“You definitely aren’t.” I said as he pointed at the needle.

“That looks suspicious.” He said but Liam didn’t even glance up.

“You got shot.” Liam said.

“I know.” He said.

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“You survived.” Liam said.

“Lknow.” He said.

“Stop whining.” Liam said and I nearly laughed.

The workshop beyond the office remained busy. Damaged motorcycles filled every available

space. Some had cosmetic damage, others required major repairs and one looked like it had lost

an argument with a tank.

When Liam finally finished, I stepped back into the workshop and the sight stopped me for a

moment.

Rows of damaged motorcycles stretched across the building. Bullet holes, scratches, broken components and evidence of the fight.

Ben stood beside one of the worst damaged bikes and his expression looked almost offended.

“Who did this?” Ben asked.

“The Black Reapers.” Someone said and he shook his head.

“Animals.” Ben said as I smiled slightly.

Then I looked around the workshop and at the motorcycles and at the club members.

At the people who had come home and An idea formed immediately so I raised my voice.

“Listen up.” I said and everyone looked toward me as I pointed around the garage.

“These motorcycles are ugly.” I said and several people laughed.

“They’re injured.” Hunter argued.

“They’re ugly injured.” I said and more laughter followed so I folded my arms.

“Good news though.” I said as Derek raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the good news?” Derek asked and I smiled.

“You’re in the best garage in the county.” I said and several members cheered.

Ben actually bowed and Mia looked horrified.

“Every one of these motorcycles is leaving here roadworthy. No exceptions.” I continued as my

gaze swept across the workshop.

The determination in the room became almost immediate because everyone needed something

to focus on. Something productive. Something normal and repairing motorcycles felt normal.

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Jace watched me from across the workshop and the look on his face made my chest warm. Pride, affection and trust.

The same expression he always wore when he thought I wasn’t looking and the afternoon continued with repairs and recovery.

Yet beneath the activity, tension remained. The ambush had changed something. Everyone knew it but nobody wanted to say it first.

Eventually Derek stood near one of the damaged motorcycles with Hunter and Roman and their conversation remained quiet. Serious and concerned.

I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but certain words carried.

“Too accurate.” Roman said and Hunter nodded.

“I know.” Hunter said as Roman crossed his arms.

“They knew exactly where we’d be.” Roman said and my stomach tightened.

Derek’s expression darkened as the veteran biker looked toward the damaged convoy.

Then toward the others and finally he voiced the thought everyone had been avoiding.

“We’ve got an information leak.” Roman said and the workshop suddenly felt a lot colder.

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CHAPTER 82

CHAPTER 82

By eight o’clock that evening, Lawson Customs looked less like a motorcycle workshop and more

like a disaster recovery center.

Damaged motorcycles filled every available space. Some sat on lifts while others occupied

workstations.

A few waited outside beneath temporary covers because we had simply run out of room.

The aftermath of the ambush surrounded us everywhere I looked. Bullet holes, cracked panels,

bent handlebars, damaged wiring and destroyed lights.

Every motorcycle told part of the story. And every motorcycle needed to be repaired.

I stood beside a workbench studying a damaged fuel tank while Ben organized replacement parts nearby. The poor kid looked exhausted already and unfortunately for him, we weren’t even close to

finished.

“How are you holding up?” I asked and Ben glanced toward me.

“I’ve consumed enough coffee to legally qualify as a generator.” He said and I laughed.

“That’s concerning.” I said.

“It should be.” He said and Hunter walked past carrying a box of parts.

“I stopped counting after his fifth cup.” Hunter said.

“Sixth.” Ben corrected and Hunter shook his head.

“You’re going to start hearing colors.” Hunter said.

“I already do.” Ben said.

The workshop erupted with laughter and honestly, the laughter helped. Everyone was tired, everyone was sore and everyone was still processing the ambush.

But sitting around worrying wouldn’t fix motorcycles. Work gave us something useful to focus on.

Across the garage, Derek and Roman were replacing damaged components on two heavily

scarred bikes. Several other club members moved between workstations carrying tools and

supplies.

Even people who weren’t mechanics found ways to help. Parts were organized, workspaces were

cleaned, Coffee magically appeared whenever needed and nobody complained or left.

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played quietly through the workshop speakers.

Tools clattered and conversations drifted from one corner of the garage to another.

At some point around midnight, exhaustion began catching up with everyone and Ben dropped a

wrench. Twice.

Hunter spent five minutes searching for a screwdriver before realizing it was in his back pocket

and Roman nearly walked into a lift.

The collective brainpower of the building was declining rapidly and I wasn’t doing much better.

My shoulders ached, my hands hurt and my eyes felt heavy. Yet I kept working. One more repair.

One more motorcycle. One more task.

That mindset carried me through another hour. Then another and eventually I found myself sitting at my workbench reviewing a repair order.

At least I thought I was reviewing it but the next thing I knew, someone was laughing softly.

My eyes opened and for a moment I had absolutely no idea where I was. Then the familiar workshop came into focus.

The paperwork remained spread across the workbench and the repair order sat beneath my

cheek.

Apparently I had fallen asleep sitting upright.

Wonderful.

A blanket rested across my shoulders and I stared at it and then immediately looked around.

Jace stood across the workshop helping Derek and the expression on his face told me everything.

He noticed I was awake and a small smile appeared and My face instantly became warm.

“Oh no.” I said as Ben looked over.

“What?” He asked.

“I fell asleep.” I said and Hunter grinned.

“Like an old lady.” Hunter said.

“I hate all of you.” I said and the grin widened.