The Betrayed Mechanic Is A Secret Boss

Ashley Kaufman POV:

I locked the final bolt on the Harley's V-twin engine, my heavy wrench coated in black oil, when the metal roll-up door rattled open with a violent shudder.

Under the harsh garage lights, Colin Velazquez, the leader of the Frontline Speed crew and the man who had put that ring on my finger three years ago, stepped inside, wearing his heavy leather Cut with the full Frontline Speed patch on the back. Cradled tightly against his side was Cathy Cordova, the Sweetbutt from the bar who had been circling him for weeks, drowning in an oversized leather jacket that did not belong to her.

I stood up, dragging a rough rag across my bloody knuckles, my gaze locking onto the woman in his arms.

Cathy buried her pale face into Colin's chest, her hands clutching her flat stomach as she let out a delicate gasp. "Colin... the smell of gear oil in here makes me want to throw up."

Colin stroked her back with the exact hand that had slipped a silver ring onto my finger three years ago, then turned his gaze toward me, hard and entitled.

"Put down your tools, Ashley." He kicked my steel toolbox aside, sending socket wrenches scattering across the concrete floor. "Cathy is pregnant. It's my late cousin's child."

My hand stopped on the rag, a cold wave of disgust hitting my stomach as I stared at the corded veins on his neck.

Cathy's eyes were red, tears dripping onto her jacket, her whole body trembling as she spoke. "Ashley, I know you hate 'sweetbutts' like me just as much. But this is the only bloodline Colin's late cousin left behind. I had no choice but to choose this."

A sharp laugh tore from my throat as I slammed the grease-stained rag onto the hot engine casing. "A fallen brother's orphan? Colin, you're recycling the cheapest garbage in the alley just to shove this woman into my territory?"

Colin took a heavy step toward me, his six-foot-two frame looming with familiar arrogance. "Watch your mouth! She took a bullet meant for our crew and caught chronic nerve damage. It's about honor and brotherhood. You're my woman, and you will accept this child."

I stepped back, dodging his reach like he carried the plague. "Your honor means forcing your legal wife to nursemaid a street girl's bastard?"

Colin's face turned white with rage. He lunged forward, his fingers clamping around my wrist so hard the bones ground together. "Ashley, enough is enough! Stop testing my patience with your pathetic jealousy!"

Pain flared up my forearm, but I didn't make a sound. I locked my eyes onto his, speaking with icy clarity. "Let go."

Cathy suddenly wailed, slumping against a metal tool rack. "It hurts... Colin, please don't fight because of me! It's all my fault!"

Colin ripped his hand away from my wrist, glaring at me like I was pure poison, and scooped Cathy up into his arms.

"If you can't show basic loyalty, you don't deserve this vest," he threw the words over his shoulder as he carried her toward his modified pickup truck outside. "You have one night to think it through. Tomorrow morning, you clear out of the master bedroom."

The pickup engine roared to life, tires screeching across the asphalt, leaving behind the acrid stench of burned rubber and exhaust.

I looked down at the dark purple bruises blooming around my wrist, my lips curling into a cold, sober smile. For three years, I had played the obedient bird in this garage, clipping my own wings until I disgusted myself.

I walked over to the rusted metal locker, unzipped the leather Cut bearing the Frontline Speed colors, and shoved it straight down into the fifty-gallon drum of waste oil.

Lightning cracked across the sky, and rain began to pour, wind driving cold water through the open bay doors, soaking my hair.

I reached into my cargo pants, pulled out an old phone with a spiderwebbed screen, and dialed an encrypted number hidden deep in the dark web.

The call connected on the first ring. The line carried heavy breathing against a wall of loud heavy metal music.

"Ashley." The man's voice came through low, gravelly, and laced with absolute authority.

I breathed in the damp air and spoke into the thunder. "Kiel Mcfarland, does your offer still stand?"

The music on the other end died instantly, followed by the crisp snap of a Zippo lighter.

"The Prez of the Iron Phantoms never breaks a promise," Kiel murmured, his voice tight with dark anticipation. "Say the word."

"Come get me," I said, staring at the vest sinking into the black sludge. "I accept the Old Lady contract."

A heavy motorcycle engine tore open the line, backed by a cold command. "Stay where you are. In twenty minutes, my brothers will flatten that entire street."

I hung up, watching the wind scatter blueprints across the garage. Turning to the main terminal, I executed a script, permanently deleting the preliminary code for the Whisper heavy ECU system.