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Home / Romance / Blood on the Asphalt biker / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of Blood on the Asphalt biker: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

91 Chapters

1

They say you can't outrun your past on two wheels, but I was about to prove them wrong until the man who destroyed my father's legacy pulled up beside me at 90 miles per hour.The engine beneath me roared like a caged beast as I leaned into the turn, my knee nearly scraping asphalt. Wind screamed past my helmet, carrying the acrid smell of burning rubber and gasoline. This was freedom. This was power. This was the only place where Mia Chen, struggling mechanic and daddy's disappointing daughter, didn't exist.Here, I was Ghost Rider.The motorcycle beneath me, a custom Ducati I'd rebuilt from salvage, responded to my every touch like an extension of my body. I'd spent three years perfecting her, using every spare dollar I could scrape together from my day job at Murphy's Garage. Murphy paid me half what he paid his male mechanics, but I couldn't complain. Jobs were scarce when your last name was Chen and everyone in Coldwater knew your father died owing money to half the town.The str

2

Murphy's Garage sat on the wrong side of Coldwater, wedged between a pawn shop and a laundromat that had been closed since I was twelve. The building's red brick had faded to the color of dried blood, and the sign out front buzzed even when it wasn't lit. It wasn't much, but for the past three years, it had been my sanctuary.Now it felt like a trap.I'd arrived at eleven-thirty, too anxious to wait at home in the cramped studio apartment I could barely afford. The garage bay was open, and I'd thrown myself into work, trying to lose myself in the familiar comfort of engines and grease. Old man Patterson's Ford needed a transmission flush, and I'd stripped down to my tank top despite the morning chill, my hands already black with grime.Work was the only thing that quieted my mind. The only thing that made sense in a world that had been chaos since Dad died.My father, Chen Wei, had been the best motorcycle mechanic in three counties. He'd learned his trade in Taiwan before immigrating

3

The Iron Wolves clubhouse squatted on Route Forty-Seven like a wounded animal, all rough timber and metal siding, surrounded by motorcycles that probably cost more than my entire year's salary. A hand-painted sign declared it "Wolf Territory," and the setting sun cast long shadows across the gravel parking lot that made everything look vaguely menacing.I sat on my Ducati across the street, helmet still on, trying to convince myself this wasn't the stupidest decision I'd ever made. The smart play would be to run. Leave Coldwater, change my name, start over somewhere the Death Dealers and Snake and Dax Steele couldn't find me.But running meant abandoning Murphy, whose garage had given me a second chance when no one else would. It meant letting my father's memory be buried under lies. It meant admitting that Ghost Rider, the fearless racer who'd dominated those underground tracks was just a mask for a coward.I'd already lost everything once. I wasn't going to lose myself too.I kicked

4

The morning air at the Iron Wolves compound didn't smell like freedom; it smelled like stale beer, wet pavement, and the looming threat of a fight.I hadn't slept. Not that I expected to, given that I was tucked away in a spare room in Dax’s private wing, listening to the muffled sounds of a biker clubhouse settling into a restless silence. My conditions had been simple: I touch every engine I race, I choose my own parts, and no one absolutely no one calls me "sweetheart."Dax had agreed with a look that suggested he found my defiance more entertaining than annoying. That look was still burned into my brain when I stepped into the main garage at 6:00 AM.The Iron Wolves’ garage was a massive, corrugated metal cathedral dedicated to the gods of speed. Rows of Harleys, Indians, and a few custom builds stood in various states of undress. It was a mechanic’s dream, but as I walked in, the dream felt more like a firing squad.Six men were already there. They stopped talking the moment the

5

"He fed the Dealers the blueprints. He helped them destroy your father because my father Dutch promised him a seat at the high table for his silence. It was a business merger built on your father's ashes, Mia."The world seemed to tilt. The hatred I'd carried for three years was cracking. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was a liar, but the proof was screaming louder from the monitors."Why are you telling me this, Dax?" I asked, my voice trembling. "If your father authorized this, why betray your own blood for me?""Because loyalty to a lie isn't loyalty at all. It's a cage." He reached out, his hand hovering before his calloused thumb grazed my jawline. The touch was light, but it felt like a brand of fire on my skin. It was a mechanic's hand rough, strong, and steady. "And because I've watched you race, Mia. You don't just have his skills; you have his fire. You're the only one fast enough to help me burn this corruption to the ground."My heart hammered against my ribs. I

6

The basement of the Iron Wolves clubhouse smelled of damp concrete, rusted metal, and the cold, metallic tang of fear. Snake shoved me forward, his fingers digging into my bruised upper arms like talons. I stumbled, the heavy zip-ties biting into my wrists as I nearly lost my footing on the slick floor. The only light came from a single, buzzing bulb encased in a wire cage overhead, casting long, jagged shadows that danced against the weeping walls."Home sweet home, Princess," Snake hissed, his breath hot and smelling of cheap whiskey against my ear. He swung open a heavy gate made of reinforced rebar the "cage" Dutch had mentioned. It groaned on its hinges, a sound like a dying animal.He shoved me inside and slammed the gate. The clatter of the padlock echoed through the empty space, a final, chilling punctuation to my imprisonment. I hit the floor hard, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. Through the haze of pain, I felt the small, cold weight of the override key still pre

7

The garage was a temple of steel and shadows, lit only by the amber glow of a single heat lamp near the back. I slipped through the side door, my movements as silent as the "Ghost" moniker I'd earned on the track. The air here was thick with the scent of synthetic oil and cold metal, a familiar comfort that usually steadied my nerves. But tonight, my pulse was a frantic mess, thrumming in my throat as I watched the man standing over my bike.Dax Steele looked different in the solitude of the workshop. The cold, Vice President mask he'd worn upstairs had crumbled, leaving behind a man who looked raw and dangerously exhausted. He was leaning over my Ducati, his large, grease-stained hands resting on the fuel tank with a strange kind of reverence. He looked like he was praying to a machine."You said you'd burn it," I whispered, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.Dax didn't flinch. He didn't reach for the weapon at his hip. He simply closed his eyes for a long second befo

8

The morning sun hit the asphalt of the Iron Wolves' private track like a physical weight, creating a shimmering haze of heat and gasoline. I stood by my Ducati, my fingers trembling slightly as I tightened the bolts on the fairing. Every muscle in my body ached from the basement floor, but the adrenaline singing through my veins was louder than the pain. Around me, the club was a hive of activity bikers prepping their machines, the scent of exhaust thick enough to taste, and the constant, low-grade thrum of engines that sounded like a gathering storm.Dax stood a few yards away, deep in conversation with Reaper and a few other high-ranking members. He didn't look at me, but I could feel his presence like a magnetic pull. After the kiss in the garage, the air between us had shifted. It was no longer just about a debt or a dead father; it was a live wire, sparking every time our eyes met. He was playing the part of the cold, demanding Vice President perfectly, but I knew the

9

The ascent up the Devil's Backbone was a descent into madness. Moonlight bled across the jagged rock faces, casting long, deceptive shadows that made every hairpin turn look like a drop into the abyss. I leaned the Norton so low my knee puck scraped the freezing asphalt, the friction sending a spray of orange sparks into the black night. Ahead of me, the red taillight of Victor Kane's Suzuki taunted me, dancing like a malevolent firefly.Kane was a predator on two wheels. He didn't just ride the line; he owned it. Every time I tried to pull alongside, he swerved with surgical precision, his rear tire kicking up loose gravel to pelt my visor. He was playing with me, waiting for the altitude or the fear to make my hands shake. But my father's ghost was riding pillion, and Dax's kiss was still a burn on my lips. I wasn't just fast; I was possessed.The engine of the Norton screamed, a mechanical howl that echoed off the canyon walls. I shifted into fifth, the speedome

10

The air in Dax's private quarters was thick with the scent of pine and the electric charge of a storm about to break. Outside, the distant rumble of the Iron Wolves' bikes sounded like a funeral dirge, but inside this room, the only sound was the frantic thud of my own pulse. Dax slammed the door shut, the heavy wood echoing through the silent wing of the clubhouse."You can't do it, Mia," he barked, spinning around to face me. His eyes were wild, stripped of the Vice President's cold calculation. "The Devil's Backbone isn't a track. It's a graveyard. Victor Kane has killed three men on that pass, and those were just the ones the police found.""I don't have a choice!" I shouted back, matching his intensity. I threw my helmet onto the bed, the plastic clattering against the frame. "If I back down, Dutch gives me back to Snake. If I run, the Ravagers burn Murphy's Garage with him inside. Winning this Blood Duel is the only way out for both of us."Dax bridg

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