Tink's Salvation (Satan's Sinners MC Book 9)

by Colbie Kay

  I shake my head to disagree. “No one would love me after they see my scars.”

  “Not true.”

  I chuckle full of bitterness and contempt. “Then add in the part where I can’t be touched. Who could love someone they can’t even fuckin’ touch?”

  She dips the needles in the cap to collect more black ink. “Love is a powerful emotion. You’d be surprised what someone can handle when it’s the person they love.”

  Over the next couple of hours, it’s quiet in the room except for the buzzing of the machine. I take the time to relax and clear my head of all the fucked-up shit that has riddled my brain.

  The room falls silent as Daphne shuts the machine off. “It’s getting close to four, so you’ll need to come back next week, and I’ll get the rest of the details and shading done. Go look in the mirror and see what you think.”

  Standing sideways, I check out the beginnings of the new tattoo. “It looks great, Daphne. Thanks.” Stepping back over to the chair, I sit down and let her clean it and put a bandage on before I get out of here.

  Jorga lets me inside the house and does her usual routine of locking the door then double-checking that it is in fact locked. It’s been a week since I’ve started coming over, and she still doesn’t feel safe, even with me here. “You know you’re safe with me, right?”

  “I know.” She rubs the back of her neck. “It’s habit, and if I don’t do it, I’ll have terrible anxiety and panic until it’s locked.”

  My eyes narrow into slits. “What happened to you, Jorga?”

  “Nothing.” She shakes her head, lying. “I made dinner,” She deflects, refusing to talk about what happened to her. She wasn’t like this back in high school so I’m certain something happened. “Go sit at the table, and I’ll bring it out.”

  I sigh heavily. “You didn’t need to make dinner.”

  She carries a tray of enchiladas out from the kitchen and sets it on the table. She drops into the chair opposite of me across the table. Our gazes lock, and she says, “I know, but I thought I could do something nice for you since you spend most of your time here. I mean, I understand it’s a job and all to you, but I want you to know that I really appreciate it.”

  I continue staring in wonder and amazement. “You remembered my favorite food?” I quirk my brow, that ache in my chest returning. “You’re not just a job, Jorga. We were friends.”

  Her eyes drop. “Until we weren’t.”

  “Hey,” I start, pausing until she lifts her head, “That was then.”

  She bites on her bottom lip to contain her smile. “So, we’re friends again?”

  “Let’s eat.” I laugh.

  “That’s the first time in a week I’ve seen you smile or heard your laugh.” She scoops out a couple enchiladas onto her plate. “It’s nice.”

  After finishing two plates full of food, my stomach feels like it’s about to burst. “That was fuckin’ good!”

  “Thanks.” As I begin to stand with my plate, she jumps up from her chair. “I’ll clean up.”

  “I can help.”

  She shakes her head and takes my dishes from my hand. “No, I got it. Go find a movie.”

  I stroll into the front room and begin to turn the TV on when I hear glass break and Jorga scream. I run into the kitchen and without even thinking I grab her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t touch me!” She yells, jerking from my grasp. She points to the window as tears roll down her cheeks. Her eyes are wide and afraid. “Someone… someone’s out there,” Her voice shakes as she tries to find her words.

  “Outside?” I question.

  She nods frantically. “They were staring at me through the window.” Her breaths are coming out in short pants as if she’s having a panic attack.

  Pulling my gun out of the holster at my side, I headed to the front door. I make a trip around the entire house, scanning the perimeter, but no one’s here. Once Jorga lets me back in, I rush to the kitchen and exit through the door to check the garage. No one is here either.

  Putting my gun back in my holster, I join Jorga in the kitchen. “If someone was here, they aren’t now. Are you sure it wasn’t your reflection?”

  She glares at me in disbelief. As if I’ve grown two heads or just a fuckin’ idiot. “They had a fucking mask on!”

  “Okay.” I put my hands up defensively. “When are the security cameras getting installed?”

  She wraps her arms around herself. “My dad said they would be here next week.”

  I wish I could comfort her and ease her fear, but I can’t. And it makes me so damn angry. I don’t know what the hell Daphne was talking about with that love shit. It would never work. “We need to get a rush on that in case they come back. If they do, we’ll have a video of it.”

  She nods absently. “I’m sorry I screamed at you, but I can’t have anyone touch me.”

  “You don’t need to explain. I get it because I can’t either. I don’t even know what made me grab you. Instinct maybe. I’m sorry though.”

  Her tear-filled eyes bore into my gaze. “What happened to you, Lucas?”

  “Worse than you can imagine.” Shaking my head once, I suggest, “Let’s go watch that movie.”

  Jorga falls asleep about halfway through the movie. I never really pay attention to what we’re watching, I pay more attention to her, memorizing each of her gorgeous features, watching her eyes light up and her lips lift when a funny part comes on. I find myself smiling more and more at little shit she does like when she laughs or bites down on her lip anxiously.

  She could never love me with all my shit, but even if I can’t touch her, I feel it with every part of my being that I’m in love with her. I always was and always have been.

  Releasing a deep breath of air, I stand from the couch and retrieve a blanket. I stand over her and stare down at her beauty. She appears peaceful when she sleeps. Laying the cover gently over her body, I kneel on the floor. “Rest easy, Angel.” Reaching my hand up, I run my fingertips above her cheek before running that backs of my fingers over her hair to feel the softness. Her body begins to move to face the back of the couch. I stand, returning to my side of the couch, and carefully, I sit down.

  When I moved out of my parents’ house almost two weeks ago, I took my little beat up bug I drove in high school with me. I didn't have it in Boston because I didn't need it, but it's been fun driving it again. I love my car, and it takes me back to when life was easier.

  I pull into my parents’ driveway and stroll up to their porch. Opening the door, I peek my head in a shout, "Hello? Anybody home?" I shut the door behind me and out of habit, I lock it.

  "Jorga!" Mom quickly strides to me and throws her arms around me. My parents are the only ones who can touch me and not cause me to freak out. Dad comes up behind Mom and it becomes one big group hug.

  After we release each other, Mom takes my hand in hers and leads me to the kitchen table. "How is the house? How is Dancer?"

  "It's great, she’s great, but that's why I'm here. You guys know I recently got back in touch with Lucas from school, and he's been coming over to keep me company." I keep the fact he's with the Satan's Sinners a secret from my dad. "Last night, something happened after we ate dinner."

  Mom’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What happened?"

  "I was carrying the plates into the kitchen, and when I got to the sink, someone was standing there outside the window. All I saw was a mask." My eyes drift to my dad. "Lucas thought it might be a good idea to see if we can move up the date for the security camera installation."

  Mom’s hands fly up to cover her mouth, she gasps, "Oh my God! Jorga, are you okay?"

  Dad’s face is turning red, most likely from anger. When I was little, he would get mad, and I always told him he looked like a tomato. "I'm calling right now." He picks up his phone off the kitchen counter. "Maybe you should come home until they're installed."

  "No,” I state adamantly. “I don't want to come home. I don't
want to be scared for the rest of my life and run home every time something happens."

  Mom sits there staring at the table. "Who would do such a thing?"

  "I don't know. Lucas checked all around the house and the garage, but the person was already gone."

  Dad goes into the other room with his phone plastered to his ear.

  Mom’s worried eyes meet mine. "Are you sure you shouldn't come home for a few days?"

  Taking her hand in mine, I reassure her, "I'm sure, Mom."

  "Lucas, huh?" She gives me a hint of a smile.

  Rolling my eyes, I reply, "Mom, we're only friends."

  "He was always a nice boy. I saw the way he would watch you."

  My brows pull down in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

  She laughs lightly and looks at me as if I've missed some big key to a puzzle. "Oh, Jorga, that boy was in love with you, and he hated Nathan for having you."

  My head jerks back. "He and Nathan were best friends. Lucas didn't hate him."

  She pats our joined hands with her free one. "I'm your mother, Jorga, I saw everything. You were too wrapped up in your boyfriend to notice any other boys. What about now though? You two seem close since he's coming over. You're having dinner together."

  "We're just friends." I think she might be crazy.

  "I want you to be happy, but it worries me that you might never open up to anyone again."

  I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know if I will, but no one could really love me, Mom."

  She tilts her head to the side. "Why do you say that?"

  "Because who could love someone who can't even be touched?"

  "Damn people!" Dad snaps as he enters the kitchen and throws his phone on the counter. His face is even redder than it was a few minutes ago. "They can't move the installation date up."

  I sigh heavily. "At least we tried, right?"

  His eyes drift over to me, a frown on his face. "I still think you need to come home."

  "No, Dad. Lucas will be with me, and maybe, it was nothing more than some teenagers playing a prank."

  "Maybe," He grouses.

  Standing up, I step over to my mom, giving her a kiss on the cheek before moving to my dad’s side and doing the same to him. "I love you both." I show myself out and try not to worry too much about it. The last thing I need is to experience constant panic attacks in my own home. It’s bad enough I’m walking on eggshells, but I refuse to let my fear win.

  When I reach my car, I notice a folded-up piece of paper on my windshield under the wiper. Grabbing the paper, I open it and my eyes practically pop out of my head and a shiver races up my spine.

  I’M WATCHING YOU

  Those three typed words instantly send my anxiety through the roof. Quickly folding the paper back up, I glance around me in every direction to see if I notice anyone or anything, but nothing is out of the ordinary.

  I quickly jump into the driver's side of my bug and throw the paper in my glove box. While speeding home I constantly check my rearview mirror to make sure I’m not being followed.

  Rushing through the front door, I find Lucas and Dancer are on the couch. “Hey.” My gaze shifts to Lucas. “You’re early.” While I may be on high alert, seeing the both of them here settles my nerves a fraction.

  “Yeah,” He simply answers.

  It hasn’t gone unnoticed that he’s been coming earlier and earlier, staying later and later. At first, he would show up right at four and leave as soon as Dancer got home, but as the days pass, he’s here more often than not. I like him being here though. I shake my head to clear it of any crazy thoughts that my mom might be right about Lucas loving me. I’m looking for signs, but all it will do is get my hopes up. If Mom is wrong, it could break my heart because I have feelings for Lucas Melody–not that I’ll admit it. We had a moment in his truck all those years ago, but now, spending all this time with him, getting to know him again, that invisible pull is stronger than ever before. Yep, I’m falling for another bad boy. I can’t even think about that right now.

  “Jorga, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Dancer’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

  I sit down on the love seat. “Okay.”

  “Tink told me about what happened last night, and I know your parents are covering your expenses, but we just had a waitress quit at the club. I thought maybe you would want the job. Hacker hires the dancers and leaves the floor hiring to me, so you don’t have to worry about interviewing or anything. The job is yours if you want it.”

  Lucas’s head snaps around, his glare fierce. “The fuck, Dancer?”

  She stares at him perplexed, her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. “What?”

  He throws his arms in the air exasperated. “I didn’t tell you that shit so you could invite her into the strip club with all those fucking men!”

  My eyes drift between them as they argue.

  “Tink, someone was outside the house. Maybe it’s not safe even with you here. Maybe she would feel safer being surrounded by people and not in this house.”

  His angry glowering eyes soften slightly as if he came to some conclusion of why they are arguing. “You don’t think I can keep her safe?”

  She huffs in annoyance, “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  Their argument is getting out of control and it’s ridiculous. I cut in to stop them from saying any more to each other, “Hey! Both of you be quiet! You’re talking about me like I’m not even here.”

  Dancer looks at me directly. “Sorry, Jorga.”

  Lucas mumbles, “Sorry.”

  “This is my decision, and I want to do it. I’ll take the job, Dancer.”

  “Jorga!” Lucas yells, throwing his head back on the couch.

  “No, Lucas, I don’t want to be a burden to you or make you feel like you have to be around me. At the club, I will be surrounded by people and never alone. It might help me.”

  His wild eyes meet mine when he lifts his head to meet my gaze. His mouth opens and closes like a fish struggling to breathe. “Help you? Why the fuck would you think you’re a goddamn burden? What did I do for you to fuckin’ feel like that?” He jumps from the couch. “You’re not working at that club,” He declares.

  I stand and stomp toward him. “Don’t you dare try to tell me what to do. You can’t dictate what I do!” My eyes narrow in challenge, daring him to deny me. “I’m taking the job.”

  His arms crossed over his chest. “And what happens when one of those fuckin’ perverts touches you?”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “The fuck you will! He glares at Dancer. “Thanks a fuckin’ lot, Dancer.” He points his finger at her. “This is on you.” With those words, he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

  Dancer and I both have our mouths hanging wide open as we gape at the closed door. “What the hell just happened?” Dancer questions, confusion lacing her tone.

  I shake my head in disbelief. “I have no idea.”

  “He’s always so quiet.”

  I fall onto the couch beside her, and our gazes lock. I see her eyes widen. “He likes you.” Her words almost sound like an accusation.

  My nose scrunches and my lip curls. “What?” This is the second time I’ve heard about his feelings for me today, but what are they seeing that I’m not? Could they be right?

  “Tink, he likes you. Like really likes you. Maybe even more than likes. Oh my God!” Dancer bursts out laughing.

  I stare at her, getting more confused by the second. Now, I’m bewildered as to why she’s laughing. Why would this be funny? “What’s so funny?”

  “I’ve only ever seen the Satan’s Sinners men act that way with their women. Girl, you are in so much trouble.”

  “Trouble? What? Why?”

  “You’ve never been around them. Just you wait.” Dancer breathes through her fits of giggles.

  All of this has made me somewhat forget about the note, and I think I will keep it to myself for now.

 
The door slams and rage burns inside of me. I don’t leave the property because Dancer will be going to work soon, but I stomp from one side of the porch to the other in anger. How the fuck is Dancer going to ask her to work at Stilettos? And why the hell would Jorga accept? I think the reasons while pacing until a ping from my phone stops me. It’s a new text from Hanger.

  Meet me at the Cobras clubhouse in thirty

  “Let me in!” I yell through the closed door.

  Dancer opens it, and her lips are tucked into her mouth to keep her smile hidden.

  I glare at her bemused face. “Shut it, Dancer.”

  Jorga sits on the couch with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She’s so fuckin’ beautiful. Goddamn it! When she’s mad, it’s sexy as fuck. I release an exaggerated breath. “I’m sorry,” I grumble. “We gotta go.”

  “We gotta go? Go where?” She huffs.

  “To the clubhouse.”

  “And if I don’t want to?” She’s trying to be stubborn, but she’s not going to win this one.

  “Then I can either ignore your fear of being touched, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you to my bike or…well, there isn’t another option. Get up.”

  Dancer bursts out laughing, but quickly covers her mouth when my scathing glare lands on her. “You’re awfully cavemanish today, Tink.”

  I repeat, “Shut it, Dancer.”

  “Whelp, it’s time for me to go to work.” She steps over to the couch. “Jorga, a piece of advice when it comes to the club, don’t ask questions, and if he’s got to go there, then get up and go.” She heads to the garage in the kitchen. “Hope you two have worked it out by the time I get home. Jorga, you start tomorrow night. Bye.” She waves her hand in the air as she exits the house.

  Jorga does what Dancer instructed her to do and walks with me outside. Straddling my bike, I wait for her to get on, but when she doesn’t, I glance over my shoulder. She’s standing with her hands resting on her hips.