“How much do I owe you?” the man asked.
“We’ll get to that in a moment. Just enjoy this,” I said.
I gave him a second to collect himself. I helped him get his shirt on and led him out into the front room. I cashed him out, watching thousands of dollars pour into my daily bottom line. I was a one-woman show, with both tattoos and piercings coming out of my shop at all hours of the day. I opened at eight, closed at seven, and worked Tuesday through Saturday. I’d made a small name for myself in the area. I made enough to live in the expensive city of San Diego as well as put money back for an early retirement. I lived frugally, shopped at second-hand stores, and kept my head down.
I invested my money heavily. Mostly because I wanted to retire early, and partially because I wanted to step out of the public eye as quickly as I could.
Before my past caught up with me.
I helped the man out to his car before bidding him farewell. I waved him off, watching my most faithful customer leave with the last of his skin underneath his clothing covered in the one thing that meant more to him than this entire planet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand that type of love. Devotion. Dedication. Hell, I never got it from my own family, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to attach myself to someone long enough for my past to take them down, too.
So, with a heavy sigh, I walked back inside to start closing down.
I walked back into my tattoo cubby and cleaned everything down. I tossed used needles away in the sanitary receptacle and sprayed down the chair the man had sweat all over. I cleaned it down twice, making sure I got down on the floor and wiped it up, too. I cleaned down everything I had used that day. Every footprint on the floor and every wall someone had touched with their hands. I was able to charge top-dollar for my work not only because of my meticulous designs, but because of how sanitary things were in my business.
People paid not just for the artistic venture, but for the safety and security I provided in the matter. Plus, the one free touch-up helped cushion the exorbitant prices I tossed out to those wanting quotes.
But there was always one straggler. One person that came into my shop five or ten minutes before closing time. Hoping I’d stay open for them and hoping I’d give them the time of day. However, when that bell over my door rang, I said the same thing every time.
“Sorry, I’m about to close up.”
Only this time, the voice that answered me was different.
“Are you closed for your brother?”
I paused. I slowly looked up from my register where I was counting receipts and cashing out tips. I locked my eyes with my brother, my eyes scanning him. He looked pieced together enough. With his tailored suits and his slicked-back hair. I was nervous to see him. Especially when I found out he’d made his home in San Diego a little over a year back. I hadn’t seen him since he’d come into the city. So, I held out hope that maybe he didn’t know I was here.
So much for hiding.
“Harry,” I said plainly.
“Maya,” he said curtly.
I looked back down at my register. “What do you need?”
“Why do you think I need something?”
“Because we haven’t spoken since I was fifteen, and I know the only reason you come around at all is whenever you're in trouble and need help.”
“And here I thought I still had a good reputation with my sister.”
I snickered. “We’ve never had good reputations with one another. You know that.”
“Not my fault you didn’t want to go into the family business.”
“Not my fault you didn’t want to abandon it after they killed Mom and Dad.”
I shoved the register closed and stuck my cashed-out tips in my back pocket.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Can’t a brother come visit his sister?” Harry asked.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“Well, that usually means something’s going on. So, either you’re lying or you’re covering up. Which is it?”
He chuckled. “You always were a tough cookie.”
“Which is why I can handle my own and I don’t need the protection of my brother to make that happen. I’ve been on my own since I was a teenager. I can take care of myself.”
I stared at him blankly as he looked around the shop. My gosh, he looked just like Mom. Those stern eyes that always judged and that slim figure that never stopped. He even had Mom’s long legs, despite his shorter stature. It hurt to look at him. To be reminded of the beautiful, vibrant woman that was ripped from this world way too soon.
The beautiful woman that couldn't stand her daughter wanting to make her own way in this world.
“This shop would have put Mom in the grave,” Harry said, chuckling.
“Yeah, well. The gang got to her first,” I said flatly.
“It’s dangerous to speak ill of the dead,” he said.
“Not speaking ill of her.”
“Or those that are living, for that matter.”
“Why? Are you going to bring the gang down onto my head for admitting the truth? That they slaughtered Mom and Dad when I was only eighteen years old?”
“As recompense for their sins,” he said.
“They wanted to get away, Harry. That isn’t a sin. That’s wanting a better life for themselves. For us. They’d roll over in their graves if they knew—”
“Language,” he warned.
I clenched my jaw. “Get out of my shop.”
“Not until you hear me out.”
“I said, get the fuck out.”
The smile that crossed his face ripped me back into my memories. Images that haunted me throughout the course of my days. Mom screamed in my head, telling me a woman’s place was at a man’s side. Not in some shop trying to make her own way. That women were designed differently than men for a reason, and scoffing at a good man meant a hard life for me in the end. My father’s voice echoed off the corners of my mind. Telling me how much he loved me. Whispering of plans to immigrate to the U.S. so we could all have a safe, wonderful life together.
I closed my eyes as I saw myself stepping off the plane into San Diego for the first time. Fifteen years old, at my father’s behest. I had no clue if my mother knew what my father did for me. Sending me off like that with money stacked in a suitcase to help me plant my roots in whatever city I wanted. He knew it was too late for my brother. Harry had already gotten wrapped up in the gang, and my father was furiously trying to rip myself, him, and Mom out of it.
A phone ringing in my distant memory sent tears rushing to my eyes. The phone call two days after I turned eighteen, alerting me that both my mother and father had been slaughtered in cold blood by the same gang he was trying so hard to get away from.
The same gang my brother now helped with his life’s efforts.
“You really should come get some dinner with me. You look like you could use a good meal. I’ve never seen you so thin before,” Harry said.
My eyes ripped open at the sound of his voice, and a bloodthirsty need to strangle him tingled my fingertips.
“Get out,” I murmured.
“Maya, you really should—”
“I’m fine on my own. Now, get the fuck out.”
“You’re in danger because of me right now. I need to make sure you’re—”
“No, Harry. Let’s make this very clear. You’re in danger because of you. Because you chose a life Dad was furiously trying to get us away from. And if anything happens to me, it’s on you. Just like Mom and Dad’s deaths are probably on you, too.”
“Don’t you dare blame me for their slaughter. I had nothing to do with that!”
“Yeah, just like how everything is fine now, right? That’s what you said when you walked through my doors? Nothing’s wrong?” I asked.
His nostrils flared with anger as he took a step toward me. And when it did, I drew the pistol I had strapped to
the underside of my cash register out. I leveled it at him and watched a devilish smile cross his cheeks.
“Looks like Father’s blood still does run through your veins,” he snarled.
“Get out, or I’ll be dragging your body out back,” I snarled.
“And ruin your pristine floors?”
My eye twitched as my brother laughed.
“I’m just watching out for you, Maya. But, if I leave, the offer of my protection goes with me,” he said.
“Well, you can fuck right on off, then. Because I don’t need you or anyone else,” I hissed.
3
Notch
A knock at my bedroom door woke me from my slumber. The heat of the San Diego sun poured through the tinted, bulletproof windows of the bedroom that had been assigned to me when the damn place was built three years ago. The knock came again, and I rolled out of bed, hitting all fours on the floor. I wasn’t a morning person. I hated the fucking mornings. I stayed up until five and slept until two in the afternoon, usually. But, as my eyes fell to the alarm clock by my bed, I saw it was only ten in the morning.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
“Church,” Stone said gruffly.
Sounded like he hadn’t had his coffee, either.
It was eerily quiet on the outskirts of San Diego. And it was way too quiet for the bullshit that went down yesterday. I stalked out of the room, pulling a shirt over my head with my jeans still unbuttoned. I padded into the kitchen to find Texas whipping up some shit at the stove. Bacon sizzled and toast popped out of the toaster. There was coffee percolating, which all of us slowly moved toward.
I watched Texas shake his arm and I narrowed my eyes.
“You good?” I asked.
His eyes flickered over to me before he pulled his shirt over his head.
“It itches,” he grumbled.
“That’s actually a good sign. Let me take a look at it,” I said.
I peeled the gauze back and smiled when I saw the yellow stains left behind. Yellow was good. No more bleeding, and no infection as of yet. I rummaged around the kitchen, finding the massive first aid kit that was my responsibility to keep stocked. I pulled out a few alcoholic wipes and cleaned up his wound while he hissed at the stove. He turned over the crispy bacon, making my damn mouth water as I changed the gauze over his stitched-up gunshot hole.
“You’re healing well. A few more days, and we’ll be out of the woods with infection, too,” I said.
“Ella’s got me in a cleaning regimen with it,” he mumbled
“Good. You need to stay on it, then.”
“Anyone object to having church around the kitchen table. With some fuckin’ coffee?” Stone asked.
“So long as we don’t wake the girls, I don’t give a shit,” Bronx said.
We all turned our heads and watched the lumberjack walk out of the hallway. I grinned as the hickies on his neck glared at us. His hair was knotted and disheveled. The damn man looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night. I held out my fist for him and he looked down at it, then a smile crossed his face.
He fist-bumped me before I patted him on the back.
“Congrats,” I said.
“She’s a good girl,” Texas murmured.
“Just cover those damn things up before her father comes walking out. Yeah?” Stone asked.
Bronx slapped his hand to his neck before he turned on his heels and backtracked down the hallway.
As all of us waited for him to return, we poured ourselves some coffee and sat down. But we weren’t sitting for long before we heard the rumbling of motorcycles. Stone’s face reddened and my ears perked up. Texas automatically drew the weapon at his side as he slammed the plate of bacon down into the middle of the table.
“It’s fine, guys. Just my men,” Asher said.
Of course, the president of the Celtic Riders came out of his bedroom looking pristine and ready to go.
“Okay, guys. I got it cov—”
I held my hand up to Bronx before he said something that would get him killed where he stood.
“You got what?” Asher asked.
Bronx flickered his eyes over at the man as Stone grinned.
“Yeah, Bronx. You got what?” he asked.
I snickered as our safehouse door opened, revealing four men that came walking in. Texas murmured something about more coffee before he got out of his chair. I watched them greet Asher as I buttered the toast. I made a few more slices, in case the slim and slender men that came walking through that door wanted to have half a slice.
They didn’t look much like Celtic Rider members to me.
Then again, Asher didn’t look happy with them. So, I didn’t say anything about it.
“What the fuck took you guys so long?” Asher asked.
“We had some of our own shit to deal with before we got on the road. Got in late last night,” one of them said.
“You guys should’ve been on the road the second I placed that phone call. What was so important that—”
One of the other men glared at Asher, and they seemed to silently communicate. We all looked around at one another, waiting for someone to answer the obvious question hanging in the air. I stood there, on bated breath. Waiting for the men who were supposed to help us to admit why they were late. Admit why they had abandoned their president and his family in their time of need.
But all Asher did was nod.
“Well, you guys are here now,” he said.
My jaw dropped open at the nonchalant vibe of it all.
“What matters is you’re here now. There’s bacon, coffee, and toast. Help yourself,” Stone said.
I didn’t get a good feeling about any of this. Then again, it wasn’t my place to have feelings about it. I was the road captain and the emergency doctor on staff. Sometimes, the mediator of fights. Always the fucking therapist. But I didn’t have opinions on shit like this. That was Stone’s place. And if he was fine with it, then we all had to be fine with it.
Though, I saw Texas wasn’t fine with it.
“Asher updated us on what’s going on,” one of the riders said.
“And we think we’ve got a plan formulated to get you guys out of this with the least heat,” another said.
“Well, you can spit it out whenever you want,” Bronx said.
“That any way to talk to our guests?” Stone asked.
Apparently, he wasn’t a fan of the secrets, either.
One of the Celtic Riders sighed. “We think you should take out the cop. It’s the easiest target to deal with, and by taking him out you cut off this link between the Chinese and that department.”
“Not a chance,” Stone said.
“It’s the best plan you’ve got, because the Chinese will always have numbers on you. We should know. We dealt with them at one point. Not with guns, but with drugs,” Asher said.
“You guys dealt drugs?” Bronx asked.
“Haven’t for years, but in San Diego? That was our run,” Asher said.
“If you take out the cop, it draws the Chinese out. Possibly the head of this entire thing. The Chinese are meticulous in what they do, but that meticulousness comes at a cost. They probably don’t have a backup officer they’re talking to. And when you take out the cop, you can submit the information you have on the Chinese to another officer and get the leg-up on them,” one of the guys said.
“That cop is my fiancée’s father. We aren’t taking him out,” Stone said.
“Really?” one of the riders asked.
“Her father?” another questioned.
Asher paused. “You could have fed me that information sooner.”
“Not my fault you don’t pay attention. It was plainly laid out for you yesterday,” Stone hissed.
My eyebrows rose as I sipped on my coffee, watching the display of untrustworthiness unfold way too early in the morning for my taste.
“Look, we’re here to help. But if you don’t want our help—”
“You�
��re here to help, not command. You’ve tossed out an idea. I shot it down,” Stone said.
“If you keep that cop alive and on this trail with the kind of vendetta that man has, it’s not going to end well for any of us involved. And now, you’ve got my crew involved. So, we have equal say in what goes down with all this,” Asher said.
“Yes, but that equal say still doesn’t mean we follow you blindly,” Texas said.
“You have to get rid of the link between the police department and the Chinese. Leave them dangling before you get to them. Because if you attack the Chinese first and they alert the SDPD? You’ve got two groups of assholes on your ballsack. And there isn’t enough men to dig you out of that situation,” Asher said.
“If someone has another way of doing this without killing my soon-to-be father-in-law, I’d really appreciate it if you opened your fucking mouths,” Stone growled.
A fight broke out between Asher and Stone. They went back and forth, defending their positions and not getting anything done. If we hadn’t woken up the girls already, we would soon. And their faces were quickly heating up with red. Their stances grew tense, with their fists balled at their sides.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I said breathlessly.
I went and slipped between the two men, pressing my hands into either of their chests.
“Don’t touch me,” Stone glowered.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Asher asked.
“Now that we’ve properly measured dicks for the evening, it’s time to take a breath, sit down, and come up with a conclusion that doesn’t implode the only other safe space we’ve got. Yeah?” I asked.
I looked at Stone and he drew in a deep breath.
“You’re right,” he said.
Asher sighed as he backed away from my hand.
“You’ve really gotten yourselves into some shit, you know that?” one of the riders asked.
“Yes, we do. Thanks for the reminder,” I said flatly.
“Does anyone have any other plans other than killing Detective Woolf?” Bronx asked.
And as we glanced around the room, no one produced any fresh ideas.
The Lost Boys MC Series: Books 1-4 Page 47