by Chelle Bliss
“Oh, I love a good secret,” Mike says from the couch.
“There’s no secret, Uncle.”
“Want me to hold her down, and you can tickle it out of her, sis?”
I put my hands on my hips and spin around to face my uncle. “I’m not five anymore. That won’t work.”
“Kid, you know your aunt. She’s like a rabid dog when she gets something stuck in her craw. You might as well spill your guts now and make it easy on yourself. And in my mind, you’re always going to be a little girl.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I’ll go clean up my station so we can get this celebration happening earlier rather than later. I have a lot to do, and time’s wasting away.” I march out of the room, not giving them another chance to say anything more.
Pike, Anthony, and my dad are cleaning their stations, talking about bikes because what else would they be talking about.
“Gigi, Pike just told me something interesting,” my dad says as soon as he spots me.
I stop dead like my feet have been nailed to the floor. My heart starts to pound out of control, pumping so fast, I’m pretty sure it’s about to burst. “What?” I ask, wincing because I’m not sure I want to hear whatever my dad is about to say.
Pike’s gaze locks on mine, and I’m ready to blurt out something, anything, to lessen the blow. Why in the fuck would Pike tell my dad about seeing me in Daytona? I thought he wanted to be here, and although starting on a lie isn’t great, telling your boss you fucked his daughter is just plain stupid.
“He got a place over at Sunshine Vista. So, you two are neighbors now. That’ll make your mom feel better, knowing someone is close by that can look out for you.”
A slow grin spreads across Pike’s face, and I immediately want to smack it off.
My eyes widen as my gaze moves to my father. “Look out for me?”
“Well, yeah.” My dad nods, smiling because he doesn’t know the truth. “Your mom doesn’t like that you’re going to be living on your own, and this will make her feel better.”
“He could be a serial killer, Dad. We don’t really know Pike that well, and anyway—” I smash my hands together, pulling at my fingers to keep my anger in check “—I’m twenty-one and can look out for myself.”
My dad shakes his head. “You’re also a girl who’s living alone. I don’t care if you’re thirty, your mom is always going to be your mom. You know how she is, and with knowing Pike lives close, even if you don’t ever need his help, she’ll sleep better at night.”
I love my father, but he still has some backward ways of thinking. He has three daughters and has taught us all how to defend ourselves and be independent, but here he is, talking about how my mom will sleep better knowing I have a guy nearby. A dick has nothing to do with safety. Knowing I’ve got a bullet for whatever dumb fuckers try to fuck with me is all the security I need.
“She should sleep better knowing I’ll have my Glock in my nightstand, ready to shoot anyone who tries any shit.”
Dad shakes his head, scrubbing his hands down his face and muttering a string of curse words under his breath. “First, you know she can’t find out about the Glock.”
“Dude, you never told Suzy about getting Gigi a gun?” Anthony says, staring at my father with his mouth hanging open.
“Nope, and we’re going to keep it that way,” Dad tells him.
“You know how to shoot with that?” Pike asks, leaning back in his chair, eyes only on me.
“You want to find out?” I smirk.
Pike throws up his hands. “Maybe we can hit the range.”
“That’s a hard no.” I turn back toward my dad. “I don’t need a man to keep me safe. Not when I have Lola.”
Anthony almost chokes on the water he’s sipping. “You named your gun Lola?”
“Of course. What did you name yours?”
“I never named a gun, and I don’t have any in the house anymore. Max would skin me alive if she found one with the kids in the house.”
All the badass men in my life pretend to be in control, having shit on lockdown in their lives. But it’s all a lie. The women in their beds have all the power. Anthony won’t even keep a weapon in the house because he can’t win an argument with my aunt because she holds the reins, as well as his balls.
“Well, Dad taught me how to shoot a long time ago. When I went away to FSU, he bought me Lola as a graduation present.”
“Classy,” Anthony says, earning him a glower from my father. “Couldn’t get her a normal gift like money or a car?”
“He doesn’t do anything normal,” I add.
“That ain’t no lie. Tamara hates guns,” my uncle says, but he couldn’t be further from the truth.
I chuckle because Tamara, Anthony’s daughter and my cousin, so doesn’t hate guns. She loved going to the range with me, especially when we needed to let off some steam around exam week. The girl actually has killer aim, a born natural for someone who never spent much time shooting.
“Lily has a gun,” Mike says. “It’s good for a girl to know how to defend herself.”
Izzy walks into the main room, arms folded, head cocked, ready to go off. “You assholes act like we’re weak. I never needed a gun to bring a man to his knees. Don’t start acting like we’re delicate flowers in need of rescue. You taught your girls how to fight just like you taught me. Lord help any man who fucks with a Gallo girl.”
“You got a gun, Pike?” Anthony asks, diverting the conversation from the weakness of the Gallo women and back to guns.
“Nope.” Pike shrugs. “I have my fists, and they’re the only weapon I need. Used to have one when I was a kid, but haven’t felt the need in years.”
I roll my eyes again. That was such a bunch of macho crap spewing from his mouth.
“I got you covered, Pike, ya know…in case you need rescuing.” I smirk.
Pike’s body shakes with laughter. “You’re a funny chick, Gigi.”
“We’re leaving in ten. Whatever isn’t cleaned tonight will have to be done in the morning,” Izzy announces to the entire room. “There’s a cold drink with my name on it, and you Chatty Cathys are wasting time.”
“We’re moving as fast as we can, Mom,” Anthony tells her, earning a glare back for his attempt at trying to make a funny.
Ten minutes later, Izzy’s shooing us out of the shop, locking the door behind us.
“Want a lift?” Pike asks as he walks next to me into the parking lot.
I gawk at him. “Are you serious?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Do you want a lift? Because I’m not going on the back of your bike tonight.”
“Does that mean you’ll get on the back another time?” he asks with his face covered in shadows, but his white smile is clearly visible.
“No.”
“Why don’t you ride with Gigi, Pike?” Izzy asks, and I know she’s testing me. Seeing if I’ll lose my shit, which I’m pretty close to doing. “Since we’re going to be having a few drinks, one of you needs to stay sober enough to drive. Might as well use one car since you’re going to the same place.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Pike jumps right on in. “Good idea, boss.”
“Just put your bike behind the shop. No one will mess with it,” she adds, staring at me as I glare at her, but she’s sporting the biggest smile. “Gigi will follow you back there.”
I look to my dad for a rescue, but he’s climbing on his bike, either completely oblivious to the conversation or he agrees with my aunt and just isn’t saying anything.
“Works for me,” Pike says, throwing a leg over the seat, looking all too happy about the turn of events.
“I’m sure it does,” I mutter to myself before climbing in my truck and letting out a stream of curses as soon as I close the door.
My aunt, God love her, is testing my patience and doing what she does best…sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong and meddling in other people’s lives.
What else could
possibly go wrong?
12
Pike
There are things I know for certain, and others I’d only assume. I know Joe Gallo loves Gigi more than just about anything, except for maybe his other daughters and his wife. The way he looks at his eldest daughter, it’s like the sun and the moon rise and set on her very existence. I don’t remember my parents, either one of them, ever looking at me the way he looks at her. I was more of a nuisance to them than a source of pride. I could do no right in their eyes, and they made sure to let me know how they felt on a daily basis.
Even from the short amount of time I’ve spent at Inked, I also know the Gallos are a tight-knit crew. They love being around one another, busting the others’ balls about whatever they could find. I can’t imagine having so many people willing to have my back about anything and everything.
The closest I got to having something like that wasn’t from blood relations. When I turned eighteen and left Tennessee, I landed straight in the middle of a group of bikers who were hell-bent on making me one of their own. Spent three years riding with them as I worked at various tattoo shops all over Florida, trying to better my artistic craft and my line work. They treated me better than the two people who gave me life. They didn’t judge me, didn’t expect anything but loyalty, and had my back no matter what shit went down. And there was shit. Plenty of it too. I was an angry kid with a massive chip on my shoulder, pissed off and ready to take on the world, no matter the consequences.
The guys adopted me in a way. As much as any group can when the person’s not a child anymore. I was always open and honest, telling them the biker life wasn’t for me. I had dreams, and nothing, not even my first real family, would derail me. When I finally found a shop that would hire me full-time, I started spending less and less time with the MC. They weren’t happy, but they understood where my heart was, and it wasn’t riding up and down the coast of Florida, wreaking havoc and raining down mayhem.
They weren’t in my life on the daily, but I never said goodbye. I still met the guys every year at Bike Week, catching up like old friends who had a long history together. It was our own little fucked-up family reunion, because we had one another if no one else.
Over the last two days, I also realized Gigi’s Aunt Izzy, the one with the giant attitude, liked to be in the know about everything. There wasn’t a person’s business she wasn’t all up in. That included Gigi and now me since we were clearly throwing off some sort of vibe neither of us could hide, but we weren’t about to fess up to anything either.
“This is my last beer,” Mike says after he orders his second and another round, slipping a fifty to the waitress. “I finally feel as old as I am, and staying out late, partying my ass off, won’t make for a happy Mike tomorrow.”
From the little I know about Mike, he had dreams of being a fighter. He even lived out that dream, climbing to the top, getting the title, before marrying and calling it quits.
I’d thrown down with some pretty scary fuckers in my time, but no one quite as big as Mike Gallo. The man made every doorway seem small. But even with his imposing size, he has a kind smile and says shit that makes the smile slide easily across my lips.
“We’re all leaving after this,” Izzy announces, mothering us like she did all day at the shop. “This makes the second round, and anything more than this and none of us can drive.”
“I’m good with the one,” I add because although I’m not above mixing business with pleasure, I don’t know these people well enough yet to match them drink for drink.
“Good, then you can drive Gigi home,” Joe says from across the table with his daughter sitting right next to him, giving me the side-eye.
“I’m fine, Dad. It’s only beer,” she tells him and motions toward her half-empty glass sitting in front of her. “It’s not like I’m about to chug the next one.”
The first time I met Gigi, she had more than a beer in her system. The girl could drink and had an appetite for alcohol, like almost every college kid in the country.
“I’ll make sure she gets home safely.” I know it’s going to aggravate her to no end that I’m willing to be her escort home.
“It’s amazing I survived college without a ride home after a beer.” She rolls her eyes, pushing her beer farther away with her top lip curling. “It takes more than that to get me tipsy.”
Joe covers her hand as it lays on the table in front of them. “Just do your old man a favor. Give me peace of mind tonight and let Pike drive you.”
“Why? Because he’s a man?” she grumbles. “That’s such bullshit, Dad, and you know it.”
“Just be happy you have two sisters and not two brothers, Gigi. Your life could be worse. So much worse,” Izzy adds, sliding her fingers through the water drops running down the side of her glass.
“Whatever,” Gigi mutters, glaring at me across the table like I’m trying to give her a hard time when I’ve done nothing but keep my mouth shut, letting our secret stay hidden.
“So, Pike,” Anthony says, placing his phone on the table next to his beer. “What’s your story?”
I blink a few times, staring at him in confusion because the question is loaded and totally open-ended. “My story?”
“Yeah.” Anthony lifts his hand as his eyebrows pull downward. “You got any siblings? Parents still alive? What brought you so far away from home?”
“One brother. Ten years younger than me. My parents are very much alive and still in Tennessee, hopefully where they’ll stay until they take their last breath.” I push my beer glass to the side and lean over the table, clasping my hands together.
“Your folks planning a visit?” Izzy cocked an eyebrow, staring at me, waiting for more details than I gave. She was fishing. Always fishing.
“Nope. I haven’t spoken to them in years.” I catch Gigi’s eye. “My grandmother raised me since I was thirteen.”
“Years?” Gigi mutters. “I couldn’t imagine going that long without talking to my parents.”
“That’s because you have good parents. No, great parents, Gigi. You grow up with shit parents, living the way I did, you ride away and don’t look back. The last thing I need is to waste any more of my life on people who couldn’t give a shit if I’m alive or dead.”
Gigi’s eyes widen in horror at the harshness of my words. “That’s awful.”
It isn’t the first time I’ve seen the pity on someone’s face when they realize I’d had a bad hand dealt to me before turning everything around and making it what I wanted.
“If I’d grown up with an ounce of what you’ve got—” I dip my head toward her father and waving a hand toward her aunt and uncles “—I probably wouldn’t be sitting here, having a beer in another state, determined to plant new roots far enough away I could never run into my past either.”
The pretty little waitress sets the beers down on the table, her eyes moving from one person to another but not saying a word because she can probably feel the vibe at the table has shifted.
“Keep it, doll,” Mike says when the woman tries to hand him his change.
“You’re too kind, Michael,” she says as a giant smile spreads across her pouty lips. “If I didn’t love Mia so much…”
“It still wouldn’t happen, babe. While you’re pretty and sweet, you’re way too young for an old fart like me.”
She snorts. “Always a charmer.”
I’m thankful for her interruption. Most of the table is busy shuffling around the beer glasses, hopefully forgetting everything I said moments ago. Everyone except Gigi. Her eyes are pinned on me, sweeping over my face with the small little creases across her forehead more pronounced.
“What about your brother?” Gigi asks as soon as the waitress wanders off because the woman can’t leave shit alone.
I shrug. “He was seven when I left home. It’s not like we had a close relationship.”
“But if your parents were that bad, don’t you worry about him being with them when you’re not there to p
rotect him?”
I laugh and shake my head. “My parents were shit to me, but not that kid. They love him. Treated him like the king of the castle. He could literally do no wrong in their eyes. He’s fine right where he is, and it’s not like I could’ve just taken him when I left. The road is no place for a kid.”
Before I took off, I thought about taking Austin with me, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to feed myself, let alone a kid. I knew he’d be fine with my parents. They loved him way more than they ever loved me. They made sure I knew how much more on a daily basis too. My grandmother promised me she’d check in on Austin, and the moment their attitude went south and they started treating him like anything other than a little prince, she’d let me know. Then and only then would I go back for him, taking him wherever my ass ended up.
“Where have you been for the last nine years?” Gigi asks, leaning forward, resting her fist underneath her chin and studying me like I was a rarity instead of the norm.
“Here and there.”
“Pike’s been working at some of the best tattoo shops in Florida since he was twenty,” Joe tells her, figuring my answer wouldn’t satisfy his daughter.
“If they were so good, why is he here?” she asks like I’m not even at the table or able to answer.
“Because I only wanted to be at the best place, and that’s Inked.”
I hope it’s enough for the conversation finally to shift away from me.
“And for the two years in between?” she asks like a bloodhound, suddenly interested in my life for the first time since I met her.
“He was hanging with the guys in the Disciples,” Izzy throws out there like it is common knowledge and something I put on my resume, which I didn’t, and I thought I’d covered my tracks enough that no one would find out. My gaze slides to Izzy, and she shrugs with a shitty smirk. “You didn’t think I’d hire you without having my husband run a full background check, did you?”
“So, you all knew, but hired me anyway?” I lean back in my chair, stunned as I look around the table, all eyes on me.