Mason: Inked Reapers MC

by West, Heather

  “So how have you been?” Brea asked brightly, trying to force him to open up. “How’s work?”

  “How’s work?” Sylar repeated with a sneer. “Come on, Brea. If you want to catch up, that’s fine but at least be real with me. You know I never talk about work.”

  Brea looked sadly at her hands.

  “My job is going really well,” she informed him. “People love my work and I’ve been getting repeat business and really generous tips.”

  “That’s good,” Sylar turned off the TV and shifted his weight so that he was facing her. “I’m sorry for being a dick, Brea. I’m really glad that you’re enjoying your job.” He patted her knee before getting up and making his way over towards the kitchen.

  “Want a beer?” he slung the question over his shoulder.

  “Sure,” Brea gave a non-committal shrug. Sylar returned with two cooled bottles and handed one to her after he’d uncapped it.

  “Colridge seems a nice enough place,” he offered before taking a deep, long drink from his bottle.

  “It is nice,” Brea agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “I like it there.”

  “Was Gina okay after I…left?” he queried carefully.

  “Yeah,” Brea sipped at her beer. “I mean, she was probably a bit pissed, I don’t know. She called you dangerous.”

  This made Sylar straighten. He stared at Brea, his eyes wide.

  “She did? Why?”

  Brea shrugged. “I don’t know, bitter about you leaving maybe.”

  “Was that all she said, that she thinks I’m dangerous?”

  “Yep, that’s it.”

  Sylar leaned back against the sofa, looking troubled.

  Chapter 42

  Miles wasn’t drinking. He dutifully bought each round at the bar and watched his friends down countless shots and bottles of beer, but he ensured that he remained stone cold sober. A part of him was ready to spring into action if anything kicked off.

  But to his surprise the night was going by without any real hitch. Hank and Colin were getting merry and trying to chat up any girls who were within their radius. The music from the jukebox was set to some pretty decent rock and Miles actually started to relax. But then he stiffened, remembering that Brea was out of town. He missed her more than he cared to admit.

  Hank was getting cozy with a hard faced brunette who wore too much makeup. She was perched up on his knee, letting him grope up and down her legs. No doubt Hank would be fixing to take her back to the motel with them. A busty blonde was sitting next to Colin, hanging on his every word. It never failed to surprise Miles how women would flock to gang members. They were drawn to the danger he supposed. Stupid, he thought.

  As he lingered by the bar, he worked tirelessly to discourage a drunken woman’s advances. He didn’t have eyes for any of them, not matter how much they purred in his ear or gazed at him with their “fuck-me” eyes.

  They’d been out for almost three hours when Hank staggered over, one arm draped around his soon to be conquest.

  “We’re heading back to the motel,” he informed Miles, slurring his words.

  “Okay, sure,” Miles nodded in approval.

  “You coming?” a mischievous light shone out from Hank’s gaze.

  “No, I’ll hang back here a while longer,” Miles leaned against the bar, emphasizing how he had no intention of going back just yet.

  “You sure?” the brunette batted her eyelashes at him. “Could be fun to add one more.”

  Hank laughed and slapped her on the ass. “Me and Miles ain’t becoming tunnel buddies yet, honey. Unless you wanna ride her both ways with me?”

  Miles’ younger self would have accepted such an offer. He’d have gone back to the motel with Hank and placed the brunette on all fours between them. They’d toss a coin to see who got heads and who got tails.

  “I’ll pass,” Miles gave them a tight smile. “But thanks.”

  “Your loss, buddy,” Hank slapped him on the shoulder before walking out with his prize under his arm. Colin followed shortly after, stumbling out the door towards the parking lot. Miles decided to take his time before heading back to the motel himself, afraid of what sight might await him if he headed back too soon.

  ***

  “So I’ve got a boyfriend,” Brea blurted out after her second bottle of beer. Sylar had actually laughed a couple of times while she’d been there. The atmosphere between them felt relaxed and comfortable, or maybe that was just the beer she’d been drinking. But suddenly it felt extremely important to be honest with Sylar about Miles.

  “A boyfriend?” Sylar lowered his bottle of beer which had been half-way to his lips.

  “Uh huh,” Brea nodded a little too quickly, making herself feel dizzy. “His name is Miles.”

  “Miles,” Sylar mouthed the name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. “What does this Miles do?”

  Brea opened her mouth to respond and then snapped it shut. She wasn’t exactly sure of what Miles did.

  “He’s a businessman,” she said after a pause.

  “Hmm,” Sylar seemed unconvinced as he had a swig of beer.

  “He makes me very happy,” Brea hiccupped. “He’s a…a good guy.”

  “I’m sure he’s swell,” Sylar declared bitterly.

  “Why aren’t you happy for me?” Brea demanded contritely, feeling hurt by her brother’s lack of enthusiasm.

  “Brea,” he sighed as he said her name. “You’ve been in Colridge for what? A month? And you’re already involved with some guy. You don’t want to be rushing into anything. You’re young.”

  “So what? You can fuck someone, but I can’t!” Brea raged, staggering up to her feet.

  “He better not be fucking you,” Sylar also stood up, firmly gripping her shoulders. “You best be conducting yourself like a lady, Brea!”

  “I am!” she insisted, shrugging him off. “And Miles cares about me! He doesn’t just leave me in the morning. He sticks around.”

  If shame was a color, she saw it on her brothers face right at that moment.

  “He’s not like you,” she added coldly, digging that dagger deeper into her brother’s heart.

  “Fine,” Sylar dropped back onto the sofa. “I’m a dick and this guy Miles is a saint, whatever. You got a picture of him?”

  “Hmm? Yeah,” Brea reached for her cell phone but in her drunken state she struggled to work it.

  “Hang on,” she forced herself to focus really hand on scrolling through the menu.

  “There’s one here somewhere…”

  “Am I going to meet this Miles guy?” Sylar wondered. He didn’t sound thrilled at the idea.

  “Uh huh,” Brea nodded, still fixated on her phone. She just knew that Sylar and Miles would hit it off. After all they both liked motorcycles.

  She only had the one picture of Miles on her phone. She’d taken it one morning when they were in bed together and the sunlight coming through the window had hit his face in such a way that it made him look perfect and she felt compelled to capture the moment forever.

  “Here,” she handed the phone over to her brother. “That’s Miles.”

  Chapter 43

  The sky was starting to lighten when Miles finally left the bar. He shivered against the brisk morning breeze as he slowly walked back towards the motel, hoping that Colin, Hank, and their female companions would be in a decent state by the time he returned. He passed by the tattoo parlor where Brea worked. The metal shutters were down; it was too early for anyone to be at work.

  Miles felt a pang in his heart over how much he missed her as he walked by. He’d wandered in there when he first arrived in Colridge hoping to get some new ink and he’d come away with so much more. But it wasn’t like him. Miles bunched his hands into fists of frustration and quickened his pace. His time living on the street had taught him to be tough, to learn to live on his own. Brea made him want to change, made him want to share his life with someone.

  As the motel came in to view Miles slo
wed. He shoved his hands deep in to his pockets and sauntered across the parking lot towards his motel room door. He paused beside it listened. There were no sounds coming from inside. Taking a deep breath, he used his key and let himself in.

  It was dark in the room. The drapes were drawn tightly closed, sealing out the growing morning light. In the dim light, Miles could make out a few crumpled bodies sprawled out over the first bed. It was a tangle of naked limbs and difficult to discern who was who. Glancing away Miles headed for the bathroom. Thankfully it was empty and he was able to shower off the musty smell of the bar and freshen up.

  When he re-entered the bedroom, the bodies on the bed had stirred. Hank was now sitting up and smoking a cigarette. Dark circles had gathered beneath his eyes. Colin and the two women appeared to still be sleeping.

  “Last night was a good night,” Hank grinned as he saw Miles. “You missed out on all the fun.”

  “So it would seem,” Miles glanced towards the bed and raised his eyebrows.

  “Haha,” Hank was laughing, his teeth clamped around his half smoked cigarette. “They were game for anything, those girls, I’ll say that for them.”

  “Glad you enjoyed yourselves,” Miles leaned awkwardly against a nearby dresser. He wondered if today would be the day he’d actually get a call from his Uncle. There were three members of the Reapers now in Colridge, surely it was time for them to start stirring shit up? Otherwise why were they even there? Granted, Miles’ original exile to the town had been a form of punishment but Hank and Colin would have a more legitimate reason to be there. They were some of the hardiest members of the pack. The ones with the most fearful reputations.

  During a fight, Hank had once dragged a man by his hair over to the curb. He made him bite down around it and then he stomped on his head, breaking the man’s jaw and shattering all his teeth. All the while Hank had been laughing like a maniac.

  If Miles hadn’t been there he would have thought the story to be a lie. But he’d stood by and watched Hank’s foot come down hard, heard the sickening snap of bone and witnessed the spray of blood and broken teeth which rained down around Hank’s victim. It had been a sickening scene, yet Miles had been unable to look away. He’d always managed to find the beauty in destruction. He wondered if all members of his pack felt that way.

  “Will today be the day?” Hank asked, leaning back on the bed. “We keep waiting on that call.”

  “I hope it’s today,” Miles rolled his eyes. “But if it’s not we just need to keep laying low and occupying ourselves.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Hank’s gaze drifted to the naked buttocks of the nearby blonde. He hungrily roved her curves and chuckled to himself. “I can easily be occupied.”

  “Good,” Miles hoped the women could entertain his friends long enough to keep them out of trouble. Hank would only be distracted by sex for so long. Then his carnal need would grow and he’d need something more brutal to satiate himself. That was when he’d go seeking out trouble.

  Miles reached for a half drunk bottle of whiskey, which had been left on the nightstand and took a swig from it. The liquor burned his throat as it went down, but it succeeded in banishing some of his burgeoning worries.

  “Sure you don’t want a ride?” Hank asked as he playfully smacked the woman’s bare cheek. She murmured sleepily but didn’t wake.

  “I’m sure,” Miles confirmed.

  “What happened to you, man? You used to be fun.”

  Miles could only shrug apologetically. He wasn’t about to tell Hank the truth. That now he had someone he cared about. It would make him seem weak in Hank’s eyes and once that happened Hank would stop listening to him and start doing his own thing. And that would be extremely dangerous.

  “You’re young,” Hank continued, sounding slightly envious of Miles’ youth. “You should be fucking everything that moves.”

  “I’ve got the clap.” It was the easiest and most convenient lie Miles could think of. It was also a way to stop Hank and Colin trying to lure him into sharing their bedfellows.

  “Damn,” Hank gestured for Miles to pass over the bottle of whiskey he was holding. “Been there. It’s no fun.”

  “Uh huh,” Miles passed over the bottle of whiskey. Hank raised it to his lips and tipped it back before drinking heavily as though it were iced tea. When he was done, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and gave a satisfied sigh.

  “Well, don’t worry, I’ll be having plenty of fun on your behalf,” Hank returned what was left of his cigarette to his mouth and handed the bottle back to Miles.

  “Uh, what time is it?” the brunette’s eyes fluttered open as she stretched on the bed. When she noticed Miles she offered him a sexy smile, not caring that she was completely naked and fully on display.

  “It’s time you sucked my dick,” Hank told her boldly. She sat up and faced him. For a moment she scowled and Miles wondered if she was going to slap him hard across the face. But then her gaze became more seductive and she began to shuffle closer to him on the bed.

  “I’m heading out,” Miles couldn’t reach the door to the room fast enough. He stepped outside just in time to hear Hank start to groan with appreciation.

  Chapter 44

  “This is Miles?” Sylar stared at the cell phone in his hand, scrutinized the image of the hardened guy with the sun illuminating his face. So many angry thoughts tumbled against Sylar like a tidal wave that he thought he might drown beneath.

  In the picture, his sister and her boyfriend were in bed. Seemingly naked. Which meant that they were having sex. Sylar tried not to lose his shit at the thought of his little sister having sex. He told himself to be reasonable. She was an adult now, she had a life to live. But he couldn’t detach from the little girl he’d consoled when they lost their parents who had long braids and freckles on her cheeks.

  But it was more than just the loss of her innocence that angered him. The guy in the picture looked familiar. His tattooed arm was on display as it wrapped around Brea. Sylar could see ships and anchors, it looked like a naval themed sleeve. And Sylar had definitely seen that before.

  He returned Brea’s cell phone to her and wiped a hand down his face, wracking his memory. Where had he seen the guy? The memory was foggy as though it occurred a long time ago, or when he was drunk.

  “Sylar?” Brea was gazing up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything. He managed to crack a smile for her.

  “He looks like a nice guy.”

  “Thanks,” Brea grinned and then gazed adoringly at the picture on her phone which was now back in her possession. Sylar tensed. He didn’t like her looking at the picture like that. She was behaving like a lovesick school girl. But the tattoo was bothering him even more than her behavior.

  “You okay to hang here for a while? I just need to pop into town,” he was already reaching for his jacket as he spoke.

  “Oh, okay,” he could hear the hurt inflection in his sister’s voice.

  “I promise I won’t be long,” he insisted. “And when I get back we can hang out.”

  “Can we play Candyland?” Brea wondered hopefully, referring to the board game they always used to sit and play together on rainy.

  “Sure,” Sylar smiled warmly at her. “It’s in the cupboard near the hallway.”

  “I’ll go find it and get it set up,” Brea told him sweetly. And just like that she was back to being his cherub faced little sister who he needed to protect at all costs.

  Chapter 45

  Sylar’s hand ached from pounding so hard on the flimsy apartment door. Exhaustion was creeping up on him as he glanced uneasily down the corridor. A couple of used syringes were scattered on the threadbare carpet and everywhere stank of piss.

  “Fuck’s sake!” the door finally rattled open. From the darkness within the apartment, Smith peered out, his good eye squinting against the brightness of the light in the corridor. “This better be good,” he warned.

  “I’m sorry to co
me over like this,” Sylar apologized. He knew better than to get on Smith’s bad side, but his question was urgent and couldn’t wait. Nor could he risk it being recorded down on a cell phone in a message.

  “I need to ask you something.”

  Smith leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms across his bare chest. “Do you need to come in?” he wondered, thinking Sylar was in trouble.

  “No, I won’t put you out if you’ve got company.”

  “I’ve always got company,” Smith confirmed flatly.

  “Right, of course. Look, I just,” Sylar was flailing, almost too tired and panicked to string his words together cohesively.