Burn: Men of Inked Heatwave #2

by Chelle Bliss

  Granny smiles. “It’s just nice to see you here again. Go be with Austin. Don’t come back until later. We’ll get dinner started.”

  “What the hell are you going to make?” I pitch a thumb over my shoulder toward the empty fridge. “There’s nothing in there.”

  “Pike, I’ve made more with less. Now, go.” Granny shoos me toward the door.

  It’s a short walk to the river’s edge where Austin’s sitting in an old Adirondack chair. He’s hunched over, elbows on his knees, holding a stick in one hand, smacking the water with the tip.

  “Sorry I took so long.” I set the six-pack between us and sit in the lawn chair next to him. “The girls…”

  “Did you call Granny a girl to her face?” Austin asks.

  I shrug, laughing because he knows as well as I do how much she hates it. “Maybe.” I reach for two beers and offer him one. “She can try to beat my ass now, but I’m a little too big and too fast.”

  Austin laughs too, taking the beer from my hand. “She’s too old for all that. Now she just gives you the look when you’ve fucked up. You know the look?”

  I nod, knowing damn well the way she can put the fear of death in you with just a single squint and crook of her lips.

  “I get it a lot,” he says, twisting the top off the beer before throwing the cap in the mud. “She’s slower now but still scary.”

  I kick back, relaxing in a spot where I spent a lot of time during my childhood. “Granny’s all bark and no bite. I couldn’t say the same for some people in our lives.”

  Austin grimaces. He is young, but he wasn’t blind. “I don’t know why they were always so good to me and treated you like shit.” Pain flashes in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t even think about it, Aus. We all go through shit in life. That was mine to deal with. I’ve moved past everything. I got away and landed places where people wanted me. I may have been born into the family by blood, but I found my new family by choice.”

  He looks off into the distance as he rests the bottle on his leg. “Where did you go?”

  I follow his eyes, ogling the same patch of trees. There has been pain for both of us. Mine was caused by the people he loved the most, and his was by my absence and our mother’s death.

  “I just took off,” I confess softly, digging the heels of my boots into the thick mud near the shore. “I wanted to be anywhere but here.”

  He glances at me, eyebrows drawn inward. “And went where?”

  “I headed south.” I shrug, wondering how much I should tell him. But then I figure, I shouldn’t hold anything back. “I left with five hundred bucks in my pocket. Slept in some pretty shady motels as I made my way to Florida, blowing through most of my cash before I hit the Georgia-Florida line.”

  He turns in his chair, giving me his full attention. Attention I don’t really want but have no choice but to take. “Then what did you do?”

  “My life took an unexpected turn near Jacksonville.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Jacksonville?”

  “Yeah. I was minding my own business, filling my bike’s tank with some gas, when all hell broke loose.”

  “What happened?”

  “Got my ass shot that night,” I say, smiling as I think back on the stupidity of the entire thing.

  His eyes widen as soon as the words are out of my mouth. “Shot?” he gasps.

  “Some bikers had a beef with some jackasses nearby. I got caught in the cross fire.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Where did you get shot?”

  “My shoulder.” I rub the spot where I’ll always have a scar. “It wasn’t too bad, but I was pissed. I got into it with one of the guys, and he ended up punching me in the shoulder, making me kiss the cement.”

  “What the fuck?” Austin’s mouth hangs open. “For real? The asshole punched you in your wound?”

  I nod, knowing how fucked up it sounds. “I passed out from the pain after that. I don’t remember anything until I woke up at their compound.”

  Austin swallows as his knuckles turn white from gripping his beer so tightly. “Were you scared?”

  I shake my head, lying my ass off because if you aren’t a little scared in a situation like that, then you’re really a dumbass. “Well, I wasn’t happy when I woke up. My shoulder was fixed and the bullet removed, but I had no idea what they had planned for me. When I saw the guy who punched me, it took three men to hold me back from getting my retribution.” I chuckle, remembering the shock on Morris’s face when I lunged at him.

  Austin gives me a cocky smile. “I would’ve punched that fucker square in his jaw. He’d be eating nothing but smoothies for a month.”

  I laugh at my brother’s greenness. If he knew Morris, ever laid eyes on the man, he’d realize there was no way he’d have the kind of power to actually break his jaw. “I never did get to give him payback, but after I talked with him, I understood why he did it.”

  “I don’t think I could ever get over something like that,” he mutters.

  I throw back half the beer, letting the cool liquid coat my throat, trying to come up with some words of wisdom. “As you grow older, you realize some things aren’t worth holding grudges over. At some point, you’ve just got to move on, or else you’ll always be stuck looking back.”

  Austin leans back in his chair, eyes going back to the forest with the sun cascading through the leaves. “I guess so,” he whispers. “What happened after that?”

  I let out a sigh, knowing there’s so much to the story. I could talk about my time with the Disciples for days and never really get into everything that happened. “They invited me to stay after they found out I had nowhere to go. I ended up living there for a few years, hanging out with the guys, feeling like I was part of a family for the first time in my life.”

  The only family I’d ever known.

  “Wait.” He slices his eyes to mine. “You lived with a biker gang?”

  I nod, lifting my beer to my lips and pausing. “Only for a little while.”

  “You said a few years,” he corrects me, throwing my own words back in my face.

  I shrug. “That’s a little while. As you get older, years aren’t as long. It went by in the blink of an eye.”

  “Did you go on runs and kill people too?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Never. I never prospected with them. Never wanted to be in a biker club. They gave me a place to live and I did some stuff for them to pay my way, but damn, it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it sound. You watch way too much television.”

  “Sons of Anarchy was my favorite show, dude. Now I find out I have my very own Jax Teller in the family.”

  I bark out a laugh at his statement. “Austin, I am not and have never been Jax Teller. I wasn’t in the Disciples. I didn’t wear their cut. I was like the live-in help. They gave me a room, food, and let me hang around, but that’s about it.”

  “They have all those wild parties?” He raises an eyebrow because he’s seventeen and probably thinks about sex as often as he breathes.

  “No,” I lie and try to keep my face as neutral as possible.

  “Liar.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re telling me they don’t have half-naked women all around their compound?”

  “If they did, I never saw it.” That is my story, and I am sticking to it. In no way do I want to make the life sound even a little bit like something a horny teenage boy would enjoy.

  “Whatever,” he mumbles against the top of the beer bottle. “How long did you stay with them?”

  “A few years, honing my skills as a tattoo artist. I loved to draw. It was always my thing. My escape. But drawing in a book and doing it on flesh are two different things.”

  “I remember you always sketching something or other.”

  “The guys in the club let me use them as my guinea pigs. They got free tattoos until I was pretty fucking good at it.”

  “So, you got room and board, a
nd they got free tattoos?” he asks, repeating my statement.

  “Something like that,” I say.

  “It was a nice trade-off. Plus, I’m sure the tits and ass were a bonus too.” He laughs, knowing I’m full of shit.

  I’m going to go right on by that because he doesn’t need to know about all the tits and ass.

  God, there was so much, too. All shapes, sizes, ages. Thirsty bitches who wanted nothing more than to fuck and suck their way through the members of the club.

  I was young and didn’t care about anything else except for getting off. I wasn’t looking for long-term. I wanted casual, and the ladies around the club were perfect for something like that.

  “I never really had much trouble getting tits and ass, kid.” I wink at him. “That’s one thing Mom and Dad gave us…good genes. We’re damn good-lookin’.”

  “I don’t know about your ugly mug, but I’m fucking hot.” He touches his chest, giving me a smug grin. “Ask any of the chicks around here. They’re all chomping to get a piece of me.”

  I roll my eyes, remembering when I was just as cocky as he is now. That’s youth. Life has a way of reminding you you’re not as great as you think you are. “Tell me what you really think of yourself.” I laugh at my little brother as he kisses his bicep.

  “Nah. I’m sure you can see the perfectness that’s me. Now, I want to know what happened and why you left the Disciples.”

  I slam back the last of my beer and reach for another one. Eventually, we’re going to get off of me and move on to the shit that went down after I left.

  “It was just time to go. I headed out after tattooing at a local shop for about a year, moving a few hours south where I could find a chair. I still saw the guys, caught up with them every year at Bike Week in Daytona, but I had my sights set on bigger and better things than anything I could get with the Disciples.”

  “So, you’re living somewhere south of Jacksonville?”

  I shake my head. “I live north of Tampa now.”

  His eyebrows furrow. “What? How?”

  “So, I lived near Daytona for a while, doing tats in a decent shop, but I wanted to work at the best shop in Florida. They were always in every tattoo magazine, featured for their killer work and designs. I wanted to work there from the day I put my first mark on someone’s skin.”

  “And they’re in Tampa?”

  “They’re about an hour north. Middle of fucking nowhere, but not like here. There’s still civilization around, but it’s a quieter way of life than Daytona with all the tourist bullshit.”

  “And the hot chick?” He tips his head toward the path leading back to Granny’s. “How does she fit in?”

  “I met her in Daytona, but her family owns Inked. She works there, and now I work there too.”

  “No shit. You’re fucking the boss’s daughter.” His mouth hangs open.

  “Watch it. That’s my girl you’re talking about.”

  “Well…” He turns the beer in his hand, swiping at the water drops with his thumb. “You are sleeping with her, yeah? She’s not just a friend who tagged along?”

  “She’s my girlfriend, yeah.”

  “So, after all this time, you found what you were looking for? You achieved your dream, and the girl is the bonus.”

  “She’s the real dream,” I confess as my throat grows tight. “But I didn’t know that when I walked into Inked. I thought I’d achieved everything I’d ever wanted when I got my spot. But Gigi…” I shake my head, unable to stop myself from smiling. “That girl and her family, they’re really what I’ve always wanted. Just never knew it until it landed in my lap.”

  Austin kicks at the dirt near his feet, setting down the empty bottle before grabbing another. “You do have a family here, you know,” he heckles, flicking his eyes at me.

  “I’ve never forgotten about you and Granny. Time has a way of getting away from someone. And…” I pause, running my hand down the front of my jeans. “I figured it was easier for everyone if I just disappeared.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Easier for who?”

  I blink, at a loss for words.

  “You or us?” he adds.

  It’s like he’s punched me square in the chest without even lifting a finger. The words sting. “I guess, for me,” I answer honestly.

  Austin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, casting his eyes downward. “I needed you. I wanted you here. I was only seven when you left, but I used to love coming to see you.” His eyes flicker to mine. “I didn’t care what Mom and Dad said, you were and are my brother. I still remember when I walked into her house and Granny told me you were gone.” He shakes his head, blowing out a long breath. “It was like someone kicked me in the face.”

  “I’m sorry.” I rub my forehead, wincing as his words connect with every emotion I’ve shoved down so deep I never let myself feel any of them. “I was a shit brother for leaving without saying goodbye.”

  “You are a shit brother.” He drives that knife in a little deeper and twists.

  I study his dark brown hair, wide build, athletic body, all of which look nothing like mine. “I hope to change that. I need to make amends for the time we lost.”

  “You do.” He doesn’t even flinch when he says those words. “It sucks that Mom dying was the reason you finally came home, but I’m happy you’re here.”

  “I’m sorry about Mom.” I rest my head against the back of the chair, watching the clouds passing over us. “She and I had a complicated relationship, but I never would’ve wanted this for her or you.”

  “I was there,” Austin confesses, drawing my gaze. “No one knows. Not even Granny.”

  My body stiffens. “You were where?”

  “In the house,” he says quietly.

  Jesus. “When she died?”

  He nods slowly, his lower lip trembling. “We both hid. She told me not to come out, no matter what happened. They found me first and used me to lure her into the open.”

  “They found you?” I gape at my brother, trying to imagine the sheer terror he had to have felt.

  He nods again, frown firmly planted on his face. “I was hiding in the closet, and they dragged me out. I tried to fight them off, but I was outnumbered. I told them she wasn’t there. I told them I was alone, but they didn’t believe me.” He slumps forward and sighs.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, wishing I could take the memories away from him.

  “They punched me in the face before kicking my feet out from under me. They held a gun to my head in the middle of the living room and waited, knowing Mom would eventually come out.”

  I shake my head, imagining the entire situation. The scared seventeen-year-old boy with a gun to his head, and a mother who adored him, lured into the open.

  Sickening.

  “It only took a few minutes, but she came downstairs, pleading with them to let me go.” He turns his head away and wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “I think they hit me with the butt of the gun. I was knocked out cold. I didn’t see what happened, but when I woke up…” He pauses and swallows, his Adam’s apple moving like it’s fighting an unwinnable battle. “Mom was lying in a pool of blood with the back of her head missing.” He goes back to staring at the trees, trying to be nothing but strong at a time when I’d be falling apart.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for all of it. For you having to find Mom like that. For having to go through the entire thing alone.”

  “Maybe now that you’re here…” He looks at me with so much hope in his eyes, my heart aches. “I’ll never have to go through something like that by myself again.”

  “Yeah,” I reply, knowing it’s a promise I can’t keep.

  5

  Pike

  Gigi’s boots come into view as I sit on the porch, trying to digest everything Austin told me. “What are you going to do about Austin?” she asks.

  I lift my gaze, traveling slowly up her bare legs to her cute little t
ank top and finally landing on her face. “What do you mean, what am I going to do about Austin?”

  She crosses her arms and furrows her brows like we’re speaking two different languages. “After this. What’s going to happen to him?”

  What’s going to happen to him? I haven’t put much thought into where my brother will go after the funeral is over. “I figured he’d stay here.”

  Gigi’s face morphs into something unreadable. “You know your grandmother is getting older, yeah?”

  “I’m not blind.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to raise another child at her age,” she tells me.

  “Child?” I laugh as I lean back in the chair. “He’s seventeen. He’s hardly a kid, and in a year, he’ll go off to college or wherever the hell else he wants to go.”

  “Pike,” she says, shaking her head like I’ve just said the most insane thing in the world.

  “Gigi.”

  “He can’t stay here.”

  I jerk my head back. “He can’t? I stayed here, and I turned out just fine.”

  “Nope,” she says bluntly, tapping her foot, clearly pissed off at me…again. “Your grandmother cannot control a seventeen-year-old boy who’s going through some shit after losing his mother. Someone needs to watch out for him so he doesn’t end up surrounded by bad people. Imagine if you were a different type of man and got involved with the MC. Where would you be now?”

  I put my hands behind my head, trying to keep calm while she grows angrier. “No one can control someone else. If he’s going to fuck up his life, he’ll do it whether he stays here or goes somewhere else.” I shrug off her comment.

  “He won’t fuck it up if someone guides him.”

  “He’s grown now.”

  She moves her hands to her hips, and I know she’s gearing up for a fight. “He’s a kid.”

  “If he hasn’t learned how to act or stay out of trouble by seventeen, there’s no help for him anyway, Gigi.”

  Taking Austin with me and being responsible for someone other than myself scares the shit out of me.