Ink: Savage Crows Book One: An MC Romance Novel

by T. O. Smith

  For Riley, my reason for everything that I do.

  I love you.

  And for all of you who stuck with me after I left Inkitt. You guys are the real MVPs.

  OTHER BOOKS BY T.O. SMITH

  Bloody Royals Trilogy

  Bloody Royals

  Black Skulls

  Bloody Black Skulls

  Saving Tracey Duet

  Saving Tracey

  Saving Lucas

  Unexpected Babies Duet

  A New Start

  His Secret

  Helping Lilac

  Rescuing Eloise

  Under His Protection

  Boss

  Carter & Lacie

  Silver

  Little Reaper

  His Dead Bride

  Salvatore

  Grangers Duet: 2-in-1

  Broken Duet: 2-in-1

  After Four Years

  Protecting Natalie

  Chained

  Bridget

  No Love

  ©T.O. Smith. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Canva

  Editing: T.O. Smith

  Proofreading: Taylor Jade

  ISBN-10: 8684725289

  ISBN-13: 979-8684725289

  I cupped my hand around the cigarette between my lips, using my other hand to flick the lighter, inhaling on the cigarette as I lit it. I had just gotten back from a two day long run with Blink and Grim, and after us riding for three hours straight so we could make it back in time for church, I was in desperate need of some fucking nicotine.

  And pussy. I really needed some fucking pussy. But unfortunately, that would have to wait. Club came first – always.

  When Blink looked at me, he barked out a laugh as he stretched his arms above his head, making his back and shoulders pop. Fuck, he was starting to get too old to ride anymore. "You even stretch your fucking fingers out yet, brother?" He asked me.

  I grunted at him, and his grin widened. "Too long without a fucking cigarette." I grumbled.

  He shook his head. Grim seemed to have the same idea that I did, though, because he took his own pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one up. "Fuck, been needing one of these." Grim groaned out. I was honestly shocked he hadn’t made us stop so he could smoke. Grim was a heavy smoker – even had the smoker’s rasp to his voice. Women dug that shit, but it made him a scary mother fucker. And trust when I say he used that shit to his advantage. He wasn’t known as the Grim Reaper for nothing.

  Blink shook his head at both of us. "Be inside for church in five." He instructed us.

  I nodded once at our Founder, letting him know I heard and understood clearly. He wasn't our President anymore - had given up his seat as President a few months ago to Sabotage, but we all still respected him just the same – always would. And if it ever came down to it, his command overrode any president within the club.

  I finished off my cigarette in record time and stomped it out on the ground with my boot, striding off towards the door of the club house. As soon as I walked in, I almost knocked into Scab, one of the prospects. My face instantly twisted into a scowl as I shoved him out of my way. "Watch where the fuck you're going." I barked at him, not giving a fuck that he toppled over one of the chairs and fell on his ass on the floor when I shoved him.

  Had I shoved one of the brothers, an all-out brawl would have definitely started. But the Prospects had to earn their spots and their respect in this club. Therefore, they took whatever shit they were given without a word uttered around any of us.

  But getting in my fucking way when I was agitated and had just come back from a fucking run was not the way to get patched in. I was probably one of the hardest members to get on your good side. Bullet could fucking tell you all about that one. I had given that boy hell when he was prospecting for the club.

  I couldn't help the grin that stretched my lips as I thought about the shit I had made the Prospect go through. He'd earned the patch on his vest fair and square though; I'd give him that.

  I took my seat at the table beside Thor, our club Enforcer. He leaned back in his seat to look out the door where Scab was scowling as he picked the chair up and put it back where it was before I sent him crashing over it.

  "Could be nicer to the Prospect, brother." Thor commented, dragging his attention back to me, a grin stretching his lips. "You give all of 'em such a hard fucking time."

  "Somebody's got to with you fucking pussies making shit easy for them." I jabbed back, barking out a laugh at the scowl that instantly covered Thor's face when I called him a pussy.

  Grim entered the room at that moment, ending our short conversation. He closed the doors behind him before he walked over to his seat. "Cutting it short, ain't you, Grim?" Sabotage spoke up gruffly as Grim took his seat.

  Grim looked over at our President. "Needed a smoke, Prez. Got caught in a phone call as I was walking in here. Got some news." He informed our president.

  Grim was our Vice President - VP for short. He was mostly a quiet man - kept to himself even more than I did. He was one of those men you loved having on your side, and you contemplated suicide if you were against him. He didn't take any shit, and he was probably an even stronger VP than Sabotage had been. If he ever had to take the President patch, I knew he would make a hell of a leader – probably one of the best this club had ever seen.

  Sabotage slammed his gavel on the table, silencing all quiet murmuring in the room. "Let's get to urgent business first, then we'll get to your news, Grim." Sabotage said, his voice carrying out over the room despite him speaking his normal tone. He had a tone of voice that would command anyone's fucking attention. We always joked he would have made a hell of a drill sergeant, but he had been raised an outlaw. The straight and narrow had never been an option for Sabotage.

  Sabotage looked over to me where I was slouched back in my chair, exhaustion weighing on my fucking shoulders, though to anyone else sitting in this room, it would look as if I was completely relaxed and at ease.

  "Ink, how did the run go?" He demanded to know.

  I sat up straighter in my chair, placing my elbows on the table in front of me as I steepled my fingers together in front of me. "Run went smooth.” I informed him. “We've got a shipment of heroine coming in two weeks from now. I'll need four men." I told my President, watching as Grave - our Secretary - took note since he was in charge of making sure I had what I needed to receive the shipment. "Drop off location is still being determined. Rock told me he would get in touch with you or Grim once he sat with his men and discussed it further."

  Sabotage nodded. "We'll keep an ear out for the call." He said, letting me know he understood what was going on. "Grave, you got all that?"

  "Got it, Prez." Grave answered.

  Sabotage looked at Hatchet - our Sergeant at Arms. "You got us a spot locked in at the Leukemia fundraiser this weekend?"

  Hatchet nodded. "Taken care of, Prez. We just need everything set up by nine Saturday morning. We'll be grilling - selling food - and I'll get a couple of the club girls to man a game booth for the kids that'll be there."

  Sabotage nodded. He looked over at Grim. "What news held you up f
rom being in this meeting at a decent time?" Sabotage demanded.

  Grim clenched his jaw, anger sparking in his gaze momentarily. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that Grim didn’t like being talked to sideways, but his respect for Sabotage held him back from saying anything.

  "Sheriff Quinn called me. Said he tried calling you first, but I figured your phone was already in the bin." The bin being the bowl everyone puts their phones in before we enter the chapel. Phones could be used to record what was being said, and we didn’t need that kind of heat on the club. "Girl was found dead out on a bridge out on eighty-one. Looks like sexual assault was involved from what he can see on the body. An autopsy is being performed right now. Looks like the girl was held for a while. Said there's a good possibility she's going to pop up as one of the missing girls in the next town over. Wanted to warn us that FBI would probably be crawling the area within the next couple of weeks."

  Grumbles of aggravation sounded around the room. We had a working relationship with the police force in town. We kept our shit out of town, and they turned a blind eye to the shit we were doing. In a way, we kind of helped keep crime off the fucking streets by being the only ones dealing within and around Hope, Texas. But we couldn't avoid this. This girl being found was a federal case.

  Sabotage banged his fist on the table. "Order!" He shouted at everyone, bringing silence to the room once more. "If the FBI shows up, there's nothing we can fucking do about that." He barked. "We'll continue living our day to day fucking lives. We get questioned, then we just get fucking questioned. Not a goddamn thing we can do about that, and all of us in this fucking room are innocent on that fucking case. Not a damn thing they can do to us no matter how fucking hard they try. Get your fucking panties out of your asses." He banged his gavel on the table. "Church adjourned." He barked.

  I got up from my chair, needing another fucking cigarette. The FBI snooping around was the last fucking thing this club needed. It would make our partners feel threatened - might fuck up potential deals in the future. And we ran the risk of getting followed on fucking runs, which may prevent us from doing runs or getting our fucking shipments in.

  Or some of our men behind bars.

  With a disgusted grunt, I strode up to the bar, leaning over the grab the entire bottle of Whiskey that was sitting on top of the bar counter. Izzy - our bartender - arched a single eyebrow at me. I raised the bottle at her in acknowledgement and then tilted it back, not even feeling the burn in my throat. I had been drinking for so many years now that alcohol hardly affected me anymore. I had to drink a hell of a lot to get wasted.

  And that was my plan. My goal tonight was to get shit faced and bury my dick in pussy until I was too exhausted to do anything but pass the fuck out.

  Turns out, my President and Founder had other fucking plans, though, because soon we were all dragged outside where Blink and Sabotage had Scab and Volt - another Prospect - in the fighting ring. "Place your bets, brothers!" Sabotage called out. "It's a fight until one of them knocks out."

  I had my money on Volt. Fucking Scab was too much of a pussy to win this goddamn fight.

  I placed a hundred on Volt, handing it over to Scorpion - our Treasurer - who was in charge of the bets. "Alright, boys, fucking fight!" Hatchet shouted, earning cheers from all of us.

  As soon as Volt swung out, movement from the gates to the lot caught my attention, and I separated from my brothers, striding over to the gates with my gun in my hand, keeping to the shadows so I would be covered by the darkness.

  I slipped out a side gate silently, clenching my jaw when I saw a young woman trying to peer through the gates. I wasted no time in silently coming up behind her, pressing the barrel of my gun to the side of her neck and gripping her pony tail in my hand, wrapping it around my fist as I yanked her head back. "Who the fuck are you?" I snarled down at her.

  A shriek of pain and fear left her lips, her chest heaving up and down in panic as her breathing sped up. Large, chocolate brown eyes snapped up to mine, knocking the breath from me.

  I hadn’t seen those eyes in fucking years. And I hated they still affected me just as they had when we were kids.

  "Reina?" I snapped.

  My hands shook on the steering wheel, so I tightened my grip, drawing in a deep, somewhat calming breath as I did so.

  I should have listened all of those damn years ago. Everyone warned me against him – especially Ink – but I didn't listen. And I almost never lived to tell the tale of getting the hell away from him and the absolute hell and torture of those cells and cages.

  Jordan Yeller - Ink's older brother – had almost ruined me, almost killed me.

  Ink was a couple of years older than me, the same age as my older brother, Johnny. I met Ink my sophomore year of high school when he and Johnny got paired together for a senior project in science. I'd had the hugest crush on Ink back then, but I was a geeky girl who wore glasses and had braces.

  And Ink? Well, Ink was the hottest damn guy in our school.

  But Ink had never treated me like a nerdy girl that always had her nose stuck in a book. He treated me like a normal person, like I was just a girl that he could easily get along with – someone with real feelings. So, I kept my huge crush on him to myself, not wanting to ruin the first real friendship I'd ever had.

  But his brother? Jordan flirted with me the very first moment he had laid eyes on me. And despite everyone's warnings - even Ink's - I fell for the bad boy of Hope, Texas. And when Jordan randomly "decided" that he needed to get the hell out of town, my heart had been shattered. He had left without a word – just up and disappeared. Hell, it was almost as if he had never even existed in the first place, just a sweet, bitter part of my overactive imagination.

  But then, he popped up three nights after I graduated high school. By then, my best friend - Ink - had begun to prospect for the Savage Crows motorcycle club in town, gaining his name from how well he was at doing tattoos.

  Jordan had come knocking on my door one night when Ink was out doing some dumb ass job for the MC. I had been so furious to see Jordan standing on my porch as if he hadn’t left me without a word. Jordan hadn't even left without so much as goodbye, but within minutes, he had me swooning at his feet again.

  I had always been powerless against him. Maybe it was because he was the first guy to show a romantic interest in me. Who knows? But when it came to Jordan, I had the tendency to follow his every little whim.

  And when he begged me three days later to leave with him, Mama had begged me to stay, told me over and over that Jordan was no damn good for me. Daddy told me that if I left with him, I was never welcome in his house again.

  Ink had told me it was my own decision, but he highly recommended against it. Told me he knew one day I would regret it. He'd told me that Jordan was caught up in some bad shit, had gone to fucking prison, but I didn't listen - refused to believe a word out of Ink's mouth.

  And my last words to Ink had been that he was just jealous of his older brother, and he would never be half the man that Jordan was.

  A month later, I came to the hard realization that Ink had been right all along. But I was in too deep to get the hell out.

  The car that I was driving sputtered, the engine dying out almost instantly. "No!" I wailed, tears threatening to choke me. I was three miles out from Hope. I only had three more miles to go, and I would have been back in Hope, back where I would be safe.

  Swallowing back my tears, I banged my head on the steering wheel in defeat.

  You made it this far, Reina. You can fucking make it the rest of the way. Get to fucking Hope.

  This was my last fucking hope for survival. I was on the damn run, and I was out of money and resources. My last hope was Ink, and I could only hope that he didn't hate me enough to turn me away.

  Because if he did, I was as good as fucking dead. Ink was my only option now.

  I shoved open the car door, cringing as it groaned and squeaked as I pushed it open. It was dark outside, and all I
could hear were crickets chirping and the wind blowing through the trees surrounding me on both sides of the road.

  The sound used to be comforting as a teen, especially when I was trying to read a new book or when I just wanted peace and quiet to daydream about life as an adult.

  My feet were bare, and I knew they would be sore as fuck by the time I managed to make it to the MC's clubhouse grounds. It was cool outside, and I was already shivering in my tank top and extremely short shorts.

  But at least I was clothed. It was all I had been able to escape with.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I started on my three-mile-long walk, hoping and praying to God that Ink didn't turn me away.

  I could hear men loudly cheering when I walked up to the clubhouse gate, but because of the green film over the chain link fence, I couldn't see anything on the other side. I hung my head low, clenching my jaw as I swallowed down my tears.