Ink (The Haven Series)

by Torrie McLean

  “We didn’t,” Sketch frowned. “No, really this time. Come on, kid – we love ya an’ all, but a hundred bucks on a bottle of fizz? Ain’t exactly our style ...”

  “See the guy over there in the tie?” the barman nodded, sending all heads turning to follow the line of the gesture. “He says happy birthday. This is on his tab.”

  “You know him, Cal?” Emily, a friend from her apartment block, asked curiously as she spotted the older man offering Callie a smile and a casual wave from across the club. But she shook her head, a look of surprise still etched on her face. “Wow, looks like someone’s got themselves an admirer.”

  “You what?” Sketch spluttered indignantly, nearly choking on his drink and shooting another look at the guy before glaring at the redhead. “He’s old enough to be her damn daddy!”

  “Don’t you mean her sugar-daddy?” Emily teased, elbowing a now blushing Callie. “Oh, calm down, Sketch – we all got free champagne, didn’t we? We should pimp Blondie here out more often. And didn’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Shit, what time is it? Aw, man ... Callie, I gotta jet, girl – promised Leon I’d spin over at the Vault tonight. Said I’d be there like twenty minutes ago. C’mere and give me some love, darlin’.” He stood and pulled her to her feet to wrap her in a bear hug. “Happy birthday, kiddo – go wild ...” But he frowned as he clocked her looking over his shoulder and across the room. “Oi, not that wild. You deserve better than some old perve, even one who’s flash with the cash.”

  “Relaaaax,” she beamed, more than a little tipsy as she grabbed her glass of champagne and downed it in one before plopping back down on her seat. “I’m just having a little fun! Because it’s my birthday and I’m gonna forget alllll about Jeff fucking Jacobsen – just like you told me ...”

  And despite himself, Sketch smiled. “Atta girl. Back at work Monday, okay?”

  “Bye, Etch-A-Sketch!” she waved as she nodded, reaching for another a refill as he left. Her gaze drifted as soon as his back was turned though, meeting cool blue eyes that crinkled at the edges when that smile was offered in her direction again.

  ***

  Reaching the town limits, Colton couldn’t have said for sure whether it was his own love of the open road or the little whoop of excitement from the girl behind him that soon had the needle on his speedometer creeping up and up. Her arms tightened around his waist and the insides of her knees grazed his thighs, denim on denim. Long blonde hair streamed out behind her.

  He didn’t let many chicks ride bitch with him. No way was he laying down his bike because some broad had got her ridiculously impractical heels caught on something. Neither was he listening to anyone bitching about their skirt being too tight, how the wind would mess up their hair, or any of that shit.

  But Callie had donned her jacket, slapped on a brain-bucket and climbed on. Zero fuss. His kind of woman ... He squashed that thought before it had time to take hold though, concentrating on taking a corner with a little more care than he would on his own.

  Truth be told, he hadn’t known where he was heading when they set out. But now, spotting a familiar road ahead, Colton knew exactly where they were going to end up. He reached to tap one of the hands on his stomach, getting Callie’s attention and then pointing the way. Finally, they pulled onto what was more of a dirt track and followed it slowly until it widened out into a clearing at the top of an incline.

  The bike rolled to a stop before Colton planted his feet and killed the engine, Callie sliding off from behind him almost before he had time to look around. But when he did, he could see the sparkle in her eyes and the glow the wind had brought to her cheeks as she stood beside him and burst out laughing.

  “Oh my god, Colton – that was amazing!” she said, once again fumbling with the strap of her helmet - this time in her eagerness. “It was like ... like ... flying!”

  He couldn’t help the rare grin that appeared unbidden on seeing her so taken with the experience, beckoning her closer and then leaning over to undo the awkward buckle himself. Dark eyes locked on soft gray as he reached for her.

  And simply turned her around without a word to point out the view.

  Smirking just a little as he got the gasp he’d been expecting, Colton watched the girl take it all in. Her back was to him as she wandered towards a small wooden picnic table closer to the edge of the hillside, looking out over the town as it lay in the midst of the otherwise rugged landscape. Sitting down on the bench, she slowly shook her head - almost disbelievingly.

  “I’m down there every day,” Callie said softly as he joined her, sparing him a glance as he perched on the table top beside her and reached in the pocket of his cut for his cigarettes. Everything else, Michael included, just dwindled into insignificance when faced with all of Haven laid out in front of them. Everything faded away until it was just her. And Colton. And the view. “And I kinda forget all this is there ...”

  Sparking up, he took a long drag and blew out a lazy stream of smoke before he replied with a shrug. “Good place to clear your head.”

  “I’m getting that,” she nodded thoughtfully. Shooting him a small smile, she leaned in to bump his leg companionably with her shoulder. “Thank you for this.”

  “Welcome.”

  ***

  CHAPTER 8

  Content to watch the girl from his perch as she got up to wander aimlessly to the very edge of the hillside, Colton’s gaze drifted appreciatively over the view. Her slim curves were his focus, rather than the town though.

  She was so different, both from what he was used to and from what he had once expected her to be.

  The women who flocked to the clubhouse were usually striking rather than pretty. They relied on the most revealing of outfits, often surgically enhanced figures and faces full of make-up to catch the attention of the Fallen – however fleetingly.

  But beneath the girlish flirtations, something that the biker found always managed to be the same, lay just two types of women – those too new to the scene to have yet become steeped in cynicism and those who’d long since succumbed to the ravages of a life lived too hard. Both physical and otherwise.

  Callie ... Callie managed to be neither of those things, seeming to retain a certain level of something innocent-like yet holding none of the naivety of her youth. From what he knew of her at least.

  A blast of music cut through his thoughts and Colton realised the blonde must have left her cell phone in the leather jacket she’d peeled off in the heat and discarded on the picnic bench beside him. Transferring his cigarette to the corner of his mouth, he reached to toss it to her as she turned towards the sound, getting a grateful smile in response.

  A short conversation later and she was returning to sit beside him again – this time right by his side on the table top. “Just Sketch,” she grinned. “Wants to know if we’ve eloped to Vegas. I told him he owes us a wedding gift.”

  Chuckling at that, Colton finished his smoke and pitched the butt to the ground. “You need to get back?”

  “Typical guy response,” Callie teased, patting his knee. “One mention of commitment and you’re gettin’ the hell outta Dodge ... I guess I have probably held you up way too long though. Didn’t you have something you wanted to ask Sketch?”

  “Actually, it was you I was coming to see.”

  “Oh - well, I guess I do owe ya for this,” she smiled. “So shoot.”

  But Colton was shaking his head. “After what you did, gonna be a long time before you owe me anything, darlin’ ...”

  FLASHBACK

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Colt, you got lucky this time,” Jake muttered as he worked on patching up his brother, shaking his head as he recalled the sight that had greeted him and the rest of the guys as they returned to the clubhouse. Colton’s blood pooled on the wooden floor and some chick passed out in Dozer’s arms. “If that bullet had worked its way any deeper ... Little girl saved your ass from a damn bad case of dead.”

  “She okay?”<
br />
  “Prospect put her in your room. She came round a while ago, worried sick she’d hurt you. Real cute. Where’d you find her?”

  “She works for Sketch,” he said, between gritted teeth. “Shit, Jake, that hurts worse than the fucking bullet!”

  “Need me to get your girl to come hold your hand?” came the smart-ass response, earning the makeshift medic a black look that shut him up quick enough – though not for long. “Okay, buddy, you’re done. Gotta take it easy for a while though. Get a couple of Vicodin down you and-- Hey, where the hell d’ya think you’re goin’?”

  But Jake could already guess as soon as he watched his shirtless brother struggle off the couch and head for the dorms, one arm cradling his injured abdomen. “Don’t you go thanking her too thoroughly,” he called, half in warning and half jest. “Bleeding out on a chick don’t count as foreplay ...”

  The patient heard, but chose to ignore him. Save for coolly flipping him off as he disappeared.

  Pushing open the door of his room, Colton took in the sight of the little blonde sitting on his bed, turning to look up at him as she pulled on her sneakers. Those gray eyes were wide in her too-pale face. “Colt, hey.”

  “How ya holdin’ up, doll?” he asked, his voice sounding tired and rougher than usual as he slumped a little in the doorway.

  “I pull a bullet out of you and you’re asking how I am?” Callie said wryly, getting up to go to his side. “Here, you need to take it easy ...” He didn’t lean on her for support, but neither did he object to the arm she slipped around his waist.

  “Jake reckons if it wasn’t for you, I’d be taking things a helluva lot easier. Six feet under,” he managed, stifling a groan as he manoeuvred himself painfully down on the bed and lay back against the pillows.

  “Don’t say that, Colt – not unless you want me keeling over again. And I’ve embarrassed myself more than enough for one night,” Callie said, not meeting his gaze as she sat down on the very edge of the mattress. Her fingers grazed feather-light over his bandages. “You’re the one with a hole in your side and I’m the one terrified.”

  “You shittin’ me?” Colton raised an eyebrow with what probably would have been incredulity on anyone else, but just about stretched to mild scepticism on him. Reaching out to tilt her head up firmly, he locked eyes with her. “Listen to me, ain’t nothin’ brave about not being scared. What you did tonight - jumping off that ladder, pulling that bullet out? Bravest fucking thing I’ve seen, little girl ...”

  ***

  Even the sprawling vista seemed to fade away with those dark eyes fixed on her. “We don’t have to keep score, you know,” Callie said softly, her cheeks flushing just a little as she met his gaze with a hesitant smile.

  “And I ain’t counting,” he shrugged. Colton frowned to find himself more than a little distracted by the way the sunlight danced off the natural highlights in her wind-tousled hair. And even by the slightly nervous way she twisted the simple silver band on her left thumb and shifted her feet on the wooden bench, as she seemed to take a sudden interest in the toes of her boots.

  “If there’s something you ... need?” she tried, unsure of what he could ask of her. Especially looking at her the way he was.

  “You gonna step up for me, Callie?”

  It seemed like a loaded question - half curiosity, half challenge. His low tone sent a shiver coursing down her spine, even as she aimed for a casual shrug in response. Aimed and missed. “Maybe ...”

  The touch of his hand on her tattooed shoulder should have made her jump but, as it was, she just turned her head to watch him trace the inked lines on her lightly tanned skin. Callie wondered, as she took in how his gaze drifted from her eyes to her lips and back again, if it was just her or if it had gotten even warmer - in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the sun beating down on them. If he had leaned in first or she had.

  Maybe it didn’t matter.

  ***

  Looking up from his current project – trying to create a design that would transform his client’s unfortunate tribute to his now soon-to-be-ex wife into something a little more suited to their rather acrimonious divorce proceedings – Sketch fired the burly builder supervising him a lopsided grin. “A shark? Seriously?”

  “Bitch chewed me up and spat me out – hell yeah, I want a shark!” came the enthusiastic response. “A big fuck-off shark with plenty of teeth. You can do that, right? Cover her name up? I know it ain’t like I can see it exactly, but that cheating whore’s been on my back long enough. In more ways than one ...”

  “It’s ... doable,” Sketch nodded, a little bemused by the whole situation. But, as far as he was concerned, it sure beat inking hearts and roses on loved-up couples. “Hey, hold that thought, will ya? Afternoon, sugar. You two took your time.”

  Silently cursing the wind-chimes on the door that had signalled their return and sent Sketch ambling to the front of the studio to fold his arms over his chest with the kind of knowing look that she knew was going to get real old real fast, Callie froze in the middle of hanging up her jacket and narrowed her eyes in warning. “You packed me off, so you can’t complain about me not being here.”

  “Just making conversation,” her boss said evenly, but there was a strange coolness to his tone that made her frown. “Where’s Colt?”

  “Parking his bike,” the girl said. “And stop looking at me like that. Hi, Pete.” Offering a little wave to the builder and getting one in return, she busied herself searching for a sketchpad and pencil as she tried to ignore Sketch’s hovering.

  “So, how was the trip?” he finally asked, unable to keep holding his tongue even though he knew she wasn’t going to be forthcoming. About anything. That never had been her style.

  “Fine. It was fine,” Callie said, looking up as the door opened again and jerking her head in the approaching biker's direction. “Colton’s just gonna fill me in on club tattoos – they need some ink doin’ Friday night.”

  “And you’re steppin’ up,” Sketch filled in, his tight smile drawing a questioning look.

  “Uh, yeah. That a problem?”

  “Not for me,” he shook his head slowly, glancing from the Son to the blonde. “Oh, Cal? Phone call while you were out – c’mere while I find the number before I forget.”

  More and more puzzled by his uncharacteristic behaviour, Callie handed her pencil and pad to Colton before following Sketch to the back office. “Are you okay, Sketch?” she started, “You’re seriously ...”

  She trailed off as he stabbed with his finger at a familiar number scrawled on the top-most post-it in the small yellow block. The accompanying name was spelled out in capitals, underlined three times for extra emphasis. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Called about half-an-hour ago - thought your cell had died or some shit like that. Said it was Michael, like we were best fuckin’ buds. Couldn’t understand why I didn’t have a damn clue who he was. Ya know, him being your boyfriend an’ all ...”

  Shit.

  ***

  “Guess you won’t be needing this – you’ll know the number,” Sketch said, all matter-of-fact as he reached for the block of post-it notes and tore off the top one to crumple it and toss it towards the trash-can in the corner. Perfect shot.

  “Sketch ...” Callie sighed, shoving her hands awkwardly in the back pockets of her jeans. She didn’t really know where to start. “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” he asked blankly, sitting down in his office chair and folding his arms. All his usual bounce was gone and there was a serious look in his eyes. It suddenly made him much more intimidating than his usual antics would allow for.

  “Lay the guilt trip on me! It’s not like I lied to you – I just ... didn’t tell you ...” But it was lame and she knew it. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it would come to anything, so I didn’t want to make a thing of it. And then it just kinda, y’know ...”

  “Nope, don’t know,” Sketch said promptly, fully prepared to be an ass a
bout the whole thing. After all, he told her everything - including plenty she’d probably rather not hear, but that was beside the point.

  “Hey, hang on a minute,” Callie frowned, only just managing to keep her voice down. She told herself she just didn’t want to make a scene and have her voice carrying through the studio to Pete. And Colton just happened to be there too. “Why are you giving me such a hard time about this? I don’t have to tell you anything, I don’t need your permission. You’re my boss, Sketch – not my keeper.”

  The moment she’d said it, she knew it came across harder than intended. And, sure enough, his face fell.

  “That’s cold, kid,” he said quietly, cutting off her stumbled attempt at taking it back. “Real cold. I thought you and me were tight. No, let me finish. You’re right, I ain’t your keeper and this ain’t about me trying to pry. Tell the truth, I sorta suspected something like this – you ain’t that good at hiding shit, sweetheart. Been obvious someone’s had your head in a whirl for a while. And not in a good way. Guess I just hoped you knew you could talk to me.”

  “Sketch ...”

  “You should get back out there – Colt ain’t exactly known for his patience,” he said, turning his attention to the paperwork in front of him. His dismissal of her was painfully obvious. “And tell Pete I’ll be five minutes.”

  “Can’t we at least--”

  “Sorry, kid. Got a business to run.”

  ***

  CHAPTER 9

  Pulling his Harley into the lot back at the clubhouse, Colton couldn’t help the inadvertent frown that crossed his face as he took a moment to try to process where things had gone wrong. He wasn’t used to not getting his way, especially where women were concerned.

  And he didn’t think he’d been reading the signals wrong. There was something, even if he didn’t know exactly what, between them – had been since that night she saved his ass. He could no longer deny, even to himself, that he was into her. But he’d also been pretty sure she was on board with that. Sure, he’d been the one to make a move ... She hadn’t gone weird on him ‘til they got back though.