Ink (The Haven Series)

by Torrie McLean

  “Distraction could be good for Sam,” Chip admitted. “But I dunno if Colt’s gonna be real interested right now.”

  “Are you shittin’ me? Listen, buddy-boy, this place makes Cherry's Bar back home look like a bloody convent – you seriously tellin’ me any man ain’t gonna be down with that?”

  “Uh, where the hell you been, dude? Colton don’t gotta go chasing stripper pussy these days. Not with that sweet little blonde around. I’m tellin’ ya, Shay - and if you hadn’t been so distracted by that Sasha chick before shit went down at the party, you’d have seen it too - he’s real into her.”

  “I really do gotta see this meself,” Shay mused. “I manage to keep missin’ this wee lass every time she shows up, by the sound o’ it. What’s she like? Real looker, accordin’ to Will.”

  Chip thought back to the young woman the club’s hitman had shown such unprecedented affection towards. “Not what I expected,” he said after consideration. “Hot, but not like in-your-face trashy hot, ya know? Looks young, cute smile ... Great body, but shit, man, don’t tell Colt I said that or he’ll seriously cut my balls off. She actually just got here a few minutes ago. Headed to the gym, I think.”

  “You don’t say ...” A curious expression flitted over the Irishman’s weatherbeaten face and his eyes brightened mischievously. “Reckon I mighta left me lighter in there, better go have a wee peek ...”

  Chip rolled his eyes with a grin and kept packing up his laptop. “I’ll see if I can find Sam, check Will’s okay with us heading out for a bit and meet ya out front. Want me to go ahead and get some ice for the black eye Colt’s gonna give ya when he thinks you’re perving on his girl?”

  But Shay simply laughed and flipped his friend off as he headed forth on his little mission.

  ***

  Having strolled into the makeshift gym of the clubhouse, already in simple loose white sweatpants and a cropped white vest, Callie quickly clocked Colton waiting for her. The tall biker was leaning on the ropes of the boxing ring as he stood inside the squared circle, shirtless and with his navy sweatpants riding even lower on his hips than his usual jeans and, even though she knew he was waiting for her, she did feel more than a little out of place.

  The whole place seemed steeped in testosterone and she was pretty sure the only time chicks hung out in here was to watch the big fights that inevitably got set up at club parties. Watch and console the losers with their own special brand of TLC, reward the victors either in public or otherwise ...

  But Colton had planted a foot on the ropes to allow her to climb into the ring, so she decided it was best not to keep him waiting. “Hey,” she smiled in greeting, noting the slight softening of his face before he was all business again. “So ... how we gonna do this?”

  He hadn’t been overly impressed by her eagerness to get back to her keep-fit classes, but seeming to realise she was still desperate to put the whole episode regarding her head injury to rest, he’d let her talk him into making good on his previous intention to show her a few moves in the ring.

  Grabbing a set of pads, Colton held up a hand just beside his head. “Think you can hit that, little girl?”

  Without heels, she had to be a good eight inches shorter than his 6’2 frame but, knowing those toned curves as well as he did, he had her figured to be in pretty good shape. And she was smirking at him, confident in her own ability. He liked that and was only too happy to watch her take a few moments to pull her hair into a long ponytail and stretch out, quirking an eyebrow at the display of flexibility and then stepping back when she was ready.

  The kick was textbook - not what he’d have called powerful by his own standards, but impressive enough for the little blonde in front of him. She’d at least have rattled his brain if she’d caught him in the head, maybe broken his nose. All well and good if whoever was on the receiving end was just going to stand there and give her a target.

  “So you reckon you could handle yourself, huh?” he growled, dark eyes locked on her as he dropped the pads. “If someone decided they wanted a piece of that sweet little ass?”

  “Depends who wants it, I guess,” she grinned, but she could see he wasn’t joking around and shrugged. “I’m not stupid, Colt – if I could, I’d just get the hell out of there. But if I had to ...”

  “Let’s see it. You against me.”

  He didn’t even rush her, just stood there grim-faced and waiting for her to make a move. And when she did, with cat-like reflexes of his own, he had her by her sneaker-clad foot. If he’d wanted to, he could just have twisted until her knee popped. Instead, he simply shoved her leg backwards hard enough to send her crashing to the mat.

  Better him than some piece of shit who’d follow up with a knife through her belly. Or worse.

  But, even as his stomach lurched at that thought, he didn’t want to hurt her. Trying in that split second before she fell to pull her back into his arms and break her fall, he only succeeding in landing on top of her as she grabbed at him - knocking the wind out of her all over again.

  The hand that brushed a stray lock of hair back from her face was unusually gentle as he braced himself over her, not wanting to crush her. “You okay, baby girl?”

  Breathless, she managed a nod and then a little grin, those gray eyes sparkling. “Can’t you just get me a gun?”

  Even he had to laugh, leaning down to kiss her deeply as her arms wound around his neck.

  “Oi, no shagging in the ring!” came a yell, the thick brogue unmistakable even as it turned into a wry mutter. “Jesus, that’s the first time I’ve had to give that order ... Thank Christ.”

  Shay strode into the gym just in time to catch Colton kissing some blonde chick laid under him in the middle of the ring. That in itself was hardly news. But when they both looked round at his shout and the girl proved to indeed be a pretty little thing, and rapidly turning pink over getting caught out, his curiosity was sparked.

  Chicks that hung around motorcycle clubs didn’t tend to do embarrassment for a start, and they didn’t usually look quite so fresh-faced either. Plus if she’d been some club slut, chances were he really would have walked in on much more than a kiss. Still, he decided he’d best just leave them to it after all and turned on his heel with a shake of his head, curiosity sated for the time being.

  The club’s most notorious hitman with a girl all his own was gonna be a show worth watching though …

  ***

  “I ain’t got a problem with you boys grabbing some air – or whatever else you find your hands on,” Will grinned round at the trio of men in front of him, inwardly relieved to see that whatever little adventure Chip and Shay were hoping for, they’d managed to coax his sergeant into joining them. “Just so long as you stick together and get the hell out at the first sign of trouble. We don’t know how closely these bastards are gonna be watching or if they’re stupid enough to try jumping us now we’ve got our guard up.”

  “You know you don't have to be worryin’ about us, brother,” Shay smiled, slinging an arm around the president’s shoulders. “Ain’t no nasty wee shites gonna risk takin’ us on out in the open. And Blondie here can play host – show us city folk some small town joys. If we’re gonna be hangin’ round ‘til this thing’s done, we don’t wanna be headin’ back to Vegas full o’ tales lamentin' the lack o' Haven hospitality.”

  “Perish the thought,” Will said wryly, slapping Sam on the back. “Hear that, bro – our reputation’s all on your shoulders now. But there is one thing before you go, this goddamn lawyer of ours has gone mighty quiet. I’m gonna make a call now and if he ain’t answering, you can spin round and tell him I don’t like feeling ignored.”

  “Whatever ya need, boss,” Sam shrugged, seeming to perk up a little at the thought of putting the fear of God into their legal representation.

  If it hadn’t been for their history of trouble with lawyers, Will might almost have hoped Corsada didn’t answer. But, as it was, the phone call meant the little road-trip simply wasn�
��t to be.

  It was with an almost confused look on his face that the president found himself signalling across the yard to the three men as they prepared to take off and shaking his head.

  “Sorry, boys,” Will sighed, once he’d reached them. “Looks like Corsada’s back on the grid after all. He’s coming over and he wants you here, Sam. Wouldn’t say why on the phone. Sounded kinda pissed though, which ain’t exactly like our Mr Smooth.”

  “Fuck,” Sam swore glumly, climbing off his bike again and swinging a heavy boot at a stone, sending gravel spraying everywhere. “What’s the betting he’s heard the feds are gonna charge me? He say anything about Colt?”

  “Nope. Seemed in a real hurry to just get off the phone and get his ass over here. Guess you’ll have to take a rain check on the sightseeing.”

  “I should probably get back on intel duty anyway,” Chip shrugged.

  “Guess I’ll go see if Colt and this girl o’ his are actually usin’ the gym for its primary purpose then,” Shay grinned. “Could be better than the bleedin’ Discovery Channel, those two ...”

  ***

  Michael had sworn to himself he’d handle his shit right, clean up his act and deal with everything like a man.

  Holed up in his apartment, he’d drank the place dry at first, but now sober again - relatively speaking - he was starting to see more clearly. And so he’d finally shovelled broken glass, empty bottles and pizza boxes into the trash, stripped down his sheets and scrubbed himself under a shower so hot he could hardly stand it.

  Then, dressed in jeans and a clean shirt, his dark hair still damp, he’d felt like he could actually face the world again. He’d simply been ignoring and then systematically deleting all the calls and messages on both his cell and his answering machine, but this time when Will rang, he was ready for him.

  The thoughts of going to see Callie again had been written off as a bad idea after last time, but Sam ... he wasn’t having Sam thinking he was off the hook. He was the one he needed to see, to call him out man-to-man on his womanising, to tell him that whatever he was playing at with Callie was done, and that he was taking back what was rightfully his.

  Michael realised the biker probably wasn’t even interested anymore, not now that he’d gotten another notch on his bedpost. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t having the spiky-haired bastard thinking he’d won or that he was running scared of some biker. Maybe he didn’t operate the way they did, but he had something more powerful than even violence in his corner.

  He was the only thing standing between the sergeant and some serious jail time.

  ***

  Callie had decided the stint in the gym had been worth it, despite Colton turning into a pretty merciless trainer, if this was the result – laying in just her underwear on his bed, her head pillowed on her folded arms as the biker straddled the backs of her thighs to massage her shoulders. Strong fingers were kneading out every little knot in her tired muscles, caressing her bare skin. She was so relaxed, she barely even registered his hands moving to undo the clasp of her bra and practically purred when his fingers trailed down the length of her spine.

  “Good?” he asked huskily, as he started working low on her back. He was more used to being on the receiving end of this shit, when club chicks were particularly desperate to please, but he had to admit he was enjoying having her laid out in front of him and seeing her body react to his touch.

  “Mm-hmm ...” she just about managed to confirm, a sigh escaping her lips and making him grin.

  “Turn over, darlin’,” he said, dark eyes drinking in the sight of her topless and looking up at him longingly as he ran his warm hands up over her taut belly and over her breasts. “Damn, Callie, you’re fucking gorgeous ...”

  “Flatterer,” she smiled fondly, letting her own hands slid up his forearms and softly caressing the inked skin.

  “Don’t say shit I don’t mean. I--What the fuck!”

  They’d both looked towards the closed door at the crash and shouts that seemed to have come from out by the bar, Callie paling just a little at the thought of a repeat attack. Colton was off the bed in an instant though, still just in sweatpants but reaching for his gun and tossing the stricken girl her clothes.

  “Get dressed,” he snapped. “But lock the door behind me and don’t leave this room, you hear me? Callie, you hear me?”

  She nodded mutely and then he was gone, leaving her to follow orders and simply listen.

  ***

  So much for his cool, collected plans.

  One look at that bastard’s smug face and those too-blue eyes and reason just went out straight out the nearest clubhouse window. He’d been humiliated by some biker who kept his brains in his biceps and expected whatever woman caught his eye – his woman - to just jump into bed with him.

  “Good to see ya, Mikey,” Will had started, though he could tell from the subtle top-to-toe appraisal that the president was bemused to see him there on business and dressed so casually. He goddamn hated being called Mikey. “Uh, you wanna head on through to the office? Sam’s convinced you got some bad news for him ...”

  Michael laughed loudly at that, sending Will’s eyebrows knitting together in a confused frown. “Bad news, huh? Guess your boy might be a little psychic or something, Will. Bad news? I’m going to bloody kill him, that bad enough for you?”

  “I’m sensing you’re upset about something, man ...”

  There he went again, the usual snide lines that left you never quite sure when the piss was being taken out of you. But Michael had long since had enough of trying to second-guess these people.

  “Why?” he demanded, rounding on a startled Sam.

  “Why what? What the fuck is this, Will? Guy’s losing his shit!” the sergeant exclaimed, looking unsure whether to be angry or amused.

  “Why her?” Michael seethed, fury building fast now it had gotten a hold inside him. “Don’t act like you don’t know! Or maybe you don’t – it’s been what? A couple of weeks? You fucked my girl and moved on already, have you?”

  Sam was laughing, he was actually fucking laughing and Will didn’t look like he was too far behind him. Bastards, both of them. Looking around wildly for the first thing that came to hand, Michael’s gaze fell on a signed baseball bat hung on display by the bar. He’d commented on it before, heard the story behind it. All part of his efforts to make in-roads with these bastards.

  The laughs seemed to get louder when he grabbed for it, though they soon died away when he started swinging.

  “Come on then,” Sam challenged, stepping forward as he seemed to lose patience. “But I’m warning ya, dude, you better swing that bat real hard - ‘cause if I’m still standing, I’m gonna tear your fucking ass up ...”

  ***

  CHAPTER 39

  Having snagged a t-shirt on his way out the door, Colton was still hauling it over his head when he emerged into the main clubhouse and – unusually for him – faltered in his tracks at the sight of the club’s furious sergeant fronting it out and trying to goad their lawyer into taking a swing at him with the baseball bat he was wielding.

  “The fuck’s going on here?” he demanded, as he joined the others.

  “Blondie’s dick sure does get ‘im in a whole mess o' trouble,” Shay was already in the middle of musing to Will, arms folded across his chest and his head cocked on one side as he surveyed the scene. “Never woulda had ‘im down as the boy-toy type though, shaggin’ some middle-aged housewife ...”

  “Not his usual MO, I gotta admit,” the president nodded. “Although Lawyer-Boy has been spouting to anyone who’ll listen about some little blonde firecracker he reckons he’s tapping.”

  “That so? Curiouser and curiouser,” the Irishman said, cackling with laughter.

  But suddenly Will wasn’t sharing the joke. “Looks like Sam has been sharing pussy with a club lawyer. Again,” he scowled. “And I swear to Christ, I’ll slit some gash’s throat myself before I let this club be put at risk again .
..”

  FLASHBACK

  The yay that had sealed the fate of the president’s daughter still reverberated in the growing dusk. No one moved, the weight of the decision that had been taken pressing heavily on all their shoulders.

  But on none more than Sam.

  Grim-faced, he shrugged Jake’s hand off his shoulder and started forward, already unsheathing his knife. He met the brown eyes that looked up at him from the ground and saw the terror they held. She wouldn’t beg him, he knew that much. The woman who had shared his bed might want him to spare her life, but she would never beg.

  She knew his hands were tied.

  “End this,” Will growled. “For this club.”

  A hand that had once caressed those long dark locks now fisted in the tangles and yanked. It had to have caused her pain and yet she bit back any whimper, her eyes never leaving him. That was the proud, stubborn bitch he knew. The tip of his blade trailed down her pale cheek and yet she didn’t cringe away. He found himself almost wishing she would fight back. It would, of course, be pointless. But her anger would be easier to face than this.

  She’d given up.

  A stray tear seemed to follow the course of his knife as she stared up at him, the blade pressing over her pulse point and continuing past her collarbone. Behind them, no one dared move. Or breathe, it seemed.

  “Got something to say?” Sam asked hoarsely. Maybe she was sorry, maybe they were wrong, maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe, just maybe, there was something she could say to end this some other way. Any other way.

  Those brown eyes shone with tears, but she held her head high and, for a second, he swore he saw the ghost of that knowing little smile.

  “Fuck you, Sam,” Taylor said softly, even as the blade came to rest directly over her heart. The pressure was slowly increasing until she couldn’t help but gasp. “Fuck you.”

  His sharp blue eyes closed for just a second and then he was staring down at her, steeled for what was to come.