by Bella Jewel
“Gotta know something, and I want the truth. Why did you do it? Why did you leave everything without warning? Why didn’t you at least fuckin’ tell me you were goin’? Is it because of what I said that night? Because of what my mom said? I gotta know, because I’ve not been able to figure out a good reason for it all this time I’ve been thinkin’ about it.”
I turn to face him and meet his eyes. “I couldn’t breathe anymore, Tanner. I had forgotten what it felt like to be free. Your mom was right, in what she said, and honestly, at that point, I thought there simply wasn’t a future for us. I didn’t think we’d ever be able to get past the ugly.”
“So you took it upon yourself to leave, and didn’t at least give me the respect to say goodbye?”
“You would have tried to stop me, probably convinced me to stay, and we would have ended up hating each other.”
“You mean like we do now?”
I make a wheezing sound, because it feels like he’s punched me in the belly. My eyes burn and I nod, because it’s all I can do. He’s right, the hatred we feel right now is equal to what we would have possibly felt then, only then, it wasn’t certain. Now, it is. I know I made a mistake not telling him, but I made a choice and I had to stick to it.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice tight. “I honestly am.”
He shrugs, and walks down the hall saying, “I’m not. Thanks to you, I found a fuckin’ better woman.”
Those words ring over and over again in my ears and my heart feels like it splits in two. A small sob rips out of my throat and I turn, walking off to my room and closing the door, before pressing my back to it and sliding down, dropping my head in my hands and crying.
What have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
15
JOANNE
I keep my head held high as I walk around the apartment, picking things up and making more room for the two men who are sitting back on my sofa, watching fucking baseball. I could go over there and knock that remote out of their hands, and knock the attitude right out of them, but I’m not going to do that.
Instead, I go about my business, trying to act like I can’t feel Tatum’s eyes on me as I move.
My phone rings from the kitchen counter, distracting me, and I walk over, right past the television, and pick it up. I see Alarick’s name flashing across the screen, and, being the pathetic female I feel like right now, I put it on speaker and answer it with a, “Hey boss.”
Tatum’s eyes flick my way, but I pretend like I don’t notice. Petty? Of course. Do I care? Nope.
“Got a client for you,” Alarick’s rumbly, very sexy, very masculine voice says, filling the room.
Anyone listening to it can tell just by hearing that voice that he’s a god damned warrior or a man.
I melt hearing it, and I’m not into Alarick like that.
“You do?” I ask, shocked, considering Callie was my first client and he didn’t say a great deal about the work I did, so I wasn’t sure if I did good or if I royally fucked it up.
“Yeah, one of the club members needs some new ink. He’s keen to let you give it a try. You good to come in now?”
“A club member?” I squeak.
“Yeah, problem?”
“Nope. No. Of course not. I’ll come in now.”
He hangs up without a goodbye, typical Alarick. I glance over at Tatum, who is watching me, his eyes narrowed.
“I have to go into work.”
“You tattoo people?” he asks, genuinely shocked.
“Yeah, I do. I just got a chair. I work for ... ah ... a biker club.”
Tatum’s eyes flash with something, and then he says, “No shit.”
“Anyway, I have to go.”
Tatum stands, grabbing his phone and keys and saying, “I’m coming with you.”
My eyes get big. “I’m going to work, Tatum, I’m not bringing you.”
“Sure your boss won’t mind me sittin’ and waiting. You’re in danger, after all, that’s what we’re here for.”
I clench my jaw. “If I say no, you’re not going to have it, are you?”
“Nope. Let’s go.”
I exhale and he follows me out, telling Ethan to let Tanner know where we are. I tell him I’m not riding with him, that he can follow me in his truck, and he agrees. I get into my own damn car and start driving to work, praying maybe I’ll lose him in the traffic somewhere.
A girl can only dream.
WE ARRIVE AT THE SHOP at the same time, and I exhale loudly, frustrated that I didn’t, in fact, lose him in the damned traffic. I get out of my car and walk toward the front door of King’s Ink run by the very well known, very dangerous Kings Descendants MC. Still, I like working here, in fact, I enjoy it more than I let on.
Even if sometimes those bikers scare me.
It’s totally worth it.
“You work here?” Tatum mutters behind me as I walk in the front door, ignoring him.
Alarick is at his chair, leaning over a woman’s lower back, gun in hand, busy concentrating. As far as I’ve been able to figure out, his grandfather was King, the man who created the club, and it has kind of been passed down, so to speak, and now Alarick, or Flick as he’s better known, is the President.
“Cohen will be here in five, get your stuff ready, I’ve left the design on your chair,” Alarick says, not looking up from his work.
“Okay,” I say, walking over to my chair and glancing down at the picture that I’m going to be tattooing on a fucking biker. What if I do it wrong? Or bad? I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s beside the point, it’s my job and I can’t run away from it, I have to give it my all and pray it’s enough.
The picture is a massive Celtic design, that’s mostly black, so it’ll be a lot of coloring but not a lot of detail. It looks easy enough, but it’s going to take a while, the outline alone would probably be three or four hours, and then the coloring. I turn to Tatum, “I’m going to be here for a long time, you go.”
He stares at me, about to say something, when Alarick looks up from his work and stares at Tatum, his eyes narrowing as he takes him in. “No boyfriends in the shop,” he growls.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, and it sounds ... I don’t know, teenager-ish.
“I’m protectin’ her,” Tatum says, his voice hard and strong, not at all intimidated by Alarick. “She’s in danger. You got a problem with that?”
Alarick tips his head to the side and studies Tatum for a moment. “What sort of danger?”
I open my mouth to tell Tatum to stop, but he doesn’t seem to care what I think or want. He’s walking toward Alarick now, ready to have a fucking chat. My god. He just makes himself at home wherever he goes.
“Got into a mess with some drug runners, they followed us here, lookin’ for revenge. Goin’ after the girls to get it. You know much about the runners in town?”
Alarick turns the gun off and says to the girl, “Take five.”
She gets up, her face red from lying down, and pulls out a cigarette, walking outside. When she’s gone, Alarick looks to Tatum and says, “Like to know what’s goin’ down in my town. Keep my finger in every pie. Who is it you’re dealin’ with?”
“Names Baker, Raz Baker. He’s big time. Into a lot of shit. We fucked him over, now he wants revenge.”
“Not from around here,” Alarick says, crossing his arms, and I struggle not to ogle because damn he’s fine. “Know all the runners in this town. He from out of state?”
“Yeah, toward Denver. Bad news.”
“Why’d you fuck him over?”
“He and eight of his men raped my best friend's sister, gave her HIV and she killed herself.”
Alarick’s face hardens. “Don’t like fuckers like that walkin’ the streets. You got a location?”
“Not as yet. Still trackin’ him down. They got my brother. Cut his fuckin’ thumb off and sent it to Callie. Which is why we’re here, he’s goin’ to go after Jo, or Callie, or both and h
e’s goin’ to attempt to bring us all down.”
Alarick nods, and pulls out his phone. “I’ll make some calls. Find out if he’s been talkin’ to anyone.”
Jesus Christ. Just like that, he’s brought the fucking motorcycle club into it. Like we need any more drama.
“You don’t have to help us,” I say, my voice squeaky. “We’re fine handling it on our own. It’s not your problem. Tatum shouldn’t have told you.”
Alarick stops dialing and looks to me. “You’re not my problem, correct, but this town is my fuckin’ problem. Nothin’ goes past me, especially when it comes to that.”
Oh boy.
I nod, because I’m not about to argue with him. He’s ... passionate about this I can see.
“Appreciate it,” Tatum says. “If this is goin’ to take a while, I’ll go, you good keepin’ an eye on her?”
Alarick nods, standing up and extending his hand. “Alarick, you can call me Flick.”
Tatum takes his hand, shaking it. “Tatum.”
“Will keep an eye on her here, Tatum, and I’ll get back to you with word.”
Tatum nods, and then looks to me with a smug expression. That fucking jerk. Coming in here and just taking over my life like he owns the damn thing. I grit my teeth and try not to hit him when he says, “Happy inking, sweetheart.”
Then he’s gone.
The fucking douchebag.
16
CALLIE
I fumble around with my key in the parking garage at work, trying to find it in my purse. If I didn’t have the entire contents of my damned house in this purse, I’d probably have better luck finding my key. I curl my fingers around something and pull it out, is that a fucking balloon? How in the ever-loving hell did a balloon get in my purse?
My lord.
I make a mental note to clean my purse out when I get home tonight—it’ll give me something to do to avoid looking at Tanner for the evening. I was glad to get a double shift today; it kept me out of his way and allowed me some time to breathe. It has been tense, to say the least, and we’re only one night in.
I finally find my keys and go to put them in my door when something cold presses against the back of my neck, making my entire body freeze. I take a deep, staggering breath and everything in my mind starts spinning. Especially when a voice leans down low and whispers into my ear, “You’re coming with me.”
Oh god.
No.
This is bad.
I spin around quickly, without thought, and the gun slams across the side of my face, sending me tumbling to the ground. Gasping in pain and trying to stop my head from spinning, I scramble backward, desperate to escape.
“I’ll shoot you if you make another move. Now get up,” the man wearing a dark hoodie says, gun pointed at me.
He’s part of that gang, I just know he is.
My cheekbone feels like it’s been split in two, and I can feel blood trickling down my face, he hit me that hard. I keep scrambling backward and consider screaming. It might throw him off. If he gets hold of me, I’m not coming back. I know that for sure.
With an angry growl, he launches forward, curling his hand into my hair and hauling me up like I weigh nothing. I let out a shrill scream as the gun is pressed to my temple this time. “Scream again, I’ll blow your brains all over this fuckin’ floor and be done with it.”
Tears burn under my eyelids and I try to kick my way free, which only earns me another hard whack to the face.
“Is someone down here? It’s security, I heard a scream?”
Oh, thank the ever-loving lord. The man holding me lets me go quickly, muttering a curse before taking off, leaving me standing on shaky legs.
“Hello?” the voice calls out again.
“Over here,” I croak.
A security guard rounds the cars and sees me standing, bleeding, and his face drops. He rushes over, asking, “Miss, are you okay?”
“I’m ... There was a man in here. He had a gun,” I whisper, without thought.
“I’ll call the police. Are you injured any further? Did he take anything?”
“I think he just wanted my purse,” I lie.
“Sit tight, I’ll get someone over right away.”
I close my eyes and lean against my car, feeling more than a little shaken up over how damned close that was. If that security guard hadn’t come down, I’d likely be either shot or in the back of that man’s truck by now, going god knows where.
I didn’t think we needed Tanner here, but I’m starting to see that they made the right call.
We’re in danger.
They’re not going to stop until they get what they want, and what they want is us and revenge.
The officer walks away to make a call, and I do something so incredibly stupid. I get into my car and drive out. I don’t know what I’m thinking, except that I don’t want the police involved. If they get involved, and these men find out, I could potentially make everything that much worse, and I’ve already done enough of that for one day.
I don’t look back as I exit the parking lot, my head pounding, my cheek bleeding, my hands trembling.
It takes the entire drive home for me to calm down. In that time, I figure the security cameras probably have my plates and will likely call and ask why I drove away, but I’ll just say I was really scared and shaken up. I hope that doesn’t happen, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.
When I reach my apartment, I hurry inside, just needing to breathe in a place where I feel safe. I close and lock the door, snapping the new deadbolt closed that Jo had installed, then I hurry into the kitchen, completely forgetting that Tanner and Madeline are staying in my apartment. Tears are burning under my eyelids when I reach the kitchen and turn on the tap, using the water to wash my face, the tears finally falling and flowing down the sink with my blood.
“Callie?”
Tanner’s voice has me jerking, but I don’t look up.
“What the fuck happened?”
I still don’t look up. He doesn’t deserve to see me crying, to see me hurting and weak.
No.
“Are you bleeding?”
He’s moving quickly now, coming around to my side of the counter and grabbing my shoulders, jerking me upright so he can look at me. My cheek is sore, and my wound is burning, probably from the tears mixing in, the saltiness adding a sting.
“I’m fine,” I say, shuffling out of his grips.
“Who did this?”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Callie, who the fuck did this?”
“Leave me alone!” I scream, stepping backward, my hands trembling, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Just leave me the hell alone, Tanner.”
I turn and rush toward my room, feeling like a complete idiot. Knowing I’m acting like a damned baby right about now, but my emotions are all over the place, and I’m struggling to get my mind right. I can’t think straight, I can’t focus, I just ... can’t.
Why is this happening?
Just when everything was going well.
For the first time in my life.
Of course I should know better than to trust that things are good.
Fate hates me.
That much is abundantly clear.
When will it end?
A KNOCK AT MY DOOR has my head lifting just as it cracks open and Tanner steps inside with a something in his hand wrapped in a washcloth. “Peas,” he says, holding it up. “You need to get that swelling down.’
I don’t say anything, I just stare down at my hands from my spot on the bed, legs folded, face aching, hair wet from the shower I took to try and clean up so I didn’t have to go back out there and face them. Him.
Always him.
Tanner walks over and sits on the end of the bed, so close to me I have to clamp my lips together to stop the little gasp escaping. My heart kicks up a notch, and my whole body becomes immediately aware of him. It’s always this way when Tanner is in the same room as me. It’s like my body crave
s him, even when I’m angry.
He reaches over slowly, moving a strand of damp hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear, then he reaches over and places the ice bag against my cheek. I flinch, because it hurts like hell. It really does. My head is pounding from being hit with that gun, thrown on the ground and dragged back up by my hair.
“Got some good painkillers, you need them?”
I nod, still staring at my hands.
“What happened, Callie? Gotta know.”
Of course that’s the only reason he’s in here.
Of course it is.
“I was getting into my car,” I say softly, “and someone came up behind me, holding a gun to me ...”
My voice trembles, and I pause for a minute, wringing my fingers together and searching for calm.
“He said I had to go with him. I tried to get away ... and he hit me, pulled my hair ... then a security guard came. If it wasn’t for him hearing me scream, that man would have taken me. He ran off and the security guard was going to call the police but ...”
I finally look up to Tanner, and he’s staring at me, listening intently. My heart races just connecting with those incredible brown eyes.
“I ran,” I finish, looking away. “I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted to get out of there. I was so scared if the police were called, it would make them even angrier. I know I screwed up, but I ... I don’t know, my mind wasn’t working.”
“It’s okay, nothin’ you can do about it now. Did he say anything else?”
I shake my head.
He goes silent for a moment, and then he reaches down for my wrist, making me flinch. He lifts it slowly and turns it over, revealing my new tattoo. He stares at it for a moment then slowly runs his thumb over Celia’s name.
“It’s her birthday tomorrow,” he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion.
“It is?” I whisper.
“Yeah. It is. Hard to celebrate when nobody understands how fuckin’ hard it is. Madeline doesn’t get it, which isn’t her fault, but sometimes you need someone to get it.”
“I get it,” I say, my voice soft.