Ink (The Haven Series) (20 page)

Colton could hardly deny it. H
e knew she’d been to the clubhouse before and that she knew the score when it came to the perks of having a cut on your back. “Don’t mean shit though,” he’d said before he could stop himself. He stood up to pull his t-shirt back over his head, in a bid to shut his mouth before it dug him a bigger hole.

“Anyway, I’d better get this place cleaned up,” Callie shrugged easily. “Sketch’ll only throw a hissy-fit if I close up without bothering and since it looks like you’re my last customer ...”

“You wanna maybe ... get dinner?” The gruff question came as equally out of the blue as his last comment – for both of them - and he clocked her surprised look, which in turn made his defensive reaction come over like he’d just been accused of getting on one knee. “What? A guy’s gotta eat ...”

***

Hair of the dog had been a hell of a bad idea.

Michael had no idea how long he’d been out, but his plan to go and talk to Callie over the state of their relationship had fallen to nothing as soon as he’d woken up in the cold light of day and decided a shot of vodka would ease his hangover. Al
l well and good at first, but after drinking all night, it didn’t take much to make his blood-alcohol level go shooting back up. So, when one shot became two and two became three ... Game over.

It was probably just as well though. After all, his booze-soaked mind had succeeded in
painting a pretty convincing, if decidedly X-rated, picture. One that featured none other than his very own girlfriend and a certain blonde biker who, for all he knew, had most likely screwed his way round half of Nevada.

But that was then and this was now.

And now it was early evening and the usually cool and collected lawyer was, quite simply, a mess. But a straight-thinking mess - so he thought anyway, despite the roaring in his head that seemed loud enough to rival Will’s entire goddamn fleet of Harleys.

Had he really been about to storm round to Callie’s, profess his love for her and then accuse her of fucking Sam?

Michael groaned at the thought. And then again at what even just that sound did to his poor abused head. He really was getting too old for this shit, much as he hated to admit it. There was nothing classy about stinking of what had somehow turned into a two-day bender and he knew that not even a designer suit could change that.

Especially not one as crumpled as his.

He just wished he’d paid more attention to his girl over all the months they’d been together, maybe then he’d have the answers to the nagging questions at the back of his mind. They talked, didn’t they? It was true he didn’t want to talk about his work and risk boring her, or his ex and their son and risk scaring her off, but they talked ... didn’t they?

Staggering upright from his makeshift bed on the couch, Michael lurched to the fridge with a sudden urgency, fumbling for a cold bottle of water and wrenching the cap off with shaky hands to down a long gulp. Trying to clear the fog in his mind and thinking hard.

Why didn’t he know how Callie knew any of the Fallen?

Or why she would be calling them at the cop shop of all places? He was her
boyfriend. He should know this, because he was supposed to know
her
…

***

Deciding to call it a day as far as work was concerned, Will reached for the box of pre-cut cigars in his desk drawer, made his selection and pulled out a Zippo to spark up. A fragrant cloud of smoke streamed from his lips as he took a long drag and exhaled slowly. He was not the most patient of men and some things were just taking too long for his liking.

He would keep biding his time though. He was good at that. Patience was no match for perseverance and he had plenty of the latter, no matter how in short supply the former may have been at times.

With a weary rub of his hand over his beard and a final drift of his gaze to the framed photo on his desk, the club president pushed himself out of his chair and strolled out of the office to head to the bar. No point drinking alone when he could join his boys or maybe even some of their female company – the same thought as had, by the look of it, passed through his sergeant’s mind.

But Will’s eyes narrowed when the sight in front of him registered properly. Only for a moment though, before he heaved a little sigh and let it go. He could guess what the logic was behind it, no matter how flawed. But even so ... He’d thought it would be a hell of a long time before he’d see Sam with a brunette, after all the shit that had gone down.

FLASHBACK

Sitting down heavily at the head of the near-sacred table, the president reached out a shaky hand and ran his fingers over the carved beak of the elaborate golden eagle. It was only then that he noticed the blood.

It wasn’t Taylor’s though. It was his own, drawn from where she’d dug her nails into the backs of his hands as she fought. The irony wasn’t lost on him, even as his fingers curled into a fist and crashed down painfully on the wood. It stilled there though as he laid his head on the table and struggled to keep his shit together.

He’d always been so resolute. He d
rew stark lines between right and wrong – admittedly, not the kind of lines the rest of the world would necessarily agree with, but his club’s own version of a moral code. However twisted.

But now ... Now, when the stakes had never been higher, he just didn’t know anymore.

The door of the clubhouse church opened slowly, but he never moved. Under normal circumstances, he’d never let his brothers see him like this, but things were far from normal and besides, he knew there was only one person who’d dare to intrude on him right now.

A glass of whiskey was set down just in his eye line without a word, heavy footsteps retreating towards the door.

“Sam,” Will said quietly, lifting his head as he caught the blonde’s attention and made him turn as he reached the door. Struggling through a long pause to find the words he wanted. The words to tell him he’d known all along.

That he
’d come to think that one day, when they were both done with dancing around each other, his trusted sergeant would be the one to tame his wilful daughter and she’d be the one to wear his ink.

“I know you think you coulda loved her. Maybe already did
,” he said, forcing a wry smile at the caught look he got in return. “Nah, don’t worry - it’s okay. I just wish things coulda been different. I ... I woulda been proud to have you as a son.”

For once, Sam seemed a
t a loss for something to say, no doubt knowing neither of them would thank him if this got too emotional. “Family ain’t always about blood,” he managed simply, bumping his closed fist against the door frame in a little gesture of farewell before walking away. He raked a shaky hand through the messy spikes of his hair as he went.

***

“What?” Callie was smiling at him across the table of the almost deserted diner, one side of the slouchy white top she had on over a simple tank slipping off her shoulder as she stole a couple of his fries with a mischievous little look. “I do it to keep fit, not so I can start beating on people – little bit of self defence, I guess, but that’s just a kinda bonus.”

Colton could feel the eyes of their waitress on them as he sat opposite the little blonde in a narrow booth by the window of Lou’s Place. It was far from fancy, winning out in their where-to-grab-dinner debate purely by way of being just a couple of blocks from the studio, but his cut still drew attention. Not that he gave a shit.

“Self defence,” he scoffed, returning his attention to the conversation about how she managed to stay in shape despite practically inhaling a huge burger with everything on it. Kick-boxing classes were apparently part of the answer. “This I gotta see.”

“You’re so on, mister,” Callie grinned. “I can just see the looks if you rocked up to my class of sixteen women.”

Not surprisingly, he grimaced and shook his shaved head firmly. “Hell, no. We got a gym at the clubhouse. Boxing ring too. Tomorrow morning – you and me, kid. Call it a master class.”

“Deal,” she agreed. “Now ... we splitting dessert or what?”

***

Stumbling out of the cab, Michael pushed a couple of twenties into the driver’s hand – the least he could do for stinking out his cab like some whiskey-soaked tramp – and fished in his pockets for his keys as he made his way unsteadily to Callie’s door. He’d never understood her need to have her own space rather than simply moving in with him.

Maybe he was about to get his real answer. Never mind that independence crap, maybe she just didn’t want him cramping her style. Her reluctance to give him his own key, returning in kind his gift to her, had been hidden. But badly.

He forced himself to push those thoughts out of his mind though. To remind himself that this was the girl he, despite his best efforts, had fallen for.

“Callie!” he called, trying to keep his tone light and failing miserably. “It’s me, darling ... Callie, you here?”

The apartment was in darkness, even though she should have been home from work an hour ago, and he cursed as he staggered into t
he corner of her coffee table, clutching his shin and almost toppling over.

She wasn’t in. Hadn’t called. But that was okay, it didn’t mean anything – they were busy people who didn’t have to live in each other’s pockets. That was all. And he could wait. Be there when she got in
, to kiss her and confess how he really felt, instead of this ridiculous dancing around the issue because he was scared to seem like he was tying her down.

He could wait as long as it took.

***

CHAPTER 23

It was late as Colton walked the girl back to her car, the night air distinctly cooler than when they had left the studio and making her wrap her arms around herself as they walked. The oversized but flimsy sweater was obviously made for style over practicality. They didn’t pick up the pace though, content instead to stroll in companionable silence along the sidewalk.

In places, neon light flickered over them and, at the end of the block, the noise from a dive bar spilled out from behind the almost-hidden door every time it opened. A rowdy group of drinkers came pouring out along with the burst of music just as he and Callie passed. Catcalls rang out as they got separated in the sudden crush, only for a black look to send the revellers stumbling on their way as Colton reached through the scrum to pull the little blonde to his side.

He didn’t ask, just stole a glance to check she was okay and then kept walking. He ignored the bar’s worse-for-wear patrons as they disappeared, still laughing and shouting, down an alleyway. But somehow, Callie’s arm had tucked itself through his – a situation he let slide. It was better to keep her close, late as it was. That was all.

“I guess this is my stop,” she said, letting go when they reached the studio and then the near-deserted spot round the back where she had parked her car. She hesitated before she slid a hand to his shoulder for balance and rose up on tiptoe, intending to brush a kiss against his che
ek. “Thanks for dinner, Colt.”

But, as his own hand went in an instinctive move to her waist to steady her, he couldn’t seem to resist turning
to meet those soft gray eyes - her lips missing their target and being sought out by his instead.

And for a few moments at least, he wasn’t a biker with a murder charge over his head and she wasn’t a tattooist with a boyfriend. They were just a guy and a girl, kissing in each other’s arms under the street lights.

Trying to deny they were anything more.

***

“... ‘Preciate it, brother. Later.”

Will snapped his cell phone shut and gritted his teeth in frustration. There was only one thing worse than feeling like your capabilities were being questioned and that was knowing you damn well deserved it. But of course he could hardly tell the mo
ther charter’s president that, especially not in so many words and in front of the clubhouse in full swing.

For a lawless MC, they were pretty big on rank and respect.

So Gunn would get his way and a couple of his guys would be taking a little trip to check in on them. Were, in fact, already on their way - to check up on them more like, Will thought. Apparently the intel officer had run all the checks he could think of on their lawyer friend without coming up with anything immediately worrying. Whatever the hell that meant. But Gunn thought it’d be better if Chip talked them through it in person. Made sure every ‘t’ was crossed and every ‘i’ dotted.

Still, at least Gunn hadn’t decided the situation required the personal touch. Much as he and Will were old friends and get-togethers in either Haven or Reno were generally raucous affairs that probably did a hell of a lot for the cigar importing business, his presence now and under such circumstances couldn’t fail to reflect badly on Will’s leadership.

Stowing the cell back in an inside pocket of his cut, Will signalled for another drink from the young prospect playing bartender and then continued on his intended path. Despite the fact that his sergeant was still otherwise engaged with his nameless brunette companion, who seemed to be having difficulty keeping her clothes on.

“Mmm, someone’s enjoying the view ...” she was practically purring in what was presumably her best seductive voice. Rolling her hips against Sam’s mid-lap dance, he
r hands braced on his shoulders, she leaned forward to give him another eyeful of the ample contents of her skimpy bra. “Come on, Sam, what ya waiting for? Let’s finish this in your room.”