Ink (The Haven Series) (26 page)

She couldn’t hide the little crinkle of her nose that spoke volumes, but it seemed she’d thought the better of trying to bluff him anyway. “Sore,” she admitted, though he could tell even that was downplaying it. “Not any worse than it was though. Hey, I even managed to make coffee without falling on my ass – you want some?”

His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair back from her stitches and tucked it carefully behind her ear as she looked up at him with those big gray eyes, hands resting lightly on his biceps. “Would rather be taking you straight back to bed, darlin’. But, since I guess that might be pushing it if I don’t want you keeling over on me, coffee’s just gonna have to do for now ...”

***

“Honey, I’m home,” Will drawled wryly on spotting his sergeant, seeming already prepared for what was coming even as he watched Sam make his sharp-eyed assessment.

“Any of that yours?” the younger man demanded immediately, getting up to stride across the clubhouse and gesturing to the blood still spattered over his president’s clothes.

“Nah.” The answer was curt, already moving to dismiss the conversation as Will continued on his way – no doubt heading for his room and stripping off his cut as he went.

“Helluva mess, man ...”

“Goddammit, Sam, don’t tell me you’re gonna start giving me shit about laundry.”

Sam’s face remained impassive, arms crossed over his chest – Will was still the president after all. And anyway, unlike an outsider might, he knew better than to mistake that snark for flippancy. “Dixie?”

“I handled it,” Will said, still in that tone that didn’t want to allow for debate.

So Sam just nodded, processing that. Kicking
the cogs in his brain up a gear, he subconsciously started pacing the floor, already trying to figure out the diplomatic way to start fire-fighting what could well blow up into their latest shit-storm. “Right. You handled it ... So what now?”

“It had to be done, brother. Y
ou know that.”

“Yeah ... Yeah, it did,” the sergeant said, sounding resigned and his shoulders slumping just a little. “Listen, we gotta put out the four-one-one on this, dude. Norteños ain’t gonna like it ... You clean up?”

Silence.

“Jesus, Will ...”

“I sent a message,” came the sharp response, as Will looked up from removing his gun and holster, almost daring his right-hand man to contradict him. But this time, it was a challenge even Sam couldn’t help rising to. Loyalty be damned.

“A message that could land us all behind bars!”

“Like some pissy little gangbangers are gonna go running to the cops. Think about it, son – what they gonna say? ‘Scuse me, officer, the big bad biker fucked with our crank deal?”

“Gee, I dunno. Maybe we should ask Alex fucking Kane!” Sam swore, slamming a fist off the nearest wall in frustration. Knowing he was on damn thin ice,
he was also realising there was a hell of a lot on the line and if Will was in too deep to see that ...

Sure enough, that gaze levelled with his and the president frowned, feigning confusion. “What the hell, Sam? I miss a vote while I was gone? You takin
g the gavel or something?”

“You know it ain’t like that, Will,” the blonde said squarely, refusing to back down. “But you want some nodding lap-dog, you picked the wrong fucking SAA – told you that when you pa
tched me. I got your back, man. I ain’t lettin’ you leave it wide open for some gangbanger’s bullet.”

“That bastard betrayed this club!”

The rest went unsaid, but the lines were easy to read between. The betrayed me hanging in the air, no doubt suspended there by the palpable tension in the room – something you could have taken a switchblade to.

But if anyone understood the president’s motives for moving so quickly to eradicate a one-time ally who’d broken a measure of trust, it was Sam. After everything, it was definitely Sam. “Maybe there’s still time to fix this,” he said finally. “I’m cal
ling Colt.”

***

No hair of the dog, not this time. Not considering where it had gotten him last time.

His stomach stilled rolled at the memory, one of the few from the day before that kept coming back to him in crystal clarity. The girl he loved lifeless on the floor as blood began to ooze from her head. He’d been sickly sure he’d killed her.

“It was an accident,” Michael told his empty apartment hoarsely. He was still sat on his couch, where he had been since he’d woken up, with his head in his hands. Just replaying over and over that awful moment when even the silence had seemed to roar in his ears. “An accident.”

He never should have let her push him away though. He should have stayed, despite her protests, called for help. But then she’d screamed at him and how would that look ... A respectable lawyer, drunk off his ass, with his own girlfriend covered in blood and refusing to let him touch her. Besides, Callie had been working herself into a state - him being there wasn’t doing her any good. At least that was what he could tell his guilty conscience ... For all the good it did.

No, no hair of the dog today. The strongest coffee he could stand and a searing hot shower, that was what he needed to go and make things right. And he didn’t care what it took, she was going to hear him out.

***

CHAPTER 29

Returning from taking a phone call in the relative privacy of the bedroom, Colton had already pulled on his jeans and was tugging his t-shirt down over his head when Callie looked up from her mug of coffee and realised what must be going on.

“You gotta go,” she said, as she watched him shove his feet into his boots and rifle through his pockets for his keys before bending to tie his laces. There was only simple understanding rather than a question, accusation or even resignation in her tone.

“Yeah,” the biker admitted gruffly, straightening up and reaching for his cut and gun. “That was Sam.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Callie said, even though she knew better than to think she was getting anything more than that nod to club business anyway. “Anything you need before you head out?”

That threw him for just a second, dark eyes assessing both her and the question that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“What?” she frowned, actually succeeding in getting a bemused smile out of him.

“You,” Colton said, head cocked just a little on one side as he surveyed her. “Sitting there with stitches in that pretty little head, asking what I need. You’re something else, doll ... You gonna be okay?”

It was her turn to smile as she nodded slightly. “Been looking after myself these last thirteen years, Colt – I think I’ll make it through the day.”

“Make sure you do. There is one thing though ...”

She caught on quick as he leaned in, letting her arms settle around his neck and lifting those soft lips to his for a long, hungry kiss they were both reluctant to break. But duty had called and him sticking around really wasn’t an option, no matter how good the little blonde tasted.

Maybe that he couldn’t was for the best though, Colton considered as he headed out the door – because just the fact that he hadn’t been glad of an excuse to escape was already giving him more than enough food for thought for one day.

***

“Whatcha doin’, Chippy-boy?”

“Trying to access secure financial records for this lawyer guy – most common way to find out if someone’s on the take,” the intel officer explained to a decidedly bored Shay, never looking up from his laptop. “You know, unaccounted for income ... signs someone’s living beyond their means ... new investment deals ...”

“Forget I asked,” the Irishman yawned, eyes already scanning the quiet clubhouse for some new source of amusement and finding nothing. Just the stern-faced Fallen president watching through the window as Sam headed across the yard to his bike – a sight that sent Shay off his bar stool and ambling over to join him. “You wanna see our Gunn try keeping Ryder in check, brother. Yer man might think too much, but at least he’s
doin’ it wi’ the right head.”

“News of the public indecency charge did reach us,” Will conceded wryly, recalling the laughter round his table at the fate of the Reno sergeant. “Gotta admit, as far as felonies go, that’s a new one on us. I’d take it over this first degree murder shit any day though.”

“Club’ll deal, man – always does,” came the shrugged response. And a subtly raised eyebrow at the irony. For someone so concerned about his boys doing serious time, given his early morning exploits, Will seemed to Shay fairly unfazed about increasing the risk of joining them.

Will sighed again and nodded. “You got that right. Damn right.”

“Jesus, would ya listen to the pair o’ us?” Shay eventually broke the reflective silence, returning to his more customary strident tones with a near outraged exclamation. “Let’s wrap this bloody senior citizen sewing circle up and hear how you lot are gonna show us esteemed guests a damn good time! D’ya think we hauled our arses all the way up here just to dry yer tears? I bloody think not! Besides, I ain’t havin’ Blondie thinkin’ he’s the sole attraction round here – not when ya got two fine-lookin’ specimens like ourselves on offer. So whadda ya say, pres? Let Chip get his geek on now, but come Friday night we show these youngsters how it’s done?”

“Ah, Shay,
you’re a breath of fresh fuckin’ air,” Will declared with a laugh, pulling him into a back-slapping hug. “I say that’s sounding dangerously like a plan!”

The Fallen always did believe in making the most of things without waiting for the shit-storms to be over – after all, you could be dead and buried yourself before that kind of peace ever came around. And with that in mind, the Irishman grinned broadly, pleased to see his old friend looking more like himself. “You’re the boss.”

“That I am, buddy-boy. That I am ...”

***

Left to her own devices, Callie pottered around the apartment, forcing herself to manage some breakfast just so she wasn’t taking more painkillers on an empty stomach and replying to text messages checking up on her from Sketch and Lana. Somehow, she negotiated a shower and the awkwardness of washing and drying her hair without either getting her stitches wet or causing herself any more pain than she could avoid, before slipping into her oldest, comfiest sweatpants and a simple tank top.

If she had to put up with an enforced break, she was at least determined to make the most of it by working on some designs from the comfort of her couch. Turned out concentrating wasn’t going to be quite as simple as that though.

Okay, impatience aside, she knew the pounding head and that fuzziness that came with either too much sleep or not enough was only to be expected after everything. But it was more than that. She was used to distractions – hell, she managed to work with Sketch after all. But now ... Now, there was just way too much still racing through her mind.

Everything from the reason she’d ended up in Haven in the first place and how she’d struggled to find her feet, to the people she’d allowed into her life – those like Sketch and Lana - and those who’d simply been passing through. There’d been in a lot more in the second category than the first and now she guessed she could add Michael to that list ...

And then there was Colton.

The notoriously guarded biker with the dubious reputation who’d somehow ended up in her life and in her bed. The man who brought with him the nagging thought that just maybe she was, for him, just another one of those people passing through. In spite of memories of everything from his arms outstretched to catch her amid the carnage of a gun battle, to all the times he’d watched her add to the artwork on his skin and the heat just a look between them could create ... In spite of how good it felt to have his mouth on hers and him deep inside her ... In spite of all the ways he could bring his name to her lips ...

“Callie?”

The call actually made her jump as she realised she’d been so deep in thought that even the knocking on her door had gone unnoticed and she moved on reflex to get up – only freezing when the impatient call was repeated and the voice registered properly in her head.

“Callie, I just want to talk. Please, you have to at least hear me out!”

Michael.

***

Cuts stashed and bikes parked up in a secluded spot just far enough from the strip joint not to draw attention, not so far that they couldn’t make a quick getaway if the need arose, Sam and Colton strode side-by-side towards the deserted building. The early morning light
was doing little for the look of the place. Turned out seedy by night just translated into plain ole dilapidated by day.

“Hey, what happened to Callie, man?” Sam remembered to ask, despite his sharp gaze still roving constantly for anything that could pose a threat to their little clean-up operation. “She still in hospital?”

“They let her out. Split her head open – real nasty shit,” Colton said shortly, his attention equally focused on their surroundings since his brother had already filled him in on what had gone down. Last thing they needed was to get jumped on Norteño turf. “Stitches, concussion, the works. Swears it was an accident, but the punk-bitch boyfriend still left her lying there.”

“Boyfriend?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t know there was one in the picture. Sounds like an asshole, but how’s he gonna like you playing doctors and nurses with his girl?”