Ink (The Haven Series) (37 page)

Watching the little performance, Lana rolled her eyes. She had to hand it to her friend, overly smudged eyeliner aside, she could take what looked like some real heartache and make it work for her. And it seemed the guy she’d just stumbled into agreed, his hands sliding unnecessarily to her ass as he steadied her.

“Woah, easy there, doll-face ...” he started, raking an appreciative gaze over her toned curves and raising an eyebrow at the sight of her ink.

But that was as far as he got before Lana swiftly intervened, grabbing Callie’s arm. “Don’t make me call Sketch and get him down here to see this shit – we’re getting you some fresh air,” she insisted, the kid gloves coming off as she focused on half dragging the girl towards the door and out into the alleyway.

She didn’t even notice the guy who set his neglected beer back down on the bar to follow in their wake ...

Pulling Callie towards a wall out of the way of those coming and going from the bar, the reporter fished in her bag for a much needed cigarette and sparked up as they sat down sit by side. “So,” Lana started, reaching with her free hand to squeeze the little blonde’s fingers in a bid to comfort her. “Talk to me.”

“Nothin’ to say,” Callie shrugged, stealing the cigarette and taking a long drag.

“Really?” Lana raised a sceptical eyebrow and took her smoke back with a shake of her head. “Honey, you’re nearly thirty. Your days of drinking yourself stupid and trying to cultivate a smoking habit you don’t have, all over a boy, should be long gone.”

That at least drew a wry snort, probably at the thought of anyone referring to Colton as a boy. But all at once, probably with the not insignificant help of the alcohol, Callie’s face simply crumpled.

“I fucked up,” she whispered, looking for all the world like a lost little girl. “I fucked up and he left. It hurts my heart, Lana. I didn’t think it would, but it does. It really does ...”

“Oh, Callie,” Lana managed, hating to see her normally so together friend fall apart in front of her and pulling her into her arms as she finally broke down and cried. “Honey, honey, honey ... Come on now, it can’t be that bad. You’re drunk, sweetie. I don’t know what’s gone on, but I’m sure it just seems a lot worse than it really is.”

“No, it’s really pretty fucked up,” Callie laughed through her tears. “Colton probably hates me and I think Will kinda wants me gone. Like dead and in a hole
gone
. And there’s ... there’s even one of the club following us right now. You should go, Lana. Jus’ go.”

***

“That girl ... she don’t poke and she don’t pry, not with Colt and not with any of us. Not even after all this time. She gets it, respects how shit works round here – come on, you know you’ve said it yourself!” Sam insisted, leaning forward in his urgency. “Will, I’d stake my goddamn bike on her being in
love
with him. And now she’s pushing him away, all because she don’t want to make trouble. That ain’t the actions of a girl with an agenda!”

Processing that with more than a little surprise that the girl hadn’t trotted out some sob story about what he’d said in a bid to twist his hitman against him, Will steepled his fingers and met his sergeant’s intense stare.

“And if you’re wrong? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Sam hung his head and for a moment, Will thought the cruel reminder had won the battle. Then the jaw set a little harder, the chin lifting in determination.

“If we’re wrong about her, she’s playing one hell of a long game. In fact, if we’re wrong ... I’ll kill her myself,” Sam vowed grimly. “And then you can kill
me
.”

***

CHAPTER 43

Even the usually clingy chicks were giving him a wide berth. Colton had been slouched grim-faced at the bar for the last hour, smoking cigarette after cigarette and nursing the same hi-ball full of whiskey. He’d already had an earful off Sketch and it had taken all his patience to bear it without letting his clenched fists fly.

Part of him wanted to argue that if that little blonde bitch wanted to drink herself stupid that was her look-out. Part of him – the part he was trying to ignore - knew all too well that if anything had happened to the girl, he’d have blamed himself.

He was so focused on trying to think about anything but the obvious that, for once, he was caught off guard by the hand that descended on his shoulder.

“Chill, man,” Sam said quickly, obviously clocking the hand that instinctively went straight for the knife at his hip. “Only me.” When all he got was a grunt in response, the sergeant pulled up a bar stool of his own and signalled to the nearest prospect to get him a drink before getting straight to the point. “So I talked to Will. ‘Bout Callie.”

That drew Colton’s attention and he turned a flat gaze on his friend. “Ain’t your place.”

“Were you gonna do it?” The sharp question was met by a stony silence. “Didn’t think so. Listen, Colt, you know Will - he ain’t gonna straight up admit it any time soon, but I reckon he gets it. Deep down. That this ain’t like with Taylor.”

“So?” Colton shrugged, after a long expectant pause.

“So you know Callie only acted the way she did ‘cause she thought she was making things easier for you. And you’re only this fucking miserable about it ‘cause you actually give a shit about her!” Sam declared impatiently. “Ain’t no point even trying to deny it, bro. Just call her. Or better yet, go make things right.”

***

Work had always been such a place of solace, somewhere she could lose herself amid the hum of her needle. But right now, there were too many reminders to clear the noise in her head - from the past sketches in her pad to the massive golden eagle among the photo collage of finished ink on the wall.

And even when she dropped into a recliner at the back of the studio, for use when their clients requested a tattoo or piercing that required a little more privacy, her mind simply raced every time she let her eyes drift closed.

“Please, Sketch, don’t start lecturing me again,” Callie groaned, her eyes still shut as she heard a stool being drawn up beside where she was laid. “I’m on my break – it’s not like I’m sleeping on the job!”

“Never said you were, girl,” Sketch countered coolly, nudging a bottle of water into her hand and holding out a couple of painkillers.

She eyed him with barely concealed suspicion and then took what seemed to be a peace offering. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Aware of concerned brown eyes still watching her intently, Callie hesitated and then downed the pills with a swig of the cool water before meeting his gaze again. “Come on then,” she sighed. “Let’s hear it.”

“I ain’t gonna lecture. Said I wasn’t, didn’t I?” he said, shaking his head. “But damn, Cal, I just hate seeing ya this fucking miserable. Talk to me, kiddo.”

She’d tried to keep telling herself there was nothing to talk about. That she and Colton had just been friends with benefits - really good benefits – that simply hadn’t worked out in the end. No harm done. But she hadn’t been able to factor in the ache in her heart when she thought about it all being over. Whatever it was that they’d had. She’d never wanted to be the teary-eyed chick left with nothing but doubts.

Interrupted by the jingle of the door chimes, Sketch sighed and left her to go see what was happening out front, patting her hand on the way past. At the sound of footsteps a minute later, she just assumed he’d returned.

“Suffering?”

Callie’s head flew up at the gruff voice, gray eyes widening though she tried to recover herself quickly. “I ... I’m guessing you’re not here to sympathise.”

“Self-inflicted,” Colton shrugged. “That don’t buy you sympathy.”

“So do I get to ask what you are doing here?”

Sitting down on the stool vacated by Sketch, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees, the biker met her gaze head-on. “Shouldn’t have took off on you before,” he admitted finally. “Not knowing what you were trying to do. And I do know. Guess I just ... didn’t want to hear it.”

“Why not?” Callie asked softly, tearing her eyes away from his to focus on the glass of water she was toying with. She didn’t really expect an answer – she knew he wasn’t one for talking things out.

“Because I fucking told you I cared,” Colton said heatedly, with a finger jabbing in her direction and the gravel of his voice tinged with a flare of anger even now. “And it seemed to me like you were intent on throwing that back in my damn face. Ignoring shit I specifically
told
you. You pissed me off, little girl. And then some.”

Taken aback, she floundered for a response. “For what it’s worth ... I’m sorry, Colt,” she sighed, setting down her glass and covering her tired face with her hands. “Is this the part where you tell me what usually happens to people who piss you off?”

“This is the part where I tell you not to ever do it again.”

Before Callie knew what was happening, he’d leaned forward and pulled her hands from her face, pinning them above her head against the recliner as he claimed her lips in a rough kiss. It took her a few stunned seconds to react, but only a few. Then she was pulling free of his grip – and instead, letting her arms wrap around his neck as she kissed him back, feeling the weight of his body as he eased himself over her and sent the chair tilting as far back as it would go.

“I’m sorry too, baby,” came the low growl in her ear, as his mouth trailed along her jaw and down her neck. The words were so low she wasn’t sure at first that she hadn’t imagined them.

And then he was kissing her again, a hand in the tangles of her hair and a groan escaping his throat when she shifted under him. “Ain’t the first time I’ve thought about fucking you in one of these chairs,” he said huskily, chuckling at the look on her face. “You inked me right ... here,” came the explanation, his hand guiding hers between them to rest dangerously low on his abdomen. “You were wearing some white little vest. Made your tits look incredible. Come on, let’s get the hell outta here.”

“What about Sketch?”

“Three’s a crowd,” Colton grinned.

But even as he climbed off her, Callie kept the fingers of one hand laced through his, holding him back. “What about Will?” she asked quietly.

“We’ll get through that shit,” he said firmly. “You and me.”

***

A look of irritation crossing his face at the interruption, Antonio reached for his ringing cell phone but his eyes never left the now topless pole dancer writhing just in front of him.

“This better be good,
ese
,” he warned the caller straight off the bat.

“Got Greene on my radar, boss,” came the voice of his second-in-command. “Clocked him coming out of an ink joint, hand-in-hand with some blonde skank. Don’t that sound cosy for the big bad killer? I thought our intel said he didn’t have any ties locally - just the mom
out of town?”

“Pussy ain’t necessarily a tie,” Antonio said impatiently. “You’d know that if you got any, shithead.”

“I’m telling you, boss – they look pretty tight.”

“So do something about it. Jesus Christ, do I gotta think of everything? Stay on them, see what you can find out. Unless you need someone to hold your hand too?”

Ending the call, he threw the cell down beside him in the booth and turned his attention back to the dark-haired girl pouting at him in what he could only suppose was meant to be an appealing fashion. But the mood had been broken and his interest was gone. There was only one thing he wanted now.

To send a message.

***

CHAPTER 44

“Feeling better?”

“Mmm, much,” Callie murmured, contentment in her voice and a soft, sleepy little smile on her face as she lay wrapped in inked arms. Between the warmth of Colton’s body pressed against hers and the comfort of the duvet tucked around them both, never moving again was sounding like a wonderful plan.

When they’d ended up in her bed, she’d been half expecting something hard and fast - some kind of making up for lost time. Instead, what had happened between them had been as unmistakable as it was unexpected.

He’d made love to her.

There was no outpouring of emotion, no big declarations to be made. Just those dark eyes locked on hers as he set out to prove what she meant to him. There was definitely an irony both in his chosen method and in its unquestionable efficiency.

“Colt?”

“Hmm?” he managed lazily, one of his hands buried in the long waves of her hair and his strong fingers massaging slightly as they cradled the back of her head while she used his bare chest as a pillow.

“What was your first time like?” Callie asked quietly, feeling him shift to look at her. “Humour me – I’m just curious. I have a hard time picturing you all young and clueless ...”

Colton snorted at that. “Trust me, I was. But I was a fast learner too,” he grinned. “Think I was ... maybe fifteen, only just. She was older – probably nineteen ... Drea de Rossi. Fuck, she was like a walking wet dream – you ask Sketch, I bet he remembers. Couldn’t believe my luck.”

“What happened?”

“Bitch chewed me up and spat me out,” he told her, tilting her lips up to his to plant a firm kiss on her. “Was a helluva long time ago, darlin’. So, come on - I ain’t crazy ‘bout the thought of any other fucker with his hands on you, but let’s hear it. Who was your first?”