Ink (The Haven Series) (25 page)

Dixie was about to protest in the strongest possible terms, but wisely clamped his mouth shut again. You didn’t argue with a pissed-off guy with a gun levelled at your head, regardless of how much you wanted to tell him he was in the wrong. And especially when deep down, you knew he was actually in the right ...

But before he could decide the best course of action that would see him live to see another day, Will was on his feet – with surprising agility for a guy his size – and crossing the room to clamp a heavy hand on his shoulder and steer him backwards towards the seat he had just vacated. “I said sit,” he barked, shoving Dixie down.

“Will ...” the club owner tried, the pleading tone in his voice almost pitiful. Almost. “Come on, man, I dunno what this is even about, but can’t we talk about it?”

“How about I talk and you listen?” came the snarl. “And to make sure I don’t have to listen to you run that lying mouth ...”

Dixie’s eyes widened at the feel of cold steel against his temple, trailing slowly along his jaw and under his chin, before winding up pressed against his trembling lips. “Jesus Christ!” he squeaked, trying to pull away. But the exclamation proved to have been a mistake when Will simply took the opportunity to push the barrel of the gun into his one-time friend’s mouth, muffling his alarmed protests.

“I’d shut that hole in your fucking face if I was you, before I give you a matching one on the other side,” the biker warned, fisting a hand in graying hair and pulling Dixie backwards – the chair tilting precariously on two legs – until he was glaring down into watery blue eyes that bulged in terror. “I don’t wanna
hear you so much as breathe.”

***

Colton was used to functioning on very little sleep – eight hours was all well and good when you could kick back in your own bed knowing all was right in the world or, at the very least, that it was someone else’s turn to keep the shit at bay. But, more often than not, you slept with one eye open or not at all. Maybe just snatching a few hours when you absolutely had to in some cheap road-side motel or in another charter’s clubhouse halfway across the country.

Or by your frail mother’s hospital bedside, never knowing if her next breath would be her last.

That wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on but, by comparison, making sure Callie’s concussion didn’t take a turn for the worse was a piece of cake. The little blonde was tougher than she looked – obviously in pain, but sucking it up. No tears, no clingy whining. Not that he’d have expected anything else from the girl with an independent streak a mile wide.

It seemed since he’d carried her inside and climbed into the comfort of her bed with her that, despite the waves of drowsiness she’d been suffering, sleep was now proving elusive though – at least the kind that would let her get any proper rest. So he had to ask. Regardless of what wanting to kn
ow might mean ... “You worrying over shit, kid?”

“Huh? Oh. Worrying, nah ...” she said, looking up at him with a half-smile that was less than convincing. Each of them propped on an elbow in the early morning light, their bodies just inches apart. “Thinking too much? Maybe.”

Colton frowned at that. He got it - the need to process shit, mull it over ‘til you had it all straight in your own head. But her head had taken a hell of a rattle, she didn’t need that right now. “About?” he prompted, his stern face at odds with the reassuring hand that settled on her hip. “Callie? Listen, you sure that prick ain’t out there right now needin’ his ass kicked?”

That got him a little laugh, even though he was deadly serious. “Come on, Colt, I’m sure.”

He accepted that. Reluctantly. The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable, as he cocked his head and just took in the sight of her. Her cheeks flushed pink under the scrutiny and drew one of those rare smiles from him. The chick was no wallflower, but he was pretty sure she had no fucking clue just how gorgeous she was either ...

“S
o this ex of yours,” Colton tried casually. “Think he’s got the message or do I gotta set him straight on a few things?”

“Such as?” Callie murmured, feeling those strong fingers slip below the hem of her top to graze the soft patch of skin that lay beneath. His head
dipped to let his lips graze her throat, making her breath hitch.

“How he ... had his shot ...” Colton shrugged
, between trailing hot kisses over her skin - even as he slowly started to ease her pyjama vest upwards, wanting to feel more of just her underneath his hands. “And he ... pissed it away ...”

Her body gravitating towards his, arms wrapping around his neck, Callie simply lifted her lips to
his. A sigh of pleasure escaped her as he rolled her onto her back, the biker only pulling away long enough to tug his t-shirt over his head. Her hands slid down his bare skin, over the taut muscles of his back.

Colton wanted her, couldn’t deny it. But, although he wasn’t exactly prone to bouts of selflessness, he couldn’t quite shake the thought that he was supposed to be making her rest. “Shit, Callie ...” he broke off with a frustrated growl. “Your head-
-”

Concussed or not, the closest thing he’d heard to a plea from her cut off what would have been his warning that they shouldn’t start something they couldn’t finish.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Colton - just please ... don’t stop ...”

***

“I’d quit shakin’ if I was you, Dixie – you sure don’t want my trigger-finger slipping,” Will advised, still in that conversational tone that was completely at odds with the latent violence of his actions. But at last, the barrel of the gun was none too gently retracted and the club owner’s hand went straight to his throat as he fought the urge to retch.

“Jesus, man, have you lost your m-mind?”  Dixie spluttered, between gasps for air. “Have you seriously lost your mind?”

“Have you? Because crossing me means you, buddy-boy, either got a screw loose or some big-ass balls of steel. And, going by the way you’re quivering, I’d say we both know which one’s more likely.”

“Crossing you? Come on, Will ...”

“Spare me the bullshit, Dixie – I already know how you played me. Coming into my clubhouse with your sob stories, trading on our history to have me pull some strings for you. And all the while, I’m the one being turned into a goddamn puppet!”

“Who’s been filling your head with this shit, huh? ‘Cause that’s all it is, man – bullshit. You gotta believe me.”

“See, that ain’t what a little bird told me ...”

Sitting on a corner of the desk, the biker kept his gun levelled on his one-time friend even as he looked around the confines of the small office. He’d already checked it out while he waited for Dixie to make an appearance, knew all about the panic button under the desk and the piece in the top drawer. Had even realised the computer could be used to watch feeds from the security cameras dotted in and around the club. Someone really should teach the guy about password protection ...

“I know about the deal with the Norteños,” Will said simply, seeing no point in sugar-coating the facts. “I know you needed Kane out of the picture and, being the back-stabbing weasel you are, you had me get my men to sort it!”

Dixie quaked at the cold fury barely contained in his aggressor’s voice, already white as a sheet. “You gotta know that ain’t right, man – you can trust me,” he tried. “You know that!”

“I know there’s only two people I trust completely and you damn sure ain’t either of ‘em,” came the reply.

“Look, Will, I get it. T
rust issues after Taylor, it’s only natural ...”

The last desperate attempt to save his skin may have been a poor call, judging by the thunderous look on Will’s face, and Dixie was already regretting it when the Glock cracked him round the head. The barrel
was immediately shoved hard against his temple. “You don’t say her name!” the biker hissed in fury.

***

Although he could force himself to take things slowly, lay back and watch through eyes darkened with lust, Colton couldn’t quite manage to keep his hands to himself – his strong fingers stroking her bare thighs and taut stomach, sliding up every so often to cup her perfect little tits. He was letting her set the pace, but gripping her hips as her slow sensual movements became almost too much to bear. Almost.

But instead of stopping her or pushing her onto her back to wrest control, he settled for lifting the little blonde easily - just enough to sit up and take her in his inked arms. Getting a soft, breathless moan in response as he shifted deep inside her.

Their eyes locked on each other, their mouths close enough but not quite kissing. Too caught up in the feel of each other for even that distraction. One of her hands rested on his shoulder, the other on his bare chest as she moved on him.

“Oh god, Colton ...” she sighed, biting her lip as her eyes drifted closed in pleasure.

The heat of his gaze flicked down their joined bodies and back up. His touch traced the ink on Callie’s shoulder, before his hands tangled in the loose waves that tipped down her back to finally pull her into a rough kiss. His hips rocking firmly upwards to meet hers, pushing her over the edge as the feel of her tight heat around him dragged a groan from his lips …

***

“Will, listen to me – you do this and you’re fucked, man. Completely. You and your club ...”

With Dixie’s terrified pleas still ringing in his ears, Will walked slowly out of the club and into the early morning light, tucking his gun into the back of his jeans as he looked down at his blood-spattered shirt.

Sometimes you just had to handle things yourself. And sometimes you had to keep an eye on the bigger picture.

***

CHAPTER 28

Tired as he’d been, Sam felt like he’d barely batted an eyelid when he found himself stood in the hallway in front of the open door of his president’s clubhouse suite, at an hour that seemed obscenely early given the time they’d finally called it a night. Judging by the look of the place though, he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been getting any shut-eye.

Scratching a hand through his messy hair as he studied the still made bed, the sergeant glanced over his shoulder to the antsy prospect who’d so far been unable to provide the answers he wanted to his rapid-fire questions about whether or not Will could simply have made a early start.

“Coffee,” Sam sighed, already feeling something in his gut telling him to be pretty sure it was gonna be a long-ass day. “Black, two sugars.”

“But, Sam, do you think--”

“Better with caffeine and without the commentary, kid. Now scram.”

Neither really seemed to help his troubled mind after all though, as he propped up the bar in silence and mused on his plan of action over that steaming mug of coffee and a much-needed cigarette. Wondering just how unlikely it was that Will had simply gone for a ride to clear his head, but knowing better than to pin his hopes on wishful thinking.

While Sam was a whole helluva lot smarter than those who didn’t know him would give him credit for, it didn’t take a genius to work out where his boss had taken off to – or why. The question was what kind of state would he return in and how much heat was he going to be bringing them ...

And it was a question the weary blonde was still pondering when the rumble of a Harley heralded the arrival of the answer.

***

Had it not been for that shocker of a bruise at her temple, he wouldn’t have been anywhere near done with the girl when he sank back against the pillows with her in his arms. Not with those tight little curves warm as they pressed against him. All things considered though, Colton had been content to let the little blonde off the hook after she stretched up for one more kiss and then dropped her head to his bare chest. Both of them still breathless, he’d noted with satisfaction.

Twice might not add up to much of a habit for anyone else, but for Colton, drifting off in her bed once had been noteworthy in itself. A repeat performance – especially so soon – was definitely uncharted territory.

And yet waking up alone just a couple of hours later, when he was expecting her to be there, had been oddly unsettling. At least until he heard the faint strains of music drifting elsewhere in the cosy apartment, and the decision to investigate tag-teamed with the smell of coffee to lure him out from under the covers and into his boxers. Rubbing a hand over the slight stubble of his jaw, he padded out of the bedroom to find Callie.

It wasn’t exactly hard to track her down, as she stood gazing down at the tell-tale stain beside her coffee table. He and Sketch had already disposed of the broken shards of glass and he knew Lana had both mopped up the blood in the bathroom and scrubbed that damn rug until her arms ached but, while the bathroom had been returned to normal easily enough, there was no shifting that last reminder of the shit that had gone down.

“Ain’t you supposed to be taking things easy?” Colton demanded, his rough voice startling Callie from her thoughts.

She recovered herself quickly though and shot him a little smile, even as he pushed off from the wall he’d cocked a shoulder against to watch her and strolled towards her. “Don’t remember hearing you complain before ...”

“Smartass.” His dark gaze assessed her as he banded an arm around her waist and pulled her in close, still not liking to see her so pale. The bruise surrounding her stitches only seemed to have darkened since they’d brought her home. “How’s the head?”