Ink (The Haven Series) Page 4

  “Is that so bad?”

  “I guess not. But if there’s no risk, there’s no excitement. And you’ll still end up hurting. Boring you to death may be less painful than just breaking your heart, but at least that would be quick. Come on, Callie, be honest – this is me you’re talking to. Does he make your heart race? Your stomach flutter? Can he light you on fire with a single look? A single touch? ‘Cos somehow I doubt he could set you on fire with a gas can and a book of matches.”

  Breaking off to take in her friend’s crestfallen face, Lana sighed and scooted closer to lay a hand on her arm. “I know he’s not a bad guy and I know you care about him, sweetie. But I care about you and I don’t want to see you wasting your life, only to turn round and realise it when it’s too late. One question and then I’ll shut up, I promise – you don’t even have to give me an answer. Just think about it ...”

  “What?” Callie asked, resigned to the question she knew Lana would ask anyway – whether she agreed or not. Although, unlike her interviews where she could catch a politician off-guard in a second with a question so far out of the left field, this she could see coming a mile off.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  ***

  CHAPTER 6

  “Shoulda heard him, dude – all that I’m your man crap,” Sam shook his head and laughed as he filled Colton in on what had gone down the day before. The pair were leaning against their parked up bikes in the morning sunshine, having passed each other by chance and pulled over to talk. “Bastard was aiming for confidence – just sounded gay. Tried spinning Will some line about needing to get back to this sexy little blonde waiting for him and I’m thinking shit, he’s into blondes …”

  Even Colton had to chuckle at that as he watched the passing cars and the people on the sidewalk from behind his shades, not missing anything even as he listened to his brother’s rant over their latest lawyer. He had yet to meet him – and that was probably something this Corsada should be glad of, all things considered.

  Legal representation for the Fallen Brothers was a job with what you might call a higher than usual turnover rate. Last guy to take the position had met Colton. Then he skipped the country. Guy before that went missing, met with an unfortunate fire-related incident and ended up being identified solely by his dental records.

  That was the price you could expect to pay for abusing the privilege of first-hand knowledge when it came to club business.

  “But Will reckons he’s got it under control?” Colton demanded, even though he suspected he’d already have heard about it if the president wasn’t satisfied with how things were progressing.

  “Seems to,” Sam shrugged. “I asked him if the guy’s as good as he says he is.”

  “And?”

  “No one’s as good as he says he is, according to Will. But apparently the bastard’s a real snake. If anyone’s gonna get us clear of this mess, the boss says it’s him.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “That’s what I said,” Sam grinned, recalling how Will had raised an eyebrow at that very question. The president had reached for a cigar and his Zippo before sparking up and taking a long slow drag, obviously savouring the experience before blowing out a perfect smoke ring.

  “What the Fallen do best, buddy - what the Fallen do best,” came the answer.

  “You really think getting laid’ll help?” the blonde deadpanned, expecting a laugh from his boss at the joke.

  But all he got was a smirk. “Pretty sure it won’t hurt ...”

  “So Friday’s still a go?” Colton said thoughtfully, mulling that over in his head.

  “Hell yeah,” Sam nodded. “Been a while since we had a real blow-out,” he added, casually dismissing the fact most normal people would have branded any Friday night at the clubhouse a real blow-out. “Can ya believe Paulie’s patching in already? I actually think the little dickhead’s more excited about getting to finally ink that girl of his than about getting his fucking top rocker!”

  “Well, you have been telling the kid she’s fair game until he does.”

  “True,” Sam admitted, with a smirk. “You gonna do the honours?”

  But while Colton did actually do a lot of the club’s tattoos, he shook his head. “Bitch is a first-timer and Paulie says she’s nervous as hell. I ain’t got the patience for that shit. Got a better idea. In fact--” He broke off to reach for the helmet strung over one of his handlebars and swung a long denim-clad leg back over his bike, gunning the engine into life. “Something I gotta do. Later, man.”

  Sam watched as his friend peeled away and shook his head. He’d never have called Colton easy to read before, but he could see where this was going a mile off. How it would play out though, that was a different story. Very different.

  ***

  Pouring over case notes in his office, Michael sat back with a groan and stretched out the muscles in his shoulders, loosening his tie and rubbing a hand wearily over his face.

  He knew he was many things to many people, not all or even most of them complimentary, but if there was one thing no one could accuse him of it was slacking off. He worked long, unsociable hours and had long since paid for it. His marriage of almost fifteen years had finally snapped under the strain just over three years ago. His son and namesake from a previous relationship would now be twenty-four and probably didn’t care if his so-called father was alive or dead.

  That was the price you could expect to pay for putting your career first.

  And that was how it had always been with Michael, how it had always had to be. Unlike most of his associates, he didn’t come from old money. He didn’t inherit the family business. The only son of a truck driver and a store clerk, he’d had to work for every cent and he supposed, on some level, it had paid off.

  He was his own boss, owned the whole damn company, answered to no one. He owned more property than he knew what to do with, drove nothing but top-of-the-range cars, played golf with the local movers and shakers.

  And then there was Callie.

  If he couldn’t turn the competition green with envy with her on his arm, then there wasn’t much hope for him. While all but a few of his circle were married, and not all of them happily, he was sleeping with a girl even he knew he should only have been able to fantasise about. He still wasn’t sure how he’d pulled that one off.

  FLASHBACK

  “You, buddy-boy, need to get back on the horse,” came the advice from down the bar. Their golfing party had made the near-obligatory stop at the ‘nineteenth’, deciding to take in a few bars before calling it a night. The topic of conversation somehow worked round to the second anniversary of his divorce. Not the most cheering of subjects, for him anyway.

  “He’s right, Michael. And that’s a damn fine young filly you’ve got in your sights,” the retired judge beside him guffawed, amid a cloud of cigar smoke. “Time to turn on the old Corsada charm, eh?”

  “Less of the old, James,” Michael said, eying the blonde and almost changing his mind. She was probably way too young to look twice at him. Sure, powerful lawyer – that was usually a turn-on for women. Dirty old man though ... Not so much.

  “Hey, check it out – she’s definitely legal anyway,” top criminologist Stefan Hollstein piped up, grinning as he jerked his head to where the bar manager was carefully carrying a birthday cake blazing with candles to the now beaming girl’s table. They watched as she fondly told off her friends for their unexpected surprise, socking a burly black guy with dreads in the arm after he’d teasingly ruffled her hair and hugging everyone else. “See? Says twenty-seven on the top. Twenty-fucking-seven, Mikey. Remember when you were that age? Hundred bucks says you crash and burn.”

  He never could resist a challenge.

  ***

  “Earth to Callie! Yo, anyone in there?”

  “Huh?” Starting as the voice broke through her thoughts, Callie’s elbow caught her takeaway cup of coffee and sent it tumbling off the edge of the table to burst open
and shower its contents all over the floor. “Shit! Sorry ...”

  “Sorry?” Sketch stopped in his tracks to stare at her, seizing any opportunity to tease his colleague. “Whadda ya mean sorry? Where’s the cussin’ at me for making you jump? You okay over there? Been quiet all morning.”

  “It was my fault. Wasn’t paying attention,” she said softly. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “Cal ...” Sketch trailed off, taken aback by her reaction or lack thereof. Under normal circumstances, he rarely failed to get a rise out of her. But even he could see there was something on her mind. “Hey, screw the mess – it ain’t goin’ anywhere. Talk to me, kiddo.”

  Truth be told, she’d had more trouble than she’d care to admit shaking off Lana’s question. Not that it wasn’t something that had been increasingly on her mind anyway, but the slow day at work certainly wasn’t helping. Too much time to think and not enough by way of a distraction.

  But how could she explain any of that to her boss, when he didn’t even know she was seeing anyone? And Sketch was more than just an employer – despite how their bickering might make it seem sometimes, they were friends and she knew he was going to be hurt at being kept in the dark for so long.

  “I ... I just ...”

  Saved by the bell. Her head turning to follow the sound of the jingling door chimes, Callie’s shoulders slumped in something like relief as a familiar figure walked into the studio and took off his shades to hook them into the top pocket of his leather cut.

  “Colton!” she exclaimed, aiming for casual surprise and missing the mark slightly. “Were we expecting you?”

  “Nah, not today, darlin’,” he drawled, though an eyebrow quirked almost imperceptibly at the greeting. “Just passing and kinda got a favour to ask.”

  “Whatever ya need, bud,” Sketch interrupted easily, something like a plan quickly brewing in his shrewder-than-he’d-let-on mind. “Got a condition though.”

  “Oh yeah?” Colton wasn’t keen on bargaining, even with friends. He was too used to calling the shots.

  “Yeah. Little Miss Sunshine over here needs to ... clear her head, if ya get my drift. Do me a favour and get her the hell outta here for a while before she wrecks the place.”

  Callie’s eyes widened in front of the two men. “What? But--”

  Sketch was more than half expecting his idea to get dismissed out of hand - by the biker, never mind Callie. But dark eyes locked on the little blonde, doing more to see her protests trail off than any arguments ever could. Colton’s head tilted the tiniest fraction, as if to consider her.

  “You ever ride bitch?” he asked curiously, getting a dumb shake of her head in response. “Want to?”

  Throwing her leather jacket at her, Sketch didn’t give the poor girl time to think, let alone speak. Herding her towards Colton, he practically pushed them both out the door. “Go. It’ll blow away the cobwebs – and I ain’t letting ya loose on customers ‘til you’re thinking straight anyway. If you can throw coffee over the floor, fuck knows what you’d make of ink right now! And Colt?”

  The biker paused in his tracks, his keys in his hand and a questioning look on his face.

  “Bring her back in one piece.”

  ***

  CHAPTER 7

  Tugging on her jacket and watching as Colton strode across the sidewalk towards his bike, Callie couldn’t help the half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone look more like a biker in her life.

  It sounded painfully obvious, but she was pretty sure you could take the Harley out of the scenario - the leather vest too - and still get the same result. That fearlessness. A confident swagger in his step that oozed danger and yet held a certain air of invincibility.

  It wasn’t down to the heavy motorcycle boots or the thick chain that swung from his baggy jeans as they rode low on his hips. It wasn’t even the tattoos or the shaved head. Just something that was indescribably, yet undeniably, him.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I know,” Colton said, as he threw a leg over his bike. He simply pulled his helmet from the handlebars and reached it to her, dark humour in his eyes at the thought of anyone making him do something he didn’t want to do. “You gettin’ on?”

  Usually nimble fingers fumbled with the unfamiliarity of the buckle, but Callie put it on before faltering unsurely by her unexpected companion’s side. “Any advice for a first-timer?”

  Colton shrugged. “Hold tight. Don’t fall off.”

  Favouring him with a wry look, Callie shook her head and laughed, wondering what else she had been expecting from the notoriously stoic guy. “Sage words, Colt ... sage words.” And with a hand on his shoulder for balance, she slid onto the bike behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Let’s do this.”

  ***

  Watching from the doorway as the Harley peeled away, Sketch shook his head and wondered if he’d done a good thing.

  Usually the answer to that sort of question was, nine times out of ten, no. He tended to act first, think later. A bad enough habit when his actions only affected himself. But the thought of messing up when it came to Callie was, despite his tendencies towards nonchalance on most subjects, enough to cause him at least some concern.

  The girl had somehow wriggled her way into his life until he’d come to think of her less as an employee and more like a kid sister – one he could wind up no end, but also back to the hilt against anyone else. He’d never want to smother the girl or push his nose into her business, but he couldn’t help feeling just a little protective. It wasn’t like she had anyone else.

  And he and Colton went way back. Back before either of them had a record, when their biggest crimes had been the occasional joyride. That had been a once carefree past-time of their misspent youth, one which finally landed them both a stretch inside for grand theft auto. Everything had changed after that.

  Sketch was shrewder than he often let on. You had to be pretty on the ball to come out of prison unscathed. So, while Colton was more than good at shutting out the world and keeping himself to himself, the tattooist had still picked up on the ever-so-slight changes in his demeanour when he was around the little blonde.

  He was ... less on his guard, for a start. Of course, that meant he was still more closed off than your average guy – but for Colton to warm at all to anyone outside the circle of his beloved club, or the even smaller circle of acquaintances from his life before the Fallen Brothers, was worth noting.

  It was true Callie was no longer just some chick to the biker – she’d earned his respect through her craft and at least a degree of trust over how she’d handled herself when it mattered most and how she’d stepped up for him. But it was more than that. Or perhaps the rest had come first, Sketch couldn’t be sure of that.

  He had to hand it to Colton, there probably wasn’t much call for it round the clubhouse, but the guy could definitely be subtle when he wanted. It had taken him a while to catch on to the glances. At first, he’d actually thought the biker was just trying to figure the girl out. But eventually he’d looked beyond the reputation and realised that even the man who’d essentially become his club’s hitman was only human. And Colton always had been into blondes ...

  Going back to his office to work on some designs, Sketch sighed as he doodled absently on a scrap of paper.

  In so many ways, Colton was toxic – especially for a girl like Callie, nearly fifteen years his junior and harder than she looked but not nearly as hard as she liked to think. He was too used to the club’s usual female followers, though Sketch knew he didn’t exactly think highly of them. His attraction to Callie was probably due, at least in part, to the fact that she wasn’t just some cheap slut to be shared around by his brothers. Although her looks probably helped, more than a little.

  If he considered himself to have any kind of big brother role in the little blonde’s life, he probably should have been doing his damndest to keep her and Colton a
part. Regardless of his friendship with the ruthless biker.

  But lately Sketch had noticed a change in Callie too. Some of the spark had gone out of her eyes and he didn’t like it one bit. And while she wasn’t volunteering anything that gave him an insight, he could only speculate as to the cause.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d have said there was a guy involved. Couldn’t put his finger on why he’d jump to that conclusion, but it seemed to make sense to him. But she wasn’t seeing anyone because she’d have told him if she was and she hadn’t, so that was that.

  In fact, the girl had been single for over a year now – since she’d finally dropped that cocky little bastard who’d somehow gotten his grubby paws on her and then pissed all over what he’d been lucky enough to have, before finally getting caught out just weeks before Callie’s twenty-seventh birthday.

  Jeff, that had been his name. A loud-mouthed punk who, at nearly thirty, had yet to grow out of the immaturity guys seemed to manage to cling to longer than girls. And that was coming from Sketch, who knew he himself had been a real mouthy shit in his younger days – just as he knew Callie would probably laugh at the suggestion he’d grown up any ...

  FLASHBACK

  “Aww, guys!” Callie squealed at the sight of the candle-topped cake making its way towards their table. “You really shouldn’t have!”

  “We didn’t - it’s for the chick at the next table,” Sketch deadpanned from beside her, earning himself a playful – albeit less than gentle - whack on the arm. “Hey, watch it!” he laughed, pulling her into a hug to appease her and planting a loud smack of a kiss on her cheek.

  The birthday celebrations had somehow stretched out over most of the day and, even though they’d been pacing themselves, the motley crew of revellers were well on their way to drunkenness. The few friends Callie had made in Haven had united to ensure the newly single blonde didn’t spend today of all days alone and miserable.

  “Ooh, champagne – seriously, you didn’t have to. But I’m so glad you did!” the birthday girl exclaimed, as the barman presented her with a huge bottle of Bollinger while another started setting out glasses.