by JP Sayle
I didn’t look at the wall because I knew every picture. There was only one with calligraphy writing and it was tattooed over my heart. I blinked and took a steadying breath as the grief I’d never dealt with rose to remind me of what I’d lost when Lizzie died.
“Oh Tiss, you’ll have to get your tattoo displayed—”
“That wall is only for big pieces of artwork,” I stated, probably more harshly than was needed, shutting down any thoughts that Tiss would get her unimaginative butterfly on my wall of art.
Tiss sighed and went back to doing the fluttery thing with her eyes. “Linc, you know you’d love my picture up there.” She giggled like I’d made a stupid mistake as she eyed me from head to toe and licked her slick lips, and I was reminded that she’d applied to be a prospect of the club.
I exhaled gustily at her total lack of subtlety. “Did you decide where you wanted the tattoo?”
Her small hand moved to the shoestring strap of her top and she gave me a smile that had far too many teeth in it. “I’m thinkin’ the top of my boob. I’m told they’re my best asset.” She tugged the top over her perky, tanned boob, just shy of revealing the nipple.
Fuck, where did they learn this shit? I’d tan River’s ass if she ever pulled this kind of shit when she grew up.
I nodded, then went to wash my hands and grab a pair of gloves. I was ultra-careful with my clients and my equipment. I’d been checked out so many times by the cops because of who I was, I took no chances. The friend took a seat in the corner and chatted as I placed a cover over the half exposed boob, being careful with where I touched.
Cleaning Tiss’s skin with alcohol spray, I waited for it to dry before placing the design I’d drawn up with her specific requirements onto her skin. The only decent thing about doing this tattoo was the color choices I’d lined up to use. When I was happy with the placement of the outline, I picked up my tattoo gun. The buzz from the gun was drowned out by the music drifting from the shop below.
Nutty, my right-hand woman, ran the shop and arranged the bookings for me and the three other tattoo artists I employed. She also kept the bookkeeping ready for the accountants. It had been the reason I’d taken her on, she was a whizz with figures. She managed them for the club, the auto shop, and the tattoo shop. If I needed any information, she could have it with just a couple of clicks.
She was also head over heels in love with Troy, one of my tattoo artists I’d employed a couple of years back. Only thing was, she didn’t have the right equipment for Troy. He didn’t flaunt his sexuality, but one gay man could spot another. As I didn’t talk about my business either, I’d just had a quiet word in Nutty’s ear, trying to let her down gently. She had a place in my protective circle and I’d do anything to make sure she never got hurt.
Voices floated upstairs as the music was lowered and my lips twitched at hearing Ali tell Nutty to turn down the racket. Troy and Ali were based on the lower level so they had to put up with her music choices. It was why I’d chosen the upstairs when I’d bought the house five years back and converted it into River’s Tattoo shop.
Kyle, one of the other artists, had opted to take the room next to mine because he also liked to listen to weird shit while he worked. He often complained that Nutty's choices messed with his vibe. Kyle’s room was empty this week as he’d gone to visit with his folks, leaving me free from having to block out two kinds of music. It had been bliss these last few days, not that I’d say anything to piss off either Nutty or Kyle. They weren’t just great employees, they were extended family. A family I could trust to have my back through the darkest of times.
My jaw ached as I again worked not to think about the past. The past is the past. That phrase went on to replay as I worked to complete the uninspired butterfly Tiss was giving herself as a twenty-first birthday present.
The outline of the tattoo was something clients struggled with, especially if it was their first. Tiss started to squirm and I gave her a warning glare that made her still. All my clients were warned to not fucking move or it could fuck up the design. It was the thing I hated most about tattooing, the repeatedly unprepared. Why do people think a tattoo won’t hurt? I’m going to stab their skin with a needle for long periods of time. Unless the person is a pain slut, that shit won’t be pleasant.
Her sweet scented breath hit the side of my face in fast puffs. I lost myself in the design and the perfection of the art. Regardless of what I thought of the design, I gave my all when it came to inking anyone’s skin.
I’d spent nearly two decades honing my skill. The six-month waiting list for appointments showed that even if I was a bad boy, people were still willing to plonk their ass in my chair and have me ink them. Hell, some fuckers traveled from out of state for the privilege of having one of my unique designs inked on them.
The hour flew by, and by the time I was finishing up, it was evident Tiss was more than ready for me to stop. I eyed her waxy looking face and the tight line of her mouth.
“You okay?” I only asked because the last thing I wanted was for her to faint on me.
“Yeah…I’m glad it’s over though.” She looked at her friend. “Your turn next, Bee.”
“Nah, I never booked a spot. I thought I’d wait to see how you did,” Bee responded, sounding relieved to not be the next in my chair as she strolled over to take a closer look.
I cleaned the blood off Tiss’s red and inflamed skin, explaining the care required for the next week while I dressed it. When I was finished, I disposed of my gloves and followed a slightly unsteady Tiss and Bee down the stairs.
“I’ll grab you a set of written instructions before you leave—”
The door burst open and hit the wall, causing the top piece of glass to shudder in the frame and me to stop talking.
Three law enforcement officers came through the door and my whole body tensed at what it meant when they eyed me. Instantly, I knew they’d come for me, but I had no clue what it was I’d supposedly done this time. I gave them a toothy smile and leaned on the counter I’d gone behind to get the instructions. Nutty remained silent, but her hand reached for mine and gave it a squeeze of reassurance.
“What can I do for you, officers?”
“You can come quietly, Lincoln. We need you to come with us to the Bell County Sheriff's Department to answer some questions. There’s been a serious allegation made against you,” Sheriff Cranford answered with smug satisfaction.
He rarely got off his ass to leave his office, but he and I had a long history going back fifteen years. When he’d been appointed as Sheriff, he’d taken it upon himself to run the riffraff out of town. The riffraff being the Dark Angels motorcycle club that had been set up by my granddaddy. He’d died when I was young and I couldn’t remember him, but I’d heard great things about him from some of the older club members.
The townsfolk used our businesses, but on the whole, kept their distance. I was convinced the folks avoided us so as not to get drawn into Cranford’s hate campaign. He also liked to lord it over the town and the council. He was a total dickwad, full of his own importance, who hated that I’d not gone anywhere. It had worsened when my businesses had thrived, even with his constant harassment for the slightest infractions.
I’d been born and raised in Belton, and my family went back generations. The only way I’d be leaving was in a box, and I’d made that more than clear to him.
I eyed the two deputies as I came around the counter. The younger, blond one, Milton, put his hand on his gun and I rolled my eyes at him.
“Are you arresting me?” I growled, putting as much menace into my voice as I could.
Milton’s hand trembled, although he didn’t back up. The other deputy, I couldn’t place him so assumed he was new, eyed me, revealing nothing. I moved closer to them, then noticed the wide-eyed Tiss and Bee watching the show.
I swallowed a curse, knowing that it would be all over town before I got to the Sheriff’s office.
“Nutty, can you give Tiss
the instructions and take her money. Cancel my clients for the day.” I didn’t glance at Nutty but looked straight at Cranford. “I take it I won’t be back today?”
The grin that crossed his face caused my stomach to knot. It was full of glee like he had a dark secret. “You’ll be lucky to have a business to come back to by the time you get out, boy.”
His condescending tone was nothing new, but the guy with Cranford looked more than a little alarmed by the unprofessional behavior.
“Nutty, there should be a number in my book out back for a lawyer based in Killeen, Steven & Davenport. Ask for Mr. Davenport and tell him I need a lawyer. You know what to do about River.” I kept all the emotions riding through me locked down as I was led away like a criminal, giving the quiet neighborhood yet another show at my expense.
Chapter Two
Mason
“Oh, I’m glad I caught you Mason,” came a deep voice from the doorway.
I glanced up from the desk I’d been tidying to get ready to go to court. “Yeah, I was just getting ready to leave. Can whatever it is wait? It’s Judge Olsen and you know he hates it if you disrupt his golf plans for the afternoon.”
My father came fully into my office, chuckling. His feet moved silently over the thick plush carpet. His suit was navy, as was his tie. The white shirt showed off his tan. It still shocked me some days that his hair was now full grey and there were deep lines around his eyes. He continued to keep his athletic body through some punishing work outs that I avoided because I wasn’t stupid.
His military background was evident in the way he stood, as if he was getting ready to salute a commander. A niggle of regret wormed its way past my defenses. Defenses I’d built to stop the remorse I felt at not doing as he’d wanted and follow him into the military like my brothers. It didn’t matter that he’d not once said he was disappointed. I could see it on his face, hear it in his voice when he talked about my brothers. I consoled myself that I’d gone into law and joined the practice he’d started when he’d left the service, though it made little to no difference when the feelings of failing him crept up on me.
“I need to ask a big favor. Do you remember a few years back when I took on the case of Lincoln Stone, head of Dark Angels motorcycle club? The man whose sister died tragically during labor in Belton.”
I twirled a pen between my fingers, a habit I’d developed when I thought about something important. “Yeah, didn’t the baby get stuck inside the pelvis? Shoulder dystocia caused a uterine rupture and she bled to death if I remember correctly, right in front of Mr. Stone.” My heart bled for what the man must have gone through, regardless of his reputation around the county. I couldn’t even imagine losing a member of my family in such a traumatic way. “Wasn’t there a battle over the guardianship of the child, too?”
My father’s face became saddened. “Yes, I managed to sort it all out, but with his past, it was a hard battle. The sister had the foresight to register guardian status for the child. It was debated whether you could do that for an unborn infant. Some court clerk, new to the role, filed the paperwork without checking. Anyway, we managed to use that to show what the sister wanted. He got compensation from the hospital, which he used to set up a trust for the child when he became sole guardian.” My father tapped at his lower lip, his expression remaining unchanged which unsettled me.
“Why are you bringing this up now?”
“I’ve had a call from one of his friends. It would seem that he’s been arrested for rape. He’s asked me to represent him again. This isn’t my area of speciality—”
I held up my hand, “Dad, my caseload is already overloaded, you know this.” I sounded exasperated, but I knew damn well he’d given me the back story because I was sucker for a bleeding-heart story.
“He’s innocent. I know this man, for all his rough edges, this isn’t something he’d do. I’d bet my whole military career medals on it. He’ll be distraught at being away from River, she’ll be around five years old now and without her father...” he trailed off, leaving the meaning hanging between us.
I scowled and my shoulders drooped. “Alright, I’ll go and meet him, but if I don’t think he’s innocent then I’m sending him back to you, regardless of experience.”
“Son, don’t judge a book by its cover, that’s all I’m going to say.”
***
Later that afternoon, after winning my case, I was riding a high as I drove up to the Bell County Jail where I’d been informed Lincoln had been taken. The place housed maximum security prisoners, so it took nearly half an hour to get through the building to where I would meet my client.
By the time I was seated in the room they allocated for lawyers to meet with their clients, my good mood had all but disappeared. I placed my briefcase on the table that was bolted to the floor in the nondescript room that only held the table and two chairs. I pulled out the file my father had given me, but I’d had no chance to read until now.
As I skimmed through the meager information, a sense of injustice made it hard to swallow. I re-read it again, with a sinking heart at how the law could be twisted to incarcerate people with so little evidence. My blood was boiling when I heard the rattle of chains outside the door, my nerves thrumming under my skin. The door opened and my father’s words ran through my mind. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
Holy fuck!
Lincoln was huge and had to be well over my six feet two. He was powerfully built and the white top and elasticized-waist pants he wore didn’t detract from that. His long, wavy brown hair hung around his powerful shoulders and wasn’t in the least bit effeminate. Then, I was held captive by deep brown eyes that looked as if they’d been threaded with gold. In their depths was a wealth of suffering no mask would ever be able to hide completely, and they struck at a cord deep inside me.
Motherfucker! I hated my Dad right then for playing on my sympathetic side.
This man had suffered, and it was as if he were daring the devil himself to call him out for it. The room seemed to shrink as we continued to hold each other’s stare. There was a flicker of something that I recognized, and my body reacted without my permission. The look was quickly gone, and left me wondering if I’d imagined the dark arousal in his eyes as he seemed to assess and dismiss me before he’d taken two steps inside the room.
“Where’s Mr. Davenport?” he rasped. His voice sounded like he’d just smoked fifty cigarettes and drunk a quart of liquor.
A shiver raced down my spine as I worked to mask my reaction to him. “I am Mr. Davenport. My father has little experience in dealing with this type of case, so he asked me to meet with you.” I waited to see what he would do as he towered over me while I remained seated, working on showing him I wasn’t intimidated by his aura of power. No, I was anything but intimidated.
“I trust your father,” he paused, and scrutinized me again. His face showed nothing as he walked to the chair and sat with a bored expression.
“I’ll be fine.” I waved the prison guards away after they’d secured Lincoln. Only when they’d left the room did I lean forward and look him dead in the eye. “Did you rape that girl?” I asked bluntly.
His face showed respect before it went blank. “No.” Truth rang out in that one word.
When he sat back, saying nothing more, it felt like he was baiting me. I opened the file, acting like he wasn’t flustering me and that I hadn’t already decided to defend him no matter how it would encroach into my already non-existent personal time.
“There is very little evidence in this file. All they have is the testimony of the girl that says you raped her in the clubhouse after asking her to stay behind for a drink...” A rumbling sound that resembled a bike starting startled me and I looked up from the file.
I met his gaze, only the gold seemed to have disappeared in the depth of the dark molten brown.
“It’s a fucking lie. I don’t get involved with club members or hang arounds. It’s a hard and fast rule.” He seemed to gathe
r himself as the anger filled the small room. “She’s a newbie to the club, brought by one of the other members. She got it into her head that I was going to be hers. I told her to fuck off. She didn’t like that. Next thing I know I’m hauled into this shithole and accused of rape.” The anger continued to buzz in the room, his body no longer relaxed. “You gotta get me outta here or they’ll try and take River from me.”
For the first time, I saw a chink in his armor as he struggled to keep himself under control.
“I’ll work on getting you bail, first. Then we’ll work to clear your name.”
His chuckle was completely humorless. “You’ll never get me bail, but if you get rid of the other bogus shit, that will be enough.” He held out his hand toward me and I took it without hesitation. “Thanks for taking my case.”
He kept hold of my hand and the warmth of his calloused palm pressed against mine felt strangely intimate as he kept my gaze.
“As long as you tell me the truth at all times, then you can thank me when I get you out of here and, how did you put it, ‘get rid of the bogus charges.’”
This time there was genuine humor in the laughter. “You’re alright, like your dad.”
For some reason, the sentiment behind his simple words warmed me. I shook off the silly notion and released his hand to take hold of my pen with tingling fingers. “Talk me through the night she’s made the allegations. I need you to tell me everything you remember.”
Chapter Three
Lincoln
The clang of the chains didn’t give me a moment to overlook where the fuck I was, not that I’d be forgetting any time soon. The scents and sounds of the men they housed in the County Jail they’d brought me to, kept me on high alert. There was a tension in the air that made it impossible to take five and chill. A guy needed to keep his smarts about him, and life had taught me that lesson early on. So far, I’d avoided trouble, my sheer size and ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude keeping most at bay. But I wasn’t stupid, it would only be a matter of time before someone would want to show that they were boss.
