Within reason, of course.
When he found out Dakota was being bullied in junior high, Jamie had pushed to take the kids out. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to talk him down.
After making a few adjustments, Ryan printed out a larger version of Dakota’s drawing and applied it to my skin like a temporary tattoo.
My eyebrows pulled together as I stared down at my hip. “That’s it?”
“No,” he chuckled. “Haven’t even started yet. Get comfortable because this is gonna take a while.”
There was a sharp rap against the wooden door frame, and Ryan glanced up over my shoulder.
“Hey, man. I don’t have time today, but one of the other—”
The man sighed. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve had this booked for weeks.”
Recognizing the voice, I slowly looked over my shoulder with a wince. “Hey, Mikey. I didn’t mean to take your appointment.”
He pulled his eyes away from where they were zeroed in on my ass and looked up toward my face. There was a sort of guilty pleasure in witnessing the moment he realized who I was.
“Celia?” He crossed the room and went in for a hug, only to pull back to study the design. “Holy fuck, that’s cool. Is it your first?”
I nodded and was struck by how much he resembled his father. Not that I would ever tell Jamie that.
There’d been bad blood between the two of them since Galveston. I hadn’t realized that my biker would take my advice literally to get Mikey back in line; going as far as feeding the news outlets reports of skeletal remains being found on the beach.
Even months later, I still didn’t know who’d been more upset with Jamie’s form of discipline—Mikey or John. After John stormed into our hotel room, demanding to know how there was any evidence left behind, Jamie admitted that he probably should’ve waited until David was off on his honeymoon.
Despite the chaos, the plan worked.
While Mikey was still sleeping with any woman who made eye contact with him for longer than three seconds, he had sworn off the hard liquor.
In Jamie’s mind, the damage was done, and there was nothing Mikey could do to get back in his good graces. Refusing to see the similarities between them, he kept his distance, only interacting with his son when absolutely necessary.
After checking with Ryan, Mikey pulled up a chair. “Are you getting this because of the club? Is that something the Ol’ Ladies do now?”
“No,” I admitted, hoping he didn’t notice the circular scar. “I got it for me. You do know the history behind a phoenix, right?”
He shrugged. “A little. My old man was always going on and on about it when I was a kid.”
The buzzing from the tattoo gun temporarily ended our conversation. I’d grown up with a fear of needles and had never understood Jamie’s obsession with ink.
Until now.
The needle scraped across my skin, evoking a strange sense of catharsis. I closed my eyes with a long exhale and leaned into the pain, releasing the things I’d held on to for far too long.
At the feel of someone squeezing my hand, I opened my eyes and found Mikey watching me with a solemn expression. “It stings like a motherfucker, so you’ve got to train your mind to focus on something else, so you don’t feel it.”
He might’ve misinterpreted how I was feeling, but there was more truth in his words than he’d ever know.
“Tell me about the tattoo I prevented you from getting. Again, I’m really sorry about that.”
Mikey shrugged and held out his arms. “Not like I don’t already have a few. And, if we’re being honest here, I, uh, hadn’t actually fully decided.”
I studied the swirled script woven through barbed wire. Most were quotes related to war… to suffering. Our best efforts had never been enough when it came to him. The deck had been stacked against us, the same as it was when my mother took the girls.
Mikey may not have come from my body, but he’d always felt like mine. I mashed my lips together and blinked back the tears.
“‘Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim,’” I carefully recited the quote I’d come to know by heart. “Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.”
His eyes narrowed as he thought it over before repeating the words back to himself with a slow nod. “I like it. You write that?”
Ryan paused and looked up at Mikey with raised eyebrows, and I fought to hold back the bubble of laughter. “Me? No. That’d be the Roman poet, Ovid.”
Mikey laughed, suddenly looking a little unsure of himself as he reached for my hand again. “I knew that. I was actually trying to pay you a compliment, darlin’. You know, what are the odds that I’d get to be here when you got your first tattoo?”
His palm was sweaty against mine, and I had a sneaking suspicion that his feelings toward me were more Oedipal than familial in nature.
I swallowed. “You know, I’m not sure it has anything to do with odds. Maybe coincidence or luck.”
His thumb traced lightly across the back of my hand, making it easy to see how he’d been so successful with women. If the piercing blue eyes didn’t get them, the feel of his fingers on their skin would.
That was the distinct difference between him and his father. Mikey knew there was a game and had learned to play it well. With Jamie, it had all been instinct.
“I have to admit, growing up, I had a pretty big crush on you,” he said softly, eyes going dark with lust. “Never imagined I’d find you spread out like this, getting your body inked.”
As much as he wanted to convince himself that he had feelings for me, this was just another ploy to get back at a particular biker. He might’ve only been nine years younger than me, but Mikey was like a piece of knockoff art; beautiful to look at, but he’d never measure up to the original.
“Hey, Ryan.” The gun stopped buzzing, and he looked up at me warily, clearly aware of the entire exchange. “What do you think Grey would say if he were here right now?”
The lust that had been in his eyes only moments ago disappeared, and Mikey released my hand. “Celia, I don’t think we need to—I was just fucking with you—”
“He’d kill him,” Ryan stated simply before going back to work.
I was prevented from saying more when one of the other guys walked in, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the cordless phone. “Got a situation, boss.”
He pulled the gun away from my thigh with a long sigh. “What is it, Stitch?
“I got Hub City on the phone; says it’s urgent.”
“You see I’m in the middle of something, right?” Ryan snapped, and Mikey stood up with a wide grin.
“Stitch, sweetie, can’t you see that—”
“Shut the fuck up, Sullivan,” Stitch growled. “Wouldn’t be interrupting if it wasn’t important. Hub City says they’ve got a guy looking to cover up his club colors—”
“What guy?” I asked, struggling to turn enough to face him. “What does he look like?”
Stitch ignored my question and continued. “They aren’t entirely sure it’s the same one the club’s looking for, but felt it was worth mentioning.”
With a dry mouth and racing heart, I pushed past my fear and climbed down from the chair before facing them. “Give me the phone.”
Stitch looked at Ryan. “Boss?”
“Give her the goddamn phone unless you want to be taking your meals through a straw from here on out.” Ryan snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“How stupid would the guy have to be to go to a place here?” Mikey questioned. “Even if the club doesn’t own Hub City, they have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“You knew the club was looking for these guys?” I stammered, wondering how much Jamie had revealed.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Apparently they stole something pretty valuable from the club. Grey’s made finding them priority numero uno, so I’m thinking it must’ve been a fuck ton of cash.”
Stitch handed the phone o
ver and walked out with a muttered curse.
“Hello?”
“Who’s this?” a male voice demanded. “I asked to speak with Ryan, not his bitch.”
“Do you have enough men to hold him?”
“Bitch, did you not hear me? I talk to Ryan or—”
“Listen, asshole,” I seethed. “I’m Grey’s Ol’ Lady and the only one that can tell you if you have the right guy in your shop. So, stop fucking cursing at me and listen.”
The line went silent, and for a brief second, I thought he hung up. “I’m sorry—I had no idea it was you—if we could just keep this between us…”
Mikey… the prick at the other tattoo shop… they were all the same when I mentioned Jamie’s name. I wanted to command that kind of respect, but not by using fear.
“If you have the right guy…” I paused to take a deep breath. “He’ll have a four-leaf clover tattooed on his lower abdomen, right above his… you know.”
The man chuckled. “Above his cock. Got it. Hold tight for me.”
I’d seen it in my nightmares for so long, the image was permanently ingrained into my memory.
Ryan and Mikey watched me intently, and I brought my hand up to cover the phone. “You need to call it in to him, Mikey.”
“Celia,” he said gently. “How do you know about that?”
I didn’t want to see sympathy in his eyes; didn’t want his pity. “I know about a lot of things, Mikey. It comes with the territory.”
“Alright, Grey’s Ol’ Lady…” The man came back on the line. “We got him. Does he want my guys to deliver, or is this a pick up?”
“We’ll be there in fifteen.” I ended the call. “They’ve got him. Ryan, I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to come back another day.”
He nodded with a thoughtful look on his face, no doubt taking in the brand on my hip, along with the details of what I knew, to try to work them out in a way that made sense.
I wasn’t going to waste a second worrying about what he thought he knew.
We’d found Hawk.
* * *
Hawk spat out a mouthful of blood before grinning up at me with red-stained teeth. “You called out Cobra for refusin’ to get his hands dirty, but look at you; sittin’ back while your muscle does all the work. What’s wrong, Celia? Afraid you’ll chip a fingernail?”
I grinned back, all while grinding my teeth down into the gum tissue. “I thought maybe we could talk while Carnage here pays you back for kneeing him in the groin. You know, tit for tat.”
“Tits, huh? Do you still feel my teeth on yours? God, your flesh was so soft, I could’ve ripped you apart using just my mouth.”
Your enemy will try to bait you into doing somethin’ stupid. It could be they want you distracted while they make their move or, if they know they’ve been beat, they’ll use it in the hopes of gettin’ a quick death.
I drew strength from Jamie’s words, refusing to let Hawk get under my skin.
Carnage drove a fist into Hawk’s stomach, and he let out a sharp burst of air before chuckling again. “Carnage, is it? If you ever get tired of babysittin’ bitches instead of doin’ real work, you oughta get a go at her cunt. Fuckin’ tight as hell, well, at least she was before I got her good and wet. Ain’t that right, Celia?”
I sucked in a quick breath just as Carnage roared, “I volunteered for this position, asshole! You don’t fuckin’ look at her… you don’t fuckin’ talk to her unless you’re ready to give up Cobra.”
After transporting Hawk to the storage facility and retrieving the club tattoo he’d wanted so badly to cover up, Jamie had turned him over to me.
“Where’s Cobra?” I asked, retrieving the small rectangular contraption from a table.
“The fuck do you care where he is? He ain’t the one in charge anymore. Carnage, my man, if you’re not into fuckin’ her cunt, go for the throat. None of that half-assed bullshit either, no sir. All the way down, until she’s fightin’ for air—”
Carnage reared back and head-butted Hawk’s face with such force that even I winced. “Gave you a warnin’. You should’ve listened.”
It was obvious the impact had broken his nose with the way he was violently struggling against the ropes, trying to catch his breath. Blood ran in streams over his lips, but it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
Killing Manny hadn’t brought me anything other than an urge to kill again. In the beginning, I’d sought forgiveness and a way to piece myself back together. Now, I knew better. There was no magic button I could press to undo the trauma my body had endured; no way to wipe it from my memory.
It didn’t mean I was going to stop, though.
I wasn’t going to rest until every last one of them was in the ground.
“You know, in medieval Europe, they used these.” I held up the device. “The thumbscrew. Apparently, they were highly effective in obtaining confessions.”
Hawk stayed silent as I moved behind his back, slipping the fingers of his right hand between the metal plates. It was only fitting that the hand he’d used to batter me would be the first one I maimed.
“So, once the fingers are inside, you just alternate tightening the screws on either side. Like this.” I demonstrated before stepping back. “Where’s Cobra?”
He stared straight ahead as if I hadn’t said a word. I twisted each screw another turn and tried again. “Tell me where he is, and this can all be over.”
Carnage watched with rapt attention as I turned the screws, tightening until the bones of Hawk’s fingers cracked audibly between the plates, and he cried out.
“Fuck! You want a confession?” he screamed. “Here’s your fuckin’ confession! Cobra don’t mean shit. He answers to Saint… sooner or later, we all answer to Saint!”
“Who is Saint? Where can we find him?”
He laughed, and his lip split open again, sending a river of blood down the side of his mouth. “Find him? You don’t find him… he finds you.”
I calmly reached for my trench knife and held the tip of the blade to his throat. “Tell me where he is.”
“This time, it ain’t about Grey. Death is comin’ for you.” There was no time to react before he jerked his head forward, impaling himself on the sharp blade with a choked gurgle.
His feet kicked wildly at the air beneath him, but his eyes stayed on mine, and I was sure that if he weren’t gasping like a fish out of water, his lips would’ve been curled up in a cocky smirk.
In one move, he’d taken away my power, and in a rage, I forced the blade out through the back of his neck before punching it through the side, silencing him.
His head fell to his shoulder at an unnatural angle and even Carnage stepped back with raised palms. “Holy shit, Celia! He said to let you handle it, but I didn’t—fuck!”
I resisted the urge to sink the blade into his flesh again… to taunt his corpse with whispers of how soft he was and how easy it had been to rip him apart. I wanted to tell him his threats meant nothing; that Death had already come for me on a bathroom floor ten years ago.
It was over, but we were still no closer to finding Cobra. On top of that, if what Hawk had said was true, there was now a mysterious Saint to add to our list.
The room suddenly plunged into darkness, and I stumbled back, no longer comfortable with being anywhere near a corpse. Despite my strict Catholic upbringing, I was convinced that Hawk’s spirit had already escaped hell and was back to torment me.
“Carnage?” I whispered.
“That wasn’t me. Wait here, and I’ll see if we tripped a breaker.”
“Okay.” I didn’t want to be left alone but didn’t know how to voice my paranormal concerns to a biker who’d just watched me nearly take a guy’s head off without breaking a sweat.
I listened to him feeling his way back to the door before he let out a startled, “The fuck?” There was a brief struggle and then the sound of something heavy falling to the concrete.
“Carnage?�
�� I whispered with a growing sense of dread.
“No, Ma,” a voice whispered back, and chills raced across my skin. It sounded just like Manny.
I pulled air into my lungs and lowered myself into a crouch, wondering again why I’d insisted Jamie let me do this on my own. I couldn’t defend myself from something I couldn’t see.
The back of my boot connected with a metal pipe, sending it rolling across the floor, clearly giving away my position. The attacker’s body collided with mine before I had a chance to move and we both went down hard on the concrete.
He wasn’t heavy like I’d expected and even when his arm went around my throat, I easily escaped. It soon became apparent that he’d had some martial arts training when he shifted and took my legs out from under me before trying again. Clearly, we were at a stalemate until one of us tired.
I was no longer afraid.
I was furious.
His pants of exertion became more pronounced the longer it went on, but neither one of us was giving up. My fingers brushed against the handle of my knife as I went down for what felt like the fiftieth time, and I grabbed it before driving the blade into his thigh with a roar.
“Fuck!” he cried out sharply. “You fuckin’ stabbed me!”
I flipped onto his back and jerked his head toward me just as the lights came on again.
“Rick?”
“Nah, my ma calls me Little Ricky after Lucy’s kid in I Love Lucy,” he groaned in response as Carnage stumbled over, holding on to the side of his head.
“He hurt you, Celia?”
I shook my head and rolled back to the floor. “I’m okay.”
“Celia?” Rick cried out. “Oh, fuck! You gonna tell my ma about this? I swear I didn’t know it was you. They said there was no one here… said I just had to free the guy and get out—”
Carnage yanked him up. “Who sent you?”
“My—my boys.”
Ignoring the pain in my hip, I got back to my feet and faced him. “Why would they send a nineteen-year-old kid in here? Have you thought about that? It’s because you’re expendable. How could you turn on the club that raised you?”
Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four Page 24
