Ink: Devil’s Nightmare MC

by Bourne, Lena

  “Julie, is that you?” Dad calls out and a second later he appears in the open doorway of his office.

  The cold, choking sensation is gone now, but the dark thoughts of something being very wrong linger as I approach my dad’s office.

  “Did you bring the papers you took?” he asks as I reach him, checking me over as though he’s looking for them. All I’m holding are my car keys, I didn’t even bring my purse.

  “I want the truth about how you got that land, Dad,” I say, looking him dead in the eyes. “Then maybe I’ll start considering giving you the documents back.”

  “What truth? What are you talking about?” he says and breaks eyes contact with me to retreat back into his office. His leather chair creaks as he sits down in it.

  “Mrs. Cooper sold the land to me after she inherited it from her husband,” he elaborates. “She didn’t need the land, but she needed money.”

  “I doubt that very much,” I say as I take a seat across from him. Ink never talked much about the MC the men in his family belonged to, and he never joined them while we were dating, but he did tell me I would always be taken care of no matter what, if he was a member and something happened to him. I’m certain the same goes for him mother, probably even more so because his dad was such a long-standing member.

  “Why do you say that?” Dad asks, wearing one of his confused faces, which couldn’t be more fake.

  “I know what you did to get her to sell that land to you,” I say, leaning against my fists on his desk. “I know you had Ink’s father killed to get it, and I know you started a war with the motorcycle club he was a member of. I also know getting the land wasn’t the only reason for it. You also made sure Ink had no choice but to leave me.”

  The confusion stays on his face, but I’m no longer sure it’s completely fake. There’s anger there now too.

  “That’s a bunch of malicious lies, Julie,” he says. “Who told you this? Did that boy come back with all these lies? How can you even repeat them to me?”

  How I hate hearing him call Ink “that boy”. I was angry before, but now I’m livid.

  “Yes, he’s the one who told me,” I say. “And I believe him.”

  That’s still not completely true, but the words come easily despite my doubts.

  “Don’t you think that’s a very convenient story? He leaves you without a good explanation then comes back blaming me for it?” Dad sounds angry, and I can’t pretend what he’s saying doesn’t make a little bit of sense.

  “His mother approached me herself to sell me the land,” Dad continues. “I didn’t tell you about it, because you were so hurt over what that boy did to you. But I should’ve told you that I bought the land from her before now. I was going to tell you about it before the council meeting. I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did, and I’m very sorry you let that boy tell you lies about me.”

  I lean back in my chair feeling completely deflated all of a sudden, and entirely unsure about what to believe, unsure about what’s real and what’s not.

  Ink never lied to me. He was always honest. I know that. I see it in his eyes. I see it when he tries to tell me lies, and I see it when he stops doing it. I always have. I doubt he’d start lying to me so completely the moment he came back after a year to beg me to take him back. I saw no lie in his eyes when he told me all this. I do see fakeness in my dad’s face, but that’s always there, a residual, permanent thing. It’s the result of the decades he spent lying to people’s faces.

  “I would like the papers you took back now, Julie,” he says sternly. “And I don’t want to speak about this again.”

  He gets up and heads for the door. “Are they in your car?”

  I turn in my chair. “No.”

  “Bring them when you come to work on Monday,” he says. “I have a dinner to get to now.”

  I want to tell him I’m not coming back to work. I want to tell him I don’t believe a single thing he told me.

  But I’m no longer sure those are really the things I should be saying. They belong in the plans I made before Ink came back into my life, and the ones we made together after he did. I have no plan now.

  Ink’s gone, unreachable. He left me with promises to return, with promises that we’ll have everything we dreamed of all those years ago, when he does. But is he coming back? Can he? Am I an idiot for believing him? An idiot for trusting him? An idiot for loving him, for taking him back, for giving him a second chance after he messed up the first one so bad?

  As much as I don’t want to face it, I think the answer to all those questions is a resounding yes.

  * * *

  Ink

  “Come on, let’s go,” Cross says as he appears in the open doorway.

  His black eyes betray nothing. Neither does the tone of his voice. He could be inviting me to my death or to dinner, it’s impossible to tell.

  I nod and get up, my legs all prickly and stiff from sitting still for so long. I tried pacing around the cell, while I was locked up, but that just made me more hot and thirsty.

  He stays silent as I walk past him into the dark hallway where Ace and Hawk are standing. I can’t see their faces well enough to read what’s on them, and Cross’ eyes are still completely black. Hard too. I wonder what’s worse: walking to your execution by a man whose eyes tell you he’s about to kill you, or by a man who lets nothing foreshadow it? Neither of those is much better than the other, that’s for sure.

  “Where are we going?” I finally ask. It’s not cowardly to ask that. I’m just a guy who’d like to know what awaits him at the end of this walk.

  Cross stays silent, and the other two do too. We’re outside, where the air is so pleasantly fresh I almost forget all my other troubles, as it hits my face and cools my burning skin. I figure they’ll take me deep into the garden to do the deed, far away from the main house. I suppose that’s not a bad place to die, surrounded by tall trees and other green things, the air smelling of wholesome earth and flowers. Better than the dark cell that smells of old blood, sweat and fear, anyway. It’s almost dark outside, but not quite, and twilight isn’t a bad time to die either. It’s fitting really. End of the day, start of night, end of life, start of death.

  But for some reason they’re leading me towards the big house.

  Cross turns to me as soon as the front door is closed behind us. “Get some dinner. You’re sleeping in one of the basement rooms tonight. Tomorrow we’re riding to your hometown to see what’s what. Ace is gonna keep an eye on you.”

  “What?” I blurt out, stuttering a little.

  “You want me to repeat myself?” Cross asks sharply and I shake my head automatically. I heard every word he said. They just make no God damn sense.

  Cross flicks his thumb in Hawk’s direction. “Him and Doc would never let me live it down if I just killed you without solid proof that you’ve been double-crossing us. So you’re getting a chance to prove you’re telling the truth.”

  I have questions, lots and lots of them. I can tell by his tone and his hard eyes he won’t entertain any. But one’s worth asking regardless of that.

  “Can I get my phone back so I can call my girlfriend?” I ask.

  I spent the whole day sure I’d never hear Julie’s voice again, and right now, that’s the only thing I want to do. Before I drink, before I eat, I want to hear Julie’s voice. Since I met her, it’s the one thing I’ve always wanted before anything else, to be honest.

  “You like to push your luck, don’t you, son?” Cross says, cracking the smallest grin I’ve ever seen. But then he just walks away without giving me any more answer than that.

  “He’s not wrong about you,” Hawk says in an exasperated tone as he pushes me in the direction of the dining room door.

  “You’ll get your phone back when we can trust you completely again,” Hawk adds as we enter the dining room.

  “And you’ll probably get to see that girl of yours tomorrow,” Ace adds. “So show some God damn patience.”
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  Doc’s in the dining room, and he gets up when we enter.

  “What did you get yourself into this time?” he asks, and while he always reminded me a little bit of my dad, the resemblance has never been as clear as it is right now. He was worried about me, and his voice betrays that despite its harshness.

  I’m actually more than a little cowed and sorry that I made him worry, as I shrug. “I did what I had to do.”

  I gave my dad a lot of cause to worry about me over the years, and right now, I wish I got the chance to say sorry to him too.

  “I bet,” he says, sounding relieved and disappointed at the same time. “But I didn’t save your life twice to watch you die now.”

  “Three times, if we count today,” I say and grin at him.

  He shakes his head. “You like your little jokes, don’t you? But your future is far from guaranteed yet.”

  I’m about to say something else clever, but Hawk interrupts, “Roxie left some dinner for you in the kitchen. Go get it, eat it, and then get some sleep. We’re riding out bright and early tomorrow.”

  I’d prefer to keep talking to Doc, and thank him and Hawk properly for helping me out with this.

  But Ace is the only one left in the dining room when I return there with my bowl of chili and a loaf of bread after chugging three glasses of water in the kitchen.

  “Thanks for backing me up, Ace,” I tell him, since I figure he put in a good word for me with Cross too.

  He nods. “You saved my life.”

  He doesn’t sound grateful or like he was happy to return that favor. It kinda sounds like he’d prefer it if it never happened, and that’s odd, because he’s been nothing but grateful to me for it for the past year. He’s the closest to a best friend I have among the Devils, so this hard look on his face and the dark silence as he watches me eat is odd. But he doesn’t say anything else and I don’t either.

  It’s alright though, everything is just fine, because I’m not dying today and more importantly, because I’m seeing Julie tomorrow and getting my third chance to make everything right with her. And the third time’s the charm, as they say.

  19

  Ink

  I slept like a log, so when rough shaking wakes me, I have trouble putting two and two together for a couple of seconds. A part of my bleary mind still thinks I’ve just arrived in Pleasantville and this is me waking up in my room at the clubhouse. But as soon as Doc’s face comes into full focus I suddenly do remember everything that happened yesterday was not a nightmare.

  “Get up, it’s time to go,” he says and heads for the door, but instead of leaving like I assumed he would, he closes it and comes back to stand by my bed. I’ve already sat up and now Doc is peering at the bullet holes on my bare torso.

  “They seem to have healed well,” he says. “Let me get a better look.”

  I stand up all the way and he spends some time peering at them more closely, walking around me to get a look at my back too, muttering incoherently as he does. He presses down around some of them, checking my face for a reaction, but I don’t feel any pain, only a tightness from the scars pulling my skin together, which I assume is here to stay.

  “A week with Julie healed me better than bed rest ever could, Doc,” I say and chuckle, but his eyes and face remain very serious, angry even.

  “I meant what I said yesterday, kid,” he says. “I didn’t save your life twice just so you can go throw it away. You’re too young for that, like I told you before. I want to believe you’re no snitch, and I do, but you gotta convince Cross and you gotta do it so he doesn’t doubt you in the slightest anymore. Do you understand?”

  I nod. “I appreciate you speaking up for me, and I regret putting you in a position where you had to, but I did what I had to do and I’d probably do it again.”

  “No regrets, huh?” he says and grins sarcastically. “Well, you’re not out of the woods yet. Anyone else would probably not get the second chance you’re getting now. Use it well, Ink, do everything Cross tells you to.”

  “And what’s that gonna be?” I ask as I reach for my t-shirt to put it on.

  “He’ll tell you that when it’s time for you to know,” Doc says. “Now go take a shower and change. Be outside and ready to ride in half an hour. Your things are just outside the door.”

  I follow him out and grab my bag, searching it desperately for the phone that I hoped against hoped would be there too. It’s not. But I do find Julie’s ring still safely tucked away in one of the hidden inside pockets, so at least there’s that. She probably won’t be as angry at me over not calling for two days, and all those hang-ups Hawk made on her calls, after I ask her to be my wife again. This time, we’re just going straight to Vegas to seal the deal right after I give the ring to her. No more waiting. No more planning. We’re just doing it. God, I hope she says yes.

  I shower and change as fast as I can, then emerge from Sanctuary into the early dawn morning. For most of yesterday, I was certain I’d never see another dawn. That memory floods me now, along with all the other sensations only a living man can feel. Birds are really loud at this time of the morning, and there’s still a lot of the night’s moisture in the air. Mixed up smells of flowers and grass and wet earth are coming from the garden, but there’s a lingering scent of gravel dust and exhaust on the air over it all from all the bikes assembled in the driveway. I prefer those smells, if I’m completely honest.

  Silence falls as I exit Sanctuary, the fifteen or so guys gathered there piercing me with their stares as I approach. Brick is there, along with the two guys who helped bring me here yesterday morning. They don’t seem happy to see me walking around free, but I nod a hello at them anyway, which they don’t return. Ace is there too, and he’s the only one to greet me with a, “Good Morning”.

  Someone brought my bike up here, and I busy myself with reattaching the saddlebags, focusing on the task and not the hundreds of clever things I could say to dilute the tension that keeps rising and rising around me. Most of the men here think I should’ve been punished for disobeying a direct order and disappearing, and I suppose all of them might also consider me the snitch Cross clearly spent the last week ferreting out. Following that thought a little further, it means they all want to see me dead. Being clever now would just start a fight that could achieve my death even without Cross’ go ahead.

  I hear the front door open behind me and whoever came out this time is getting a much warmer welcome. They all shift their focus away from me, grunting and mumbling good mornings, which is exactly what I do too when I turn to see Cross and Tank approaching. Hawk is with them, along with Scar, Ice and Doc.

  “Alright, here’s how it’s going to happen,” Cross says, causing complete silence among the men as they all focus their attention on him. “The twenty of us are riding to the Southern warehouse where we’ll meet up with the brothers bringing the trucks. The deal isn’t going down until tomorrow, but we have something else to take care of tonight. You’ll get the details when we get there. Now let’s ride.”

  Excited murmurs and conversation accompany the guys’ mounting their bikes.

  “You’ll need this,” Hawk tells me as he hands me my cut.

  I look at it, then him, and don’t take it. “I’m not sure I still deserve that.”

  I can see Cross watching our exchange closely, and I don’t want to do anything to fuck this up, though I have no idea what I’m supposed to do either. I planned to leave the club and I disobeyed orders. To my mind, that means I shouldn’t really be wearing their colors anymore, not until I earn them back.

  “Take it and put it on, Ink,” Hawk says more sternly. “This is no time to question commands.”

  I do it right away. I guess it’s that simple now. I gotta do as I’m told and not step out of line until I clear my name, one way or another. They won’t find any evidence of me snitching to the cops, because that thought never even occurred to me until I was accused of it yesterday. But how do you prove the existence of
something that’s never been? That unsettling question with no good answer is still floating prominently in my mind. I hope their search for the answer won’t prevent me from speaking to Julie the moment we get back to my hometown. But I fear it might.

  I try to push that fear away as we ride off, and it’s not as hard to do as I thought it might be. Riding alone with Julie leaning against my back, with nothing but the open road in front and behind us is one of my two favorite things to do in the world. But riding with my brothers is not far behind them.

  The very air comes to life with the rumble of our bikes, as we take to the road, the vibrations and song of the twenty bikes, including my own, course through me and enter my blood, until I become one with the bike, with the road, with the brothers. I’ve been alone for so long, but after a few turns of the road, I finally truly know that I no longer am. I’m part of something bigger now, part of something to which I truly belong, and I was a fool for messing it up. They say you don’t really appreciate what you had until it’s gone, and damn do those words sum up my existence perfectly. I hope it’s not too late for me, I hope I still get to keep it all.

  * * *

  It’s late afternoon, and we’ve arrived at what Cross calls the Southern Warehouse. We’re close to my hometown but it makes no difference since we’re in the middle of that desert wasteland few people ever venture into. The Southern Warehouse is a bunker-like structure, and I assume it’s one of the weapons storage facilities the club has inherited from Viper’s Bite MC. It’s a forbidding looking building, harshly rectangular and enclosed by several rows of barbed wire fences. The ground all around the building is bare sand, with a few gnarled cactuses growing here and there. The guys who guard this place erected a bunch of homemade canopies around the building for some much needed shade using sticks and pieces of tarp.