Hell's Ink

by Nicole Reed

  “Hand me your cup,” Mikey’s voice boomed over everyone else’s.

  She glanced up, grateful to see a familiar, friendly face. Shyla willingly passed him her cup while smiling.

  “Thanks,” she said, glancing down to straighten her favorite sundress, a white cotton shift covered in bright red poppies. The tops of her bare shoulders felt slightly sunburned since she’d forgotten sunscreen, but it was worth it, knowing she looked damn good in the sleeveless dress. It also showed off one of her favorite tattoos on the back of her right shoulder. A heavily detailed stopwatch with the hands depicting the time that changed her life forever.

  When he finished filling it to the top, he didn’t pass it back, but nodded with both hands full of red Solo cups for her to follow him. She glanced around, but didn’t spot Diamond, so she trailed behind Mikey.

  “C’mon and I’ll introduce you to the cool kids,” he said with a laugh and wink. “At least the ones closer to our age.”

  She noticed where they were heading and realized Mikey was right: a larger group of guys and girls lounged in chairs arranged in a circle. One of the guys loudly ragged someone about his taste, or lack thereof, in women. When they reached the outer circle, Mikey handed her back her drink.

  The talk seemed to die at the appearance of an outsider. Curious eyes stared in tandem at the intrusion.

  “Damn. You fucktards sure know how to make a pretty lady feel welcome,” Mikey announced to the group. “And I got my hair did and everythin’.”

  Shyla barely had enough time to step out of the way before the first empty cup sailed overhead at Mikey. He dodged them all, laughing the entire time.

  “He’s a nut,” a deep masculine voice stated from the chair beside her.

  She glanced down to see a beautiful girl sitting on the lap of the most devastatingly gorgeous guy she’d ever seen in her entire life. His dark hair was shorn less than an inch all over his head. It made his brutally handsome appearance almost staggering. The prominent bones carved underneath his tanned skin accentuated the hauntingly stunning sapphire eyes staring up at her with a hint of humor. And as if he wasn’t already abundantly blessed in the looks department, a single dimple marked his left cheek when he smiled.

  The girl giggled, saving Shyla from her stupor. Mikey leaned over to answer the guy.

  “Hold, man, you can suck on these nuts,” Mikey said, mimicking grabbing his groin.

  “You wish, Mike.” Hold smirked, taking a drink of his beer.

  “Whatever. Have you met Badger’s niece, Shyla, yet?” Mikey asked, sliding a possessive arm around her waist. “Shyla, this is Hold Dawson, vice president of the Hell’s MC, and his girl, Carrie.”

  Shyla didn’t remove herself from his grasp. It truly didn’t feel threatening in the least, but more so friendly. She smiled, saying hello to each of them.

  So this was Hold Dawson. He’d been heavily on her mind ever since Aunt D spoke about him and Hels. How could a boy love a girl so much that he’d let her go? And what happened when she returned? What did he do to her that was so unforgiveable?

  “Mikey here ain’t shut up about you for the past month. I was startin’ to believe he’d reverted back to his childhood, makin’ up pretend girlfriends to impress the other boys,” Hold said, lazily rubbing his girlfriend’s back in a circular motion.

  “Really?” she asked, grinning up at Mike. “I figured since I hadn’t seen Mikey here around, he’d dumped me at Hard Ink’s door in good riddance.”

  “No. It’s taken this long to break it off with his many women. Clearin’ his schedule.” Hold winked over at Mikey.

  “Yeah, I believe that one,” Shyla said sarcastically. “I tagged him as a player right off the bat.”

  “Why y’all gotta be so mean? I’m rescuing Shyla before you taint her with your goddamn lies,” Mikey said jokingly, tugging on her arm toward the others.

  Shyla tried to remember everyone’s name, but her mind and eyes kept drifting back to Hold Dawson.

  Beneath his eyelashes, Hold watched as Mikey showed off Shyla to their friends, making his claim on the new girl. She was definitely a looker with her short blonde hair and hot body that her dress didn’t hide. He remembered the feel of those pale blue eyes landing on him for the first time. Good for Mikey. A serious girlfriend was what he wanted and maybe this was the girl.

  “Is she staying in Harmony?” Carrie whispered in his ear.

  “Hell if I know,” he answered, pulling his hand away from absently stroking her back.

  “I think Mikey really likes her. What do you think?” she asked, her finger caressing his jaw.

  “I don’t give a damn either way,” he said, pulling her off his lap to stand. “I’m goin’ to take a piss.”

  Hold glanced around, trying to see where Ward or Sandman was. He located them, plus Ward’s little internal group, shooting the shit at one of the picnic tables. There was never a time when Hold didn’t know their whereabouts. It was a life or death situation that warranted constant vigilance.

  He used the bathroom inside the clubhouse. After he finished, he stopped to chat with Badger and Hound as they sat with their old ladies in the corner. Several members nodded in greeting to him. Hold had already decided that tonight he’d let sleeping dogs lie and not talk business. Nothing that couldn’t wait one more day.

  With the sun already set, the evening air immensely cooled everything off. Summer bugs swarmed, but the woodsy, lemon-scented candles Sage had burning everywhere seemed to help. The picnic had turned into a full-blown kegger. Various colorful liquor bottles appeared, lining picnic tables, and full beer kegs replaced empty ones. Music roared over the crowd and people danced freely out in the open.

  Hold was going to need something a little stronger to drink to get through the night. Reaching for a red Solo cup, he poured good whiskey until it overflowed. He brought the rim of the cup to his mouth to sip away at the surplus of the dark amber liquid. His tongue darted out to catch the droplets trickling down the outside, while lifting his eyes to catch those of Diamond’s niece.

  She slowly grinned at him before glancing down at the keg of beer where she refilled her cup. Damn, she was fine. He lowered his drink and tried to remember what Mikey had relayed about her from their ride into town. The crazy son of a bitch had been jacked at meeting her that first time, something Hold had never seen in Mikey with anyone else. He’d been pissed when Hold had jerked him around about fucking with her.

  Mikey had told him he’d spent more than enough time at Hard Ink this past month, trying to catch a glimpse of her, but Diamond was keeping Shyla busy in the back office and away from everyone associated with the MC. Badger had mentioned to Hold that he didn’t know about bringing her into the club dynamics with all the upcoming drama. Hold had told him it was his call.

  “Hold, right?” Shyla asked, strolling over with her drink in hand.

  “Shyla, right?” he countered, smiling down at her.

  She nodded with a laugh and raised her cup in cheers before taking a large swallow. “That’d be me.”

  “So what do you think about our little town of Harmony so far?” he asked, watching short strands of golden hair blow across her pretty face in the humid night breeze.

  He noticed her features light up from within from his question. A knowing smile spread across her lips and he felt himself struck by such a violent reminder of another blonde-haired girl from his past. Hold quickly swigged his whiskey to hide his emotions, but unfortunately he choked on the liquid as it went down the wrong pipe.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, slapping him heartily on the back.

  He nodded, eyes watering and throat burning raw from the bad swallow. Something about her actions reminded him of Hels years ago when she was younger.

  “You sure?” she asked, one shapely eyebrow arched on her face.

  “Yeah,” he replied, his voice hoarse. Hold balled up his fist and tapped his chest.

  “Okay. If you say so,” she said, shrugg
ing her sunburned shoulders.

  “So… you and Harmony?” Hold asked, braving another swallow of liquor out of his cup.

  “It’s great. Such a quaint little town where everyone is so friendly. I had forgotten what that was like.”

  Hold shifted his eyes to stare at her, surprised by the whole friendly comment. Diamond must really be sheltering the girl well if she thought Harmony was a friendly town. Or maybe it was and Hold was becoming entirely too jaded.

  “What did you forget?” he asked, noting the sexy hollow of her neck. On instinct, his eyes drifted lower to notice the swell of her breast.

  “How nice it is to live somewhere and have family and friends near,” she answered, before giving a slight cough.

  He directed his gaze back to Shyla’s and knew instantly he was busted for checking her out. But damn, she was female and he was only human. Hold didn’t miss the humor she held within her own stare. It threatened to crack the smile she tried to hide.

  “Mikey told me your story. Sorry ‘bout your family. You plannin’ on kickin’ it here for a while?” he asked, curious to see how she answered. For Mikey’s sake.

  Shyla sighed. “Yeah, I think so.”

  Hold nodded and took another drink of his whiskey. “Well, that’ll make Mike one happy SOB.”

  “Mmm,” she curiously answered, turning away from him. Shyla obviously searched for Mikey in the crowd. “He seems to be a great guy.”

  “There’s my baby boy,” Sage said, slinging her arm around Hold. “I see you’ve met Big D’s niece.”

  “Yeah, Mikey finally introduced us,” Hold answered, letting his mother give him a one-arm hug.

  “Damn that boy is snared—hook, line, and sinker. I’ve never seen him like that with anyone. Have you, Holden?” Sage asked, intently staring between them both.

  “Not that I remember,” he answered, knowing that tone of voice. Hold would bet his bike that his mom already had Shyla pegged as Mikey’s future old lady.

  “Where’s Carrie at? I need to make sure she’s still helping me with the town’s fundraiser comin’ up. I figured she’d be with you,” Sage said, using the same tone.

  “Hell if I know,” he answered, the question pissing him off. Carrie wasn’t his old lady and he sure as hell didn’t keep up with her every move. Hold stepped away from Sage, tipping his chin toward Shyla. “I’ll see ya ‘round.”

  “Okay. See ya,” Shyla called from behind him as he turned to get away from Sage.

  His ma shouted something at him. Hold kept on walking, his teeth grinding together from the sound of her voice grating on his already stretched nerves. He needed a minute to chill the fuck out.

  Shyla started to watch Hold swagger off, quickly shutting her eyes to keep from devouring his delectable backside. It seemed wrong with his mother standing hardly a foot away. But the image was already imprinted on her brain. His jeans didn’t hang on his body, but molded to him in all the right spots. Harmony had bangin’ bad boys. Minutes ago she’d watched him lick the alcohol off his cup and everything inside of her melted like hot wax. Shyla shivered, recalling the erotic vision. At the sound of Sage clucking her tongue she turned toward her.

  “That boy is goin’ to be the death of me,” Sage said, shaking her head in his direction. “Carrie needs to lock him down.”

  Shyla had been introduced to the girl, but hadn’t had the chance to have much of a conversation with her. Hold and Carrie looked to be pretty serious—he seemed to be affectionate toward the beautiful woman when she’d sat in his lap earlier.

  Josh, her ex, hadn’t been very touchy-feely, especially in public. She’d always felt envious when she’d seen other couples who didn’t mind kissing or touching each other in a crowd… or for that matter, in private. It’d been almost eight months since she’d had sex with Josh. Between his drug use and the animosity that had grown between them, she’d started to hate him.

  “Are you enjoyin’ yourself?” Sage asked, changing the subject.

  Shyla nodded while smiling at her. “Yes. Thanks for inviting me.”

  Sage seemed to seriously eye her for a second before coming to some decision. “You know, I’m glad you’re stayin’ in Harmony. The club’s bachelors need some good females to settle them down.” Sage gave her a knowing smile. “Family means everything.”

  Shyla nodded, silently agreeing with Sage about the meaning of family, but confused in what context she meant settling down. What’s that supposed to mean? Shyla glanced nervously down at her drink before taking a tiny sip.

  “Here comes Mikey now—I’m sure to hunt you down,” Sage said, nudging her elbow with Shyla’s with a short laugh. “Have fun.”

  Sage walked away after her parting comment. Shyla glanced up to see Mikey heading straight for her. The night blended with his dark shirt and matching jeans. He wasn’t quite as good looking as Hold, but Shyla had never met anyone sexier than Holden Dawson. It wasn’t fair to even compare them. The two were unique men who, Shyla bet, commanded all the local female attention… and she only needed to be concerned about the available one.

  Mikey smiled at her, while reaching out to gently grasp her empty hand, dwarfing it with the size of his. “Come walk with me?” he asked as his fingers tugged hers and he nodded his head in the opposite direction from the party.

  “Sure,” she answered, letting him guide her away from the revelry.

  He paused by an empty table, laying his cup down upon it. Without asking, Mikey took hers from her hand to set it by his. He continued to stroll along a barren concrete walkway. Weeds rose from the cracks in the stone, making the ground jagged and uneven underneath her flip-flops. He slowed their pace to a shuffle, the darkness swallowing them beneath the overhead of the trees. Neither uttered a syllable.

  Mikey stopped, and her hand escaped from his. She walked a little farther before turning back. He stood in the moonlight, a dark hulking figure. But she didn’t feel scared or intimidated of him.

  “So you know everything about me,” Shyla said, tilting her face up to his.

  “Not enough,” he answered smoothly.

  “Too much,” she added laughing and shaking her head. “Your turn for sharing—I want your story.” Shyla rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.

  He sighed heavily, his hand rubbing over his facial hair in thought. When the silence stretched between them a second longer than necessary, he crossed his arms and nodded.

  “I grew up in Harmony. My dad was part of the club and worked for Ward, but the mean son of a bitch was always in trouble because he’d get to drinkin’ and forget the world.” He glanced up at the sky. “One day, he didn’t come home. Just took off after work, leavin’ my ma and me. I spent my childhood and teenage years raisin’ hell, but Ward kept me straight enough. Hold’s like my brother. The MC’s the only family me and my Moms had.”

  Shyla watched him closely. It was obvious that the story came from somewhere deep within Mikey. She could tell it hurt him to put it into words. Yeah… she knew that feeling and her heart pained for him.

  “So now you work at the garage and I’m going to assume you’ve got a motorcycle to go along with that cut you have on?” she asked, smiling coyly up at him.

  “I do… I do.” Mikey reached again for her hand. He turned it over to lightly stroke his thumb over her wrist, covering the script tattoo that read live in black ink. “Want a ride sometime?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. It’s been a while but I remember riding on the back of my dad’s Harley.” Even in the shadows she couldn’t miss the joy on his face at her answer.

  “Well, why wait? Let’s go now,” he said, swiftly turning to tug her behind him.

  She giggled, pulling out of the loose grasp of his hand. “Not tonight. I think we’ve both had too much to drink.”

  “Then how ‘bout I let you sit on my bike and you let me kiss you? I would say it’s an even trade,” Mikey said, reaching out to brush the hair from her eyes.

  The bac
kground seemed surreal. It was everything Shyla had ever dreamed of for that perfect moment: hot guy, gentle warm breeze caressing her sensitive skin while music played softly in the distance. His green eyes held a spark of mischief as he stared down at her, waiting for Shyla to take the next step and kiss him. Mikey slightly swayed into her.

  Shyla stepped back. She’d never been a tease, but whatever was building between them was moving entirely too fast. There were way too many conflicting feelings about him to give her more than a moment’s hesitation.

  “I probably need to get back and find my aunt and uncle,” she whispered, watching disappointment display across his handsome face.

  “If that’s what you want,” Mikey said, not moving a muscle.

  She turned to stroll back and he followed behind her, the sound of his heavy boots plodding across the stone. Shyla had to restrain herself from scurrying ahead of him. A night ride on the back of a motorcycle with a sexy as hell driver… the idea was too intriguing at this point and she was seconds from throwing caution to the wind. She stopped when they reached the edge of the ebbing party.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she happened to catch Hold’s stare once more. It’s almost impossible to conceive that she could see his unbelievably colored irises from this distance as their gazes connected. But the incredible blue of his eyes seemed to flash. He was walking into the clubhouse, ushering Carrie in front of him with his hand on the small of her back. They disappeared behind the door.

  “Let me take you for a ride tomorrow?” Mikey whispered into her ear from behind.

  The sound of his voice didn’t provide much balm to her strangely aching heart. She turned her head to stare up at him. “Sure. Pick me up after lunch at Hard Ink. Thanks for introducing me to your friends.”

  He leaned down to place a dry kiss on her lips. Shyla’s heart didn’t race, but she wasn’t exactly unaffected either.

  “Wear some jeans,” he stated, lifting his head from hers.