Hell's Ink

by Nicole Reed

  The intense orgasm built with every raw sound he made as his mouth tasted her. She was carried away along with him on a tsunami of ecstasy that rolled over them, pulling them completely under, until she burst free. It left her shaken to her core, but sexually invigorated.

  Hold leaned back. “So good,” he whispered, smiling down at her. His hands glided to the top of his jeans.

  She watched him start to slip the button free when his doorbell chimed and someone banged on the front door.

  “Goddamn it,” he uttered, jumping up and reaching for a gun that was waiting on a shelf. She hadn’t noticed it before.

  Shyla sat straight up and quickly righted her clothes and hair, though a sexual fog surrounded her. The heavy knocking continued.

  “Hold, it’s me, brother!” Badger yelled from the other side.

  “You good?” Hold asked, turning to check on her first.

  She nodded. If Badger was here, something bad had happened.

  “Damn it, son! Where’s your goddamn phone? I’ve been callin’ for the last half hour,” Badger said, barreling through the door once Hold let him in. “We gotta get you to the garage.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Hold asked, placing the safety on the gun before stuffing it in the front of his jeans.

  “That bitch went and got herself fuckin’ killed, sayin’ she was…” Badger’s words trailed off.

  Shyla knew the minute Badger noticed her because he halted his answer. His eyes met hers for only a brief second before drifting guiltily toward Hold.

  “Who?” Hold asked, his face once again a hard mask.

  “Carrie. The word is she showed up at the clubhouse and told Ward she was pregnant,” Badger replied.

  “She say it was Ward’s?” he asked, the rage visibly building inside of Hold.

  Badger shook his head. “No. She said you were the baby’s daddy. Then the stupid bitch flipped a switch and started spouting off how Ward was no match in the sack compared to his son.”

  To hear that the man you’re in love with knocked up his ex, while your body still vibrated from the most amazing oral sex of your life, was from Shyla’s point of view the shittiest day ever.

  “Goddamn stupid cunt!” Hold yelled, placing his hands behind his head. “What happened?” He paced back and forth across the floor.

  “What do you think happened?” Badger asked, throwing his hands in the air. “Ward pulled his piece and put a bullet hole through her forehead to match the one between her ears.”

  “OhmyfreakingGod,” Shyla whispered, not believing a word of what she was hearing. Ward killed Carrie? She hadn’t seen Carrie since their fight, and hated the girl with a vengeance, but Shyla wouldn’t wish death on anyone. Had Hold known she was pregnant?

  “I didn’t know if you knew anything ‘bout the baby,” Badger said, leaning against the wall, voicing her silent question.

  “Holy shit,” Hold said, shaking his head while sitting down on the couch. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.” The wind seemed to be knocked out of him.

  He lifted his head to stare at Shyla. She didn’t miss the tease of wetness that he quickly blinked away. Her stunned heart shattered for him. He’d never admit it, but even after Carrie’s betrayal, Shyla knew losing her came with a hefty price. Fatherhood was violently ripped from him. Hold was noticeably caught in the midst of agonizing sorrow.

  She wanted to go to him, to shelter him from this life’s grief that never ended. However, before she could, Badger stepped past her to offer his brother comfort.

  “Look, I’m sorry, Holden,” Badger said, sitting next to his friend. He gripped the younger man’s shoulder. “We have to sort this shit out. The club needs you.”

  He dropped his head and nodded. “Yeah, let me grab a shirt,” Hold said, standing to his feet. He turned his head to stare at Shyla and his eyes told the story of his incomprehensible loss. “Go home.”

  “I don’t want to, Hold. Let me be here when you get back,” Shyla said, trying her best not to sound like she was begging.

  As quietly as he could, Badger stood and walked out of Hold’s house without even acknowledging Shyla. He was handling club business. The females were only present if it concerned them. In Badger’s mind none of this involved her, and she was Hold’s to command because that was the choice Shyla made. Club ties were even stronger than family bonds.

  “No,” Hold said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how all this ends, Shyla, and I honest to God don’t know how to protect you.” He carelessly pushed past her to walk down his hallway.

  She knew he was hurting, his whole world marked by the violent turbulence that constantly churned within the Hell’s Highwaymen Motorcycle Club. These past several weeks she’d done what she thought Hold wanted, but in the process lost herself. Hold needed someone to have his back—even when he didn’t want it.

  Shyla marched her feet toward his bedroom. Hold stood beside a solid black dresser, rummaging through a drawer.

  “I’m staying here,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “No, you’re not.” He didn’t even spare her a glance as he tugged a white t-shirt over his head.

  “Yes, I am. Or I’m not coming back. You can’t admit it now, Hold, but you need me,” she said breathlessly. Shyla watched his questioning gaze rise to meet hers. A black eyebrow lifted over one blue eye. She knew she was pushing him at a time he didn’t need any more shit, but it was now or never.

  “What I need is for you to get your ass in your car and go home,” he said, every word clipped with anger. “You don’t need to be here if someone comes lookin’ for me and finds you.”

  “Well, I’m sure those same people know where to find me if they want to,” she whispered, her knees literally knocking together in fear. Shyla had to clench her jaw together to keep her teeth from chattering. “You don’t get to share only parts of yourself—it’s all or nothing with me. Your call.”

  He charged her, backing Shyla up against his bedroom wall, pinning her trembling body with his. His arms caged her on each side as his nostrils flared with the anger consuming him. Shyla could see it with every ragged breath he inhaled.

  “My father,” he said, barely able to utter the vile word, “killed my ex and possibly my unborn child. He wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to you.”

  “Then give me a gun. Trust me to keep myself safe for you, as I have to trust you to do the same for me,” Shyla’s voice faltered with fear and love. She lifted her hand to cradle his freshly shaven jaw. “I love you.” Her lips lightly caressed his. “I love you,” she whispered again.

  Hold dropped his forehead, pressing it against hers so that they stared intimately into each other’s eyes. She had to say it—he had to know it. Shyla couldn’t go back to her home and pretend everything was fine when their future rested on the shoulders of this man who she’d live and die for.

  “Go do what you have to do, handle club business. But when you walk through that door after another shitty night, it’ll be me offering the happiness and comfort you seek. Me who won’t judge who you are and what you have to do,” Shyla said, opening her heart and soul to this man, giving him every ounce of who she was.

  His mouth touched hers, kissing away her fear of being rejected. A wounded groan escaped him. Shyla could feel his hardness press into her abdomen, and knew what he needed, especially at a time like this. Her hand left his face to force itself between their bodies. The button on his jeans gave way underneath her deft fingers.

  Hold’s brain felt numb to what’d happened. He knew he needed to get to the clubhouse, but Shyla was providing a distraction he desperately wanted. Her hands fumbled to lower his pants around his hips. His thick erection sprung free and she wasted no time, grasping his shaft. The slow twist of her hand sent his body into overdrive. He was going to fuck her—hard.

  One shapely leg wound its way around his backside. The hem of her skirt inched up to reveal her pantyless crotch. She lifted her arms to circle his neck, bringing his t
ongue deeper into her mouth. Hold kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed—with all of his attention. Shyla wanted to stand by his side, offering eternal allegiance in a world of lies and liars, amid enemies disguised as friends. He didn’t know if he was capable of what she needed in return, but he’d die trying for her.

  His fingers drifted down to knead the silken flesh of her buttocks. Shyla’s body heat scorched his, engorging his cock to the point of pain. Fuck or die. It’d finally come to this. He gripped her sweet rounded cheeks in his hands as he lifted her up and over him. She was still wet from his mouth, making everything slick and easier to glide between the lips of her pussy.

  The wall behind her helped to steady his movements. She wrapped her legs securely around him, digging her bare feet into the cheeks of his ass. It gave her leverage to ride him. For the first several thrusts they seemed to fight against each other, until they both found a steady rhythm that had Hold rocking up into her at the same time she ground downward on him. Her muscles tightened around the base of his penis as he filled her. It caused his eyes to close shut and his stomach muscles to clench in absolute pleasure. Her high-pitched moans drove him faster, made him fuck her harder. He wanted to erase his past to clear a path for their future but for now all he had was this moment.

  “Hold on,” he growled, increasing their already full-tilt pace.

  Hold’s mind blanked out everything except the ecstasy Shyla’s body gave him. It carried away his fears, his failures, and his many faults. He opened his eyes to see her staring at him. They were connected, whether he wanted it or not. And Hold wanted it, hadn’t realized he’d been searching for it his entire life.

  Her body tensed, then a spasm shook her small frame. He heard a long sigh leave her lips, and he pummeled his hips, rushing to join her. His own orgasm rocked Hold to his core and he continued to pound his dick inside her long after they both had come. He felt their hot, wet release trickle down his thighs when he finally removed himself. Their harsh breathing mingled in the silence.

  All he wanted in this moment of completion was to hold her close and tight. Hold covered her face in small kisses, letting her silently know how he felt because he couldn’t say the words. If it weren’t for the strength of his arms, they’d have already fallen to the floor by now.

  “Shy, I’ve gotta go,” he whispered huskily into the shell of her ear. “Let me get cleaned up, then you can take a shower. Don’t let anyone inside the house—no one. Do you hear me?”

  She slowly nodded as he pulled back. Hold’s eyes took in the disheveled, beautiful girl standing before him. It was hard for him to comprehend that she’d be willing to risk so much. The thought was life changing and he couldn’t help falling for her. Duty might call, but for the first time in a long while, he’d a reason worth rushing home for.

  Hold walked into the clubhouse not quite expecting the gruesome scene that greeted him. It was straight-up horror movie shit. Ward must’ve been sitting at the bar when his fight with Carrie took place. Her unanimated body lay slumped between two bar stools. The vacant look on her face was highlighted by the hole still oozing red and leaking gray matter from the center of her forehead. Blood splatter stained the area around her corpse.

  Not much caused Hold’s stomach to roil, but he had to mentally and physically force himself not to throw up. He turned his head into the crook of his arm, willing himself not to gag. The thought of killing her when she betrayed him had crossed his mind a time or two; however, seeing death on her was another matter. Wishing someone dead usually changes when you witness the reality. It’s never pretty and vengeance rarely feels good. Otherwise, Ward would already be sleeping ten feet under.

  “Hold,” his mother quietly called his name.

  He turned his head to see her standing to his left. Death should never be easy to witness and it shockingly came as a surprise to Hold when Sage didn’t even flinch as her eyes clearly reviewed the sick sight before them. When did his mother become so oblivious to and careless of the club’s killing?

  “Where’s Ward?” he asked, his words sounding harsh even to his own ears.

  “Baby, that bitch got what was comin’ to her. She walked in here starting shit. More than likely she wasn’t even pregnant,” Sage said, reaching out her hand, but hesitating to touch him.

  His gaze followed her movements before returning to gauge her reaction—she should be weary of Ward. He wasn’t quite sure how the situation should be handled but he was certain she had no business being here. He moved away from her touch.

  “Go home,” Hold said, ignoring her shocked gasp.

  “Hold, I’m here for you and your father. The club is my family too,” Sage replied, not hiding the hurt and anger at being ordered by her son.

  “I said go home!” he yelled, watching her jump at his harsh tone.

  She silently nodded while cupping her mouth with one hand as her body visibly shook. Hold should’ve felt remorse for commanding his mother, but he didn’t. He felt numb. Over the last week he’d played his part of the dutiful child, having dinner with her and Ward, letting her believe in a reconciliation that was never going to happen between father and son. He loved Sage, but she surrounded herself with violence and wallowed in the danger of this life. What did that say about his mother? Hold couldn’t answer that question, especially right now.

  “Shady,” he called to the prospect who’d followed him and Badger inside. “Take my mom home and stay with her. Get someone else to go over to my house and watch it from the outside. No one goes in or out. Got it?”

  “G-got it, boss,” Shady replied with a slight stutter. He gently clasped Sage’s shoulder to pull her along with him.

  His mother paused in front of Hold before she left. “In this life you sometimes have to take out the trash. Your father didn’t want that slut makin’ things hard for you,” Sage said, her façade slipping to show the calculating and cold demeanor that she’d never directed toward Hold.

  “Yeah?” he asked sarcastically. “Maybe he didn’t want that slut makin’ things hard for him.” Hold noticed his mother wince at the truth of his words. It wasn’t nice, but his family had forfeited the niceties of this world a long time ago.

  He leaned down and kissed her cool cheek before nodding at Shady. The prospect guided Sage outside.

  “Where’s Ward?” Hold asked, glancing back at Badger.

  “In the war room.” Badger said, nodding his head toward the door.

  He strolled over to let himself in, taking a minute to compose the intense, raging emotions inside of him. Badger hung back and didn’t follow him inside. His old man was alone, sitting at the head of the table, a bottle of scotch and a glass for company. Hold saw remnants of the bloody scene plastered over Ward’s haggard face, unruly beard, and white shirt. Ward poured himself a shot of the amber liquor and swallowed it in one gulp.

  “Where does this put us?” Ward asked, not once glancing at Hold. He refilled his glass, picked it up, and swirled it around the bottom.

  “What the fuck? Where do you think this puts us? You’ve lost your damn mind,” Hold said, protecting himself by placing his back against the far wall and his hand resting on the Glock strapped in the gun holster across his chest. He didn’t trust the man occupying the room with him, not for a second.

  Ward chuckled, placing his drink down. “Maybe, son. Maybe,” he said, shaking his head, “but nobody should have to suffer stupid pussy.”

  Hold had killed, done evil things that most people with a conscience couldn’t conceive of. And it changed him, but not to the point that he’d lost his humanity. Ward had been completely stripped of it—not a shred was left in the cold bastard.

  The last couple of weeks, Hold had been weighing in his mind if he could set up his old man. Could he truly send him to prison and live with it, live with being a snitch? Even with how much hate Hold harbored for Ward, it was a hard decision, one he wasn’t sure he could live with until he died. It would almost be easier to put a bullet
in Ward’s brain versus being a traitor.

  “What? Cat got your tongue?” Ward asked while chuckling, staring at a silent Hold. “Did you love her? You know she’s probably sucked every member’s dick and fucked ‘em twice.”

  Hold didn’t have words for the pathetic excuse of a man before him. Carrie didn’t deserve what happened to her and now she was gone for good.

  “Do you really think that bitch wanted you? She was runnin’ her trap because she was mad I wouldn’t fuck her anymore. Carrie should’ve shown me more respect,” Ward said, slowly rocking back and forth in his chair.

  The warning was crystal clear. It was meant as an open threat, directly for Hold to hear and interpret. Before he could reply, the door crashed open beside Hold, causing him to jump. He pulled his weapon, aiming it at Hound whose own rifle was pointing at Ward.

  “You killed another innocent girl and it’s time to pay for your crimes, you evil motherfucker,” Hound said, staring at Ward with years of hatred burning brightly in his eyes.

  Hound hesitated for less than a second, his determined gaze turned to notice Hold standing next to the wall. It was just enough time for a gunshot to ring through the building. Hound’s own rifle fell to the ground beside him. His eyes widened, his gaze changing to one of surprise as he fell awkwardly to the floor. A gunshot wound rested in Hound’s back, exactly where his heart would be.

  It was an automatic response for Hold to turn his own weapon on Hound’s killer. He stepped over his friend’s body and through the open doorway. A frenzy of fury erupted within him, liberating Hold of any mercy. Sandman was in his line of sight and Hold squeezed the trigger. He unloaded his clip into the bastard’s chest. The deafening pop-pop sounded like small explosives within the hollow walls of the clubhouse. The Hell’s Highwaymen Sergeant-at-Arms’ body jerked with every hit. It didn’t feel like murder to Hold, but supreme justice—payback for the attempts on Hold’s life and Hound’s murder.