Burn: Men of Inked Heatwave #2

by Chelle Bliss

  “Fucker, go!” I yell, crumpling to the gravel.

  Where the hell would I go? I can’t see six inches in front of my face, let alone far enough to wander off like some lost kitten.

  Morris doesn’t say another word, but the sound of gravel crunching under his boots makes it clear he finally listened for once.

  I lean back, letting the hard rock bite into my skin as I lie flat, relishing the warmth the stones have soaked up from the sun. I let myself drift because the reality is just too much to take.

  “Man, he looks like shit,” Bear murmurs from above me, waking me. “I mean, he wasn’t anything special to look at before, but now…”

  “Fuck you,” I mutter and wince.

  The gravel crunches near my head, followed by gentle hands touching my battered face. “Call an ambulance.”

  “No.” My answer is immediate and firm. “No cops. No hospitals.”

  “Put him in the truck. We’ll have the doc come to the compound and check him out,” Morris commands. “I’ll call her now and have her meet us there.”

  “Can you walk?” Joe asks, his hands moving to my hand, lifting my palm upward. “Fucking hell.”

  “It’s fine.” I pull my hand back to my body. “I’m not left-handed.”

  “I wasn’t worried about work, son,” he says softly, and I can hear the sincerity in his voice. “Help me carry him.”

  “No,” I groan as I push myself upward with the one hand I have that they didn’t smash into pieces. “I can walk on my own.”

  “This should be fun to watch,” Bear teases, always the complete asshole.

  “Shut up,” Joe snaps. “Come on, Pike. Let’s get you out of here, and I’ll call Gigi from the truck.”

  “Gigi,” I whisper, thinking about my girl and the level of panic she has to be experiencing. “Call her now.”

  “No,” he tells me, the light shifting back and forth as he moves in front of me. “Truck first, and then you can talk to her. We don’t need to be here when the cops show up.”

  He’s a bastard, but he’s right. The sound of the blast had to draw someone’s attention. No doubt the place will be swarming with police soon.

  I reach out, and Joe immediately slides his hand in mine, helping me to my feet.

  “James, bring the truck!” he yells as we take a step forward, and I gasp for air.

  “My fuckin’ ribs,” I wheeze. “They’re broken.”

  Joe slides his arm behind my back, and I lean on him, letting him guide me through the darkness. “A lot of you is broken, son. A whole hell of a lot.”

  “In ya go, kid,” Thomas orders, one hand on my arm while Joe keeps me steady.

  I climb inside the truck, being given the front seat, and collapse backward, sucking in the little breath my broken ribs will allow.

  I’m going to live.

  I’ve never been one to cry, but in this moment, with the men piling into the SUV with me, I could. They put their lives on the line to save mine. No one has ever done that. No one has ever cared enough to do something so profound and selfless.

  “Daddy?” Gigi’s voice comes through the truck speakers.

  “We got him, baby girl. He’s okay.”

  “Pike?”

  “I’m here, darlin’,” I manage the words, not sounding as completely shitty as I feel.

  “Oh my God, baby. I’ve been so worried. I thought you were…”

  “I’m not. I’m okay, love.”

  I’d say more, but I’m too choked up and moved by everything Gallo.

  “He’s a little banged up,” Joe tells her.

  Banged up? That’s one way of putting it.

  “We’ll call you when we get back to the compound, okay, princess?”

  “Pike?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you,” she says softly, her voice cracking.

  “Love you too, darlin’,” I tell her, unable to keep the emotion from my voice.

  “Talk soon,” Joe adds, and then there’s silence to match the darkness.

  “How does that feel?” the MC’s doctor asks as she presses a towel against my eyelid after slicing through the skin. “It’ll help reduce the swelling and should make it easier for you to see.”

  “Feels great,” I lie, taking the towel from her hand and holding it against my face.

  I feel like one-hundred-percent absolute shit. I’ve never felt this bad in my entire life, but at least I am alive. That’s what I hold on to as she checks me over, patching up my busted parts.

  “There’s not much I can do for the ribs. They’ll heal, but it’ll be a few months before you feel normal again. Luckily, your jaw isn’t broken, but you should get to a dentist soon to make sure your teeth aren’t damaged from the boot you took to the face.”

  She’s blurry, but her shape is clearer with each passing second. I can see the shadow of her body and the bright red of her top.

  “The pinkie, I stitched and set. You may need surgery on it if it doesn’t heal straight. Keep an eye on it. As for the rest of you, I cleaned any wounds, but they’re minimal.”

  I almost laugh. Minimal?

  “He gonna live, Doc?” Morris asks, stalking into the room, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hands.

  “He’ll live.”

  Morris exhales, sounding relieved. “Thank fuck.”

  There are a few clicks before she moves away from me, leaving me on the table.

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “I’ll send you the bill.” She pats him on the chest, giving him a bright smile before disappearing out the door.

  “This is my fault,” Morris admits, stalking across the room and pulling out a chair in front of me. “I fucked up.”

  I glance down, dropping the cloth next to me so I can see him. “It’s my father’s fault—and Chev’s.”

  “Chev?” Morris raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side.

  “He’s a rat, Morris. A fuckin’ rat.” I wince and grab my ribs. “That’s how the Vipers knew about the drop.”

  “I’ll take care of him.” He nods, and I know what that means. Chev is a dead man walking. “You’re one lucky SOB,” he says, changing the subject.

  I shrug, but I know it’s the truth.

  “Those men, the girl’s family, they weren’t leaving without you.”

  I try to smile, but I grimace, hating everything about today. “They’re good people.”

  “The best,” Morris agrees and touches my leg. “I knew you were something special.”

  “Was that before or after you sucker-punched my shoulder?” I ask him.

  He barks out a laugh. “Never going to let me live it down, are ya?”

  I shake my head. “Never.”

  Morris studies me as his laughter dies. “I didn’t think I’d see you alive again, Pike. I’m happy I was wrong.”

  “Me too,” I mutter.

  “You have a whole room of people who want to see you, and then we’ll let you rest. You’re staying the night and all heading back tomorrow. Tiny’s having your room made up so you’re comfortable.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper, taking in a man who’s been more of a father to me than mine ever was. When he goes to stand, I know there need to be more words. There may not be another chance. His life, the MC life, isn’t known for its longevity. “Morris.”

  He turns around, his dark eyes gazing at me with intensity. “What’s wrong?”

  “Thank you for always being there for me. I would’ve been honored to call you brother.”

  He smiles. “I would’ve been happy to call you a son,” he replies, knowing exactly what those words mean to me.

  I don’t say anything else. Morris isn’t the type of guy you gush to too much about your feelings. I’ve never heard him utter the words I love you to another man, and I’m not going to force him to say them now.

  A minute after he leaves, the four men who came to my rescue walk into the room, their gazes sweeping over my body.

  “S
he patched you up good,” Joe says, but he’s lying. “You don’t look too bad.”

  Bear winces as his eyes soak me in. “He looks like hell,” he argues.

  James glares at Bear, slapping him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Now’s no time for jokes, asshole.”

  Bear shrugs. “Wasn’t joking. Look at him.” He throws out his arm toward me. “If hell had a look, it would be that.”

  Joe ignores him, stalking toward me and stopping only a few inches away. I crane my neck back, somehow stopping myself from wincing again.

  “You scared the shit out of us,” he admits, running his hand through his hair. “I thought I was going to have to tell my little girl you died. I thought I was going to have to live with the guilt that I let you go instead of me.”

  “I went willingly.”

  He places his hand on my shoulder, regarding me with something I’ve rarely seen from him—respect. “It was honorable, Pike. Something any of us—” he shifts his head toward James, Thomas, and Bear “—would do for one another, but you didn’t have to give your life for ours.”

  “I did,” I tell him, holding his gaze. “I love your daughter, sir, and I couldn’t have looked her in the eye if something had happened to any of you. Her world revolves around her family.”

  He gives me a pained smile. “We’ll always be her family, Pike, but you’re her world now.”

  How does someone respond to something like that? Thank you doesn’t seem right. It’s too monumental from a man who wanted to see me exit her life as quickly as I appeared not too long ago. I have no words. Nothing that can adequately convey how I feel.

  “Izzy’s going to have my balls,” James tells Thomas, cracking his neck toward the door. “I told her I’d avoid killing someone this trip.”

  “Never make those kinds of promises, brother. I’ve told you this,” Thomas chastises him, shrugging it off.

  They’re still two scary motherfuckers. Family or not, my ass is never crossing them. Never.

  “You better get your woman under control,” Bear orders, and just like that, everyone’s forgotten I’m a bloody mess.

  19

  Gigi

  “Your life is like a goddamn soap opera,” Tamara quips as we stand in the parking lot of the apartment. “I’m almost jealous.”

  I turn to her, narrowing my eyes. “You’re an asshole. This shit isn’t fake, Tamara. Pike could’ve died.”

  She frowns, glancing down at her sandals. “I know. I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  My body’s buzzing, and every second that passes, I find it more impossible to stand still. “It’s fine. I know you were scared for him too.”

  She was too. She loves Pike just as much as I do. Not in the same way, but he’s grown on her. At first, she wasn’t convinced he was a one-woman man. It’s not like I have the best track record when it comes to relationships. I probably would’ve thought the same thing if I were in her shoes.

  “They here yet?” Austin asks, coming up behind us, hair a mess because he’s just crawled out of bed.

  I shake my head, turning back to the street and seeing nothing. “They’ll be here any minute. Dad said they were at the light.”

  “Ever feel like you need an epic adventure?” Tamara asks, earning herself another glare.

  “Are you for real?”

  She shrugs, giving me a smile. “My life is so boring. Like, if white paint had a life, the shade would be Tamara.”

  I giggle because the stupidity of her statement is too much for me. “You’re…”

  “TamTam, I can brighten your world,” Austin offers, sliding his arm around her shoulder. “Just give me a shot.”

  “When you become a badass biker man, give me a call,” she teases, elbowing him in the ribs. “Read my shirt, kid. Nothing else needs to be said.”

  “Tattooed boys are my favorite toys,” he says slowly, ogling her chest more than the stark-white lettering. “Gigi can tattoo me tomorrow.” He smiles, winking at her. “I got you.”

  She rolls her eyes and groans. “It’s a way of life, Aussie, not a decoration. There’s nothing sexier than a man covered in ink, riding a Harley,” she sighs. “Am I right?”

  “Sure. Yeah,” I reply without really listening. I’m too busy staring at the street, waiting for my favorite tattooed boy. “Where are they?”

  Austin’s strong hand is on my shoulder. “They’ll be here. He’s fine,” he reminds me, something he’s been doing for the last twelve hours.

  “I know.” I twist my hands in front of me, shifting from side to side to keep my sanity in check. “But I won’t believe it until I see him with my own eyes.”

  Suddenly, the roar of dozens of motorcycles fills the air, and we all lift our heads, watching as the motorcade enters the apartment complex.

  “Holy fuck!” Tamara yells.

  “It’s like the president has arrived,” Austin jokes over my shoulder.

  “Damn,” I whisper, seeing James’s SUV surrounded by bikes, progressing at a steady pace in the middle. I hold my breath as time seems to move slower than usual.

  I’ve never been a patient person, but standing here now, waiting to see Pike again, feels like torture. The ground rumbles under my feet as the line of bikes stops near the curb.

  “Breathe, Gigi!” Austin yells in my ear, reaching forward to hold my hand.

  I squeeze his fingers, sucking in a deep breath before I pass out as I release them.

  Calm down. He’s fine.

  I don’t remember the last time I was this excited and petrified at the same time. Probably never.

  When the black SUV rolls to a stop in front of me, I take a step forward, shaking out my hands and the fear that’s been plaguing me.

  My dad is the first one out, rounding the SUV, barely making eye contact. “Hey, baby,” he whispers. “Now, don’t panic.”

  “Don’t panic?” I jerk my head back, widening my eyes. “What’s that mean?”

  “Oh, dear God,” Tamara whispers. “That’s never good.”

  She’s always quick with the uplifting comments. Bitch.

  Dad smiles, touching my cheek gently. “He’s fine. He doesn’t look great, and I don’t want you to freak out.”

  I shrug off my father’s touch and take off toward the SUV. My fingers shake as I grip the handle, flinging the door open. The flinch is immediate. The gasp is next.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, tears filling my eyes at the horror of his battered face and the happiness of him making it home.

  “Missed you too, darlin’,” he drawls, turning slowly to swing his jeans-covered legs out of the truck.

  I want to rush forward, pepper his face with kisses, but I can’t seem to move. It’s like I’m frozen to the ground, the reality of what happened written all over his face.

  “Baby,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I cover my mouth.

  “You said I was pretty, Joe. She doesn’t seem too impressed with my makeover,” Pike laughs as his boots touch the ground.

  “I tried to prepare her.” Dad shrugs.

  “Didn’t work,” Pike tells him, grimacing as he straightens and starts to take a step.

  I move forward, reaching for him. “Can I touch you?” I ask.

  He nods, giving me a smile. “I’m not going to break.”

  “It looks like you’re already broken, yo,” Tamara, the comedian, taunts.

  “Ignore her,” I groan, but Pike’s smile never falters.

  “I am, but I’ve never been happier to be alive,” Pike confesses, holding me close with one arm.

  “We’re going to go,” Dad says, watching as I help Pike up on to the sidewalk.

  “What about them?” Austin ticks his chin toward the bikers.

  “They’ll be nearby for the night.”

  I lift my gaze, finding Morris planted on the front bike, watching us. I smile at him, happy as hell he’s here. He immediately sends a wink back my way.

  Pike turns, taking me with him. “Joe?”

>   “Yeah?”

  “Thank you,” Pike says simply.

  My dad looks at me and then toward Pike. “No thank-yous are needed for family, kid.”

  I gape at him, wondering what in the hell happened to change his attitude. I get Pike almost died, but it sure as hell wasn’t the first time. Dad wasn’t all kumbaya after the shootout at the Disciples’ compound. Granted, Pike didn’t look like absolute shit then either.

  “That was some crazy shit right there,” Tamara says, blinking at my father like she thinks she must’ve been hearing things too.

  “We went through a lot,” Pike tells us. “More shit than I’ll ever tell you.”

  I grab a better hold of his belt loop, careful not to put too much pressure on his ribs. “I want to know everything.”

  He shakes his head. “Some things are better left unsaid, darlin’.”

  “Our place or hers?” Austin asks, walking slowly at his brother’s other side.

  Pike glances over, smiling at his little brother. “Ours. I want my bed and my girl tonight.”

  Amen.

  I tuck my hand under my cheek, trying to hold back the tears. “I was so scared, baby. So, so scared.”

  “Come here,” he breathes, motioning for me to scoot closer.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.”

  I move an inch closer, but still far enough away I don’t cause his side of the bed to move.

  “Darlin’, I need you against me.” He smiles.

  “You’re all…” I motion to his bare chest with my hand, wincing.

  “I know, but you can’t hurt me any more than I already am. Just come here and stop being so stubborn.”

  I snort, pushing myself up on my elbow. “I’m not stubborn.”

  He reaches up, brushing my hair away from my face with his fingers. “I thought I’d never see you again.” His eyes search my face, and I do my best not to cry, but fail. “Don’t cry again,” he pleads.

  “I’m a mess,” I groan, wiping my cheek on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  I’ve cried more tears today than yesterday. Every time I looked at him, a fresh wave would overtake me. His swollen eyes and bruised jaw are a constant reminder of everything he went through.