“She’s my sister.”
I wipe the blood and excess ink then dip my needle as my mind goes to Dover. Does he have a memorial for Raleigh? Is that what he wants me to ink on him tonight? I don’t even need a picture; I can still see her face so clearly.
The yellow bow on my wrist catches my attention. I feel like I can see my pulse pounding under it. I shake my head. No way can I give him a tattoo of her.
“People don’t think about the bond and burden I feel as an older brother,” the man replies as I fight my own history. “I’m her protector. I couldn’t protect her from this. I didn’t even see it coming. Cancer, the invisible predator. It kills more than just the prey it attacks. It kills whole families. We’ll never be the same without her.”
“I know that feeling,” I reply as I continue working.
After four hours, with a handful of breaks for him and my wrist, I clean him up, goop him, and cover the fresh tattoo.
As I walk him out, there is no hiding when Dover Ragnes enters the front door with five other huge guys all looking like they could swallow me whole without blinking, Dover included.
The seventeen-year-old boy I remember is now all man, and a badass at that. He is tall but not the tallest in his group. His short, dark hair is in a military style haircut, while the others in his group go from man bun sporting long hair to buzz cut. He’s in well-worn dark wash jeans with black motorcycle boots. The black T-shirt fits him like a second skin, and the man has seriously bulked up from the scrawny boy he once was. Tall and lanky is now filled out and fuckably fit.
My heart races. This is not the reaction I expected to have from seeing him. All these years of anger, rage, and hurt have suddenly turned to lust, passion, laced with the underlying pain.
I keep my head down and stick to my business, trying to ignore the shift of energy in the room at my presence amongst all of these men. I lick my suddenly dry lips and pull the aftercare paperwork for my client.
“Here ya go, Todd.” I give him the papers and a sample of ointment. “Let it heal up, and then we can go back in and build the side pieces around it. You’ll have about three more sessions, I think. Maybe two, depending on the length of time we have together.”
“Thanks Sonnie,” he says, taking the papers from my hand with a smile and heading out.
“Sonnie’s a girl, hot damn,” the shortest of the men with Dover states.
I look at his leather cut and see his road name is Trapper.
So Dover Ragnes has lined himself up with a motorcycle gang. I have seen my fair share of them in and out of the shop over the years. Bikers have never scared me. On the contrary, they intrigue me. I like the idea of not being held back. After so many years confined, anything that screams freedom to me is appealing.
I scan their cuts, looking for the outlaw diamond. The patch that has one percent in the middle of a diamond, letting the whole world know they are the one percent of bikers who live life over the line of the law. I don’t see the diamond, but they aren’t covered in the usual rally patches or position patches, either.
Dover steps up to the counter. The only thing between us is four feet of wooden counter space. I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look up to meet his gaze. I force myself to stay busy in paperwork.
“You free?” he asks. His voice is deep with a sexy scratch to his tone that has me wondering if he sounds like that first thing in the morning.
“No,” I reply sharply.
“I don’t mean to get married, just to put some ink on me and my boys.” He makes a low whistle. “Although, if you’re free for a fuck, I’ll be happy to oblige.” His southern drawl drips off every word.
The challenge is laid out, and I’m not one to back down. My pulse quickens as I fight to keep my breathing steady.
Lifting my head slowly, I lock my brown eyes onto his iris depths. I pause only momentarily to remind myself those aren’t her eyes looking back at me.
“I’m a lesbian,” I say with a smirk.
“Shit, that’s fucking hot. Can we watch?” Trapper pipes up while Dover stares at me.
Fuck, he recognizes me.
Dover doesn’t say a single word. He stands across from me, smelling all male, looking all male, and my body is crying out to see just how much of a man he’s grown into.
Iris eyes study mine. A hand comes up. The moment Dover touches me, I fight my instincts to pull back as electricity zips through me so fast. He holds my chin in his forefinger and thumb.
I keep my features still as he continues looking for something; I’m just not sure what. His fingers are rough, the hands of a working man, against my soft facial skin.
“Nah, darlin’, nothing about you says lesbian. You love cock. I see the fire in those eyes. The flakes of gold are the flames of desire dancing.”
When I lift my hand and grab his wrist, his eyes drop to my tiny hand. My tattoo exposed, I see him stop breathing for a moment before he steadies himself and brings his eyes back to mine.
“Sonnie,” Earl says, coming up behind me. “Meet the fellas of the Devil’s Due MC.”
“Collector, meet Sonnie.”
Still keeping my face held up with his fingers, he doesn’t move his eyes from mine as he whispers my name, and I fight back my emotions. “Emerson.”
He will not break me.
“Sonnie, I’m Sonnie. Emerson was left in a culvert when she was nine years old, alongside her best friend. You can call me Sonnie.”
Chapter Five
~Dover~
“No fucking way,” Judge says from behind me.
No fucking way is right. What the hell have I walked into? Emerson Flint is my every fucking fantasy living and breathing right in front of me. She is the dark-haired, inked-up beauty in my dreams. On the flipside of the same coin, she is also my every reminder of the nightmare that never ends.
“Smoke break,” I call out to the boys. “When we get back inside, be ready; you have some ink to do,” I order her.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. Fucking Emerson Flint has grown from a small girl in pigtails and skirts to a bombshell woman.
I look around at the shop and still can’t believe, of all the places she could be, it’s here. I know it’s been a while since I have stopped in, but how did Emerson find her way to Earl’s? The last time I was in Cloverville, her parents had put out a missing persons report for her as an eighteen-year-old runaway. Only, she wasn’t missing, and she was an adult who had decided to live her life after years of not being allowed a single freedom. It was all my fault, too. My seventeen-year-old mind making decisions for my cock had impacted everyone around me by getting Raleigh killed.
She moves her lips into a half-grin of defiance. “I don’t take orders well, Dover.” She draws out my name. “I’ll be ready when I get ready.”
“It’s Collector, Emerson.”
She gives me a humph. “Well, Dover, when you learn it’s Sonnie, I’ll learn it’s Collector. Until then, I have shit to get ready if I’m gonna have to ink you and your boys.”
Her indifference frustrates me. She’s starting to turn away when I reach out and grab her ink-filled arm, stopping her.
“Darlin’, you should know I get off on a challenge. Watch yourself.”
I hear my brothers let out low whistles and half laughs as she jerks her arm free, and we go back and forth.
She cocks a hand on her hip, never losing eye contact. “You’re here for ink. I’ll be ready when I get ready. The more we sit here and go tit for tat, the longer that’s gonna take.” She eyes me up and down. When she reaches out a hand to touch my face, I grab her wrist, stopping her. The fire in her eyes taunts me. If she touches me, I don’t know if I could ever let her go. She only smirks before continuing, “Last I checked, I got tits, and I got tats, so baby, you should know I’m gonna win.”
I release her and back up without turning away. “Smoke break. Be ready when we get back in, Emerson.” With my eyes on hers, she doesn’t break the stare, but
I see an emotion I can’t read behind her brown flakes.
I keep walking backward without letting her off the hook. I’m waiting for her to say something, do something. She only stares. Just when I think I can call this round a victory, she stops me once again as I hit the front door.
“Anything for Raleigh is off limits, Dover.”
Hearing Emerson say her name hits me straight in the gut. She turns and hurries to the back before I can reply.
I step outside where the boys are all on alert and waiting for an explanation or instructions for our next move. This trip has landed us on my case, so it’s my call what we do and how we do it. When their time comes, they will get to be in charge of how we handle their individual situations. We have each taken the time to brief each other on our pasts. It’s by chance this may be my time to solve my case. Then again, we have run into dead leads before, and this could be nothing. Either way, wherever we go, we try to bring justice to one family.
I pull out my pack of smokes and run the cigarette under my nose, inhaling the scent of the tobacco and menthol. Then I put the golden filter between my lips before pulling out my lighter. I don’t speak. I can’t find the words, anyway. They all know the name Emerson, and no one says a single word as they each pull out their own cigarettes or pace aimlessly, like Deacon and Judge who don’t have a nicotine addiction.
The flame hits the dry grass and paper, and I inhale deeply. The smoke fills my mouth, my lungs, and my insides relax as I take in the drag. I exhale out of my nose, letting the burn of the smoke hit my nostrils.
Emerson Flint is just inside the building, waiting for me. How long did she wait for my sister?
I try to shake off the thoughts. I can’t.
Raleigh’s best friend—the two were inseparable—is somehow back in my life. Only a door and room separate us physically. Yet, emotionally, we are miles apart. The yellow ribbon inked on her wrist tells me she hasn’t let go any more than I have, the yellow ribbon that haunts everyone Raleigh left behind.
Mentally, I kick myself in the ass once again. If only I could turn back the hands of time, I wouldn’t have pushed Raleigh out that day. Since then, my life has been one mistake after another, trying to find my place as the world keeps on spinning.
None of us have been the same. My parents never overcame the grief and eventually divorced with my mom staying in the house to wallow in her loss until she finally passed away of a broken mother’s heart. My dad hit the road as a truck driver and never looked back. The only person at my college graduation was Gretchen. She took her role as my keeper seriously. Stand by her man, Gretchen did that more than anyone could have imagined.
Gretchen and I tried to make a go of things through my loss. She even stood by me through the crazy hours I kept as a cop. She never could get through to my heart, though, and in the end, being by my side alone wasn’t enough for her.
She now works as a counselor for the elementary school back in Tennessee. I guess, in her own way, she’s trying to do her part to help kids in the community. She’s a good woman, but I never should have tried to have more between us when it simply wasn’t there to begin with.
Me, I tried to do the right thing, follow the path to fix everyone else’s problems. In the end, I made things worse for some, and the good didn’t outweigh the bad.
The foolishness of my youth followed me into adulthood until I finally found my escape. I hit the open road and never looked back. It has taken time, resources, and connections to land us where we are today. This isn’t the first time I followed a lead that ran dead, but it doesn’t mean I will give up. The man who took my sister, the man who has had his crimes go unpunished for far too long, could be here. He could be here with Emerson, and that thought alone has my stomach churning. The situation was bad before, but now I can’t help feeling it has become dire.
An old, rusty Dodge pickup rolls to a stop in front of the shop. The man who gets out is in khakis, a light blue button up shirt, and glasses with his hair styled to one side. He’s very clean cut and even carries a man satchel bag thing that has Trapper laughing out loud. He looks down as he walks past us and goes inside the shop.
The energy radiating off of him is intense. His body language and refusal to make eye contact makes his insecurity obvious. Everything about him fuels something deep inside me. I believe in following my gut. Only, I have never had this intense of a reaction before. Could it be the connection to my past? Is he the man I have been looking for? Maybe this is all too close to home for me, finding Emerson here.
“No fucking way,” Judge repeats his earlier statement as he watches the pretty boy walk behind the counter and to the back. Judge drops his tone. “There is no fucking way that peon is Randy Jones or whatever the hell his real name is.”
I take another drag off my cigarette and try to calm the storm raging inside me. Emerson Flint is just beyond my reach, and the man who quite possibly killed my little sister and many others is in the same fucking building. There is a primal urge inside me to rush in and toss Emerson over my shoulder and drag her out.
“Don’t do it,” X warns, reading me like a book. “That one has fire in those eyes for real. She’ll kick, scratch, and cut your nuts off if you don’t proceed with caution.”
I take another drag off my cigarette, ignoring him. Instead of speaking, I turn and look inside the glass front door where Emerson has made her way back up front to answer the phone. I watch the little girl I once knew who is now long gone. In her place stands a woman with long, black hair braided to the side and tied off with a fucking yellow ribbon. She is in a black tank top that shows an intricate, full-sleeve tattoo with yellow tulips dancing down her arm from shoulder to wrist. Between each bud is another item, a milestone maybe; I’m not sure from this distance. She looks up, and her eyes meet mine. The Monroe piercing above her lip shines as she tips her mouth up into a half-smile of challenge.
“Game fucking on,” I mutter, tossing down my cigarette and stomping it out onto the concrete.
“Don’t do it,” X warns again. “Focus, fucker. We aren’t here to see how wound up your little sister’s best friend can make you.”
I glare at my brother.
“She can wind me up,” Trapper says, eyeing me for a reaction.
I give him one without even stopping to think about my actions or emotions. I wrap my hands around his throat, and I slam him into the unforgiving brick wall.
“She’s off limits,” I growl, choking him.
He doesn’t reach up and grab my wrists to pull me off. No, the fucker smiles at me as his face reddens in need for air.
I release him when the door opens and out walks Emerson Flint, watching me before coming to a stop right in front of me.
I turn to face her, releasing my friend, and she stands toe to toe with me. Inhaling, I can smell the citrus of her perfume. Then I reach out and twist the bottom of her braid in my fingers as her chest rises and falls dramatically. With her hand on the curve of her luscious hip, I see her fight to keep her composure under my scrutiny as I eye her from top to toe in appreciation.
When I untie the yellow ribbon at the end, her hand comes up to stop me. She looks over her shoulder back inside the building.
“Look, Earl’s been good to me. For him, I’ll be professional. After the job is done, you and your boys ride out and don’t look back. It’s been a long time, Dover.” She pauses then makes sure to meet my stare before she continues, “Unfortunately, it hasn’t been long enough.”
The guys laugh around me as she issues her verbal assault on my pride.
Reaching up, I cup her small chin in both of my large hands then tip her face up to make her maintain eye contact as I stand straight up to my full height and step forward to cage her feet between mine. I press my body into hers, towering over her small frame, then lean down and whisper, “Darlin’, this is just the beginning. A new beginning. Me and my boys aren’t about to ride anywhere until we’re done with what we came here to do. Sit back, s
it tight, and baby, hold the fuck on, because I’m not going away until I am damn sure ready.”
When she moves to grab my cut and put space between us, I step away before she can touch me.
“See ya inside,” I say, brushing by her while she remains unmoving, taking it all in.
Chapter Six
~Emerson~
They move as a single unit, each man falling in line.
I shake my head, trying to calm my mind and body. Dover Ragnes, a man I never expected to see again. Only, he’s here, playing some sort of fucked up, twisted game with me.
Why?
I want to scream. I want to throw something. Hell, I even want to be a fucking girl and cry.
I won’t. No, Dover Ragnes will not have the satisfaction of breaking me.
Balling my hands into fists at my side, I inhale deeply. “You can’t break something that’s already crumbled,” I whisper to myself before unclenching my fists and walking inside with an extra sway to my hips. If he wants to play a game, well, buddy, it’s on.
“All right, boys,” I say, making my way behind the counter. “I don’t have time to do each of ya today-.”
“I’ll make it quick. Hot as you are and tight as I bet your cunt is, I’ll blow my load in two minutes flat,” Trapper says with a smirk.
Without thinking, I reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him over the counter toward me. “I said I’d be professional for Earl. Since that’s not how you fellas want to have it, well, let me just say here, Mr. Trapper, I don’t think you could even last two seconds.” I lean in, letting my breath come down hot on his neck. “Matter of fact, I think one flick of my tongue against the soft but hard flesh of your cock and you would blow like a mother fucking volcano.”
He winks at me, only pissing me off more.
I nibble at his ear lobe then hear Dover slam his fist into the counter.
Playing with fire, I continue to tease his friend. “I bet you’re so hard right now, if I merely freed your dick, you would be dripping in salty pre-come.”
In The Red: Nomad Bikers (Devil's Due MC Book 1) Page 4
