Ink (The Haven Series)

by Torrie McLean

  And with that, he left them to it. Veronica turned to Michael with a bemused little smile.

  “What’s the matter, Michael? You look a little uncomfortable, if you don’t mind me saying. Don’t you trust yourself around your friend’s date?”

  “I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you,” he said grimly. “And don’t tempt me to see just how far that is.”

  She feigned shock. “The chivalrous Mr Corsada threatening violence towards a woman – you’ve changed, Michael. Is that little girlfriend of yours proving a handful?”

  “You don’t talk about Callie, all right? Just leave her out of this.”

  “Callie ... Pretty name. But where have I heard it before?” Veronica mused, cocking her head on one side thoughtfully. “Callie, Callie, Callie ... Oh, yes, I remember. My guys took a call at the station from a Callie. Callie Delaney. Hey, that’s your girl’s last name too, isn’t it? Funny coincidence. Still, Haven's not that tiny ...”

  Swallowing the flare of temper along with the remains of the nearly finished drink he’d been nursing, Michael tried not to show she was getting to him. Something he did all the time in police interviews, in court. It was harder with her.

  “So Callie called for me and you didn’t say anything,” he shrugged. “Big deal. Or you filled her head with shit like some vicious teenager--”

  “You really have me all wrong, Michael,” she tutted, re-crossing her long legs. “I’m actually looking out for you here.” She smiled at his scoff as if she’d expected it. “No, really, I am. You see, Michael, I didn’t speak to her. Wasn’t even aware of it until someone mentioned it later, suddenly wondering if it might be important. Because Callie didn’t call for you, honey – she called for your clients.”

  “What?” the confused response was out of him before he could stop it. He didn't understand, even as his mind flitting to his girlfriend’s job, both his clients’ extensive tattoos. But that still didn’t explain why she’d call the station ... And, thrown as he was, his mind didn’t even second-guess where Veronica might be going with this.

  “Now, why do you think your little girlfriend might have been so concerned about a couple of bikers?” she finally continued, after taking pleasure watching him mentally wrestle with the information she’d given him. “Shall I tell you what I think?” she offered, her voice laced with pseudo-sweetness until it turned to lash out spitefully. As sudden as a viper and just as deadly. “I think your precious Callie’s probably spreading her legs for one of them. Which one do you think, Michael? After all, you know her better. Sam with those baby blues, maybe?”

  His stomach lurched, but by now the lawyer’s guarded front had returned. He was just finding the anger harder to contain than usual.

  “Shut your filthy mouth, you conniving bitch,” he warned, the fury not quite masked by the confident exterior - to nothing but her seeming amusement. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “No, you’re right. Why would the little slut choose when she could have both of them? I hear those boys like to share ...”

  ***

  Michael winced at the memory and swallowed another mouthful of whiskey. He remembered storming out of there, past a gawping Stefan, but the rest of the night was a haze. A painful, messy haze.

  He didn’t know why the hell he’d even listened to that scheming bitch, let alone been stupid enough to let her get to him like that. Callie was the only one that mattered and he trusted her. So he’d go round there, see her, talk to her.

  Then maybe the pounding in his head would stop.

  ***

  CHAPTER 20

  “Sooo ... you two get it out of your system then?”

  Callie froze in the middle of sketching her latest design – a pixie, albeit a beautifully artistic one, for the chick Sketch had off-loaded onto her as part of her ‘punishment’ for bunking off. She should have seen this coming.

  “Dunno what you mean,” she tried, pushing a stray lock of hair back from her eyes as she looked up. Her long ponytail falling over one shoulder and a look she hoped was suitably confused and not too defensive plastered on her face.

  Knowing brown eyes surveyed her from across the room, arms folding across that broad chest. As was his wont when he knew his speculating was on the money, no matter what he was being told to the contrary.

  “Sure,” Sketch nodded, the smirk already tugging at his lips. “He goes looking for you, I hear jack-shit all night, then he drops you off first thing - come on, kid, it ain’t exactly rocket science. Although I’m guessing there was a biology lesson in there somewhere ...”

  Dropping her pencil with a sigh, Callie reached for her takeaway coffee and swallowed a mouthful of the now lukewarm latte before giving a little shrug. “Fine,” she said quietly, playing self-consciously with the cardboard cup instead of looking at him as she broke her own non-disclosure rule. “I slept with Colton. Satisfied?”

  “Are you?” he shot back. The question was serious rather than flippant though.

  She knew he wasn’t trying to pry, could follow the thought processes firing in his brain and appreciated that it came from concern rather than simple interfering.

  “You don’t have to worry, Sketch,” Callie said, managing a small smile for him. “I got no delusions about this. It just ... happened. And that’s it.”

  “A one-time thing?”

  “Two, if ya want to get technical,” she tried to joke, cheeks flushing just a little at the confession. “But yeah. It’s done. Don’t look at me like that, Sketch. I’m cool with it, honestly.”

  “Cal, darlin’,” he sighed, wandering over to sit down on a stool beside her and sling an arm around her shoulders. “I know you. You ain’t some club slut and--”

  “No, you’re right,” she interrupted him, misunderstanding. “I’m not. And it’s not like I’m planning on making a habit of this. I’m not gonna start hanging round the clubhouse, getting on my knees for Sam or Will or whatever one of them clicks his damn fingers first!”

  “That ain’t what I meant!” Sketch protested. “I’m just saying you ain’t the type to ... not get attached. I just don’t wanna see you get hurt, doll.”

  Callie realised the truth in that and eased up, leaning in to bump her shoulder against his gratefully. “I know. And I love that you care, you know I do,” she said softly. “But I will be okay. I’m not a little girl. And I’m not kidding myself that it meant anything or that anything’s gonna come of it.”

  “What about this boyfriend of yours?” Sketch asked, his arm still wrapped around her and all pretence of getting any work done abandoned. At the feel of her head dropping onto his shoulder, he heaved another sigh to see her so obviously struggling with it all. “Oh, darlin’ ...”

  “Don’t start making excuses for me,” she warned, blinking back the threatening tears. “When it comes to sleeping with Colton, I’m the one in the wrong here. Things with Michael ... aren’t perfect. But that doesn’t give me the right to do what I did and I’m not exactly feeling proud of myself right now. I cheated, Sketch. And we both know if it had been the other way round, you’d be ready to kick his ass for me.”

  He knew that was true and then some. But double-standard or not, she was his friend – not this Michael. And she was the one he didn’t want beating herself up over a guy he really couldn’t get his head around her being with in the first place. “You thinking about telling him?”

  She bit her lip and then nodded. “It’s over, Sketch. I don’t think it ever really started.”

  “So you and Colt hook up and the day after you’re breaking up with your boyfriend?” he asked, the gentleness of the hand that reached out to smooth her rumpled hair taking any sting out of the question that was more an observation.

  “I know what you’re thinking. But Colt’s not the reason, just the ... the catalyst. This is something I need to do – for me ...”

  The pair looked up, startled out of their conversation by the familiar jingle of the
wind-chimes on the door, and Sketch quickly recognised the visitor as Callie’s next appointment. Biting back irritation at the distraction and greeting the bubbly redhead with a grin. The shop wasn’t going to run itself and he didn’t have Sam’s particular brand of customer service on offer at that moment in time.

  “Natalie,” he drawled in welcome. “You came back, doll. Come in, come in.”

  “Naturally,” she said, her smile a flirtatious little glimmer of mischief that played across her full lips. “I’m real excited actually and I know you’ll be gentle with me.”

  “Actually, darlin’, I can go one better than that,” Sketch told her, standing up and pulling Callie with him, watching as the two girls sized each other up with polite smiles on their faces. “Meet our resident cherry-popping ink expert. Natalie, this is Callie – Callie, your pixie-loving client Natalie.”

  “Hey,” Callie nodded easily, raising a hand in greeting and getting ignored in return as Natalie turned a pout on Sketch.

  “I think I preferred your other blonde friend.”

  ***

  “Well, well, if it ain’t the dirty stop-out.”

  Seeing Colton was choosing to ignore the good-natured jibe he’d thrown at him, Sam simply smirked and signalled with a whistle to the prospect behind the bar – the young man scurrying with ready obedience to fetch him a cold beer – and then threw himself into the chair opposite.

  “Still gonna tell me ya ain’t tappin’ that that sweet ass?” he grinned, raking a hand through the blonde spikes of his hair. Getting more silence and a dark look in response. “I’ll take that as my answer. All I can say is about fucking time, buddy. You two been jonesing for each other for too damn long. Listen, you talked to Will since you got back yet?”

  “Came by to check in,” Colton supplied, downing the last of his own drink as he glanced towards the closed door of the office. “But he’s been holed up for the last coupla hours, reaching out to our allies mostly.”

  “Chip find something on Corsada?”

  “Ain’t heard shit, man. You worried?”

  Sam sat back as he reached in the pocket of his cut for a packet of smokes and a lighter, offering one to his brother before sparking up and taking a long drag. “Dunno,” came the eventual response as he exhaled slowly. “Maybe.” Clear blue eyes scanned the clubhouse, clocked the small handful of bodies round the pool table – couple of his brothers, a few girls – and the prospect now cleaning glasses behind the bar. No one in earshot, although he lowered his voice anyway. “This shit with the lawyer ... I got a bad feelin’, Colt, and if the shit hits the fan, it’s our asses first in the fucking firing line.”

  “So you think he’s a rat?” Colton asked, leaning across the table in his intensity. His fists clenched at the thought of a betrayal from the one person they were, if not trusting, then at least depending on to get them out of this shit.

  “It ain’t him I’m worried about,” Sam confessed grimly. “It’s Will.”

  “Will?” Colton echoed, frowning at what the president’s right-hand man had just laid out before him. “Christ, man ...”

  “Not like that, shithead. It ain’t a trust issue. I just don’t like where his head’s at with this. It’s too soon after Taylor.”

  For a long time, that steely face opposite betrayed no further flicker of a reaction. But Sam waited, trusting Colton to methodically work through this in his own head rather than jumping in at the deep end.

  He’d thought about it long and hard himself before choosing to put his fears out there, even to the closest of his brothers. And he realised wryly that he was probably the only person who’d turn to the notorious hitman in such circumstances, amid the very real chance that concern would merely be read as disloyalty.

  But, for all his capabilities, Colton was much more intelligent than he was sometimes given credit for. Not that anyone thought he was stupid, but it was easy to see how they had come to expect him to rely on violence as the answer to any problem. And Sam knew that wasn’t the case.

  The club’s resident gun for hire was capable of ... almost anything. He did what was needed for the good of his brothers, for the MC family. He could be cold, calculating and even cruel. But not reckless. Never reckless. Colton’s way of dealing with an issue was a last resort – not the first solution.

  And then there it was. Sam’s answer from the man who knew him best.

  “Too soon for him? Or too soon for you?”

  FLASHBACK

  “Gather round, boys!” Will hollered, beckoning with his free hand as the other dragged the crying young woman to her knees by the hair. Even the too-jovial tone of his booming voice didn’t manage to hide the bitterness and anguish underneath. “You’re the ones this little bitch wanted to ruin, so it’s only right you hear this. Ain’t that right, Taylor?”

  But her sobs had simply faded to shocked hitching whimpers and she neither answered him nor looked up. Until he wrenched that dark hair painfully, forcing her head up and making her cry out again. Her hands flew to try to ease the tugging on her scalp, before then breaking her fall as he shoved her hard back towards the ground.

  The president was already breathing heavily, hands fisted by his sides as he rounded on his men in the near darkness. His usually warm brown eyes were now hard and flashing with anger and betrayal.

  “This could have been it,” he thundered. “All of us forced to choose between going out in a fucking hail of federal bullets or facing life behind bars. This club finished, other charters at risk, families torn apart. And all because of, not just someone I should have been able to trust, but my own goddamn flesh and blood. That I ever allowed her to be in a position to do this to us is something I’ll carry on my shoulders to my grave, but it ends here.”

  “Will--” his VP tried, only to be completely ignored and left exchanging glances with Sam. The tense sergeant stood with Jake, his arms folded across his chest.

  “The Fallen Brothers do not tolerate acts of treachery,” Will continued, raising his voice over the brief attempt at an interruption. “By patches or by those close to them. No exceptions. Her standing as my ... daughter ...” His voice cracked slightly over the word and those around him shifted uncomfortably. “It only makes the betrayal run all the deeper.”

  The young woman’s head came up at that, finding her voice through the fear as she turned on him. Trying to stumble to her feet, a dangerous glint returned to the brown eyes that were so like his own. “You fucking hypocrite!” Taylor half-screamed, half-sobbed. Her hair was falling over her tear-stained face, road dust on her hands and clothes. “You always loved this club more than me. Why should I play the dutiful daughter if you’re never going to just be my father!”

  For a long moment, the president stood there looking stunned and his men were left wondering if the harsh words would hit home. Make him stop this before it was too late.

  Slowly, he crouched down beside where she’d fallen on her knees again. A hand reached out to caress her cheek as a fleeting look of regret flared in his eyes. But then it was gone again and those strong fingers had wrapped lightning-quick around her slim throat, making her gasp and choke. “Liar,” he hissed.

  And instead of more tears or pleas, his daughter’s face turned venomous despite her struggle to breathe. “W-what can I s-say?” she managed to sneer. “I had a g-good ... teacher.”

  “How could I have been so wrong about you?” Will bit out, recoiling from her. “I thought you were always going to be my little girl. But you’re just like your whore of a mother.”

  “I’m nothing like her,” Taylor said, rubbing her throat as he released her. “She let you ruin her life. At least I tried to make sure you didn’t do the same to me. So come on then, daddy, be the big man. Deal with me. What are you gonna do? Burn off my ink? Brand me a traitor for everyone to see? Carve it in my fucking forehead? Come on!”

  Her voice rose almost hysterically again. Despite the front, the years of secret bitterness, she seemed to know s
he was dangerously close to reverting to a scared little girl again. She knew what these men were capable of but, despite everything, the fact that she was still his daughter must still have felt like her only saving grace.

  The only pangs of guilt she’d ever seemed to feel had been for the undying love she knew he had for her. But as far as she was concerned, it was just too bad he loved the club more.

  Then she saw the glance towards his trusted sergeant-at-arms.

  “The Fallen have always had a certain way of dealing with those who cross us. An eye for an eye, you might say. A life for a life,” Will said grimly, addressing his words, not to the woman on the ground, but to his watching brothers. “My daughter turned on us, knowing what her actions would mean. She tried to cut the very heart out of this club.”

  “Jesus Christ ...” Sam heard Jake mutter beside him, as a murmur rippled through the clearing. Where this was going was slowly starting to dawn on everyone, even as the girl herself turned deathly pale and Will signalled to his enforcer before grabbing her arm as she made to run. Even her terror failed to give her the strength to match his.

  “Will!” Johnny tried again. “This ain’t right, man. As VP, I’m telling you we can’t just do this! We ... we need to at least vote. As a club. This shit’s bigger than just you.”

  “He’s right,” Jake added shakily, getting cut off by the roar of frustration Sam recognised for what it was. Fear that if he didn’t get this over with, he wouldn’t be able to see it through. “We take it to the table ...”

  “No!” Will shouted. “No, if we do this, we do it here and now. We didn’t need a goddamn vote to send Colt after Walker and I say yay to punishing anyone who turns on my club - yay to having our sergeant cut her devious heart out! So come on, VP, where do your loyalties lie? Yay or nay?”