Miles (Highway Reapers MC): Inked Hearts

by West, Heather

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he struggled over to the reception desk and leaned against it so that he was standing beside her. Gina had expected him to smell like stale liquor and dried blood but instead he smelt of oil and shampoo. Fresher than she’d thought he would be.

  “If we start on it right now I can finish your sleeve today,” Gina informed him briskly, heading towards the treatment room before he had a chance to respond.

  “You’re bossy. I like that,” he commented saucily as he hobbled after her. Gina did pause to hold the door open for him.

  “What if the cops find you here?” Gina asked as she started gathering together her tools. She was actually looking forward to working on the guy’s sleeve. It would provide a much needed distraction from all her frantic thoughts. She kept worrying about Brea and Sylar, hoping that they were both okay.

  “They won’t do anything,” the guy told her confidently.

  “You sure about that?” Gina was wiping down his arm which was surprisingly wound free compared to the rest of him.

  “Positive,” he grinned at her. “Cops won’t be giving us any trouble.”

  “Weren’t you a part of that big fight last night?”

  “What gives you that idea?” he laughed.

  “Fine,” Gina huffed and picked up her needle, about to start work on the sleeve.

  “Yes,” he conceded quickly, his voice suddenly threatening to crack. “I was a part of the fight last night. But the cops won’t bother me. Or you. I run the Blood Gang so I basically run this town.”

  “I see,” Gina felt nervous at the gang talk. She’d never wanted to get involved in any of it.

  “You stay on my good side and I can bring you lots of work in here and offer you protection.”

  Gina opened her mouth to protest but he talked over her.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t want to get involved. Talented lady like yourself should be chomping at the prospect to work on so many guys. Think of the cash flow. And I promise that all my guys would pay you a premium rate.”

  Gina clamped her lips together. She’d always remained neutral in gang problems. What this guy was proposing would align her to the Blood Gang. It would put her in the line of fire when the next fight came around. And there was always a next fight. The kind of grudges that existed between the two packs were never settled no matter how much blood was shed.

  “You seem like a nice girl,” he reached out and grabbed her free hand in his. She was startled by the sudden connection but didn’t jump back. “You deserve to be protected,” he added softly.

  Gina blinked back tears. During the night, she’d lay awake, alone in her apartment terrified that someone would come bursting through her front door, that the next screams she heard would be her own. Where was Sylar? He’d been so concerned about Brea but he hadn’t stuck around to make sure Gina was safe.

  “I’d always protect you,” the guy squeezed her hand tightly. Gina looked at him and saw that beneath the bruises and the swelling he’d managed to retain his boyish charm. Handsome eyes sparkled at her and she blushed with understanding. His protection would come at a cost but it was one she would willingly pay.

  “So let’s get this sleeve finished,” Gina sniffed back any tears and focused on the guy’s upper arm.

  “Yes, let’s,” he agreed. “And sweets, call me Hank.”

  “Okay…Hank.”

  “And you’re Gina,” he smiled tenderly at her. “I look forward to us getting more acquainted.”

  Gina blushed. She started to work on the sleeve and tried to push away thoughts of Sylar. If she went with Hank, would she be dishonouring what they had? But then they didn’t even have anything, it wasn’t like they were exclusively dating, just fucking on occasion. And Gina wanted so desperately to feel protected, to feel safe; to feel wanted. Besides, it wasn’t like Sylar was ever going to come back into her life. He’d probably fled town just as Brea had and she’d never see him again.

  The nauseated feeling she’d woken up with flared up again as she worked on the sleeve. On two occasions Gina had to stop and steady herself, fearing she might throw up. But she managed to stay composed and she completed the sleeve. All the while, Hank kept flirting with her so that when they said goodbye and he reached to kiss her, Gina didn’t push him away. Hank placed a strong hand upon her cheek and pulled her lips towards his. He was a surprisingly gentle kisser. Gina melted into the embrace. Hank’s kiss was everything she’d needed – it was soft and reassuring.

  “Until next time,” he promised her huskily as they parted.

  “Yeah,” Gina smiled at him, suddenly feeling all girlish and self conscious. She watched Hank leave, grateful for the new man who had walked into her life.

  Chapter 100

  Brea slept contentedly beside Miles. She felt reassured by the steady, constant beating of his heart, which she could feel through his chest like an unrelenting drum. By the time the early morning sunlight was streaming in beneath the curtains, Brea felt refreshed. She sat up and stretched and for a blissful moment she was happy. She was with Miles and that was all that mattered.

  But then the memories of the previous night crashed against her like a tsunami, threatening to drown her in negative emotions. She remembered how Sylar had walked away from her, had gone to fight a battle which wasn’t even truly his. Why hadn’t he chosen to turn his back on it all like Miles had?

  “Morning,” Miles croaked the greeting, his voice hoarse. A dark shadow of stubble had gathered along his jaw line making him seem even more dangerously sexy.

  “Morning,” Brea pushed away her negative thoughts and leaned down to gently kiss Miles on the lips. As they connected he released a groan of contentment and looped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer to him. Brea wanted to get lost in the moment, in the kiss. But Sylar’s name kept pinging around her head like a bell. It was almost deafening.

  “My brother,” she panted as she pulled back from Miles, seeing his face blanche with disappointment.

  “He made his choice,” Miles sat up, pushing his hands through his hair.

  “I need to know that he’s okay.” Brea wasn’t sure she could live beneath the cloud of uncertainty, which came with not knowing what happened to Sylar. Was he even alive? Or did he died while she blissfully slept? Guilt pressed through her like a rusty blade and Brea cupped a hand to her mouth, suppressing a sob.

  “Brea - ”

  “Can’t you make a call or something?” she pleaded desperately. Good or bad, she had to know what happened to Sylar. She’d never rest unless she knew.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Miles,” Brea wilted, feeling all her happiness drain out of her. How was she supposed to be happy if her brother was dead? If she knew, concretely what happened to him, good or bad, she could at least carry on, could let go. “I need to know. Either way, I need to know.”

  Miles groaned and got out of bed. Her eyes flicked up his bare torso, savouring how she always did, at how amazing he looked.

  “If I call then they will know where we are and they’ll probably come after us,” he warned gravely.

  “But if the fight is over isn’t everything resolved now?” Brea gazed at him with wide eyed innocence.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” he grumbled, heading for the small bathroom. Brea scrambled up and followed him. There had to be something he could do about learning of Sylar’s fate.

  “He’s my brother,” she announced, her heart almost breaking as she considered possibly having to speak about him in the past tense.

  “Maybe everyone died last night,” Miles shrugged, leaning into the tub to turn on the overhead shower. Hot water gushed out, filling the room with steam and almost drowning out his words. “Maybe some people survived,” he continued, his voice level. “Either way, we risk being hunted down and blamed for whatever went down in Colridge. I can’t stress to you enough how dangerous these people are, Brea.”

  “But my brother is one of these people and he�
��d never hurt us.”

  “Are you hurting now?” Miles gave her a long, hard look. “Did his decision last night hurt you?”

  Brea lowered her head as a solitary tear slid down her cheek.

  “Yes,” she replied softly. “He did hurt me.” Which meant that he had the capacity to do so again. But while Sylar might be quick to cast her off she wasn’t about to do the same. They were family and that meant something to Brea.

  “All I want to know is whether hes alive or dead,” she straightened, wiping at her cheek. “Once I know that I’ll let it all go, I promise. We’ll get on your bike and go wherever you want and I’ll never look back. Ever.”

  She could see Miles considering her offer, his expression stern with contemplation.

  “If I do this,” he sighed, “we leave immediately after. We leave the state and we never return. We go down a whole new road together, one which no one can follow us down.”

  Brea felt a thrill of excitement dance down her spine and she edged towards Miles, placing her hands on his bare chest. He shuddered with delight at her touch. The thought of the two of them going off on some grand adventure together was thrilling. It was as if they were about to ride off into the sunset together, to forget all about Sylar and Colridge and forge their own happily ever after.

  “I’ll make one call,” Miles told her sternly. “That’s it. After that we’re gone.”

  “Agreed.” Brea was pushing Miles back, towards the tumbling heat of the shower. As he stepped into the tub, she hastily removed the t-shirt and panties she’d slept in. Miles broke out in a wide grin as she climbed beneath the shower with him. They melted together in a passionate kiss as the water soaked them both. Brea stopped worrying about Sylar and lived only in the moment. That was what she loved most about Miles – his power to make her forget about all the bad stuff she’d lived through and just savour the present. With Miles, she saw the beauty in the sunset, heard the sweet melody in bird song. He gave her an appreciation for life which she assumed had died along with her parents. In Miles’ arms she was truly alive. She just hoped that the same could be said for Sylar, that he wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere slowly bleeding out and questioning all the choices which had led him to his own dark end.

  Chapter 101

  Miles towel dried his hair and pulled on some jeans and a fresh t-shirt. Brea was busy packing up their things.

  “Make sure you head over to the seven eleven,” he reached to his pocket for several ten dollar bills. “Fill our bags with as much as you can.”

  There was a gas station across the street Brea could visit to grab some essentials while he fulfilled his promise to her. There was a pay phone on the parking lot of the motel. Miles was willing to use it but only briefly. He didn’t want to dwell on the line long enough for the call to be traced.

  He watched Brea hurry across the street before entering the pay phone booth. It stank of stale urine and Miles instantly recoiled. But then he steeled himself, knowing that he had to do this to help truly set Brea free once and for all. He read the number from his cell phone and typed it into the pay phone and then dropped a quarter in the relevant slot. It landed within the depths of the pay phone with a dull thud.

  Miles wasn’t sure he was even expecting anyone to answer. Maybe they really were all dead. As sad as that was he’d be relieved. He wouldn’t need to worry about someone stalking their movements across America. He and Brea could live their life without fear. But on the third ring someone picked up and Miles’ heart sank. A male voice said hello, a voice Miles recognised.

  “Colin?”

  “Who’s this?” the voice on the other end of the line demanded. Then it softened as it realised who was calling. “Miles, that you?”

  Miles swallowed uneasily.

  “Yeah, man. It’s me.”

  “Shit,” Colin exhaled. “I didn’t expect to be hearing from you again.”

  “And I didn’t expect you to be answering the main phone at the bar. Where’s my Uncle?”

  “He…he,” something broke in Colin’s voice. “He didn’t make it.”

  Miles leaned against the glass in the phone booth and sighed. He knew this would happen. Going to war with the Reapers was never going to lead to a happy ending, only blood shed.

  “That’s too bad,” Miles stated sadly.

  “And neither did you.”

  Miles stiffened.

  “Because you’re not coming back, are you?” Colin added, lowering his voice. Miles glanced across the street at the store and shook his head to himself.

  “No,” he confirmed. “I’m never coming back.”

  “So we’ll just say you died along with the others. You’re a good guy, Miles. You always have been. We’ll do this for you.”

  “We?”

  “Me and Hank,” Colin gave a dry laugh. “We’re running the Blood Gang now, can you believe it?”

  “Seriously?” Miles was momentarily stunned. Leadership of the pack had always been promised to him by his Uncle. But now Deacon was gone and so was Miles. The pack should be claimed by guys like Colin and Hank, guys who would always be loyal to Blood Gang.

  “Hey, man, that’s awesome for you guys,” Miles congratulated him.

  “Thanks. We’ll see how it pans out.”

  “So last night, things got ugly?”

  “Yeah,” Colin breathed softly, his voice sounding fragile as though it might break any second. “Things got real ugly. You’re better off out of it.”

  Miles coughed and cleared his throat. For so long he’d been part of this gang; It had formed a large part of his identity. The pack had been his family and now he was truly being released from it all. He’d no longer be running, he’d just be living.

  “I appreciate you doing this for me,” he told Colin sincerely.

  “It might not be best for the pack,” Colin admitted, “but it’s best for you and I can see that. I want to be the kind of guy who will always be able to see that.”

  “I’m sure you will be.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You need to stay level headed to balance Hank out.”

  This made Colin laugh heartily. “He definitely does need reigning in, doesn’t he?”

  Miles noticed Brea returning from the store, carrying two plastic bags of groceries.

  “Look, before I go, there’s one thing I need to know. Did my girl’s brother make it? His name is Sylar, he runs with the Reapers”

  “You mean he’s running the Reapers,” Colin stiffly corrected him.

  “Seriously?”

  “A lot of changes went down last night,” Colin sighed. “I’m still getting my head around them all. But yeah, my intel tells me that Sylar is now the head honcho over at the rival gang with some guy with a scarred up face.”

  Smith.

  “And like I said, the Blood Gang won’t be causing you any trouble in the future. But I can’t say the same for the Reapers. He might come looking for his sister.”

  “Let him come,” Miles growled. “He’d have to catch us first.”

  “Good luck out there.”

  “Thanks, man. You too.” Miles listened as the line went dead and then slowly hung up. Brea was peering anxiously at him through the glass, her eyes wide with desperation.

  “So?” she prompted before Miles had barely had a chance to come out.

  “Your brother is fine,” Miles told her as he began swiftly returning to their motel room. He wanted to put even more distance between them and Colridge, especially if Sylar now had what was left of the Reapers at his disposal. What was to stop him chasing them down and killing Miles just so that he could have Brea all to himself again?

  “He is?” Brea’s voice brightened with hope. “Really?”

  “Yes, but we can’t stay here,” Miles paused to turn around and place his hands upon her delicate shoulders. “We have to keep running, Brea. We’re still not safe.”

  Her beautiful features scrunched up in confusion.

  “We
need to outrun our past, Brea,” Miles squeezed her shoulders protectively. “We’re both connected to the packs. We need to drive until the highway becomes just a hazy blur around us. We need to drive and never look back. Are you with me?”

  “Always,” Brea didn’t even pause to consider her response. “Miles, I’m always with you.”

  “I love you,” Miles lowered his head to press his lips against hers. She kissed him back passionately, confirming that she loved him too.

  Epilogue

  The late afternoon sunlight warmed Brea’s bare legs as she locked up the door in front of her. She was closing up early for the day seeing how it was a special occasion. She was smiling to herself and humming as she turned the key in the lock. The wording painted on the glass door read ‘Brea’s Tattoos’. There was no need for a metal shutter, the locked door would suffice. This was a nice neighborhood, the kind of place where people paused to greet one another on the street and smiled and waved when they drove by in their cars. It was the kind of place Brea had always hoped she’d someday live in.