by A. J. Downey
“Seriously? The last time you brought a knife to a gun fight you got yourself shot.” The crazy fucker just grinned at me and we set out along the street, skirting cameras, and went up to the side door of the building. Reave nodded and we slipped in unnoticed.
We were here to finish this as much as we could and with Flyer down, that left Gordy, Pipes, Skid, Bandit, and Griz. Reaver and I walked into the big expanse of open space where Griz had his table set up, his ‘war room’ as he called it, and I gave a sharp whistle, gesturing with my gun. Gordy straightened up and stood, calm, his hands in the air.
“Mmm, eleven. You can write off your VP. Your guy outside was twelve, and you’ll make thirteen.” Reaver ticked each downed man in turn on his fingers and cocked his head to the side.
“Well, I’ll be dipped in shit,” Gordy said.
I snorted, “Please, you had to know this was coming.”
Ghost, true to his name, drifted into the room from the back. He shook his head. Skid, Pipes, Bandit and Griz were still MIA. Ghost took a position where he could cover things, taking steps two at a time to the catwalk that ringed the room.
“So what now, boys?” Gordy asked.
A flash of movement at my side and Gordy’s eyes flew wide, his hands went to his throat and he found one of Reaver’s throwing blades in his neck, dead center. A cruel fucking blow if you ask me. I blinked. I hadn’t even seen Reave go for it.
“Go ahead, pull it out,” Reaver said. Gordy choked, blood coating his chin, and went to his knees. I slowly lowered my gun.
Reaver went, walking to Gordy, who fell to his knees as he struggled to pull air through a wind pipe that no longer worked the way it was supposed to. He was going to die slow this way and I can’t really say I felt one way or the other about it.
Reaver crouched by him and looked him over, smiling this secret little smile, like he was listening to a music only he could hear and the sound of it pleased him. Soothed him somehow.
I glanced up at Ghost, who had a better view of Reaver’s face than I did, and the man looked like he was shut the fuck down. Like the soldier he was. Still, a hint of unease flickered in the depths of his gaze as he looked down at the scene below him.
I followed through with the plan and ducked into the bar and added three more hashtags to the count on the wall, which hadn’t been touched since Archer, Rush, and Nox had put it there. I went back, and Reaver was murmuring things to Gordy as the light died in the other man’s eyes.
We loaded the bodies into the van but left the cuts near the bloodstains on the floor. We rode out ahead of Ghost, to Point Nowhere, and buried the fuckers in Cicada Woods before heading back to the club. Ghost got out of the van, his sniper’s rifle slung over his shoulder. Reaver - as quick as he’d gone fucking scary - was his normal, lighthearted self by the time the gate rolled shut behind us. He got off his bike and we went back into the club and had a stiff drink before parting ways.
I went straight to my room. Doc sat in a chair beside the bed, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, reading a thick paperback. Dani lay on her stomach, face turned to the side, one arm gracefully following the cascade of her dark hair over the edge of the mattress. Her other arm, the one without the IV hooked to it, was curled to her chest as she slept on, oblivious. Her back was raw and puffy where the ink had been forced under it. The whole thing was pretty much done except for color.
She could get up tomorrow and decide she couldn’t go through another session, and it would be okay, would look like a completed piece. I stood, looking down at my girl for a long time.
“It was a good idea,” I said to Doc, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb Dani. “Thank you, man.” Doc looked over his half-moon spectacles at me, over the top of his novel, before lowering it.
“Some awful shit?” he asked.
I sniffed and nodded. He grunted and nodded too. Nothing really needed to be said about it. I stared down at the beautiful piece of art inked under my woman’s skin and sighed.
“This is going to seriously suck for her come morning.”
“Shouldn’t be too bad, I’m keeping her hydrated, she’ll need to be cleaned up some and Dis, Rev, and Trig already have it worked out. Timed so someone can go to her wherever she’s at to keep the tatt lubed enough to keep her out of too much discomfort while it heals. We decided it was best this way. She couldn’t take any more of it, she wouldn’t have to, but the guys didn’t want her going around with no half-assed tattoo the rest of her life.” Doc voiced just about every thought I’d just had, and it made me smile.
“Dani’s tough. She’ll finish it,” I said with confidence.
“Well, gonna say g’night then, now that you’re here.” Doc heaved himself to his feet and I nodded, my eyes still only for Dani, sweeping the curve of her back where it dipped just before the swell of her ass. You couldn’t even see the original ink. It was like it had never been. I heard the door shut softly and I sighed. If only erasing some memories were as easy. The pain from the tat would dissipate but the pain in her heart, well that shit took a lot longer to heal.
I finally tore my eyes off of her long enough to strip down and get into the bed on the other side. I wanted to hold her, to touch her, but I didn’t want to wake her or hurt her so instead I lay on my side and stared at her beautiful face. I stared for a really long time.
Chapter 24
Dani…
The morning after the first part of my tattoo had been done was sheer misery. Not only did my head feel like it was full of cotton from the drugs, my back felt this odd combination of burning but also like the skin was too tight. I’d whimpered when I’d woken, and Thirteen had startled awake beside me. He’d helped me into the closest bathroom so I could take care of business, which pretty much involved bathing, except I couldn’t shower. Something about not getting the tattoo directly in the spray.
Instead I had knelt in the tub while Thirteen gently poured water on the back of my neck, letting it wash down over my back. That was so not fun. What really wasn’t fun was when he’d used his fingertips laden with an antibacterial hand soap to wash me. No matter how gentle, how ghostly the touch, it was sheer misery. Only thing worse was patting the affected areas dry.
Still, even after the entire ordeal, it had been completely worth it once I had gotten to look at the sweeping image in the bathroom mirror. They’d completed it, every line, every bit of shading; it was a whole, complete image and what’s more, you couldn’t identify a single trace of Pig’s mark. No matter how hard I looked for it, even knowing it had been there, I just couldn’t see it in the drift of lilies at the bottom, the flora and foliage perfectly disguising it.
I’d spent the entire first two days of the healing process on my stomach in bed. The guys would come at even intervals to slather this thick, petroleum-like moisturizer over the inked-in areas of my back, and I looked forward to those moments. It was the only time the infernal itching eased for me.
I couldn’t put on a shirt if I wanted to in those first few days and then, while it took the rest of the week to get to a point it no longer itched, I could only wear one of Thirteen’s oversized tees. The lotion that had to be continually applied made an absolute mess of things and so I was doing laundry almost as much as I was spending any time in my shop.
When Thirteen couldn’t come to apply the lotion to my skin, it was usually one of the three artists. Though it had been a few days since I needed any applied. The skin healed and finished peeling.
This time my visitor was Blue. I blinked in surprise. He smiled and waved a hand up and down and I nodded. He didn’t speak and I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with useless prattle.
I lifted the back of my shirt and he traced a fingertip over my back along the tree. I had just finished polishing Revelator’s wedding set for his woman and was about to get started on shining up the white gold band I’d fashioned for him when Blue had entered.
“Thirteen in church?” I asked. Blue made a face an
d nodded.
“Thanks.” I put the shirt back down. He raised an eyebrow in question.
I nodded, “I think I’m going to go for it.”
Blue smiled broadly and I smiled in return. He nodded happily and left me in the shop to myself, he was the only one to check on me regularly just for the hell of it, other than Thirteen, and was becoming a true friend. I think it was because I understood him clearly without his ever having to speak. Only Duracell shared that particular talent.
I smiled and finished polishing the three individual rings, proud of my work. I slipped them into two small velvet bags left from my grandfather’s defunct jewelers business, and shut off lights and equipment. That was enough for one day.
The afternoon sunshine was warm and the unseasonably cool spring and early summer had turned over into a string of beautiful midsummer days. I stretched and tipped my face into the sun, drawing in a deep breath that smelled of sunshine and freshly mowed grass. The men of The Sacred Hearts kept the grounds of their club meticulous. It was a welcome change from the dilapidated, rusting industrial building surrounded by a rutted gravel lot.
I looked across the grass, past the long, low, cinderblock building that housed more rooms for brothers either in the club who lived here, or for brothers visiting from out of town. The back of the main building had an asphalt track. A giant access loop from the front lot that could be followed past the garage outbuilding my shop was housed in and past the low outbuilding full of rooms. It could also be used as a running track, which I often saw Reaver and Trigger do, sometimes Revelator and some of the others for that purpose as well.
On the opposite end of the oval from where I stood was a low bench, and in front of that stood Archer, Rush, and Nox. It was a homemade outdoor shooting range. A berm of dirt piled high providing the backdrop for their targets, quite a ways out from where the men stood checking and readying weapons.
Nox, Rush, and I had grown to get along but Archer remained defiant. Enemy for life, that one. I shook my head as he glared in my direction. I was disappointed. I wanted Thirteen’s brothers to like me. Hell, we all want to be liked, but Archer just plain wasn’t having any of it. I shrugged to myself and struck out across the grass to the back of the club’s main building. Coming in from the bright sunlight into the club’s dim interior always took a period of adjustment for my eyes and this time I crashed headlong into someone coming out the door. I put up my hands against slick leather and rough, felt patches. Gentle, supportive arms curved around me, pulling me in.
“Easy, Rocket, I got you,” Thirteen’s voice was smiling, “I always got you.”
I lost my stiff posture in his arms and sank against him, a smile touching my lips. I tipped my head back and he met my mouth with his in a gentle yet persistent kiss.
“Hmmm, do we have time to..?” I let the question hang, hopeful.
“Wish we did, Babe, but I was coming to get you. The guys were getting things set up to finish your tat, you up for it?” he stared into my eyes and I smiled; his were a warm spring green, and held such a confidence in me. I nodded happily.
I liked the colorized version of the tattoo too much not to do it. I wasn’t sure that if Doc hadn’t come up with the idea of making me so high I didn’t care, I would be able to go through with a piece so big, let alone twice over. Thankfully, he had, and I was willing to do it. I loved the black and white image, don’t get me wrong, it was beautiful; but for the last two weeks as I had contemplated it in the mirror I had realized that this tattoo was much more than just a cover up. That for me it went beyond just making something pretty out of something ugly.
It had become a physical representation of leaving my old life behind. Of laying old ghosts to rest and of a new beginning for me. I needed, very much, to breathe color and life into the image inked under my skin. I needed vibrancy and happiness to follow in my wake. Not the bitter ash of memory… and so I would do this.
Thirteen pulled me tight against the front of his body and kissed me thoroughly, his tongue stroking alluringly against my own. Teasing my body awake, making me shiver with a wanton neediness. I pulled back and slapped him playfully on the chest of his cut.
“Ow, hey! What was that for?”
“No getting me all excited if you can’t or won’t follow through.” I wrinkled my nose at him and he laughed. We walked for his room, his arm slung around my shoulders.
“Gonna be a minute before we can again, you do this,” he reminded me, “Wanted to make sure you’d know what you’d be missin’.”
I snorted, “Somehow I think it’ll be more of a hardship for you than for me.” Last time I had been so miserably uncomfortable in my own skin I had barely wanted to be touched. The thought of sex in that condition had made me quail, no matter how much I was in love with Thirteen.
“Damn straight!” Thirteen was saying but he faltered when I stopped.
“Baby what’s wrong?” he asked.
I looked at him plaintively, “You know I love you right?” I asked quietly.
“No, but it does me a lot of good to hear it,” he said just as quietly. He took me back into his arms, “I love you too, Rocket.” His fingertips were gentle where he cradled my cheek, his thumb grazing along the skin in a simple caress. We kissed again, only this time is was a thing weighted with promise and emotion. Heavy with words unspoken, with admiration and care and a strong mutual respect for one another.
It was the singularly most spectacular kiss of my entire life and it left me breathless, my heart swollen within my breast to a point where I no longer needed air to breathe… I just needed him.
Someone cleared their throat nearby and Thirteen and I jumped. Revelator looked at us, apologetic.
“We’re all set, ready when you are,” he said. I smiled, Thirteen scowled. I gave Thirteen a playful poke in the shoulder and he grinned, laughing at me.
“You shouldn’t scowl at him when he’s about to turn me into a human Voodoo doll.” I complained.
Revelator laughed, “Not like you’re going to know the difference,” he remarked. We followed him in to the bedroom and it was set up like before. Doc stood by the massage table, laying the plastic tubing he would be hooking to an IV.
“Ready when you are, Sweetheart,” he said kindly. Trigger, Rev, and Disney left the room with Doc and I stripped down, pinning my hair up in a messy bun like I was wont to do when I worked or what have you.
“Here, give these to Rev after he’s done,” I murmured softly and handed the little velvet bags to Thirteen. He smiled and looked. I was so pleased by the look of impressed, soft wonder on his face over what the bags held.
“You’re incredible, Baby,” he murmured and kissed the top of my head, pocketing the offerings. I smiled and sat on the edge of the massage table wrapped in a towel that covered me from armpits to knees while Thirteen let Doc back in.
He started the IV, my eyes squeezed shut, face pressed into Thirteen’s stomach, his arms wrapped protectively around my head and shoulders. He made soothing sounds while the deed was done and then let me go when it was over, thumbing some stray tears from under my eyes.
“Hang in there Dani, y’ won’t care soon enough,” Doc murmured encouragingly.
I lay down on my stomach and Thirteen brought the sheet to my hips before taking the towel away. Modesty perfectly preserved.
“You good, Baby Doll?” Doc asked.
“Yes,” my voice was a little high and tight with panic, but then he pushed the drugs and that euphoric, foggy feeling started in my brain. A couple more minutes and you could have told me the sky was green and I would have believed you. Sometimes drugs were a wonderful thing. Especially when administered by a doctor, oh and with no availability and thus no danger of repeating them or becoming addicted. Yes, indeed. I could do this.
I let my brain ramble on with these thoughts, startling slightly when the tattoo gun gave an angry buzz as Revelator situated himself. A latex covered hand pressed to my back after I jumped and stayed
there for a time. A comforting weight, warm, secure… I think I may have drifted off to sleep at that point. I don’t remember. I certainly don’t remember the gun starting back up or the point he began to dig at my flesh with the needles.
Oh yes. Drugs were so not bad… Mmm hmm.
Chapter 25
Red-XIII…
“What the hell you got in there?” I asked Doc as Dani’s true blue eyes glazed over and she stared off into space. She’d turned her head to the side, her arms on the table, and looked like she was lost in the Land of Oz somewhere. A tiny, drugged-out, creepy as fuck smile on her sensual lips.
“Horse tranquilizer, I left the elephant tranques in my room. She just ain’t that big,” he commented with dry sarcasm. Revelator paused the buzzing of his gun and chuckled, refreshing the needle with bright pink ink. He’d started right in on the lilies on her lower back. Trig and Dis looked on in fascination. This was the first project they’d done, the three of them.
They’d taken pictures the whole process. Shown Dani when she’d rejoined the land of the living and asked if they could keep them. Do some big framed job in their shop to promote their business. She’d agreed, which had surprised me and pleased the hell out of the guys.
“She out?” I asked softly, and Doc nodded. Her eyes were heavy, lidded but still open. He knelt and shined a light into first one then the other.
“Yep, she ain’t gonna remember a fuckin’ thing. You just best take care of business and get your ass back here in one piece,” he grumbled.
“Copy that.” I threw the guys a mock half-assed salute. Trigger gave a wry twist of lips and the middle finger as I backed out the door. I laughed.
I found Reaver and Dray out in the common room. Duracell and Blue were checking over their guns.
“She good?” Reaver asked.
“Yeah, Man, thanks for asking.” I smiled wide. Data stepped out of his little ops station and laid out several printed pages side by side, Their edges matching up to form a map like from satellite imagery or some shit. I raised my eyebrows.
