Savoring Mila (Angels Halo MC Next Gen & Rockers' Legacy Book 3)

by Terri Anne Browning

  I’d gotten plenty of looks like that since I’d gotten to town three days before. Everyone in Creswell Springs knew everyone who lived here, and I was a newbie to the area. They would get used to seeing me, though, and once Mila and I sorted everything out, I was confident the community would welcome me.

  “Yeah, yeah. For some girl you met at a club.” He muttered a curse, and I knew he was about to start the same shit he’d been throwing at me for months now. “Really, bro? You changed your life plans for some chick you fucked once? Just altered your goals, decided you didn’t actually have to work for Dustin Branch—the guy you’ve idolized since we were sixteen. Uprooted your entire life and transplanted it to upstate California. Her pussy must have tasted like ambrosia.”

  “It did, actually,” I snarled at him. “And yeah, I did all of that for her. I’ll do whatever the hell I have to just to be with Mila. Because she’s the one. You remember what it’s like to have ‘the one’ in your life, right, Luca? How it feels to be beside the girl you love, know that she loves you back, have her fucking smile at you?”

  I could hear him gritting his teeth, and I didn’t even have to look at my phone to know his jaw was clenched. “Oh wait, you haven’t had your ‘one’ in so long, you probably forgot what it’s like. My bad.” I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel, wishing I could wrap them around his neck. Instead, I hit him where I knew it would really hurt. “I spoke to Violet last night, by the way. She’s in Nashville visiting Aunt Dallas and Uncle Axton before she starts the fall term.”

  “I have to go,” he half growled, but he couldn’t hide the hope in his eyes.

  “Or was that last week?” I scratched at the stubble on my chin, pretending to consider. “Oh yeah, it was totally last week. Sorry, bro.”

  “She was that close to me last goddamn week, and you didn’t fucking tell me?” my twin raged, and I almost felt sorry for whoever he’d be tackling on the practice field later.

  I shrugged. “Sorry, not sorry.” Since Violet and Luca’s breakup, I’d had to split my loyalties between the two of them. I loved my brother, but I loved Violet too. I wouldn’t betray one for the other, though, and when Violet asked me not to tell my brother something, I didn’t. Since she was already at school, I knew there was no harm in telling him she’d been to Nashville.

  “That’s cold, Ric,” Luca said dejectedly, but I didn’t feel an ounce of regret or remorse. “I thought we had each other’s backs.”

  “Normally, I would say yes. But you’re being a dick about Mila and my move. Chill your shit and stop running your mouth, and we’ll revisit the subject again at a later date.” I stabbed disconnect and turned on the satellite radio for the last few minutes of my drive.

  When I heard Jace St. Charles’s voice singing his wife’s latest song, some of the tension my conversation with Luca caused began to ease. I hated fighting with my twin, but since everything had gone down with Violet, he hadn’t been the same guy. She made him a better person, and without her, he’d become almost a stranger to me and the rest of our family.

  My shop was a prime piece of real estate just off campus. Students had to drive right by it to get to any class. Frat Row was within walking distance, and I’d already booked appointments with several people for when the shop officially opened the following week.

  The day after I’d arrived in Creswell Springs, I’d started setting everything up. Aunt Emmie had already had everything I needed delivered. Now, it was just putting it all in the right place and hiring a receptionist.

  Parking behind the building, I unlocked the back door and turned on all the overhead lights. It was slow progress, but I was getting it done.

  I walked through to the front, and I unlocked the door and then put the chalkboard easel out on the sidewalk. Both sides read: NOW HIRING RECEPTION STAFF. APPLY WITHIN.

  I knew classes had already started, so I figured I would get at least a few college kids to apply who were desperate for a job. But what I really wanted was for Mila to take the job. I’d been dreaming of us running this business together. She could handle the office stuff, and I could spend the day inking skin. It would be a perfect partnership.

  I just needed to find her and get her on board with the dream.

  The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon were spent getting as much done in the shop as possible. For now, things would be quiet. Aunt Emmie made sure no one knew it was me who’d bought the house or was leasing the shop, so the paps weren’t there to hound me or sneak-attack pictures.

  My brother, sister, and cousins were always being bombarded by flashing cameras and intrusive questions into our private lives. We were the children of rock royalty, Demons, for fuck’s sake. Of course they wanted to know every little detail of what went on in our lives. The longer my anonymity lasted around here, the better. I didn’t want those vultures intruding on Mila’s life once they found out we were together.

  My stomach was growling angrily by late afternoon, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since the nuked egg sandwich I’d inhaled before leaving the house that morning. My first thought was to order something, but this place didn’t have Uber Eats, and the only place that delivered was some pizza joint.

  Grabbing my keys, I walked out to the front to lock the door, only to stop in my tracks when I realized I wasn’t alone. Eyeing the three men standing in my shop, I mentally cursed myself for not having turned on the security system that would have alerted me to any door being opened.

  These men were all just as tall and wide as me, middle-aged, and wore leather cuts, as if they were part of a motorcycle club or something. They all wore patches. One said President, the other Enforcer, and the last VP. I wanted to laugh, because the only time I’d ever seen a gang like this was on TV. But there was something in the air that told me laughing at these guys wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do.

  “Can I help you, gentlemen?” I asked, keeping my voice friendly and casual. “I’m not open yet, but if you want to make an appointment, I’d be happy to fit you in.”

  “Name’s Masterson,” the enforcer said, and I took a better look at the man.

  This guy’s name was Masterson?

  As in, Mila’s dad?

  Fuck.

  He was built like a brick wall. He had a bandanna tied around his head and his brown and gray beard was trimmed short, but it didn’t hide the sick spider tattoo on his neck. I put him in his fifties, but the guy still had rock-hard muscles and a narrow waist. There was a wicked-looking knife strapped to his belt, and I didn’t doubt there was a gun under his cut somewhere.

  “You own the other ink shop in town?” I needed him to clarify. Maybe there were other people in this town with the last name Masterson.

  “That would be me, kid.” He nodded toward the other two without looking at them. “This is Bash, and that’s Hawk. We just wanted to stop by and offer you a little friendly hospitality. Welcome you to Creswell Springs, that kind of thing.”

  I grinned, knowing he was full of shit. This was an intimidation meeting. Show me that my competition was part of the local MC, let me know I wasn’t welcome here. But I wasn’t easily scared. I’d spent my entire life around rockers who were just as mean-looking with more ink on them than these guys were sporting. It would take more than them coming into my shop and swinging their dicks around to intimidate me. And there was no way I was going to let anyone, least of all Mila’s enforcer daddy, keep me from her.

  “You know, I would have rather worked with you than against you,” I told him. “But apparently you don’t want a business partner.”

  “Don’t need a partner,” he said, his voice deepening, filling with menace. “You keep to this part of town, boy, and we won’t have any issues. Didn’t like dealing with these pansy-ass college brats anyway, so you’ll be doing me a favor.”

  “Always happy to help, sir.” I rolled my shoulders, making sure to keep all three men in my sight at all times. I didn’t want to kick the ass of the man I wanted to be
my father-in-law, but I would if he threw the first punch.

  “What’s your name, kid? You look familiar to me,” the one with the patch that read “President” asked.

  I glanced at him, started to say something snappy and sarcastic, but for some reason, changed my mind at the last second. “Lyric Thornton, sir.”

  “Thornton…” the VP repeated, his green eyes narrowed. “Jesse Thornton’s kid?”

  “One of them,” I confirmed with a shrug. “Don’t go spreading that little detail around, though. I wouldn’t want your quaint little town overrun with paparazzi.”

  “Fuck,” Masterson muttered. He turned, stomped to the door, then walked back to me. The look on his face would have made a weaker man flinch, but I didn’t even blink as he stabbed his finger toward my face. I was too used to Dad getting up close and personal when he was pissed at me to be intimidated by this guy’s frustrated anger. “Your father shouldn’t have let you come this far north, boy. Stay out of trouble, stay out of my business, and don’t go asking questions that will get you killed.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  But before I could ask, the three men walked out the door. Moments later, I heard the growl of their motorcycles start up, and then they drove away.

  All I wanted was to ink skin and be with Mila.

  What fucking questions could I ask that would get me killed?

  Chapter 12

  Lyric

  I put the whole thing with Mila’s dad behind me and went out to grab some lunch. There was a deli downtown that claimed to be food-allergy friendly, and I stopped there to grab a sandwich.

  When I walked in, there was a wall of artwork to my right, and while the woman behind the counter dealt with the customer already in line, I glanced at it. Most of it was finger paintings, and a small plaque proclaimed them the best works of the Pre-K, kindergarten, and first-grade students at Creswell Springs Elementary over the years.

  When I saw one with the name Mila on the bottom, I paused, studying it a little longer, and I wondered if it was my Mila’s masterpiece from when she was in primary school. There were no dates to tell me if it was, but for some reason, I could picture her painting the abstract I was looking at.

  “Tell your mom I said hello, Lexa,” the woman behind the counter said as she handed over a bag to the dark-haired customer. As she spoke, I turned to smile at them.

  The curvy customer took her sack of food, but she didn’t return my smile. Pushing her hair back from her face with her free hand, she exposed the right side of her face, and I saw the mean scar that went from her temple to the corner of her mouth. The scar looked like it had been painful acquiring, but it did nothing to detract from how beautiful she was.

  The ring on her left hand proclaimed her married, and the baby wrapped against her chest in one of those swaddle harness contraptions my sister had used to hold my niece and nephew close to her chest while she went about her daily routine finally caught my eye.

  The baby’s head was covered in thick, dark hair. Since he was wrapped in blue, I assumed the baby was a boy, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud until I had confirmation. I’d made assumptions before about strangers’ babies and been given an earful because I’d gotten the gender wrong. I wanted to be welcomed in Creswell Springs, so I wasn’t about to make some random new mommy an enemy by calling her precious bundle a boy when it just as easily could have been a girl.

  “You must be the jerk-off who is opening the new tattoo place near campus,” she said as she eyed me dispassionately. “Just a little friendly advice.” Her voice was anything but friendly, but I didn’t call her out on it. “Cut your losses now and go back to wherever you came from.”

  “Nah, I kind of like all the frost around this place.” I opened my phone and pulled up my pictures. I had two recent pictures of Hayat and Evan my sister had sent me. “Beautiful baby you’ve got there. Take a look at my niece and nephew.” I turned the phone so she could see my favorite little kids.

  I could see her trying not to react to the cuteness that was Hayat and Evan with their dark curls, dimples, and those aquamarine eyes that pulled people in no matter how hard-hearted they were. It took all of five seconds before she grabbed my phone and the glare turned into a soft smile. “They are adorable.”

  Leaning closer to her, I swiped my thumb over the screen, showing her a picture of Little Em. Normally I didn’t show any of the kids’ pictures to strangers, but for some reason, I wanted to show them to this chick.

  “All that red hair,” she gushed.

  “With all the hair this one has, I bet you had a lot of heartburn. My sister did with both, and they each came out with a mop of curls so dark and thick, my mom would sit and play with it for hours.”

  She rubbed her hand over the baby’s back. “I was miserable, especially the last few months before I had Finn.” I heard a phone alert, and she lifted hers to look at the screen. Her eyes widened as she read, and then she was looking up at me with a glare again. “You’re Lyric Thornton.”

  “That news traveled slower than I expected,” I said with a wink. “Figured as small as this place is, it would have already been old news by now.” Stepping back, I pocketed my phone and then opened the front door for her. “Enjoy your lunch.”

  Once she was out, still shooting me hard glances over her shoulder, I walked over to where the woman behind the counter was watching me like I was her new favorite sitcom. “What’s your most popular sandwich?” I asked, upping the wattage on my smile.

  “Son, you already have the sheriff’s wife half won over, but you’ve got the local MC president’s daughter about ready to scratch your eyes out.” She laughed. “Oddly enough, they are one and the same.”

  I laughed. “That was the sheriff’s wife and the motorcycle club pres’s daughter? I thought MCs were criminals. What are they doing letting their own marry a cop?”

  She laughed and started putting together a sandwich right in front of me, piling it with deli meats and veggies. “I ask myself that all the time. But those two are crazy in love, so I don’t worry about it too much.” She swiped on some spicy mustard, and my stomach growled in appreciation. “You’re Lyric Thornton?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Name’s Patty. I own this place.” She cut the sandwich in half and wrapped it up. “You ever need to know anything about this town, I’m the person to come see. I know everything that goes on here.”

  “Yeah?” I pulled out my wallet, ready to pay her. “That picture over there, the one by the kindergarten kid named Mila. Would that be Mila Masterson, by any chance?”

  Her eyes lit up. “It would. I teach art once a week at the local elementary school. Keep all my favorite pictures right there. Lexa still has a few over there too, if you want to take a look.”

  “How much for Mila’s picture?” I asked, ready to pay whatever number she came up with to have something of my Mila’s.

  “Those aren’t for sale, son.” She bagged my food and handed it over. “No charge today. Consider it a ‘Welcome to Creswell Springs’ from me.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.” My gaze went back to the wall of pictures. “But I’m not going to take no for an answer. I want that picture. Name your price.”

  ◆◆◆

  Licking spicy mustard off my thumb, I stepped back and admired Mila’s picture on the front wall of the shop. It was the only artwork I’d hung so far, but I couldn’t stop looking at it.

  Finishing the last of my sandwich, I started to force myself to turn away when I saw someone walking up the sidewalk toward the front entrance. Pausing, I waited, figuring it was someone there to apply for the receptionist position.

  A curvy woman in her early forties walked into the shop. Her hair was shoulder-length and a pretty brown, her eyes an even prettier blue. When she spotted me, she stopped in her tracks, her hand covering her mouth. “It is you,” she half whispered, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh my goodness. You’ve grown up
so much.”

  It was a day of people coming into my shop and confusing the hell out of me, it seemed. I stood there, frowning down at the woman, wondering what drug she was on.

  “Are you feeling all right?” I asked, unsure if I should call an ambulance to take this crazy woman to the hospital or the cops. “Do you want some water or something sugary? I have some sports drinks in the back.”

  A soft laugh filled the front of the shop as she crossed to me. “I know I probably seem like a lunatic to you, but I promise I’m not crazy.” Grasping my forearms, she looked up at me, and a few tears finally escaped her blue eyes. “The last time I saw you…” She sighed heavily, as if it pained her to remember. “You were just a toddler. But every time your brother would pull my hair, you would yell at him to stop and force him to release me.”

  I stood very still as her gaze skimmed over me from head to toe. “You were a beast, even back then. Both of you were. But you were always the sweeter twin. Always.”

  “Um…”

  “My name is Felicity Hannigan. It was Bolton back then, but I’m married now. I was Emmie Armstrong’s nanny. I took care of Mia and Jagger for a long time. You and your brother as well at times. But when Mia…” More tears filled her eyes, and she didn’t need to finish for me to know what she was talking about. No one in my family could talk about the summer my cousin Mia was almost kidnapped without getting upset. “When she was taken…that first time, my family talked me into coming back.”

  “I’m sorry,” I told her in a quiet voice. “But I don’t remember you.”

  “Of course you don’t,” she scoffed. “You were only a baby. But believe me, I remember you.”

  “Do you and Aunt Emmie keep in touch?” I couldn’t remember her ever talking about this woman, but that didn’t mean they were out of contact.

  “Yes and no. We exchange Christmas cards every year and send a letter in which we tell each other what’s happened throughout the year with our kids, but we don’t call each other unless it’s an emergency. So far, thankfully, there has only been one emergency where Emmie has needed my help.” She grimaced as if in pain. “I understand the boys showed up here this morning?”