Ink (The Haven Series) (24 page)

“I don’t mean having the cops on our tails. This goes deeper. Way deeper. Like why Alex Kane was even on our fucking radar in the first place.”

“Because that fat bastard got greedy and was trying to push drugs where they weren’t wanted,” Will scowled at the memory of the favour called in by an old club owner friend. “You heard the story ...”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, cracking his knuckles as he too thought back to the grovelling plea for help. “So how come Dixie’s now quite happily raking in the green direct from the Norteños? That little shit just wanted to get out of paying money to Kane to stop the cops raiding his strip joint and finding it full of crank!”

Will exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair with a stunned look on his face. “You gotta be shitting me ...”

***

“I’m so embarrassed,” Callie admitted quietly, when Sketch and Lana had made their excuses and left them alone. “Sketch shouldn’t have dragged you over here for a ... a bumped head.”

“Hell of a bump, darlin’,” Colton said, raising an eyebrow at her choice of words and taking in the sight of the damage fro
m where he stood, his arms folded across his chest as if to keep his hands from clenching into fists. “Did he do this?”

She didn’t have to ask who he meant, starting to shake her head until the movement made her wince and close her eyes until everything stopped spinning again. “Sketch already wants to slit his throat, but I just fell.”

“Sketch can get to the back of the fucking queue,” the biker growled, never losing a beat. “Was it his fault?”

“Not really. We ... we rowed and he was trying to make me listen to him,
but it was an accident, Colt. I hit my head on the table, but it could have happened to either one of us.”

He took that in as he sat down on the edge of the bed vacated by Sketch, dark eyes roving over her as if silently assessing the extent of her injuries. “You gonna be okay?”

She bit her lip and shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

The hand that came up to caress her cheek wa
sn’t so much gentle as careful, strong fingers grazing her skin like they might the trigger of his gun and something close to relief playing over his otherwise stern face. “Good girl.”

***

CHAPTER 26

Listening to Sketch’s latest rant on exactly why he thought it was a disgrace she wasn’t being kept under observation, Callie tried to hold back a sigh, knowing - despite her throbbing headache - that he was only trying to help. “It’s fine, honestly, Sketch,” she managed. “I’d r
eally rather just be at home.”

“Bastards even making
you walk to the damn car ...” he muttered anyway, more to himself than anyone else.

“I’m not an invalid,” the little blonde tried, even though they’d only just made it out the front door and her l
egs already felt pretty shaky, as her stomach rolled with every step. But, just when she started to doubt she would make it to Lana’s car after all, a strong supportive arm wrapped around her waist.

“Don’t go passing
out on me, kid,” Colton warned. “I ain’t carrying your ass.”

Callie couldn’t help suspect, from the way he pulled her close, that he would if he had to though - but she didn’t want that any more than she’d wanted the wheelchair Sketch had tried to liberate. All she wanted was to get back to normal as soon as possible and forget anything had ever happened. That and to lay her aching head on her own cool pillo
ws and sleep for like a week.

But
, for now, all she could do was lean against Colton’s solid side and let her eyes drift closed as they waited for Lana to bring the car around - safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t let her fall.

***

His office cleared of everyone but his sergeant, Will leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. His clenched jaw was the only outward sign of the thoughts running through his head. Until his fist came crashing down on the desk, that was.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he roared, all but bouncing to his feet. “Get me a goddamn shotgun and I’ll take care of that cocksucking bastard myself!”

“Easy, boss,” Sam tried to intervene, moving quickly to block the doorway. “You go tearing down there while business is in full flow and you’re just gonna end up in a cell next to me and Colt. Tempting as going after Dixie may be, we gotta think about this.”

“No,” Will shook his head firmly. “No thinking required. Okay, we don’t storm the place, but I ain’t lettin
g this lie. Dixie answers for this. He answers to
me
.”

“Damn straight, bro. But when the time’s right ... Where’s Colt?”

“What?” came the impatient response, the president’s mind already fully focused on what lay ahead. “Oh, hospital. Something to do with the girl.”

“Shit – Callie?” Sam asked in concern. “What happened?”

“How the hell should I know? You don’t think I got enough on my fucking plate trying to keep you boys’ asses outta jail, without keeping track of the pussy you’re banging as well?” Will scowled, making his sergeant sorry he’d even asked.

***

Feet propped on the end of the bed, his gaze shifted from the sleeping figure it held to the ceiling as he stretched back in his seat, rolling the tense muscles in his shoulders. Much as he wanted to spare the girl the killer headache she was certain to be waking up to, counting the journey from the hospital, she’d been out for nearly three hours and he couldn’t risk not checking on her any longer.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Colton leaned forward, feet back on the floor and elbows restin
g on his knees. “Hey, Callie, time to rise and shine, darlin’,” he tried, his low voice rough from tiredness. He noted the pain etched on her face, even as she slept on though - the weak-ass drugs they’d given her at the hospital evidently wearing off already. “Callie?”

Watching her stir, the biker shifted to sit on the edge of her bed, just like he had in the hospit
al - this time, reaching out to brush her hair back from her face so he could check on her properly. “Come on, baby girl, lemme see those eyes.”

With a whimpered groan, her lashes flickered, eyes opened ... and immediately squeezed closed again, her nose crinkled and a hand going to her head as she tried to sit up. “Holy shit.”

Colton knew from personal experience – having, among other incidents, once taken a crowbar to the head back in his younger car thieving days - just how badly her head must be pounding and had two painkillers ready for her, along with the glass of water he pushed wordlessly into her hand. Technically, she should have been waiting another hour to take them, but he figured she’d hardly OD on a couple of over-the-counter pills that would probably only take the edge off.

Swallowing them quickly and then leaning back against the pillows, looking like she was struggling against even just the cool water hitting her no doubt queasy stomach, Callie took a deep breath and finally forced her eyes open again.

“Thanks,” she managed, before trying to see the digital display on the clock by her bedside. “What time is it?”

“Just gone four,” Colton said, taking the glass from her and setting it aside. “You been out for hours.”

“You look tired,” Callie said softly. “Did you sit up this whole time?”

“Someone’s gotta
wake you up - stop you slipping into a coma or some shit,” he shrugged. “I sent Sketch and Lana home. Didn’t see a point in us all being here. Hey, where d’ya think you’re going?”

Slipping out from under the covers, Callie’s hand went shakily to her head again as she found her balance. “Need some fresh air,” she explained over her shoulder, padding for the sliding door that led to the ti
ny balcony outside her bedroom.

A touch on her shoulder had her turning from where she was leaning on the railing and he
simply swept her into his arms and off her bare feet, carrying her easily to sit on one of the two metal folding chairs with her on his lap.

“Better?” he asked gruffly, feeling her nod as she laid her aching head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

***

Will had, in something of a turn-around, been the one to suggest they get some shut-eye. A sensible suggestion, give the late hour and the fact he and Sam seemed to be the only ones still up. The clubhouse
was otherwise deserted and even the most dedicated of the female hangarounds had retired for the night, though he’d have bet good money on at least a couple being tucked up in the beds of some of his brothers.

Sam had been visibly relieved by the apparent change of heart, having been fighting sleep for a while and trying his best to stifle yawns while his presiden
t’s wrath raged on around him. As the one charged with their leader’s protection, he rightly didn’t want him rushing off half-cocked. And, as he’d been quick to declare, they could always deal with Dixie tomorrow. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere ...

Technically though, Will thought grimly – slamming a fresh clip into his gun and heading for the door – it was tomorrow.

***

“Colt?”

She knew he’d hear the uncertainty beneath the drowsiness she couldn’t quite shake yet – she’d never been a good patient, always expecting to bounce back straight away instead of giving herself proper recovery time - and that he’d know it foreshadowed an impending question coming his way. But she was kinda hoping she’d earned the right just this once.

It wasn’t like her, she didn’t poke and pry. Didn’t push. But not b
ecause she was scared of him. She had a healthy appreciation of his capabilities, but didn’t have him pegged as the monster some would choose to see. No one was that black and white. She just got it, got him. Probably not everything, he was far from an open book after all – but she understood how he operated, respected that he didn’t feel the need to share every thought in his head. Felt much the same herself, in fact.

But, curled up on his lap as the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, she still had to at least ask. “Why’d ya come, Colton? To the hospital?”

A beat passed in silence as he seemed to consider a response to the quiet question. “Don’t fish for answers you already got, doll.”

It was more than she’d expected, even if it did little for the doubts in her troubled mind. “Sorry, I just ...”

She trailed off as a hand fisted unexpectedly in her hair, but he was mindful of her injury and made sure he wasn’t hurting her as he guided her head back for a long kiss. One that steadily deepened as she started to respond to him, fingers twisting in the soft material of his long-sleeved t-shirt and her tongue tangling with his.

The doubts faded
with the night as he stood up and carried her back inside …

***

Just gone 4am, his favourite time of day – when he could retire to the sanctity of his locked office and count the night’s takings. There was nothing like cold, hard cash to sweeten the dreams that came when he finally crashed and slept well into the afternoon. That and the other perks, made getting up and doing it all again worthwhile.

Business had certainly been booming tonight too. The thought put a smirk on his face as he recalled the group of businessmen that would, do doubt, cross the street to avoid him under normal circumstances. Yet when their predictable little lives got too dull to bear, who did they run to? They were the best kind of customers – more money than sense and an overwhelming need to out-do each other, not caring if they paid hand-over-fist to do it ...

Running a weary hand over the graying hair held in a thin ponytail, he fished in the inside pocket of his suit jacket and retrieved his keys from where they were tucked securely away, singling out the one he needed. Or that he would have needed, had the door not already been open just a crack. The lock was busted open, with no attempt to even hide the fact.

In retrospect, it was a schoolboy error, but he was through the door before he could stop himself – concern for his money overshadowing even thoughts for his own safety in that
split second. His hand slammed down on the light switch and flooding the small room with harsh fluorescent light, his eyes immediately widening.

“Morning, Dixie,” came the greeting, from his own office chair. Heavy motorcycle boots
were kicked up on the desk and a pair of knowing brown eyes watched him, with a coolness that proved deeply unnerving, as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. “I think you and me need to talk.”

***

CHAPTER 27

“W
-Will,” the stocky little man stammered, floundering before he managed to turn it into a poor approximation of relieved laughter. “Christ, man, you had me going there! Bit early for visitors, ain’t it?”

The Haven president laughed as well, the sound loud and warm and almost enough to reassure his unwitting host. Almost. “Busy night, Dixie? Take a seat, relax,” the biker said pleasantly. But the gun never wavered.

“What’s this about, man?” Dixie tried to recover himself, hoping he looked and sounded less nervous than he felt. “Hey, come on now, friends don’t point guns at friends.”

“That so?” his visitor drawled casually. “What about if one friend thinks the other friend’s a lying sack of shit?”