Ink (The Haven Series) (9 page)

Finally he could show her what it meant to be with a true Fallen Brother, no longer resigned to being the butt of the jokes. To serving his brothers beer and making do with their leftovers on runs. He was fully patched and already loving every second of it, a swagger in his step and new-found confidence in the little jerk of his head as he greeted well-wishers from all over. He didn’t care that most of them were just there for the party, rather than him specifically.

“Ayyyyyy, Paulie!” Sam hollered from the bar, raising his beer bottle in salute to his former prospect. “Get your ass over here, man. You ready to get that little lady inked? Before she comes to her senses ...”

Quickly realising he was still pretty far down the pecking order, Paulie shrugged off the teasing even as Sam grabbed him in a good-natured headlock and ruffled his short dark curls with his knuckles. He was still flying too high for anything to bring him down right now though. “Where d’ya need us?”

“Unless she’s looking to get her tatt on her ass or something, what’s wrong with right here?” Sam shrugged. “We’re just waiting on Colt’s tattooist to show. Hey, Colt – any word?” But taking the black look he got in response as a no, he shoved Paulie off with the instruction to go get his girl and ambled over to his friend. “Chicks, huh? And they’re meant to be the dependable ones. She say she was gonna be late?”

“Ain’t heard from her,” Colton said, taking a long swig of his beer. His closed-off attitude made even Sam think twice about further comment.

“Hey, Colton,” a sultry voice interrupted their non-conversation, hot pink nails trailing up his arm to get his attention. “Can I ... getcha anything?”

“Sure,” he smiled, half turning towards the over-eager, under-dressed woman. “You can get me another beer and then ... you can get gone.”

Smirking at her crestfallen face, Sam shook his head. Colton was living proof if ever he saw it
that treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen
was a valid life choice when it came to getting tail. Worked every time. Even when what you were really aiming for was
treat ‘em mean, make ‘em piss the hell off
. “So, Sketch is here – he don’t know where she is?”

“Nope,” Colton confirmed bluntly, shooting a look to where the studio owner was kicking back on one of the clubhouse’s many seen-better-days couches - currently enjoying the view of the leggy brunette draped over him. “And he’s too wasted to take over so, if she don’t show, I guess I’m popping that girl of Paulie’s ink cherry. Damn, man, if she’s a crier ...”

But Sam was no longer listening, his sharp blue eyes trained on a figure across the clubhouse until he was sure he was right and he let out a long low whistle. “Hold the phone, buddy-boy – you got company. Boy, do you got company ...”

***

From the minute she’d pulled her car into the yard, taking in the sight of bikers and scantily clad women spilled out of the brightly lit clubhouse, Callie had started both questioning what she was doing and inwardly calling herself crazy for over-thinking this. She’d been here before, she’d inked club members before, she’d even tagged along with Sketch to hang out with the guys before – although admittedly not often.

This ... This was no big deal. And there was definitely nothing to be read into the fact it had taken her a good couple of hours to get ready. So what if she was normally a lot lower maintenance? It was a big night for the club – she could hardly rock up in her sweats.

The ass-hugging denim cut-offs and clingy gray silk vest top were hardly making a huge effort and the sky-high gray ankle boots were her only option because they matched her outfit. It was nothing to do with them making her legs look longer ...

Wanting to look good before entering a den of hyper-critical women was one thing and it didn’t mean she was out to impress anyone. Least of all some dangerously attractive biker she just happened to have accidentally locked lips with.

She’d dropped her head on her steering wheel with a little sigh, wondering – not for the first time - what the hell she was playing at. Her hand even reached for the keys in the ignition, on the verge of starting the car again and just taking off. Then, frowning at her apparent descent into hitherto unchartered drama queen territory, she got out of the car with her head held high and a determined look on her face.

No. Big. Deal.

***

CHAPTER 11

He could practically feel that soft smooth skin under his fingertips as his dark gaze raked over those long, lightly tan legs. Watching the subtle sway of her hips as she crossed the clubhouse, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her in heels before and that was probably a good thing, on reflection – or he’d never have been able to keep his hands off her all this time.

Colton had looked round at Sam’s appreciative whistle, turning to lean coolly against the bar and wait for her to spot them. And he certainly made the most of the opportunity to just take in the sight of her.

Faced with the roomful of desperate women – most of them wearing more make-up than clothes, many already drinking heavily or taking to the stripper poles in a bid to attract attention - she casually made her way through them, without that fish-out-of-water look most infrequent visitors to the clubhouse seemed to wear.

The reactions to the relative newcomer weren’t exactly unfavourable per say, but the less than discreet nudges and melodramatic whispers kicked up a gear when her eyes met those of none other than the club’s notorious killer. A rare smile was drawn from him by the slight upwards quirk of the corner of her mouth.

But it was their sergeant who got in first with his greeting. “Damn, girl, those legs just don’t quit,” Sam drawled, as Callie approached. “Anyone ever tell ya that?”

“You – last time I wore a dress to work, if I remember rightly,” she shot back, with a good-natured roll of her
eyes. “Hi, Sam. Colton. Sorry I’m running kinda late.”

“Totally worth the wait, babe,” the irrepressible blond biker grinned, making a show of his top-to-toe appraisal before slinging an arm around her shoulders to guide her closer to the bar between him and Colton. “Anyway, you don’t gotta worry – Sketch brought your stuff and you’re all set up. So ... what ya drinkin’?”

“Oh, just an OJ – I’ve got the car and I hear I got me a first-timer, thanks to a certain someone,” she said, bumping her hip lightly against Colton’s and getting a little
what-ya-gonna-do
shrug in response.

“Callie, Callie, Callie,” Sam protested, already signalling to the prospect behind the bar and holding up three fingers with a wink. “OJ’s for breakfast! It’s Friday nig
ht and you’re on our turf now. Don’t worry, we’ll get ya home safe. Or you could just stay here? I’ll even donate my bed – it’s used to having a sexy blonde tucked up in it ...”

It was Colton’s turn to roll his eyes at that, but Callie was still laughing when a shot glass was pushed into her hand and Sam clinked his own off the side in a toast of sorts. “Cheers, darlin’,” he grinned, nodding in approval when she simply downed the contents after a moment’s consideration. “Atta girl. Right, I’m gonna go mingle - leave you kids to it. Colt, man, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“And that rules out what exactly?” Callie grinned, watching with a bemused shake of her head as the spiky-haired sergeant took off across the room, only to get waylaid by one of the many women with her eye on him.

“Not much,” Colton said wryly, signalling for more drinks. “Not much at all.”

***

Nervously eying the girl checking out the tattoo equipment set up in what passed for a quiet corner of the bar - who didn’t look much older than she was herself – Lorena started as warm arms wrapped around her waist and her somewhat worse-for-wear boyfriend leaned over her shoulder.

“Hey, baby,” Paulie slurred, the celebrations already taking their toll as he planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “You ready to be my old lady? I can’t wait to see my ink on you ...”

“Always,” she smiled softly, leaning back for a quick little peck and letting her hands slide over his arms as he held her. “You know I’m just nervous about the tattoo, right? Not about us.”

“I know,” he frowned. “But you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’, Lori – tattoo chick says she’ll take it real slow.”

Nodding in acceptance, Lorena glanced back at the girl and watched curiously as she shared a joke with the usually stern-faced Colton. She’d seen the imposing biker kick back with his brothers, enjoy the company of the many women who flocked around the
club ... But this was definitely new.

The little blonde certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting when Paulie, knowing no more than she did, had simply told her a friend of Colt’s would be inking her - being a whole lot more female and lot less intimidating that she’d imagined.

He didn’t seem the sort to be big on being just friends with a woman, but she was definitely no cheap hangaround. Lorena had been around long enough to know they got fucked and chucked. They were kidding themselves if they thought they were anything more than simply an interchangeable supply of pussy, there to fetch drinks and look good before fulfilling their primary function of keeping the Fallen satisfied.

Not this girl. Sure, she looked good – in an unusual-for-the-clubhouse fresh-faced kind of way – and it was obvious Colton thought so too, but he’d barely laid a finger on her. Not to mention, he’d been the one fetching her drinks.

“She’s very pretty,” Lorena said softly, with a discreet nod in their direction. “Do you think they’re ... you know?”

“Banging?” Paulie supplied, less than tactfully. “Hell yeah, this is
Colt
we’re talking ‘bout!” His boyish hero-worship was almost as strong when it came to Colton as it was for Sam. “C’mon, let’s go get you inked, baby ...”

***

Turning to her latest client, a slight wry smile crossed Callie’s face to see the tense young woman already squeezing her eyes shut. The knuckles of one hand were turning white as she gripped the arm of the recliner hauled from the club president’s office, the other hand caught tightly in her boyfriend’s – making him wince a little at her vise-like grip.

“Nervous?” she asked, unnecessarily but not unkindly. “Listen, you really gotta relax a little for me. The more you tense up the more chance there is of you flinching and I really don’t think this is something you’re gonna want screwed up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lorena apologised, forcing herself to look up at the girl, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I just don’t know what to expect or anything. I’ve never even seen anyone get a tattoo before.”

“Really?” Callie’s eyebrows shot up, given the amount of artwork on display between the club members and their extended families and followers. “Well, damn ... Okay, let’s fix that for a start. Hey, Colt, you got a sec?”

Getting up from his seat nearby, where he’d been shooting the shit with Sam and Will – and casting the odd subtle glance in the tattoo artist’s direction – Colton strolled over, a glass of whiskey in one hand. He was seemingly oblivious to the slight shiver that coursed down the blonde’s spine at the sight of him.

It was something she tried to dismiss as nothing, even as her gaze roved over him - taking in the way his jeans hung low on his hips and the contrast of the white t-shirt, stretched taut across his chest under his cut, against the dark ink gracing his arms.

“Problem?” he asked, those deep dark eyes shooting an accusing look first at the former prospect and then at his girl.

“Nah, nothin
g like that,” Callie assured him hastily. “Just need you to do a tat.”

“Huh? Thought that was your job? I don’t do first-timers.”

“I know – that’s why you’re gonna do me.”

***

Showing Lorena there was nothing to it had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, but it worked a treat. It put the girl at ease when she saw the lack of fuss Callie made as the biker worked on her without so much as a sketch.

She had taken it slow though, once they got started. The outline of the large graceful dove - complete with Paulie’s initials carved into the twig it carried - gradually emerged on Lorena’s left side, low on her abdomen. And she’d decided to keep it simple, agreeing with the newest old lady that she’d drop into Sketch another time to have the details added in, before heading outside for some fresh air.

“How’s the wrist?”

Looking round at the familiar gravelly voice, Callie wasn’t surprised to see Colton leaning against the wall with a lit cigarette dangling betwee
n his fingertips. “It’s good. You did a great job.”

“You didn’t exactly make it easy, doll. Most people
at least give me some clue what they want when they ask for ink.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged, a twinkle in her eyes. “I wanted to see what you’d come up with.”

Advancing on her, a slight smirk tugging at his own lips, Colton raised an eyebrow. “You testing me, little girl?”

“Maybe ...” She looked up at him with a soft smile. “You passed.”

***

Presiding over the clubhouse festivities, Will reluctantly turned his attention from the enthusiastic little redhead - who couldn’t quite believe her luck at ending up in the lap of the club’s top dog – as the prospect dashed to his side, gesturing wildly and tripping over his words.