Ink (The Haven Series) (14 page)

“Way I heard it, she was there when Colt turned up
with the bangers on his tail. They were both inside when those bastards started smashing the place up. Had to jump off the fucking roof to get away. Can ya believe it? The
roof!
Then when Colt got shot--”

“Hold the fucking phone! When Colt got
what
?” Sketch demanded, panic lining his face as he raked a hand through his short dark dreads. “He all right?”

“Took a bullet in the side,” Reef said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. “But get this – Dozer reckons Blondie only stepped up at the clubhouse and pulled the thing out! Probably saved Colton’s life ... Hey, where ya goin’?”

“Clubhouse!” Sketch hollered over his shoulder, taking off at a jog back to his car. His mind racing every bit as much as the engine until he pulled up in the yard in a hail of gravel.

Bursting into the building was only an option because they’d recognised him on the CCTV, had in fact been expecting him and were ready for his demands. The tattooist both wanted to know more about what the hell had happened and was too worried about his youngest colleague to wait for answers.

“Where are they?” he demanded, already striding past the bar.

“Colt’s room,” Jake called after him, even though he was already rounding the corner and heading out of sight. “I’d knock first if I was you!”

Storming down the dimly lit corridor, Sketch’s fists were clenched and he was muttering to himself as the shock wore off and anger set in. Knowing his friends were both still alive had allowed things to twist around until he was ready to kill them both himself for giving him a damn good shove in the direction of a heart attack.

“What the hell was he thinking?” he demanded under his breath. “Leading a shit-storm straight to my door. Bastard coulda got them both killed ... I’m gonna wring his flaming neck ...”

Neither having heard nor particularly paid attention to Jake, knocking never crossed his mind and he simply ploughed straight ahead when he reached Colton’s door.

“Listen to me, ain’t nothin’ brave about not being scared. What you did tonight - jumping off that ladder, pulling that bullet out? Bravest fucking thing I’ve seen, little girl ...” the biker was saying gruffly, the words not nearly registering as much in Sketch’s mind as the gesture.

Colton stilling Callie’s fingers with his own as she gently brushed over what could only be his patched up bullet wound, with an unfamiliar look in his dark eyes – one that disappeared without trace when the moment was shattered by the door crashing back against the wall …

***

“Saving your ass once don’t make her part of your world, Colton,” Sketch sighed, finally getting down to it and not meeting that stare in front of him. His own brown eyes drifted to the little pile of yellow post-its – a reminder of the last number he’d had to scrawl down.

The words had obviously hit home though.

“You think I ain’t thought of that?” Colton demanded roughly. But he’d never been one to share his feelings and he wasn’t about to start now. No matter how unexpectedly insightful his old friend might prove to be. “Look, man ... Friday night was what it was. Cops called time on whatever it mighta been and I ain’t seen your girl since. Thought I might have, but I ain’t. Okay?”

“So you two didn’t ...?”

“Got Will to give her the key to my room and I know she used it, but she was gone when I got back,” he shrugged. “Girl’s smart. Maybe she got me all figured out and don’t need you playin’ daddy after all.”

Sketch frowned at the tone, picking up on the tiniest shred of resentment and fixing Colton with a long stare. It made the biker wonder once again just what was behind all this. Sketch was many things – prone to sticking his nose in other people’s business was not usually one of them.

“Callie’s real smart all right,” Sketch nodded finally, what he was about to do weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Book smart, street smart, you name it ... But when it comes to being smart about putting herself first and figuring out what she needs – seems she’s dumb as Sam’s new friends out there. You can’t see it, Colt, but trust me, you got her head in knots.”

Colton considered that for a long moment and silently decided it was both possibl
e and maybe only fair, since she seemed to have done the same damn thing to him. But apparently there was more.

“And you know why?” Sketch demanded, taking a deep breath before the final plunge. “Because your brave little girl? She’s been seeing someone else and she’s shit scared – ‘cause all of a sudden, don’t look like he’s measuring up.”

***

CHAPTER 16

Elbow on the desk, head propped up in his hand, Will’s bored appearance belied the hard look in his eyes as he watched the club’s legal expert slump in his chair. Michael loosened his tie as he swigged from a mug of coffee with an added kick.

Something had the usually in control lawyer distracted and that didn’t sit well with the MC president at all. Not when it was his club’s money footing the bill. Not when his men were depending on this suit to see them clear of another shit-storm.

And he’d let it go for long enough, his patience wearing thin. “Something on your mind, Mikey?”

For once, Michael seemed reluctant to engage. Setting his mug down, he leaned forward to pluck a framed photo from the corner of the desk and took in the dark-haired young woman and her shrewd smile, but with a preoccupied indifference.

“Someone special?” came the eventual casual question. “Didn’t think you had a wife. Sorry - old lady ...”

“Looks like you ain’t thinking much at all,” Will said coolly, reaching for the picture and firmly replacing it in its exact spot with a glare that ruled out further comment on the subject. “Least not about anything I give two shits for your opinion on.”

Heaving a sigh, Michael raked a hand through his sleek dark hair and sat back to regard his client. He looked like the only thing he was thinking about right now was spilling his guts – and Will didn’t need that kind of over-sharing in his life.

“You guys have the right idea,” the lawyer said suddenly, more to himself than anyone else. “Different chick every night if you want, no one to answer to. You’re the ones calling the shots. In more ways than one.”

“You see a couch in here, Mikey?” Will asked, steepling his fingers together thoughtfully and drawing a confused frown from the other side of the table. “No. You know why that is? ‘Cause I ain’t your goddamn counsellor. And since I’m paying you, not the other way round, I need your head out of your ass and focused on my problems. Not pussy or ... or golf handicaps, or whatever shit it is you lawyer types stress over.
Capiche
?”

Michael gawped at him for a long moment and then forced a laugh and rubbed a hand over his f
ace. “Aw shit, man, I’m sorry. You know how it is - women thinking they can walk all over you, but you should be tiptoeing round them ...”

Will didn’t. He’d never been walked over in his life, least of all by a woman. And biker boots weren’t made for tiptoeing anywhere.

“... but I’m good, buddy – head’s in the game. Hundred percent. Now, let’s talk business.”

***

Staring blindly into the mirror, it wasn’t hard to remember the last time she’d felt so small.

But it had been twelve long years ago and she’d been a different person back then. One with a scared little girl hidden inside a front with a determined streak a mile wide. One who’d swore the first time would be the last time.

She’d been taking care of herself ever since, but lately she knew she’d been letting that independent little girl down.

“Not anymore,” she whispered, as the gray eyes looking back at her blinked back tears.

The soft cream lace of her floaty dress fell to just mid-thigh and long bell sleeves grazed the backs of her hands, creating the picture of elegance. Her long blonde hair was half twisted up, half falling in gently curled tendrils over her shoulders and down her back to add to the effect, while the matte black platform heels and smoky eyes toughened it up.

It was just a shame the mascara streaks on her cheeks completely ruined it all.

***

“ ... so they’re yanking our chains. Huh, Mikey? Yo, Michael - snap the fuck outta it!” Will demanded, his exasperation now complete. “Jesus Christ, man. Drink the damn coffee and quit staring at it like you wanna drown in it.”

“I was just thinking,” came the defence, unconvincing as it was. “About the case.”

“You know something? For a lawyer, you’re a piss-poor liar,” the disgruntled president noted.

“Well, this would all go a helluva lot easier if we had any proper kinda disclosure going here – I’m starting to feel like maybe you don’t trust me, Will.”

“I don’t. And you got any idea what it takes to get your proper disclosure round here? We got chicks sucking dick who don’t got it, buddy-boy. You really wanna get that close?”

Michael rolled his eyes at that, fighting the urge to drop his head on the table in defeat. Sometimes he had to wonder why the hell he bothered tying himself up in knots like this, but somehow he always remembered how he liked a challenge. And not just when it came to work ... Thought he did anyway.

“I’m just trying to understand how we got to this point, man,” he said, his tone strained but reasonable and the words ringing true of both the case and his own increasingly complicated personal life. “Look, in theory I don’t
gotta prove jack – burden of proof’s on them. But they seem mighty convinced they got the evidence stacked up, complete with a witness, so either I go ahead and just call their bluff or ...”

“Or?” Will prompted.

“Or I gotta start untangling this whole thread. Are you saying there’s a reason I shouldn’t call the feds’ bluff?”

The steely eyes in front of him narrowed, the finger pointing squarely in his face a reminder of exactly who and what he was dealing with here. “Don’t fucking put words in my mouth, sunshine,” the president warned. “Twisting shit around might work for you in the courtroom, but try it
on me and I’ll be the one doing the twisting.”

For all his seemingly amiable enough nature and that dry humour, Will hadn’t risen to his rank for nothing. He was every bit as dangerous as the men he was trying to defend - maybe more so for his ability to hide behind that front – and, as the president shoved his chair out from the desk and loomed over Michael, the lawyer did his best to look unconcerned.

“They’re trying to see how much rope it takes for us to hang ourselves,” Will mused, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “So you just focus on keeping my boys outta the lock-up and leave the rest to me.”

***

This time no one could say she hadn’t tried.

She’d put in the effort, blown off work without so much as a phone call – god only
knew what Sketch was thinking. She’d done everything she could think of to make this work. And for what?

FLASHBACK

The guilt at ignoring the calls from work pushed to the back of her mind, she forced herself to focus on what was suspiciously like butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She had a big night ahead and she was determined to make the most of it. She could call Sketch later. Explain, grovel, make it up to him.

But for a little longer, she wasn’t going to let anything distract her. She had to give this a proper chance instead of playing
let’s-pretend
. However elaborate the game.

“You’re sure about this, Callie?” Michael asked, making her jump as he walked into her bedroom to watch her set out her shopping bags on the bed. A half-bemused, half-grateful smile crossed his face at her apparent enthusiasm. “You normally avoid these
things like the plague, babe.”

“I’m sure,” she nodded, letting him wrap her in his arms and leaning back over her shoulder to accept a kiss. “I want to.”

“Good,” he declared firmly, evidently deciding to accept what had seemed too good to be true. “Because I want the sexiest girl in Nevada there. With me.”

The
for everyone to see
went unsaid, but nonetheless sent a flicker of doubt coursing through her. A flicker she tried, however implausibly, to tell herself she had imagined.

“Sooo ... do I get to see what’s in the bags?” Michael pressed, a roguish grin on his face. “You should have said you were going shopping. I’d have given you my card – or tagged along. Helped you try things on ...”

Callie smiled and shook her head. “I wanted it to be a surprise. And I had to go out – I’ve never exactly needed the kinda wardrobe for socialising with judges and lawyers before.”

“Oh, I dunno.
I was thinking you could wear that little red number I got for you ...”

She raised her eyebrows at that. Said dress barely covered her ass and was slashed practically to the navel. She had no idea how it ever warranted the price tag, given the distinct lack of fabric. “Michael, I want to make a good impression. Not make them think about sentences they’ve handed out for solicitation.”

He frowned, but let both it and her go. Moving to sprawl comfortably on the bed, he folded his hands behind his head and blue eyes trained on her slim curves. “Let’s see it then.”