RUTHLESS HOLD (A Back Down Devil MC Romance Novel) (2 page)

Some guys were nice enough to get
last words or get a chance to shut their eyes and prepare. Trev didn
’
t give a fuck about any of that.
Freedom wasn
’
t free and the
outlaw life wasn
’
t about
booze and pussy.

Trev took out his gun, pulled the
trigger twice, and then shut it.

“
No
more pounding on the ride home,
”
he said and got into the driver
’
s
seat.

Trev hated driving a car. It was
like being in a coffin with wheels.

Being contained in any way, shape,
or form was not an option.

Trev looked in the rearview mirror
at the backseat.
“
Well, my
friend, I
’
ve got to go dump
you off
…
and then I
’
m hungry.
”

__

two.

Trev patted the headstone.
“
Thanks for the seat, Ashburne
family.
”

He sat down and stared forward at
the headstone in front of him. The Ashburne family he didn
’
t know. Husband, wife, death
separating them by five years. They had a smooth stone, which made it
comfortable to sit on or lean against.

In front of Trev was Griffin
’
s headstone.

A goddamn bullet took his life. A
bullet meant for Miller, sending off a course of revenge that ended with Miller
killing Griffin
’
s killer.
Miller got way more than that in the end of it all, but none of it was Trev
’
s business.

Not many guys knew that Griffin had
given up his leather cut for a couple years. That was a long time ago, when the
previous Back Down Devil MC President had the club on a death sentence. It was
when Miller had to stand up, take charge, command the patch and fix the club.
Hell, it was the reason why Trev gave up all his patches and moved on to the
road. He was better off there.

Until Miller called for him to come
down.

Then Griffin took a bullet, a seat
opened, and the opportunity was worth exploring.

“
I
goddamn miss you,
”
Trev
said.
“
I don
’
t know what comes after all this
shit, but in case you aren
’
t
watching, the club is moving forward. We
’
ve
got most of our enemies under control. The new chief is up our ass, sniffing,
but he won
’
t get anything
on us. He knows half the department works with us and he knows those cops won
’
t turn on us. We do too much for
them. Hell, maybe Ethan will ease a little in the future and end up on the same
course as us. Then again, if he
’
s
like Jerry, he
’
ll go on a
rampage.
”

Trev swallowed the lump in his
throat.

He looked around the cemetery. The
place was pretty damn peaceful. Rolling green hills, perfectly placed trees.
Shit, take away the notion of bodies and bones being buried under his feet and
it was a damn nice place to be.

Well, a nice place to visit.

Trev wasn
’
t ready for the grave just yet.

Trev reached into his leather cut
and took out a flask. He twisted off the cap and threw it back, taking a drink.

“
For
you, brother,
”
Trev said.
“
You saved my ass that night.
That fucking night, man. Everything went wrong. We all knew it was wrong, yet
we jumped into it together. Fucking outlaws, right? Riding in the night,
wearing leather cuts with scars where patches used to be. That was us,
together. You never truly belonged with
The Lost Men
, Griffin. I
’
m glad you came back down to
Frelen. Christ, any of the other charters would have benefited from you, but
you came back to your home. I know there aren
’
t
many who know about us and our history. I
’
ll
keep that to myself the best I can. I can
’
t
stop thinking about what happened though. If there was something else we could
have done. Moved faster, smarter, I don
’
t
know. But we let it get to that point where a bullet went through the air and
got you.
”

Trev gritted his teeth and took
another drink. He put the flask away. He crossed his arms and pushed from the
headstone and walked around to see the Ashburne stone. Who were they? Was he a
lawyer? Was she a housewife? Maybe she was the lawyer and he was a mechanic or
something. So many stories all around the cemetery but they were all silent. No
matter how hard you tried to listen, nobody spoke.

That was the chilling part.

So many people with so many
memories, stories, offerings, and they were silenced by the stopping of their
hearts.

Trev looked up and looked at
Griffin
’
s grave. Revenge
had been dealt and there was nothing else to do about it. That didn
’
t make it right or fair. Feeling
that put Trev in a troubled spot. Holding onto grudges, guilt, all that
bullshit, that was a fast track to a grave.

Leaning forward, Trev put his hands
to the Ashburne stone.

“
Fuck,
Griffin,
”
he said.
“
These talks are too one sided.
At least the club is cleaning up nice. We have the strip club on our side. The
PD stays put except for Ethan, like I said. Eight Under is nothing but a few
guys trying to throttle some dirt bikes. I don
’
t
like it this way, Griffin. At all. I don
’
t
think about the north too much anymore.
The Lost Men
and what they
’
re doing. The hell they
’
re causing. Traveling charter to
charter, making something happen. That
’
s
what I want, brother. I want to make something happen. But I can
’
t give up the seat. They wanted
me patched in and I couldn't let someone else take your spot, brother. I
’
m not sure how much longer I can
have these talks. It
’
s been
far too long, Griffin. I mean, for fuck
’
s
sake, Blaine is in a committed relationship and has a kid. That
’
s how far we
’
ve come in all this.
”

Trev walked around the Ashburne
stone and took out his gun. He took out the clip and pulled a single bullet
from the clip. He reattached the clip to his gun and tucked it away in its
holster.

“
I
have to get going,
”
Trev
said.
“
Duty calls.
”

He walked to the headstone and put
the single bullet on it.

He then walked away from the
headstone, not looking back.

It was what he always did. A single
bullet to Griffin. Maybe in some stupid way he thought that bullet would bring
Griffin back. Maybe it was just a dumb gesture and a waste of a perfectly good
bullet.

Each time Trev came back, the
bullet was always gone.

That had to mean something, right?

Trev climbed onto his ride, fired
it up, and sped away, the call of steel horse crying out to the silent
cemetery.

Inside himself, Trev felt
something
…
the Griffin thing
…
almost a year later
…
but there was something lingering
…

__

three.

The whir of the needle was her only
escape. Living through the stories of those who gave their clean skin to ink
was the best part of the job. The most ironic thing about Eden was that while
she was considered one of the best tattoo artists in the area, she didn
’
t have a single tattoo on her.
Because of that, it made her even more special. Nothing against tattoos, Eden
wasn
’
t sure if she
’
d ever find anything worth
putting on her skin to be there forever.

She worked long hours, saved her
cash, lived in a small apartment, and when she wasn
’
t tattooing, she was drawing pictures, dreaming of
a life where she could find her mother, her father, and find out the truth of
herself. All she knew was that right from birth she had been given up for
adoption. Her adoptive parents -
Bruce and Lena, so fucking middle class and
perfect
- were killed in a head-on collision when Eden was fifteen. Lena
’
s sister, Leslie, stepped in and
raised Eden until she was eighteen. Leslie worked for a marketing company and
that
’
s where Eden got her
start with drawing. She literally just picked up a pen and started to draw.

Soon she was drawing eight, ten,
twelve hours a day, recreating everything about her life she loved and lost.
For an entire summer, she drew pictures, collecting enough that when Aunt
Leslie found them, she passed them to her boss. Overnight, Eden became a star.
So much so she was going to have her artwork on display. She was going to go
attend a prestigious art school. Hell, she even had a job offer lined up with
Leslie
’
s company. She
’
d work there part-time, attend
school full-time, and become the epitome of surviving the tragedy of the death
of her adoptive parents.

Eden gathered up all the artwork
and lit it on fire.

Aunt Leslie had a fit and told Eden
to move out. It was a silly fight. Aunt Leslie had too much wine that night,
but Eden left anyway. She didn
’
t
want to be part of any family if it wasn
’
t
her real one. Her quest to find her real parents took her to Los Angeles. Her
drawings took her to the beach which didn
’
t
provide a damn thing financially. Then she met Dimitrio. He was tall, covered
in ink, and gave her a hundred bucks to tattoo his left calf. When she said she
’
d never tattooed anyone before,
he said he didn
’
t give a
shit. When she asked what he wanted, he said anything. Eden did her first
tattoo in Dimitrio
’
s shop,
after closing, doing it freehand, drawing a skull with a snake slithering
through the mouth and left eye socket. She completed the designed with red and
black roses. When she finished, she wept and Dimitrio handed her a thousand
dollars in cash.

“
What
’
s this for?
”
she asked him.

“
First
week
’
s pay.
You
’
ll get
paid every Friday, plus whatever tips customers throw at you. Be here Monday. I
’
ll have all the equipment
and supplies you
’
ll
need.
”

That was the beginning of Eden
’
s new life and career.

She still checked in with Aunt
Leslie once in a while, but not too often.

Well, she hadn
’
t talked to Aunt Leslie in
almost a year. Not since the lawyer contacted her and gave her
The Letter.

In her mind, Eden called it
The
Letter
because it was the most powerful thing she
’
d ever received in her life. It was a letter from
her birth father, along with pictures to prove his existence, her birth mother
’
s existence, and what to do when
she received the letter.

Eden took the needle from the man
’
s shoulder and wiped the ink
away. A tiger stared back at her, good enough to be alive. This guy came with
no story though. He just liked tigers.

After a few more minutes of
shading, she was done.

“
How
’
s that look?
”
Eden asked.

“
Ah,
damn,
”
the guy said.
“
That
’
s perfect. It
’
s
looks fucking real.
”
He
looked at Eden.
“
Sorry for
the language.
”

“
I
work in a tattoo shop, man,
”
Eden said.
“
You can
’
t imagine the shit I hear.
”

“
Thanks
for this. It
’
s amazing.
Really. You
’
re really good.
And you have no ink?
”

“
Not
that you can see,
”
Eden
said with a sly grin.

The guy
’
s eyes lit up.

She stood and took her gloves off,
throwing them out.

“
I
’
m only kidding,
”
Eden said.
“
I have no ink. No desire.
”

“
That
’
s crazy. And you do work like
this? You
’
re the best.
”

“
If
I
’
m the best then anyone
who touches me wouldn
’
t be
the best.
”

The guy nodded.
“
Yeah, right.
”

He took out some my money and
handed Eden a generous tip. She thanked him, explained the instructions for
care - not that he needed it as his other arm was half a full sleeve of tattoos
- and sent him to the counter.

That was the last one for the day.

The shop closed up twenty minutes
later and Eden sat in her chair and opened her top drawer. That
’
s where she kept
The Letter
.
Reading it so many times had it tattooed in her mind. It was so dumb to wait
this long, right? He had sent
The Letter
, but he also made it very clear
that Eden had no obligation to contact him. Her father just wanted her to know
he knew who she was.