Damaged & Dangerous: The Sacred Hearts MC Book VI (21 page)

Red-XII…

Reaver caught my eye from the doorway and lifted his chin.
He was dressed and ready to head out. I nodded and held up a finger and he
nodded, his eyes coolly sweeping the back of my girl. She had a sheet hiding
her from the hips down and Rev was bent over the low-riding massage table from
his perch on a chair beside it, brow furrowed deep in concentration. He had a
small tray table set up next to him with all his inks and guns and shit as he
worked the image stenciled on Dani. She was going to be miserable in the
morning. Uncomfortable as hell while she healed.

I knelt by her head and smoothed her hair back from her
face. I whispered that I loved her in her ear and kissed her cheek. Trigger
nodded and Disney echoed the sentiment. They would take care of her while I had
to go out. I shrugged into my jacket and cut, still a little stiff, my shoulder
not quite there yet, but Doc and I were already rehabbing it. The slug had a
shit ton of its momentum stopped and hadn’t gone deep at all. Really it was
just a damned flesh wound. Stitches were out already.

Reave and I passed Doc sitting at the club’s bar reading one
of his woman’s books. We each clapped him on the back as we passed and he said,
“Be careful.”

“As careful as a virgin on her wedding night!” Reave called
over his shoulder, and Doc snorted.

We mounted our bikes outside and strapped on our helmets.
The deep night air was comfortable, warmer than it had been in a while, just
this side of chilly. Still, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the stars were out,
the roads dry and clear, and it was just about as perfect as it could get when
it came to riding.

“Ready?” I grunted.

“I been ready, let’s bury this.”

I kick-started my bike and he hit the switch to start his
and we rode out, along the highway, deep into East County and into the heart of
Suicide Kings territory. Neither one of us had the intention of dying for real
tonight. Nope. We were the reapers this time.

We pulled up and backed into an alley a good distance from
The Suicide Kings’ club. We only had to wait an hour or two before Flyer came
stumbling out the back.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Reaver breathed.  I looked
over at him like he was fucking nuts, but he just plain wasn’t home. He leaned
over his handle bars watching the man the way most people watch a fascinating
insect. I shrugged, more to myself than anything. To each their own.

You didn’t hear it, but rather saw it. One second Flyer is
standing there trying to keep his feet under him, and the next second there’s
this puff. Almost like he let out a breath of that vapor shit that was popular
nowadays, and then he just keeled over.

“That’s our cue,” I sang out under my breath and Reave and I
dismounted our bikes. I checked my guns and, satisfied they were ready to go,
checked with Reave. He shrugged his shoulders and I rolled my eyes.

“Seriously? The last time you brought a knife to a gun fight
you got yourself shot.” The crazy fucker just grinned at me and we set out
along the street, skirting cameras, and went up to the side door of the
building. Reave nodded and we slipped in unnoticed.

We were here to finish this as much as we could and with
Flyer down, that left Gordy, Pipes, Skid, Bandit, and Griz. Reaver and I walked
into the big expanse of open space where Griz had his table set up, his ‘war
room’ as he called it, and I gave a sharp whistle, gesturing with my gun. Gordy
straightened up and stood, calm, his hands in the air.

“Mmm, eleven. You can write off your VP. Your guy outside
was twelve, and you’ll make thirteen.” Reaver ticked each downed man in turn on
his fingers and cocked his head to the side.

“Well, I’ll be dipped in shit,” Gordy said.

I snorted, “Please, you had to know this was coming.”

Ghost, true to his name, drifted into the room from the
back. He shook his head. Skid, Pipes, Bandit and Griz were still MIA. Ghost
took a position where he could cover things, taking steps two at a time to the
catwalk that ringed the room.

“So what now, boys?” Gordy asked.

A flash of movement at my side and Gordy’s eyes flew wide,
his hands went to his throat and he found one of Reaver’s throwing blades in
his neck, dead center. A cruel fucking blow if you ask me. I blinked. I hadn’t
even seen Reave go for it.

“Go ahead, pull it out,” Reaver said. Gordy choked, blood
coating his chin, and went to his knees. I slowly lowered my gun.

Reaver went, walking to Gordy, who fell to his knees as he
struggled to pull air through a wind pipe that no longer worked the way it was
supposed to. He was going to die slow this way and I can’t really say I felt
one way or the other about it.

Reaver crouched by him and looked him over, smiling this
secret little smile, like he was listening to a music only he could hear and
the sound of it pleased him. Soothed him somehow.

I glanced up at Ghost, who had a better view of Reaver’s
face than I did, and the man looked like he was shut the fuck down. Like the
soldier he was. Still, a hint of unease flickered in the depths of his gaze as
he looked down at the scene below him.

I followed through with the plan and ducked into the bar and
added three more hashtags to the count on the wall, which hadn’t been touched
since Archer, Rush, and Nox had put it there. I went back, and Reaver was
murmuring things to Gordy as the light died in the other man’s eyes.

We loaded the bodies into the van but left the cuts near the
bloodstains on the floor. We rode out ahead of Ghost, to Point Nowhere, and
buried the fuckers in Cicada Woods before heading back to the club. Ghost got
out of the van, his sniper’s rifle slung over his shoulder.  Reaver - as quick
as he’d gone fucking scary - was his normal, lighthearted self by the time the
gate rolled shut behind us. He got off his bike and we went back into the club
and had a stiff drink before parting ways.

I went straight to my room. Doc sat in a chair beside the
bed, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, reading a thick paperback.
Dani lay on her stomach, face turned to the side, one arm gracefully following
the cascade of her dark hair over the edge of the mattress. Her other arm, the
one without the IV hooked to it, was curled to her chest as she slept on,
oblivious. Her back was raw and puffy where the ink had been forced under it.
The whole thing was pretty much done except for color.

She could get up tomorrow and decide she couldn’t go through
another session, and it would be okay, would look like a completed piece. I
stood, looking down at my girl for a long time.

“It was a good idea,” I said to Doc, keeping my voice low so
as not to disturb Dani. “Thank you, man.” Doc looked over his half-moon
spectacles at me, over the top of his novel, before lowering it.

“Some awful shit?” he asked.

I sniffed and nodded. He grunted and nodded too. Nothing
really needed to be said about it. I stared down at the beautiful piece of art
inked under my woman’s skin and sighed.

“This is going to seriously suck for her come morning.”

“Shouldn’t be too bad, I’m keeping her hydrated, she’ll need
to be cleaned up some and Dis, Rev, and Trig already have it worked out. Timed
so someone can go to her wherever she’s at to keep the tatt lubed enough to
keep her out of too much discomfort while it heals. We decided it was best this
way. She couldn’t take any more of it, she wouldn’t have to, but the guys
didn’t want her going around with no half-assed tattoo the rest of her life.”
Doc voiced just about every thought I’d just had, and it made me smile.

“Dani’s tough. She’ll finish it,” I said with confidence.

“Well, gonna say g’night then, now that you’re here.” Doc
heaved himself to his feet and I nodded, my eyes still only for Dani, sweeping
the curve of her back where it dipped just before the swell of her ass. You
couldn’t even see the original ink. It was like it had never been. I heard the
door shut softly and I sighed. If only erasing some memories were as easy. The
pain from the tat would dissipate but the pain in her heart, well that shit
took a lot longer to heal.

I finally tore my eyes off of her long enough to strip down
and get into the bed on the other side. I wanted to hold her, to touch her, but
I didn’t want to wake her or hurt her so instead I lay on my side and stared at
her beautiful face. I stared for a really long time.

Dani…

The morning after the first part of my tattoo had been done
was sheer misery. Not only did my head feel like it was full of cotton from the
drugs, my back felt this odd combination of burning but also like the skin was
too tight. I’d whimpered when I’d woken, and Thirteen had startled awake beside
me. He’d helped me into the closest bathroom so I could take care of business,
which pretty much involved bathing, except I couldn’t shower. Something about
not getting the tattoo directly in the spray.

Instead I had knelt in the tub while Thirteen gently poured
water on the back of my neck, letting it wash down over my back. That was so
not fun. What really wasn’t fun was when he’d used his fingertips laden with an
antibacterial hand soap to wash me. No matter how gentle, how ghostly the
touch, it was sheer misery. Only thing worse was patting the affected areas
dry.

Still, even after the entire ordeal, it had been completely
worth it once I had gotten to look at the sweeping image in the bathroom
mirror. They’d completed it, every line, every bit of shading; it was a whole,
complete image and what’s more, you couldn’t identify a single trace of Pig’s
mark. No matter how hard I looked for it, even knowing it had been there, I
just couldn’t see it in the drift of lilies at the bottom, the flora and
foliage perfectly disguising it.

I’d spent the entire first two days of the healing process
on my stomach in bed. The guys would come at even intervals to slather this
thick, petroleum-like moisturizer over the inked-in areas of my back, and I
looked forward to those moments. It was the only time the infernal itching
eased for me.

I couldn’t put on a shirt if I wanted to in those first few
days and then, while it took the rest of the week to get to a point it no
longer itched, I could only wear one of Thirteen’s oversized tees. The lotion
that had to be continually applied made an absolute mess of things and so I was
doing laundry almost as much as I was spending any time in my shop.

When Thirteen couldn’t come to apply the lotion to my skin,
it was usually one of the three artists. Though it had been a few days since I
needed any applied. The skin healed and finished peeling.

This time my visitor was Blue. I blinked in surprise. He
smiled and waved a hand up and down and I nodded. He didn’t speak and I didn’t
feel the need to fill the silence with useless prattle.

I lifted the back of my shirt and he traced a fingertip over
my back along the tree. I had just finished polishing Revelator’s wedding set
for his woman and was about to get started on shining up the white gold band
I’d fashioned for him when Blue had entered.

“Thirteen in church?” I asked. Blue made a face and nodded.

“Thanks.” I put the shirt back down. He raised an eyebrow in
question.

I nodded, “I think I’m going to go for it.”

Blue smiled broadly and I smiled in return. He nodded
happily and left me in the shop to myself, he was the only one to check on me
regularly just for the hell of it, other than Thirteen, and was becoming a true
friend. I think it was because I understood him clearly without his ever having
to speak. Only Duracell shared that particular talent.

I smiled and finished polishing the three individual rings,
proud of my work. I slipped them into two small velvet bags left from my
grandfather’s defunct jewelers business, and shut off lights and equipment.
That was enough for one day. 

The afternoon sunshine was warm and the unseasonably cool
spring and early summer had turned over into a string of beautiful midsummer
days. I stretched and tipped my face into the sun, drawing in a deep breath
that smelled of sunshine and freshly mowed grass. The men of The Sacred Hearts
kept the grounds of their club meticulous. It was a welcome change from the
dilapidated, rusting industrial building surrounded by a rutted gravel lot.

I looked across the grass, past the long, low, cinderblock
building that housed more rooms for brothers either in the club who lived here,
or for brothers visiting from out of town. The back of the main building had an
asphalt track. A giant access loop from the front lot that could be followed
past the garage outbuilding my shop was housed in and past the low outbuilding
full of rooms. It could also be used as a running track, which I often saw
Reaver and Trigger do, sometimes Revelator and some of the others for that
purpose as well.

On the opposite end of the oval from where I stood was a low
bench, and in front of that stood Archer, Rush, and Nox. It was a homemade
outdoor shooting range. A berm of dirt piled high providing the backdrop for
their targets, quite a ways out from where the men stood checking and readying
weapons.

Nox, Rush, and I had grown to get along but Archer remained
defiant. Enemy for life, that one. I shook my head as he glared in my
direction. I was disappointed. I wanted Thirteen’s brothers to like me. Hell,
we all want to be liked, but Archer just plain wasn’t having any of it. I
shrugged to myself and struck out across the grass to the back of the club’s
main building. Coming in from the bright sunlight into the club’s dim interior
always took a period of adjustment for my eyes and this time I crashed headlong
into someone coming out the door. I put up my hands against slick leather and
rough, felt patches. Gentle, supportive arms curved around me, pulling me in.

“Easy, Rocket, I got you,” Thirteen’s voice was smiling, “I
always got you.”

I lost my stiff posture in his arms and sank against him, a
smile touching my lips. I tipped my head back and he met my mouth with his in a
gentle yet persistent kiss.

“Hmmm, do we have time to..?” I let the question hang,
hopeful.

“Wish we did, Babe, but I was coming to get you. The guys
were getting things set up to finish your tat, you up for it?” he stared into
my eyes and I smiled; his were a warm spring green, and held such a confidence
in me. I nodded happily.

I liked the colorized version of the tattoo too much not to
do it. I wasn’t sure that if Doc hadn’t come up with the idea of making me so
high I didn’t care, I would be able to go through with a piece so big, let
alone twice over. Thankfully, he had, and I was willing to do it. I loved the
black and white image, don’t get me wrong, it was beautiful; but for the last
two weeks as I had contemplated it in the mirror I had realized that this
tattoo was much more than just a cover up. That for me it went beyond just
making something pretty out of something ugly.

It had become a physical representation of leaving my old
life behind. Of laying old ghosts to rest and of a new beginning for me. I
needed, very much, to breathe color and life into the image inked under my
skin. I needed vibrancy and happiness to follow in my wake. Not the bitter ash
of memory… and so I would do this.

Thirteen pulled me tight against the front of his body and
kissed me thoroughly, his tongue stroking alluringly against my own. Teasing my
body awake, making me shiver with a wanton neediness. I pulled back and slapped
him playfully on the chest of his cut.

“Ow, hey! What was that for?”

“No getting me all excited if you can’t or won’t follow
through.” I wrinkled my nose at him and he laughed. We walked for his room, his
arm slung around my shoulders.

“Gonna be a minute before we can again, you do this,” he
reminded me, “Wanted to make sure you’d know what you’d be missin’.”

I snorted, “Somehow I think it’ll be more of a hardship for
you than for me.” Last time I had been so miserably uncomfortable in my own
skin I had barely wanted to be touched. The thought of sex in that condition
had made me quail, no matter how much I was in love with Thirteen.

“Damn straight!” Thirteen was saying but he faltered when I
stopped.

“Baby what’s wrong?” he asked.

I looked at him plaintively, “You know I love you right?” I
asked quietly.

“No, but it does me a lot of good to hear it,” he said just
as quietly. He took me back into his arms, “I love you too, Rocket.” His
fingertips were gentle where he cradled my cheek, his thumb grazing along the
skin in a simple caress. We kissed again, only this time is was a thing
weighted with promise and emotion. Heavy with words unspoken, with admiration
and care and a strong mutual respect for one another.

It was the singularly most spectacular kiss of my entire
life and it left me breathless, my heart swollen within my breast to a point
where I no longer needed air to breathe… I just needed him.

Someone cleared their throat nearby and Thirteen and I
jumped. Revelator looked at us, apologetic.

“We’re all set, ready when you are,” he said. I smiled,
Thirteen scowled. I gave Thirteen a playful poke in the shoulder and he
grinned, laughing at me.

“You shouldn’t scowl at him when he’s about to turn me into
a human Voodoo doll.” I complained.

Revelator laughed, “Not like you’re going to know the
difference,” he remarked. We followed him in to the bedroom and it was set up
like before. Doc stood by the massage table, laying the plastic tubing he would
be hooking to an IV.

“Ready when you are, Sweetheart,” he said kindly. Trigger,
Rev, and Disney left the room with Doc and I stripped down, pinning my hair up
in a messy bun like I was wont to do when I worked or what have you.

“Here, give these to Rev after he’s done,” I murmured softly
and handed the little velvet bags to Thirteen. He smiled and looked. I was so
pleased by the look of impressed, soft wonder on his face over what the bags
held.

“You’re incredible, Baby,” he murmured and kissed the top of
my head, pocketing the offerings. I smiled and sat on the edge of the massage
table wrapped in a towel that covered me from armpits to knees while Thirteen
let Doc back in.

He started the IV, my eyes squeezed shut, face pressed into
Thirteen’s stomach, his arms wrapped protectively around my head and shoulders.
He made soothing sounds while the deed was done and then let me go when it was
over, thumbing some stray tears from under my eyes.

“Hang in there Dani, y’ won’t care soon enough,” Doc
murmured encouragingly.

I lay down on my stomach and Thirteen brought the sheet to
my hips before taking the towel away. Modesty perfectly preserved.

“You good, Baby Doll?” Doc asked.

“Yes,” my voice was a little high and tight with panic, but
then he pushed the drugs and that euphoric, foggy feeling started in my brain.
A couple more minutes and you could have told me the sky was green and I would
have believed you. Sometimes drugs were a wonderful thing. Especially when
administered by a doctor, oh and with no availability and thus no danger of
repeating them or becoming addicted. Yes, indeed. I could do this.

I let my brain ramble on with these thoughts, startling
slightly when the tattoo gun gave an angry buzz as Revelator situated himself.
A latex covered hand pressed to my back after I jumped and stayed there for a
time. A comforting weight, warm, secure… I think I may have drifted off to
sleep at that point. I don’t remember. I certainly don’t remember the gun
starting back up or the point he began to dig at my flesh with the needles.

Oh yes. Drugs were so not bad… Mmm hmm.