Harder (Stark Ink Book 1) (10 page)

Ava snorted.

“But I want to. I
will
,” he vowed. “I will.”

Adam made sure Pop was asleep in bed before he left the house for the night. He’d threaded though the city streets intending to go home, but instead found himself heading across town in the opposite direction. He couldn’t say he was surprised that Ava thought of him as some kind of player. He had to admit he’d been living that way, in practice if not intentionally. What did surprise him was that his little sister had bothered to notice at all. Adam would be the first to admit he was far from a role model in the romance department. Dalton was a better choice, or had been until recently. Zoey had been a good influence on him and despite the difference in Dalton and Zoey’s backgrounds, Adam would have pegged them for the long haul. But Dalton’s relationship had fizzled out, or imploded more like, while Adam wasn’t even looking. He wondered if Ava knew they’d split up.

Mom and Pop’s marriage had been good, but it seemed the couples in Ava’s immediate vicinity were 1 for 3. Not great odds. No wonder Ava didn’t hold out much hope for finding love. She shouldn’t even be worried about it, though. She was just a kid, for God’s sake. Love should be the last thing on her mind. But it seemed that if she went down that path, sex took its place and she was for damn sure too young for
that
.

Adam scowled as he drove. Parenting was crap. Adam hadn’t been at it a whole month and he’d already screwed up half of it. The other half he just flat-out didn’t understand. He didn’t know how Mom and Pop managed to survive raising himself and Dalton let alone sign themselves up for round two with Ava and Jonah. The bike was the only kid Adam had, as far as he was concerned. Every part had a purpose and if they began to falter then a little bit of elbow grease and know-how would put it back to rights. Calla seemed to understand kids, what they thought and why they pulled the shit they did. She seemed to fill in the gaps that Adam hadn’t known he had until recently.

He turned onto her quiet, well-kept street. It wasn’t a fancy neighborhood, not on a guidance counselor’s salary, but it was nice. Her little house was painted spring green and her Mustang sat cheekily in the driveway. He smiled to himself as he parked his bike behind it. As he walked to the door, he couldn’t help but recall that just a few hours ago, Calla had ridden him to the point of exhaustion. It was all too tempting to do it—
her
—all over again.

He strode up to the door and knocked.

Calla opened it and seemed surprised, but pleased to see him just the same.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

Instead of answering her, Adam stepped forward. He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down. His mouth slanted over hers. Calla made a slight noise of surprise but sighed as he drew her closer. It was just a simple kiss, no tongue—despite the fact that he desperately wanted to taste her again. He had an early morning tomorrow and there was no sense in wearing both of them out. Because God knew if he came inside he’d spend all night licking every creamy white inch of her before he came inside. Finally, reluctantly, he pulled back and stepped away.

Calla balanced herself against the doorframe as she fought to catch her breath “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just forgot to do it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Felt like I did.” He paused for a moment then took another step back.

She grinned. “Are you coming in?”

Adam felt the pull of the question but shook it off. “Already did, babe.” He thought it was a joke but her smile fell, and he hated to see that. “But I plan to again,” he amended. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after that… and probably the day after that. We’ve got time, Calla, plenty of time. I don’t want to reach my fill of you just yet. Though maybe I never can.”

It wasn’t just a line. He really and truly meant it. He couldn’t imagine getting bored with her. Her smile brightened again and Adam knew for certain that few things on Earth were better than seeing that. True to his word, he wouldn’t mind seeing that smile every day for a good, long while.

“I can’t stay,” he told her and stepped off her front porch.

Her smile fell and almost had him changing his mind. “Are you sure you don’t want to?”

“I’m sure I do and I’m sure I shouldn’t. Get some rest,” he told her. “You’re going to need it.”

He watched her shiver a little and he was pleased that she was as excited about the next time as he was. He turned and headed back to his Harley. He cruised back home in the dark. Spring was bleeding into summer. The warm night wind on his face was the reason he’d never given up the bike. Soon enough, he’d take Calla for a ride, through the hills maybe, or to the lake. They could swim all afternoon, or into the night and watch the stars after the sun went down. By then they’d be all alone, in the cool, dark water underneath the light of the moon. It’d shine off her—

He shook himself a bit and refocused on the road ahead of him. Picturing Calla naked in the lake was making him rethink his decision to sleep alone tonight. He had too much to take care of, though. There was time enough for skinny-dipping later. They had all summer, fortunately. He parked around back of the shop, next to the Charger, and headed through the back door of the building. He locked it behind him and had one foot on the stairs when he heard a scrape. It came from the direction of the shop proper. None of the lights were on and Adam could only peer into the darkness that lay at the end of the short hallway. He heard nothing and saw nothing, but he still wasn’t convinced he was alone. He moved away from the stairs and closer to the lobby.

“Hello?” he called out. His nerves crackled as he inched toward the light switch just a few feet in front of him. Before he could reach it, a large, dark figure turned the corner and loomed ahead of him.

“Hello, sunshine.” Adam didn’t recognize the voice. A fist shot out and connected squarely with Adam’s jaw.

He stumbled back and hit the wall but braced himself against it. He put his boot on the wall behind him and launched himself at the hulking figure. Adam caught him around the waist and they tumbled into the lobby proper. Once on the floor, Adam reared back and delivered a haymaker of his own. Instead of catching the man in the jaw, he cracked the asshole in the temple. Taking advantage of his momentary dizziness, Adam rained blows on the now-hapless intruder. What Adam lacked in size compared to his opponent, he more than made up for in strategy. Another blow hit him in the temple again and then Adam went for the solar plexus, jamming his fist into the man’s torso. The guy gasped for air. In less than 45 seconds, his attacker had been neutralized.

Adam was about to get up and go for the phone when he heard a shuffle of feet behind him.

“Hey!” someone called out.

Adam turned to look, too late. The butt of a gun arced toward him and slammed into the side of his head.

As Adam lay prone and not-quite-unconscious, a pair of black boots came into his blurry vision.

“Hey,” said a voice that was surprisingly jovial under the circumstances. “What’s black and white and red all over?”

Another voice chimed in with laughter. Adam spat another dribble of blood onto the tiled floor and gazed up. The lights were blazing overhead now but he didn’t recognize the two men towering over him, not as such, but their black leather jackets were a sight he knew well. He may not know their names, but he knew their club: The Badlands Buzzards. Adam couldn’t quite figure out what the hell they were doing here, though. He was about to ask when he heard a crash from his workroom across the lobby. The light in the room was on, but Adam couldn’t see inside it.

“What do you want?” he demanded of the two men that he could see.

They didn’t answer but the heavy thud of yet another pair of boots edged closer. Silhouetted against the light of the workroom, a third man appeared.

Adam couldn’t tell if he knew this one or not, but he didn’t think so.

“Just looking around,” said the third man. “Not much worth taking.”

Adam could have told them that.

True to the guy’s words, his hands were empty. There was nothing in the shop worth stealing. Even the deposits were made every day after closing and ink wasn’t worth anything without an artist to apply it.

“What the fuck?” Adam spat. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking to get paid,” replied the third man as he moved out of the doorway and into the lobby. “You owe. We’re here to collect.”

If Adam could have dropped his throbbing jaw, he would have, but the haymaker the first guy had hit him with told Adam he was damn lucky it wasn’t broken. He shook his head despite the raging pain it caused. “I’m straight!” he insisted. “We’ve got no beef. I don’t owe you.”

The third man reached behind himself and Adam stiffened. If the guy was going for his gun, this was it. Adam cursed himself for everything he’d ever done wrong, or not right enough. Jeannie would probably find him in the morning. She didn’t deserve that. Adam pushed himself up as far as he could and glared at the man. Instead of a gun, he produced a tiny black notebook. Adam blinked at it in the dim light. He’d seen it before. Once.

Some men had a little black book to record all their sexual conquests. Preacher Prior, President of the Buzzards MC, could get any snatch he set his gaze on, so he aimed a little higher with his own black book.

“I paid you!” Adam argued.

The sound of the pages being turned filled the large room. “Not what it says here.”

Adam stared at the man. This was Preacher’s book, but this wasn’t Preacher. Obviously there’d been some kind of misunderstanding. Adam met the large man’s gaze. “Talk to Jack,” Adam declared. “Jack will tell you. I paid, months ago.”

The man grinned down at Adam. “Jack ain’t around no more. Name’s Hook,” he said by way of introduction. “And you owe.”

“I fucking don’t!” Adam didn’t care who this Hook was or why he thought Adam still had payments to make. It had been months since he heard from the Buzzards, not since his last payment.

Over a year ago, Adam had been unable to secure a loan. No haircut, tie, or firm handshake could disguise the fact that he had barely any startup capital and no collateral other than a used Harley. He’d been turned down by every bank in Rapid City and had finally turned to Preacher Prior for a loan. Jack had been surprisingly fair about interest, but Adam had paid him back quickly just the same. Eating ramen had seemed like a better plan than owing a one-percenter gang money. He was about to relate all this to the man standing in front of him when one of the other men crossed in front of him. He didn’t have a little black book in his hands. He had a Louisville Slugger.

Adam was as brave as a man dumb enough to get involved with a biker gang could be, but he panicked anyway. He shuffled backward as fast as he could, unable to make it to the door off to the left. Instead his back slammed against the lobby wall. The man continued to advance. Adam closed his eyes as the man lifted the bat. Instead of hitting him, glass shattered above him. It sprinkled over him like sharp, shiny snowflakes. Above him, one of the artwork frames now hung askew.

“Cash,” said Hook. “Now. If you got any money lying around, I suggest you start digging.”

Adam shook his head, flinging tiny glass chips all around him. “I don’t owe you,” he insisted, but he didn’t yell this time. The man next to him raised the bat again.

“Haze,” said Hook, calling the slugger off. Haze paused mid-swing. Hook approached slowly, holding the book out in front of him. He shoved it into Adam’s face. Unbelievably, there was an entry in the ledger dated just two months ago.
Stark. 20 grand
.

Adam refused to believe it. “That’s… that’s not me. Stark,” he agreed, “but
fifty
grand, from over a year ago. And I paid it.”

Hook flipped through the book to its earlier entries. A full minute passed before he found the original entry.

“Yes!” Adam cried as a glimmer of hope rose inside him. “That’s me! That’s my marker! The first one is mine, not the second.”

Hook stepped to the side. Adam sighed in relief. Right before the bat came down. Pain exploded as it cracked him to the side of his right knee. Adam didn’t want to but he screamed anyway.

“Twenty grand,” Hook said casually.

“I don’t have twenty grand!”

“Then you’ll get twenty grand, won’t you?”

Adam gripped his knee with one hand. His other hand spread out across the floor to keep himself from collapsing. Glass shards dug into his palm. “I..”
Fuck
, he thought as everything swirled around him. “I…” He saw Haze poised to swing again. Adam thought of Jeannie, and Ava, and even Calla. He licked the blood from his lips. It didn’t matter how long he argued and if he kept it up, he might not be walking out of here. “I can get it,” he said hoarsely.

From above them, the unmistakable sound of boots on the wooden staircase floated into the lobby. A fourth man appeared and shook his head at Hook. “Nothing,” he declared. Adam figured that one had been tossing the apartment the entire time.

Hook nodded to his man, then turned to Adam. “Three days,” he said in a lighthearted tone. “Deliver it to us at the clubhouse. If we have to come looking again…”

Haze stepped away from Adam, wound up, and slammed the bat into another frame on the wall. Glass exploded.

The four bikers exited the front door they’d apparently pried open and disappeared into the night. Adam struggled to get to his feet. He could scrape together twenty grand, though he was less certain about walking (limping) into the Buzzards clubhouse to deliver it. That, he wouldn’t do, at least not alone. He’d need backup if he was going there.

Thankfully, he knew just who to ask.