Ink (The Haven Series) (21 page)

But he’d already spotted his president approaching, as he glanced over her shoulder
, and any chance she had of getting what she wanted simply disintegrated into dust. “Not now, sweetheart.”

“But I thought ...” The confusion at his change of heart, when she’d worked hard to make in-roads with him, was written all over her face. Plain despite the make-up. “If you want me to just blow you here ...”

“Something’s come up ...” Sam started, before checking himself even as he pushed her nimble fingers away from his fly. Not because of the double entendre, inadvertent as it was – he just didn’t have to justify himself. “Just get lost, okay?”

She’d been around long enough to know not to argue with that tone of voice.

“Not interrupting, am I?” Will asked, knowing he was and watching the young woman glower as she made herself scarce. “Trust me, not a good idea anyway, man.”

“Pussy ain’t a good idea?” Sam cocked an eyebrow at that, as he threw an arm over the back of the couch he was sprawled on. “You’ve changed your tune.”

“After the shit we’ve been through, thought you might have too,” came the wry response. “But actually, I wasn’t talking about generalisations. More that gash specifically. What are you trying to do, brother?”

“I’d have thought that was pretty damn obvious ...”

“Cute, but cut the shit. I might have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Only thing you ain’t been picky about lately is real or bottle, but you been hitting nothing but blondes. I ain’t blind or stupid, Sam. If she’s still screwing with your head, screwing some cheap imitation ain’t the cure. Especially now the feds seem intent on digging a hole for us. I don’t need my sergeant damn well helping them shovel!”

“My head’s still in the fucking game, man - like it always is!” Sam growled angrily, obviously offended by any hint of an insinuation to the contrary. Even, or maybe especially, from his president. “When have I ever-
-”

“Oi
,” Will didn’t even raise his voice, but it hardened in a way that did the same job. Perhaps even more effectively than if he’d started shouting the odds. “You know I respect the hell outta you, son, but you remember just who you’re talking too.” Heaving a sigh, he sank down on the battered couch beside the younger man and shook his head. “Dammit, Sam, this ain’t like you – you’re wound so fucking tight ...”

“Nothing
like the prospect of serious jail time to chill ya the fuck out,” the blonde shrugged, grim-faced. “Or worse.”

“Ain’t gonna come to that.”

“No? ‘Cause you know what happened to Big Jay – sitting behind bars waiting to meet his maker.”

“What the hell do you
want me to say, Sam?” Will demanded, knowing he was stuck for anything positive. “Look, you’re here, aren’t you? You really think if the cops could nail you and Colton they wouldn’t have done it already? Speaking of, where is Colt?”

Downing the last of the bottle of beer he’d been nursing, Sam shrugged. “Got himself a distraction. And if he’s got any sense, he’ll be making the most of her while he can.”

“Her?” But it dawned on Will even as he asked and he nodded, answering his own question. “Sketch’s pretty little friend. Should have seen that coming – save each other’s asses in a shoot-out and these things have a way of bringing you closer ... Maybe you and me shoulda hooked up years ago, brother.”

That at least drew a reluctant grin, then an actual laugh as Sam gave in to being hauled bodily out of the funk he’d somehow spiralled into through to
o much thinking. “Sorry, dude, you just ain’t my type.”

“Maybe I can provide
a ... better distraction, shall we say?” Will offered, jerking his head in the direction of the bar and raising his voice. “Hey, Ashley – you got a second, sweetheart?”

“Hi, Will,” the attractive redhead, who’d enjoyed being the top dog’s favourite of late, smiled sweetly as she sidled up to him and duly obliged when he offered his cheek for a kiss. “You want me to get you boys some drinks?”

“Ain’t she a doll, Sam?” the president smiled, always pleased when the girls – even the ones he’d taken a shine to - knew their place. He got a playful little squeal when he smacked her ass and then pulled her down on his knee. “Got a special favour to ask, sweetheart.”

“Whatever you need, Will,” Ashley was plenty keen to oblige, trailing her nails lightly down his burly shirt-clad chest and already feeling the jealous eyes of the other girls on her. Only for him to shift her easily onto the unsuspecting lap of his sergeant, making her face fall at being passed over.

But only for a moment. Power was important around the MC and Will’s title was much more of a draw than his looks – though he had aged well for his years, like good Scotch as he’d been known to say – but Sam had rank too. And while it wasn’t president, the sergeant’s patch and that body were a pretty good compromise ...

“You show him a good time, sweetheart,” Will instructed, with a wink for them both as he got up. “Because next time I catch you moping, buddy-boy, trust me when I say the remedy ain’t gonna come in such a tight little package.”

***

“Jesus, girl ... what the hell you doin’ to me?” Colton muttered, as he dragged his mouth from Callie’s in the growing dusk beside her parked car. Both of them
were breathing hard, their foreheads resting against each other - just like the first time they’d found themselves like this. Only this time, there was no one to interrupt them. “Come back with me,” he managed gruffly, his thumb grazing her soft skin as he cupped her cheek in one work-roughened hand. His mind was already picturing her in his bed, the images made all the more vivid by the night they’d already spent together ...

“Colt ... I can’t.”

Already inwardly cursing the moment he’d let his guard down, the biker’s face hardened and he let go of her abruptly. He should have known. A taste of danger was all well and good, but now shit was getting real ... No. He bit down hard on that thought, when once he’d have let it send him onto his bike and off in a shower of gravel without even a backward glance.

This wasn’t just any chick. This was the one girl he’d come to trust, who’d accepted him for what he was and stuck by him. The one who’d stepped up for him when not even his brothers had been able to do what was needed. The one who’d somehow gotten under his skin like no one else ever had and who’d ended up saving his life.

“Gotta run back to your little boyfriend?” he asked instead of simply taking off, feigning nonchalance and trying not to consider what it meant to have to feign something that was usually so routine for him.

“It’s not like that,” Callie said, sounding like she’d expected such a response. He’d always prided himself on being unreadable, but she seemed to see right through him. “And you know it.”

There was no response that in his mind didn’t threaten to make him look like a petulant kid, so he said nothing, though his dark eyes flashed with anger at being called out.

“You’re not the wronged party here, Colton,” she said, squaring her shoulders as she faced him from just inches away. “I haven’t been fair to him, I really haven’t. And it has to stop.”

“So you think you’re better off going back to whatever jumped-up little prick you’re fucking?” The heated response at the thought of her with another man was out of him before he could stop it. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion he was used to and it was more than a little unsettling.

“Was. I
was
fucking him,” she sighed, looking him dead in the eye. “Colt, I know my handling of this hasn’t exactly been sparkling, but I can’t keep cheating on him. Just because I don’t love him ... that doesn’t mean he deserves this. We were never right for each other, but that’s not his fault any more than it’s mine. And I didn’t want to get into all this with you because I ... I don’t want you thinking this is some big game plan, because it’s really not ...”

“Christ, Callie, just spit it the fuck out,” Colton demanded, impatience getting the better of him as he realised that maybe she hadn’t been saying what he’d thought after all.

“I’m not expecting you to pick up where he left off,” she blurted out. “I’m not expecting anything from you, Colton. But I have to break up with Michael. Not for you, for
me
. And I guess kind of for him. I owe him that much.”

Silence. This time long and uncomfortable.

She stared back at him, those damn doe eyes trying in vain to gauge his reaction. The unsure little ghost of a smile was almost pleading with him to understand. “Say something, Colt,” she tried lightly, only to be taken aback when he reached for her.

Colton’s fingers curled into the belt loops of her tight gray jeans and tugged, pulling her across the space between them until her hands landed
on his chest for balance and he leaned down to plant an unexpected kiss on her forehead. “Go do what you gotta do, kid,” he said, his voice brusque compared to his actions, before simply releasing her.

“It ... It doesn’t have to change anything,” she said hesitant
ly. “With us. I mean it, Colton, I know how this works.”

“We’ll see.”

***

Driving home without recalling one bit of the journey, Callie must have replayed those two little words dozens of times in her head. Each time making subtle differences – to his tone, the look in his eyes, anything that might change their meaning. She’d never made the sa
me mistake with him as others, except those few that were closest to him, almost always did. She knew that despite everything he was capable of, normal emotions weren’t beyond him.

But caring for her was one thing. Had she really caught a suggestion that he thought there could be something more between them? Something that wasn’t just them ending up in bed together ...

She didn’t know, certainly hadn’t expected it. Not that she flat-out thought he would use her. He just didn’t seem to do relationships. They’d been friends for a relatively long time now and she’d never heard him talk about a woman in his life that wasn’t blood-related. Past or present.

That didn’t mean there hadn’t been one though. He wasn’t e
xactly the over-sharing type.

Trying to push all thoughts of the biker from her over-active mind, the little blonde heaved a tired sigh as she fumbled her key into the lock and let herself into her apartment. There was no point worrying about Colton until she’d done what she’d said she was going to do – something she should have done a long time ago.

And much as she longed to just climb into the comforting cosiness of her pyjamas and maybe indulge in the glass or two of wine she’d had to forgo over dinner in order to drive home, she couldn’t let this fester any longer. It didn’t matter that it was late, there was only one way to do this and that was fast. Like ripping off a band-aid.

Then, just like with a band-aid, the hurt would all be out in the open. All the better to heal ...

But that was as far as Callie got in her thought process, before freezing even as she balanced with one hand against the wall of the hallway to kick off her boots, startled by a crash that seemed to cause her heart to leap into her throat.

It took a second for the rational side of her brain to squash the infinitely more imaginative side and tell herself that Michael was the only one with a key and just because she hadn’t noticed his car where he usually left it, that didn’t mean it wasn’t there or that he hadn’t simply parked in another spot.

“M-Michael?” she called out, hating the shaky quality to her voice. “Is that you?”

“In the bedroom,” came the muffled response. One that had her sagging against the wall in relief –
right before the irritation set in. How had she allowed herself to be trapped by someone whose presence should have only given her happiness and instead made her feel like her space had been invaded by a near-stranger?

Despite everything, it was anger that was bubbling up inside her when she threw open the door of her bedroom and all but stormed in to confront him. “You scared the absolute fucking shit out of me!” she raged, trying to regain control of her emotions when she realised she was almost on the verge of furious tears. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Slumped on her bed, leaning back against the pillows, Michael stared back at her wide-eyed. He’d never seen her lose it like that. Come to think of it, he’d never seen any such strength of emotion from his cool, calm girlfriend  – good or bad.

“Came t’see y-you, baby,
” he tried, forcing a wide smile back on his face and holding out an arm to her. His hand sloshing the contents of the glass he was holding over her black and cream duvet cover. “Whoops!”

Callie closed her eyes and willed herself not to explode. There was no point when he was like this.

“Don’ be like that, Callie, don’ be like that,” he frowned, rubbing at the damp patch in vain. “It was an acciden’. Anyone can make a m-mistake. Did you never make a mistake?”

“Jesus, Michael, you’re completely wasted!” she sighed. “I’m not doing this with you when you’re in this state.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he slurred, lurching off the bed and stumbling towards her. Trying to kiss her cheek, but missing and getting her ear, even as she recoiled in disgust at the reek of alcohol. “Sorry, sorry. I did ... try an’ find some ... m-mints. In the drawer you keep ‘em in. Nope. None. Know what I did ... did f-find though? Hmmm, Callie? Know what I found?”