Dutch (BLP Motorcycle Clubs #4)

1. Makari London

I wiped away the excess orange ink, revealing the design in its glory. "What do you think?" I asked, holding a mirror as my client twisted her face to catch a glimpse.

"Damn, this is sick!"

"Let me finish the outline," I stated, picking up my other tattoo gun, already loaded with black ink. The machine buzzed quietly, and "Saturday Love" played softly in the background. I inked the last few details onto my client's skin, moving my fingers carefully to create perfection.

A motorcycle revving its engine outside was working my nerves, but I pushed it aside, concentrating on the task at hand. However, when I heard it again, my senses went on high alert. I paused to peer out the window. Across the street, a figure straddling a bike piqued my curiosity.

I admired my work. "Done," I proudly announced. The design reflected a story my client wanted to tell, and this work reminded me why I'd chosen this path in life.

The sudden roar of the motorcycle engine interrupted my calm, raising the hair on my arms and waking something dormant from its slumber. Like it or not, the MC world had left a mark on me, and there was no way to escape it completely.

My client examined the tattoo in the mirror. "And another one, you did that!" she approved.

"I'm glad you like it. This is why I show up every day. Let me guess, a spirit animal?"

"Nah, my boyfriend's last name is Fox."

"Okay, I love that. The things we do for love," I joked, keeping my tone light.

"Honey, I'm claiming that man." My client laughed.

"If that doesn't impress him, I don't know what will," I replied.

After more revving, I moved toward the window. "Go ahead and get dressed."

As my client dressed and gathered her things, I turned my attention back to the mysterious biker. I was torn between wanting to confront them, but the voice of caution was telling me it was a bad idea.

I looked at my client. "Don't forget to clean it and keep it moisturized, and don't hesitate to drop by if you need it touched up."

"I sure will. Thanks again, Makari." My customer grinned and headed out the door, leaving me to my sanctuary.

As the door chimed, I turned the deadbolt and switched the 'OPEN' sign to 'CLOSED'. I looked through the binds again, but this time, the figure was under the streetlight. I made out the Red Scorpions patch clearly. It was like he wanted me to see it. I turned away from the window to gather my things, but my mind was racing. Instead, I took a deep breath and attempted to clean up and disinfect my tools.

Whoever was lurking outside reminded me of the dangers that haunted me, the ones I attempted to leave behind when I left the MC world. My instincts and pride were at war with each other, one urging me to ignore the situation and the other telling me to confront it. Still, I knew being nosy was one of my greatest flaws, and I knew I wouldn't rest until I figured out who was outside my shop and why.

However, when I opened the door, he was standing right there. Seeing him up close and personal brought back some bittersweet memories.

"Shit, Jahlil, what are you doing here?"

"Makari London, long time no see," he greeted in a nonchalant tone.

Our complicated history flooded me as an unspoken reminder of what was lost. I stood my ground as Jahlil moved around me and entered my space. I caught a whiff of his cologne, the one that sometimes lingered on my pillows.

"Why are you here?" I repeated.

He spread his arms wide. "What? Just paying a visit to an old friend."

"We aren't friends. You lost that right a long time ago," I retorted, crossing my arms defensively.

He threw his hands up, conceding. "After everything, you can't convince me there's nothing salvageable between us."

I laughed harshly. "You can't salvage broken promises and bad blood." Still, before the words left my mouth, I felt that old tug, the pull that had always drawn me to Jahlil.

"Look, I'm not here to fight."

"I don't believe that for one minute," I snapped sarcastically, trying to hide my vulnerability.

"It's about Malakai."

I instantly felt that ache in my chest, a wound that would never be healed.

"Malakai's dead, so whatever bullshit you're mixed up with, leave me out of it!"

Jahlil's fingers grazed my arm as he reached out, but I jerked away at his touch.

"I've always been honest with you but believe what you want." He shrugged.

"Honest, like when you told me Malakai would be safe!" I bitterly shot back.

"I'm not here to rehash the past."

"Why are you here, then?" I demanded.

"Something's going down. Something big, and I believe Malakai was involved. He had a ledger that I need to get from you."

"Don't! Malakai's been gone for three years. Whatever shit you're cooking up has nothing to do with my brother. I don't have any ledger, Jahlil."

Jahlil shook his head as a humorless chuckle left his mouth. "You always were too smart for my liking, just like Malakai. Let this be a reminder that although you haven't heard from me, it doesn't mean you're untouchable."

"Are you threatening me?" I asked.

"Nah." He chuckled, thumbing his nose. "Consider it a warning."

I watched him leave my shop, and his words filled the air long after he was gone. His bike roared into the dark, disappearing around the block. What did Jahlil know about Malakai's death that I didn't, and why bring it up now, after all these years?

My hands trembled as I locked the door. His scent lingered, making my emotions coil. I paced the floor, remembering the last time I saw my brother alive. I'd tried to make peace with his loss, but here was Jahlil with his cryptic warning opening old wounds.

"Damn it, Malakai, why did you have to get yourself killed?" I muttered, slamming my hand on the countertop.

With my head in my hands, I dropped into a chair at my workstation. I spent the last three years recovering and building a quiet life for myself, yet just like that, my world tumbled upside down, and I didn't know what to do with myself.

"Ugh, what the hell am I supposed to do?" I questioned out loud, my voice breaking.

I pushed myself up to finish cleaning when a folded piece of paper on the counter caught my eye. My hand trembled as I reached for it. I grabbed it and unfolded the paper.

You're next.

I gripped the counter as air rushed out of my lungs. What the fuck?

Jahlil's visit and the note had to be connected, but I couldn't understand why. I smoothed out the note and read it again. It had to be a clue. They wanted me to be afraid, so I would do the opposite. I tucked the note into my pocket and finished cleaning.

I walked around the shop, unplugging tools and ensuring everything was in its correct place before turning off the stereo and lights and grabbing my jacket. I locked up and headed down the well-lit street.

This was a popular street where people frequented the shops and local restaurants, so I wasn't scared, but I was cold. I pulled my jacket close and zipped it to shield myself from the night air. I wanted to piece together the clues of this evening's events, but I also wanted to forget about them.