Ink: A Los Diablos MC Novella (Los Diablos Motorcycle Club)

Chapter Thirteen

Xiomara

W eeks passed by and the group of MC brothers that had surrounded the shop for protection slowly trickled down to nothing but a few prospects. They’d declared things relatively safe, though I wasn’t worried. Ink was more worried than me, but I told him I could take care of myself.

To that, he’d just pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger and glared down at me. “I swore to take care of you, and I’m going to.”

He didn’t know how those words affected me. In every possible way.

Ink had flaunted me around the clubhouse as his Vieja almost immediately. True to Ink fashion, he’d just stalked behind me, making me wear a shirt with low cleavage to show off the bright handiwork on my skin.

I hadn’t minded the gesture or the almost feral way he glared at his own brothers for hugging me in congratulations. It had resulted in my ass getting reddened from how hard he’d slapped it and a sore pussy from how brutally he’d thrusted in me.

While his friends and family had immediately accepted me into their fold, my ma was reluctant to trust him. I knew–even if she didn’t want me to–that she was coming around. Ink was going above and beyond trying to impress her.

She didn’t like his domineering ways, but I could see the etched relief on her features every time he showed up at our house to fix something that had been broken for years and we couldn’t afford to fix. The toilet, the leaky ceiling, the piece of shit car. He’d even made the prospects clean the yard and plant new flowers, considering work had made her neglect her plant babies.

My siblings had all but accepted him, calling him cunado in a show of affection.

I think my ma was just mad he gave me a tattoo. Or maybe she was worried I’d get hurt like she had. But if there was something I knew with absolute clarity it was that Ink was nothing like my dad, and he would never, ever hurt me.

“I’m heading out,” Ink said, slapping my ass as he passed by me. I yelped and shot him a fake look of annoyance. “Loco called a meeting. Prospect’s outside to watch you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I reminded him, just like I’d been reminding him for days now. He didn’t discuss club business with me, not that I cared, but he had told me that things were quiet.

I lived for the quiet, while it made him nervous.

“You’ll do what I say.” Ink pierced me with a glare.

I liked when he got bossy. When he took control, even outside of sex. Especially in moments like these. It was a relief knowing he cared so much, that he was willing to protect me in ways no one else had.

“Fine.” I huffed out a breath. “Should I wait for you?”

He shook his head. “Church might run late tonight. Lock up and the prospect will take you home.”

My own painted brows kicked up. “Really? On the back of his bike? I’ll be plastered all over his body, you know…”

He let out a low growl and would have reached for me by the neck if the desk wasn’t between us. “I’m going to spank that ass later.”

“I look forward to it.”

He shot me one of his rare smiles before he walked out of the shop. From outside on the street, I could make out the prospect standing there. Ink stopped to speak with him for a moment, likely to threaten his life if he tried anything with me, before he left.

I hurried through the motions of closing time, cleaning meticulously every nook and cranny. It didn’t matter that I was with Ink now. He was still my boss, and I still had a job to do. He wouldn’t let me off the hook just because we were fucking. So I suffered through the stench of lemon cleaner and when I finally finished, let out a breath of relief.

After packing up my bag and switching off the light, I walked outside to meet the prospect.

He inhaled a drag of his cigarette, nodding at me. “Ready to go?”

“Yup.”

He tossed the cigarette to the ground and used his heel to stomp on it. “Right, let’s–”

He never got the rest of his sentence out, because a bullet shot straight through his body.

The prospect jerked, in shock, pain, or both. He took a step, clutching at his chest just as a bright spot of red bloomed against his shirt.

The shock kept me standing where I was, staring at him with my mouth gaped open. Our eyes met and he murmured one word right before a second bullet hit between his eyes. Blood and brain matter splattered against me right before he fell.

A third shot rang out, this one zinging near my feet. It was what finally sprang me into motion. I dropped everything, turned, and did what the prospect had asked me to do.

I fucking ran.

I didn’t get very far. Even as I zigzagged across the street, trying to hide beneath the cover of shadows. A searing pain hit me in the shoulder and I went tumbling down on the ground.

I let out a guttural cry that resounded through the night. But even as I screamed, I knew no one would come. When people heard bullets, they hid. When people heard a woman cry out, they looked the other way.

I got to my feet, darkness clouding over me as an all-too familiar rage settled into the recesses of my bones.

I tried to take a step, but the cocking of a gun stopped me.

I swallowed and turned where I stood, meeting crisp blue eyes, bright like chips of ice.

And I knew then, that there would be no escaping this time.