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

Chapter Sixteen

Xiomara

A few months later…

M y fist struck out, punching Ink in the arm.

He jerked back in surprise, wincing before he glared down at me. “The fuck, Vieja?”

“Don’t you Vieja me, cabrón!”

Though the nickname did always make me melt, I was not having it right then.

It started weeks ago. He’d started acting super cagey. Dodging me when I was around, refusing to take off his shirt when we fucked. I knew there was only one explanation.

He was stepping out on me with one of the club putas.

“Who?” I demanded.

His brows furrowed. “Who what, wild woman?”

“Was it Yasmín?” I demanded.

That one had tried sinking her claws into Ink right in front of my very own eyes. Always draping herself over him like she fucking owned him, like she was his Vieja when I was the one with his name tattooed across my breast. I’d gotten into fisticuffs with her so often that the club brothers had started placing bets any time we were in the same room.

I always won.

Of course.

If I could beat three men to death with a bat and kill three with a gun in a warehouse, with a bullet in my shoulder, bruised ribs, and a broken toe, I could fucking end her. Fuck around and find out.

“What about Yasmín?”

I punched him again. My rage rose to an astronomical scale. I was sure I was shouting, drawing clubhouse eyes in our direction. I didn’t give a fuck. Somewhere behind us, I was sure I heard my ma whispering a prayer for patience.

“Stop pretending to be innocent. You’re fucking her, aren’t you?” I hit him again, letting my rage fly. “Why else don’t you take your fucking shirt off, huh? You hiding hickeys under there, pendejo?”

I sent my fist flying, only Ink caught it that time. I tried to yank myself from his hold, but he held firm.

“Benny Juárez, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go this instant.”

“Better do as she says, Benny, ” Fer teased from somewhere behind us.

Loco cackled.

Ever since I’d found out Ink’s real name–Benito Juárez–I’d taken to calling him Benny. It wasn’t every day I found myself fucking the founder of the motherland.

It was a running joke that had become popular among the club brothers. It wasn’t my fault he was named after the first president of Mexico. And maybe I laid the teasing on a little thick just so he’d spank me a little harder each time.

So the fuck what?

But I wasn’t in a teasing mood right then.

If anything, I felt murderous.

“Christ, Vieja. Can you shut the fuck up?” Ink’s hands tightened on my wrist.

I stood there dumbfounded. “You did not just say that to me…”

“I don’t have hickeys,” he said with an infuriating amount of patience.

“Then what the fuck–”

He sighed and stepped away from me. “This was supposed to be a fucking surprise, but of course, you had to go and ruin it.”

I watched as he yanked the collar of his t-shirt down, revealing his left pec.

And the fresh ink that lay there.

My eyes watered immediately at the sight of it, but I kept the tears at bay.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

I could feel other club members closing in on us to see what the fuss was about. Some of his brothers laughed and teased, but I barely heard their voices. I was too busy looking at him. More specifically, at the ink swooping against his skin.

“You’re pussy whipped,” Loco called out.

“Fuck you,” Ink called back. Then he glared at me. “I am going to spank your ass so fucking hard for this shit you just pulled.”

I smiled through the tears that started to fall. “Do your worst.”

He knew I loved it when he got rough. But I loved this more. The evidence that he was as enamored with me as I was with him. Because that tattoo on his body?

It was better than any gift I’d ever received.

Swirling letters that matched my own.

Property of Xiomara.

*The End*