Chapter 33
33
NIKKO
T here was a storm brewing inside me, and no one was safe—not even me. A week without Hannah felt like a lifetime. A brutal lifetime filled with nothing but pain. I was walking around like a human thundercloud, ready to strike at anyone dumb enough to get too close. Without the shop keeping me anchored, I was like an unmoored ship tossed around by the waves.
Yeah, I fucked up. It was the story of my life. I got something good, and I fucked it up. I’d marked her permanently, thinking she was mine, only to have her slip away like sand through my fingers. I deserved it. My little joke had backfired.
I was a fucking disaster. My reputation was shot. And now, Hannah was back in Idaho, probably already forgetting about me. Why wouldn’t she? I was a fling that flung a little longer than usual but still a fling.
I grabbed my motorcycle keys and headed out. The Miami streets blurred past me, a mix of neon and shadows. I needed to move. To feel something other than this crushing emptiness. It was impossible to run from it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.
I pulled into a gas station intent on filling the tank and driving until it was empty. Maybe by then I would be empty too .
My phone buzzed. Diego. I debated answering it at all. It was just going to end up in another argument. He was going to tell me I was spiraling.
“Where the hell are you?” he demanded.
“Riding,” I growled back.
I could almost see Diego rolling his eyes through the phone. “You’ve been ‘riding’ for days. This isn’t healthy.”
“Since when do you care about my mental health?” I shot back, filling up the gas tank.
“Since you look like you’re about to do something stupid,” Diego said. “And I know you. When you get like this, bad things happen.”
I didn’t respond. Because he was right.
“Look,” Diego said, his tone softening. “I know what Jessie did wasn’t cool. Ambushing you like that.”
“Jessie didn’t do it. Hannah did.”
“Maybe you should hear Hannah out. She seemed genuinely upset.”
“There’s nothing to hear,” I muttered. “She came here to get revenge. End of story.”
“Was that before or after she fell for you?” Diego challenged.
The words rattled me. I gripped the gas pump tighter, my knuckles turning white. “She didn’t fall for me,” I said flatly. “She had a plan. She executed it. Game over.”
“You don’t believe that,” Diego said. “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be riding around Miami like a man possessed. You’d be balls deep in the next chick.”
I hung up the phone without responding.
The truth was, Diego was right. And that made everything worse.
I finished fueling my bike and pulled out onto the street, letting the wind whip against my face. Maybe if I rode fast enough, I could outrun these feelings. Outrun the memory of Hannah. Outrun the betrayal.
I continued riding, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. My bike was my only companion, the rumble of the engine a steady backdrop to my turbulent thoughts. It was my only friend. It wouldn’t fail me.
I didn’t realize where I was heading until I was already there. I did what any self-respecting disaster of a man would do when he was in a foul mood: I went looking for trouble.
The sight of my old childhood home still made my stomach twist. Paint peeling off the siding, an old couch rotting on the porch, and a broken-down truck in the yard—it was a time capsule of bad memories, but the damn thing wouldn’t stay buried. I cut the engine and waited to see if any of the occupants scrambled outside. They were like piranha swarming whenever someone showed up. They were always hoping there would be a new fix delivered or a new mark to borrow money from.
This was the epitome of walking into the lion’s den. I didn’t care. I hoped they tried to fuck with me. Even if there were ten assholes in the house, I was confident I could walk away relatively unscathed. They were old, drunk, drugged, and fucking losers.
I flung open the door. The same, nasty stench hit me like a two-by-four in the face. The air smelled like cheap beer, burnt toast, and stale cigarettes. My father and a few of his “associates” were lounging around like they were kings of their own filthy castle. I didn’t understand why they didn’t at least pick up the trash. That didn’t require money or a whole lot of energy. If you finished a burger, you put the wrapper in the trash. Two seconds.
When I stepped through the door, all eyes turned to me.
“Well, well,” my old man said, leaning back in his chair. “Look who finally showed up. Came to help your pops out?”
“Not even close,” I said, my voice low and sharp.
He laughed, a raspy sound that grated on my nerves. “Then what are you here for, son? A walk down memory lane?”
“More like a reckoning.” I took a step closer, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’ve been dragging this family through the dirt for years. You’re a deadbeat, a loser, and the worst excuse for a father I’ve ever seen. ”
The room went quiet. Even the guy in the corner who’d been picking his teeth with a pocketknife paused mid-pick.
“You’ve let everyone down, but mostly, you’ve let yourself rot in this dump while the world moved on without you. I tried—God knows I tried—to pull you out of it, but you just keep choosing the gutter.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spat, his face twisting in anger.
“Oh, I don’t?” I pointed to the fading bruise around my eye, now a sickly shade of brown and yellow. “I know enough. You sent your problems to my doorstep, old man. Guys came after me because of your mess. You sent them to me. You knew what they would do when I didn’t have the cash. And why in the fuck would I have ten grand lying around? You don’t think I would do something with that kind of money? You don’t think I’d pack my shit and get as far from you as possible!”
My father’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so much better than me?”
“I know I am,” I said coldly. “I built something. A life. A reputation. And you? You sit here, rotting away, sending gangsters after your own son because you can’t pay your fucking debts.”
One of the other men in the room shifted uncomfortably. My father’s reputation was well known, and not in a good way.
“You didn’t pay them?” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“No! You are the one that owes the debt. Not me.”
“Those guys will be back.” My father took a swig from a beer bottle. “And they won’t be nice next time.”
“That’s your problem,” I spat. “Not mine. When they want to send a message, they can send it to you.”
He paled slightly, but one of his friends piped up. “We’re family, Nikko. Family looks out for each other.”
“Family?” I barked a laugh. “You don’t want a family. You want a cash machine. Newsflash: I’m not paying a dime of your debts. You dug this hole. You can crawl out of it on your own. Get fucking jobs! Clean your shit up. Look around! ”
The silence that followed was heavy. My old man’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to his friends.
I stepped closer, dropping my voice. “You have one chance to clean this up. One. I’m not going to bail you out again. And if anyone comes looking for me, they’ll regret it.”
My father’s friend in the corner spoke up, his voice low and gravelly. “Those guys mean business, Nikko. They don’t play around.”
I turned to him. “Neither do I.”
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. My father stared at me, his eyes a mix of anger and something else. Respect? Fear? I couldn’t tell.
“You think you’re tough?” he finally said. “You have no idea what tough is.”
“I’m tough enough to walk away,” I said. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
As I turned to leave, his voice followed me. “Nikko, wait.”
I stopped but didn’t turn around.
“You don’t understand,” he said, his tone almost pleading. “They’ll come back. They’ll come after you again. There’s nothing I can do to stop them. You don’t know who these people are. They are serious. Like real bad stuff. I’m worried they’ll kill you or make you wish you were dead.”
I finally faced him, shaking my head. “Since when have you ever given a damn about protecting me? You’re on your own, old man. Good luck.”
And with that, I walked out, slamming the door behind me. I couldn’t say I felt good, but I felt better. Like I finally closed a door that had been letting in a cold draft for too long. In a weird way, I loved my father. But he was sucking me dry. He was draining the life from me. I couldn’t live with him dragging me down. And time and time again he proved to me that no matter how many times I pulled him out of the gutter, he crawled right back in.
I climbed on my bike and took one last look at the house that had shaped me. I didn’t know if I’d be back. I had no idea what would happen to my father without me around to bail him out, but I had to cut the cord.
He was on his own.
I started the engine and sped away. The longer I rode, the clearer things became. I drove to the shop. It was strange not to get up and go to work every day. The shop was like a second home but I had been evicted. I spent plenty of time being angry and bitter about Marcus firing me. It wasn’t his fault. He was doing what he had to do to protect his business. I would do the same.
Jessie was organizing ink bottles, Diego was cleaning his station, and Marcus was flipping through a tattoo magazine.
“Hey,” I said, walking in.
They all looked up, clearly surprised to see me. I had gone underground the last week and avoided all of their phone calls and texts.
Diego immediately noticed the tension in my shoulders. “Rough morning?”
“You could say that,” I replied, leaning against the counter. “Listen, I need to tell you guys something.”
Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “If this is about Samantha, I swear to God?—”
“It’s not about her,” I interrupted. “It’s about me. I’m leaving town for a while.”
The room fell silent.
“What?” Jessie said, her voice rising an octave. “You can’t just leave!”
“I need a break,” I explained. “A change of scenery. Let this whole mess with my dad and his debts blow over. I’ll be back… eventually.”
Diego crossed his arms, his face unreadable. “Where you heading?”
“Not sure yet,” I admitted. “Just need to clear my head.”
“You’re seriously ditching us?” Jessie’s voice cracked, and I could see her eyes getting misty.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s not forever. If you guys need anything, I’m just a phone call away. But right now, I need to get out of here. ”
Jessie wiped at her eyes angrily. “Fine. Go. But don’t expect us to throw a welcome-back party when you decide to show up again.”
Diego stepped forward, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Take care of yourself, man. And don’t do anything stupid.”
Marcus nodded solemnly. “Good luck out there. Take care of yourself.”
Jessie sniffled, glaring at me. “If you come back covered in face tattoos, I’m personally kicking your ass.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Noted.”
As I walked out of the shop, I felt relief and sadness. I wasn’t running away—I was just hitting the reset button. And maybe, just maybe, I’d figure out how to piece myself back together again.