Chapter Three
Indie
My eyes lifted to hers. I didn’t know what to ask. “It’s none of my business.” I sat on my stool. “Do you mind if I touch them? I want to see how the skin feels, then I’ll know what we can do.”
“Sure.”
My fingertips trailed over the scars on the leg she wanted me to ink. “The scars are pretty small; the skin should hold the ink.”
“Great.”
Kytten wanted me to freehand her tattoo, so I grabbed my gun and got to work. About fifteen minutes into the tattoo, the door pinged, and Kytten tensed. I laid my hand on her leg and said, “It’s probably Mimic.”
“I know,” she answered quietly as Mimic stepped around the divider. His eyes went to his sister’s legs. His hand crushed the coffee cup he held, and coffee spilled on the floor.
“I didn’t want you to see,” Kytten whispered.
I watched Mimic for his reaction. He hadn’t said a word, just stared at her legs. His nostrils flared, and his breathing picked up. I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the other side of the divider, not stopping until we were outside.
“Hey,” I said, trying to get him to look at me. He stared over my shoulder, ignoring my attempts to get his attention.
“Mimic!” I pushed at his chest, and he snapped back from wherever he’d gone. “You can’t be like that. I don’t know what happened to make her do—”
“No, you don’t know what fucking happened, and it’s none of your fucking business.
” Mimic turned away from me and pulled out his phone.
“Keys, get your ass to Shadow Ink, in a fucking truck not your bike, and sit outside the door until my sister is done. Don’t step one foot inside the shop or I will carve your fucking eyes out of your head, got me? ”
He hung up without waiting for a response. Turning to me, he growled, “Go inside, lock the fucking door, and finish her tattoo. Don’t ask her a fucking thing.”
He yanked the door open and pushed me inside. He stared at me through the door until I turned the lock, and then he finally walked away. I crept back around the divider and found Kytten wiping away tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry he’s being an asshole.”
Kytten chuckled. “He’s not, I promise.” She waved her hands over her legs. “This is hard for him. We lost each other for a lot of years, and I went through some shit. He’s blaming himself.”
“He’s still an asshole,” I mumbled.
I sat on the stool and got back to work. Trying not to think about the scars I was covering and what had happened to make Kytten hurt herself. And why Mimic would blame himself.
When I was done, I put some cream on the tattoo and wrapped it in plastic so she could pull her jeans up. We walked together to the register, and I gave Kytten her total. She held out the money, but when I reached for it, she pulled her hand back.
“Please don’t think awful of my brother. He’s always been so protective of me, and well, things happened that neither of us had any control over. He hasn’t quite accepted that children aren’t responsible for the actions of adults.”
“It’s really none of my business.”
She sighed and set the money on the counter. “Give him a chance, okay?”
Before I could answer, she slipped outside the door and into the truck of the man I assumed was Keys. She waved as they drove off, and I wondered what her story was. Was it similar to mine, or worse?
I’d never hurt myself, but some of the girls had. A few of us wanted to stay together after we escaped, but because we were so young, they split many of us up.
Three of us were placed together in the foster home Alice and I ran from. The third girl was Jenny. She hadn’t done well in the Trick Pony or out of it. She’d taken her life not long after.
We all had our demons and our own ways of coping with them. I would never judge someone else for doing whatever they could to process their trauma. Even if it meant leaving this world.
There were plenty of times I had thought about it. Then I would think of my mother, and the idea of one day seeing her again pulled me through.
I cleaned up my station and was putting the extra ink away when I heard the front door again. My shoulders dropped in despair as I realized my day of dealing with Mimic wasn’t done.
Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? The day was done; the door was locked—wait, I had locked the door, right? Slowly, I tiptoed out to the main area, and a man stood at the counter.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed for the evening.”
“Door was still open; light was still on.”
He wasn’t bad looking. He wasn’t as tall as Mimic, but his shoulders were wider. The cut he wore was different, too. More faded, dirtier. “Hours on the door are clear.”
“If you didn’t want anyone coming in, you should have locked the door,” he said with a grin that didn’t look friendly. It was a grin I recognized. I’d seen it on other men. Older men who thought they had a right to do what they pleased because they had money to pay for their sins.
“There are cameras all over this room. And they’re monitored twenty-four seven.”
He looked at the ceiling. I wasn’t lying; there were cameras, but Gunner had never said anything about them being monitored. I assumed that, like everywhere else, they were there for viewing after the fact.
He pulled something out of his pocket. “This nifty little device makes sure no one can see a thing.” He held up a small plastic box about the size of a cigarette lighter. It had two lights; one of which was green. It was lit up, letting me know it was activated.
“Indie. Indigo, wake up, honey.”
I opened my eyes to Gunner so close to my face that I jerked it back and hit it on the floor. I groaned loudly, my hand reaching for my head.
“Don’t touch it, sweetheart. Patch needs to take a look.”
“Get out of my way so I can.”
I had met Patch twice. His bedside manner when dealing with the men in the club was less than ideal. But when his hands reached out to help me sit up, they were gentle. The harshness of his voice was gone when he asked me how I was feeling.
“What happened?”
“We were hoping you could tell us. Gunner rode by and saw the lights still on and stopped to check. Found you lying on the floor.”
Patch held a light in my eyes and asked me to follow it, which I did. Then he examined the goose egg on my head. “You have a nasty bump, but the skin didn’t break. I’m more concerned about the black eye.”
“Black eye?”
“I’m going to fucking kill him. Where the fuck was Mimic?” Gunner growled, trying to keep his voice low.
“I made him leave when Kytten came in. She didn’t want him here while she got her tattoo.”
“And after?”
“Keys picked up Kytten, and I guess I forgot to lock the door behind her. I was putting stuff away and someone came in. I told him we were closed, but he had some kind of device.”
“A scrambler. The cameras went out as the door opened. There’s nothing until after he left,” Gunner explained.
“Do you need a full exam?” Patch asked, his eyes on me. I knew what he was asking, and while I didn’t know what might have happened after I blacked out, my clothes were still on, and there was no soreness.
“No.”
“Do you know who he was?”
The front door opened, and King and Cash walked in. I’d met quite a few of the brothers as they came and went. Some came in for ink, while others came in to speak with Gunner on different occasions.
“Hey, Indie, you okay?” King asked as he crouched down in front of me. Patch wouldn’t let me stand yet.
“Yeah.” I looked up at Gunner. “I don’t know who he was. He wore a cut, but it was different. He said he had a message to send.”
“What was the message?”
“He didn’t say, that was when he punched me and everything went black.”
“Son of a bitch,” Cash hissed.
The door opened, and Mimic walked in, heading straight for me. He kneeled on the floor, and his hand went to my chin. “Who did this?”
“Where the fuck were you?” Gunner pulled him off the floor and shoved him against the wall.
“Gunner, stop.” I tried to get my feet under me, but my head spun and my stomach flipped upside down.
“Easy, Indie. You have a concussion.”
“Where the fuck were you?” Gunner yelled a second time, trying to push Mimic further into the wall.
“Gunner!” I yelled to get his attention, and the sound of my voice made my head pound. I groaned and grabbed my head, and Gunner lifted me and carried me to the office and laid me on the couch.
“It’s not his fault.”
“The fuck it’s not. He was given an order.”
“I physically pushed him out the door and locked it behind him. I just forgot to lock it after Kytten left.”
“INDIE!”
Haizley rushed into the office and crashed onto the couch beside me.
“What happened?”
“I’m fine, really. I’ve been through worse.”
“You’re not fine. Patch said you have a concussion. Someone needs to stay with you tonight,” Gunner said.
“She can stay with us,” Haizley offered.
“No, I want to go home.”
“Then someone is going with you.” Gunner moved to the door. “Mimic, get your ass in here.”
Mimic stepped into the room, and his eyes went immediately to mine. I saw the guilt and regret on his face.
“I’m fine,” I tried again.
“Mimic, take Indie home. Stay with her. You don’t leave her fucking sight. You got me?”
“Yeah.” That was all he said as he stared at me.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“It’s either that or the clubhouse, babe,” King said from the doorway.
“Last time I checked, I was an adult and could make my own decisions.” Mimic raised an eyebrow, and I knew what he was thinking. Yes, I lied about my age to get this job, but I was still twenty fucking years old.
“Indie, please. Patch said someone needs to be with you tonight. Let Mimic stay.”
Haizley was the first friend I’d made in Diamond Creek. We bonded over the piercing I gave her on her kitchen table. I liked Haizley, but I kept my distance as much as I could. She was a shrink. I didn’t need her getting in my head and finding my secrets.
“Fine,” I relented, knowing that if I didn’t, she would hound me until I did, and I didn’t want to go to the clubhouse. I worked hard to have my own space. I wanted to enjoy it.
Mimic followed me to my apartment. It was a small one-bedroom on the edge of town. The building had twenty apartments in total, four on each floor. Mine was on the third floor.
Slowly, I walked up three flights of stairs. There was no elevator, but at least it kept me in shape. Mimic hovered behind me, and all I could smell was him. He smelled of leather and sin.
I opened my door and waited for him to move inside. “You don’t have to stay.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at me as he moved inside and proceeded to check the windows in every room. When he was done, he double-checked the locks on the front door.
With a defeated sigh, I asked, “Are you hungry?”