Chapter Eight
Nero
I park my bike in the alley at the back of the Blackhawk Ink Tattoo shop.
I understand he doesn’t want me coming in the shop, but it still pisses me off.
Unlike the bar, Ghost or Garrett as he asked me to call him when I arranged this meeting, does own this place now, it hasn’t been under our ownership for almost seven years.
He kept the name because of the reputation it’s built. That is down to Garrett and Phoenix, they’re both phenomenal tattooists. Garrett has done a lot of my ink and usually does the club patch on any new members, he even has it on his own forearm.
Being kept waiting is not going to do him any favors. I’m leaning against the wall opposite the door when it opens. Garrett steps out and pulls it over. He lifts his chin in greeting.
“How’s Phoenix?” I ask.
“He’s coming around,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.
We never were the kind to have heart to hearts. We knew what each of us wants from the other and the relationship never went much further than that.
“He’s talked about calling.”
That’s good to hear. I hate fighting with him. I’ve looked out for him my whole life. I’m not here to make any more small talk.
“Dutton’s dealt with.”
Garrett’s head comes up, his jaw tight, and he nods. He wanted to be the one to do it, to take his revenge but the man who was my Ghost isn’t a violent person. He knows he owes me.
“I’ve got one more job.”
It’s on the tip of his tongue to protest but again he nods. “After that I’m out?”
I make him wait for a few moments. “Yeah. You were never really in to begin with.”
“But when I say out, I mean out, completely, no favors, no contact, no tattoos.”
“Shit, that’s a bit excessive. You and my brother are the best artists in the state.”
Garrett stares at me. I know he means patch tattoos. To be fair, I don’t have plans for any new tattoos, anyway. And Phoenix won’t be as hard as Garrett if I want one. I don’t even need to come to the shop if it makes everyone more comfortable.
See, I can be a reasonable sonofabitch sometimes. I take an envelope out of my jacket pocket and hold it out to him. “I don’t need surveillance. I want a full background check.”
“Blaze can do that.”
“I don’t want Blaze to do it,” I say, giving him a hard look.
My suspicions are my own and I don’t want to put her on anyone’s radar if I’m wrong. Which I’m starting to think I might be, but I’ve not got this far by taking chances.
“I want to know everything about her.”
He takes it with a frown and opens it up. I have printed out a photograph from the surveillance video at the bar. It’s a clear shot of her standing by Raven as they talk. I watched the whole thing last night to see what Cherry did when she came back out of that hallway.
They left the bar within five minutes. She was rattled, like any woman would be after how I treated her, but even I could see there was more to it.
Raven didn’t question me when I took the video. I didn’t want her looking back to see what I got up to in that hallway. From watching it back, it didn’t look that bad. It looked like we were about to fuck if I’m being honest.
That got me fucking worked up enough to shut down the laptop, get in the shower and jerk off to thoughts of her hot little mouth. And thinking about how close I came to touching her tits.
Pushing those thoughts aside I watch Garrett looking through what little information I have. It’s clear he wants to ask me about her, but he holds his tongue. Then tells me he’ll have it with me within a few days, but then he is going out of town so once it’s done, we’re done.
I hold out a hand. We’ve worked together a lot of years, and we might not be tight, but we have had an understanding.
He shakes it and after a few seconds he thanks me.
It’s about his sister, not for letting him go.
He won’t be paid for this job, it’s his final debt to the club.
We’re not crass enough to discuss that, knowing this is the last bond tying us.
Once he’s back inside, with one last look at the Blackhawk Ink Tattoo sign on the door, I get on my bike and pull out of the alleyway.
As promised, two days later a packet is delivered to the house. Speedway has continued to keep watch, but nothing has happened. I’m still not ready to let my guard down. I’ve wanted to question Jesse so many times, but he’d lose his shit with me.
There is already enough going on with him that I can’t bring that doubt to his door. He at least ditched the prick he was seeing and got the fucker out of his house. He said more than once he had Cherry to thank for that.
Although he didn’t call her Cherry. That’s a me thing. An obsession I’m beginning to worry about. Women are complicated and as the president of a motorcycle club, complicated is not what I need.
Doesn’t mean I can’t take her for a ride.
“Dada, look-it,” Oscar waves a white fluffy thing at my kneecaps. “Puppy.”
I push the envelope behind some plant pots on the windowsill and tend to Oscar. He wants to show me a new stuffie his uncle Speedway brought him. It’s a small golden retriever dog with a bright blue bow round its neck.
He’s been asking for a real puppy for days now because of it. I’m going to shove my fist down Speedway’s throat for putting that idea in his head.
We play for a bit and I make him some lunch, then once he’s settled down for a nap, with the puppy he’s calling Oscar Two, I finally get the information on Cherry.
Her real name is Taylor Crane, twenty-seven, native to Baltimore but went to college in Chicago. She lived with her father until she went to college then had her own place but moved back in with her father when he…
Shit. I lift my head up and stare through the window over the backyard. It was recent too. I vaguely recall Jesse mentioning his usual nurse had not been around for a couple of months, but I hadn’t thought much of it. Why would I?
I’m well and truly interested now. Having only ever known shitty parents myself it’s hard to comprehend what it must feel like, then I catch sight of Oscar’s hand. It’s randomly up in the air while he is sleeping, the kid is unique that is for damn sure.
If anything ever happened to him, I’d lose my goddamn mind. I only hope one day, when he’s older, he feels the same. Fuck, two years ago, I never would have let emotions like this be a part of my life. What did I care about kids and their parents?
Mine and most of the people I know had assholes for parents so understanding what it must be like to lose one you actually love didn’t cross my mind. From the very thorough background Garrett has provided it’s clear she thought a lot of her father.
He hasn’t included many photographs which isn’t normal. She isn’t our usual kind of target. I snap a quick picture of the two images he has got, and the one from the video surveillance, and then tuck it away for later. All of this information will be burned once I’ve read it.
Which doesn’t take long because he’s found no ties to anyone that could link her back to Chains or Storm. In fact, her only involvement with anything to do with an MC was coming to my house and then the bar and that was all purely coincidental.
She has a small circle around her that includes her job, a few friends and until his death, her father.
Raven told me the woman with her the other night is sniffing around Stryker.
Good luck to her with that. He isn’t much into hanging around with women.
He fucks when he needs to but spares little more time for them than that.
All he cares about is fighting and doing what needs to be done for the club.
Her friend is best to realize, and quickly, trying to get involved with Stryker will end in tears.
So that was why they were there that night. She only missed out on it because Stryker is all fucked up in his head over Chains. He’s booked two more fights one weekend after another to get some of the tension out.
Who knows, maybe getting the little red head under him might help. Not for me to bring up. My men have no trouble finding their own pussy. I’m no fucking matchmaker.
Unless…
Shit no, I need to leave her alone. She isn’t a danger to us, I can cross that off the list of people to worry about, and focus on figuring out who I need to kill.
A high-pitched scream comes from the room next to me and I jump up and run to Oscar. He’s crying and reaching out his hands. I grab him up and turn around but there is no one here. It takes a second for my heart rate to slow enough to realize he was having a nightmare.
Jesse mentioned it had happened a couple of times but this is the first time it’s happened with me here.
“Hey buddy, it’s okay you’re safe. Daddy’s here, I’m here, no one can hurt you.”
His little eyes are wide and looking everywhere, the remnants of the bad dream lingering.
I stroke his hair and dry his eyes, reassuring over and over that I’m here and nothing is going to hurt him.
His baleful little cry as he cuddles against my chest almost breaks my heart.
I’m so mad he’s going through this. But how the fuck do I fight a nightmare?
Maybe I need to speak to someone about it. Sheridan left me a number for his pediatrician. I will have to get Jesse to organize a visit.
I close my eyes and hug him tighter against me. I can’t even take my son to the doctor. What kind of fucking life is he going to have with me as a father? I swore the second I found out about him that he wouldn’t be raised around the club.
I saw things no kid should ever have to see because of how I was left there all the time. It became easy for me to fall into the way of life. I don’t want that for Oscar.
No, I will protect my son against my club, no matter what happens. As fiercely as I have kept Phoenix away, I’ll do that and more for my son. Starting now.
I gather up his things and take him upstairs to get his actual comfort bear, the one he can’t sleep without, and he drops the puppy like a hot rock.
While he isn’t looking I kick it under his changing table. If he asks for it, I’ll get it out, but out of sight, out of mind.
I text Rebel while Oscar drags a big bucket of building blocks into the middle of the room, to let him know I’m not going to be around today. Oscar needs me. As much as I’m worried about the club, I have plenty of people to delegate to.
We build skyscrapers and little houses and we race little cars around them, occasionally crashing into them and knocking them down. His laughter is like a balm to my soul. This is what I needed.
A little later when he says he is hungry, I stand up and hold out my hand.
As we come downstairs, taking for fucking ever because he wants to walk, Jesse comes out of the kitchen.
Oscar runs to him with a squeal and Jesse scoops him up and sits him on his hip, listening to him chatter away about us playing in his room.
I didn’t hear him come in, which is worrying. Jesse keeps eyeing me, maintaining a smile on his face for Oscar but something is wrong.
It’s only when he sets Oscar down that I see the papers and photographs that Garrett sent, still spread out across the table. Jesse follows my gaze then turns back to me.
There is no need to ask. He’s already seen them.