Double the Redemption (The Dragon’s MC #7)

1. Ink

INK

He was used to seeing jacked-up tattoos, but this took the cake.

I mean, who the hell thought pairing a realistic snake with a cartoon dragon was a good idea?

And on his bicep, no less? There was no hiding it; the guy looked like he was about to Hulk out of his T-shirt.

The tattoo was rushed, like the artist ran out of time.

The giant man in the chair glared at Ink.

Ink had no plans on being the one to take it. The man’s jaw was granite-hard enough that he probably ate nails for breakfast. Or steroids. How the hell did a man with that much muscle move around? He wasn’t planning on asking him. Again, he didn’t have a death wish.

“Alright, well, we can do a cover-up tattoo and really make this look badass.” Ink tried to sound confident and cheerful, but the man’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened.

“When I saw this shit, I was pissed. Nearly ran his head into the wall of his tiny cubicle,” the guy griped.

Ink was used to covering bad tattoos, and luckily, a lot of his business came from fixing other people’s fuckups.

“Don’t worry, I got you. Sit back, and we’ll get to work.

” He reached for the hair tie to secure his hair, but stopped when he remembered he got it cut.

Damn, that was going to be a hard habit to break, but it was time, and he was grateful not to have anything falling in his face. Especially doing this guy’s tattoo.

By the time the guy left his shop, Ink was pretty pleased with himself.

No busted heads, a happy customer, and almost the end of the day.

Thank fuck. He had Church tonight, and Savage would ream his ass if he were late, especially since the Devil’s Predators were also going to be there for a quick meeting.

He snickered to himself, thinking about how pissed Savage would be when Karissa and Glitch joined the meeting.

He still didn’t like them in the room, but there wasn’t much they could do about it.

When the Devil’s Predators were on the grounds, they were fully patched members of the other MC, not Old Ladies.

Personally, that shit had grown on him. Karissa and Glitch were smart, and they saw things in ways most of them didn’t.

However, it was odd that the other MC wanted a meeting.

They usually just showed up to party after completing a mission before heading to their clubhouse about an hour and a half away.

It still boggled his mind that the Devil’s Predators were former mercenaries who now used the MC as a cover to keep working on missions they chose instead of the government. He’d seen enough of their work to know he didn’t want to be on their bad side.

Since his station was cleaned up, he looked around and tried not to wince at the sight of the front desk.

Papers cluttered the sunken counter—orders and invoices that needed to be paid.

He hated paperwork, so he tried to steal Esme from the garage, but Rogue threatened to have his balls.

Not to mention, Fury lost his shit when Rogue mentioned it to him.

Fury wanted his Old Lady close, and now that she was getting close to having their baby, he was even more protective.

Ink didn’t see the problem, but he’d thought he could persuade Scarlett to let him borrow one of the twins since they wanted to start working, but Rogue put the kibosh on that too.

School and then back home, nothing else.

All the other women were busy; though, technically, Saylor was taking a break from her graphic design business.

He made a mental note to see if he could charm her into helping him out.

It was either that or simply set the place on fire and start over with the insurance money.

By the time he reached the clubhouse, the fire plan was sounding more tempting than it should. Especially as he thought about the things he had to plan for, including the possibility of adding another artist to the shop. That would mean doubling everything, including paperwork.

Fuck, if he were a crier, he’d be curled up in the fetal position.

Where were the robots when you needed them? That would’ve solved all his problems.

The clubhouse was full of people when he walked in. Was he the last one to arrive? Wouldn’t surprise him. He was always late. A habit he’d tried to break a few times, but he finally gave in and accepted that it would never change.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Karissa drawled as he reached the bar on the left side of the room. She stood behind it, arms full of bottles as she restocked.

“Where are the prospects?” he demanded, glaring around the room.

If any of those assholes were slacking, he would gladly kick their asses.

Other than their longtime one, Tom, the fresh batch of prospects was shit.

They preferred to be lazy or try to talk to the club girls when they thought the patched brothers weren’t around.

“Guard and gate duty,” Karissa said with a shrug. “I offered to help out until Church started. Then Tom could come in, guard the door, and handle anything out here.”

Prospects face a hard go of it for the first little while, but Tom had shown a lot of promise.

He worked hard, never complained, and handled Rogue’s glares and threats without so much as a flicker of fear.

Apparently, since Tom helped save Wren, Rogue’s had it in his head Tom was going to make a move on one of his daughters, but Tom didn’t have a death wish.

Especially not with a sixteen-year-old girl. And speaking of …

Wren and Win were sitting with the other women, smiling and talking animatedly.

“Don’t even ask,” Karissa warned. “Rogue’s already pissed off, and they’re not making it any better by talking about the hot high school jocks and the shit they’re doing to mess with them at school.”

Ink chuckled, unable to help himself. “He’s going to lose his shit when they eventually move away and head to college.”

Karissa nodded, handing him the last bottle in her hand. “It’s chilled. Got it from the back room. And we’re all bracing for that day. Maybe Scarlett will want a baby before then. That will distract him.”

Ink rolled his eyes. “Everyone around here is having babies.” He arched a brow at her expectantly.

“Not anytime soon for me.” She had a note of finality in her tone. Something told him Razor had already brought it up. Probably a few dozen times, knowing him.

Before he could respond to that, a bellowed, “Church!” echoed through the room. He gave the beer a longing look but set it back on the bar and headed for their Church room. He’d drink plenty later. After today, he was eager to cut loose.

He took his usual seat, nodding at Ice on his left and Razor on his right. Razor moved his seat to sit closer to Karissa, who took her place at the end of the long table where the Devil’s Predators were sinking into their chairs.

Minus two.

Taz and Glitch were missing, and there was no sign of them. When he eyed the other Devil’s Predators’ members, their expressions were carefully blank.

Shit. This wasn’t good. His gut tightened, and he exchanged a glance with Ice.

Ice didn’t seem outwardly concerned, but they didn’t call him that for nothing.

He rarely showed emotion unless the situation called for it.

Even now, his icy-blue eyes lingered on Simba, the other MC’s president, for a second longer before he turned away and focused back on Savage, ready to hear what the hell was going on.

Savage was a good president, and Ink respected him, especially with all the crazy shit that’d gone down with their club in recent years. It was never quiet.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Savage announced, dropping in his seat. “Simba has asked that we assist with the protection of a key witness in a case in Texas. They will be here for the next six months until the case moves forward and they are required to go back to testify.”

“Wait, we’re playing witness protection now?” Razor asked, eyebrows raised. Ink had to agree. “Why aren’t the Feds involved?”

“They are, but we have been tasked with making sure this witness is protected at all costs,” Simba stated. Everyone looked at him expectantly. “This witness is crucial in taking down the American side of one of the biggest cartels in Mexico. They cannot risk her being taken.”

“Her?” Ink repeated, straightening.

Simba nodded. “Yes, her. The cartel used her to keep track of their accounting.”

“They could just change that without worrying about her,” Fury pointed out. “So, what makes her so special?”

“She has an extremely high IQ and an eidetic memory. She’s the one who knows where the bodies are buried, both figuratively and literally, and she also has access to information stored in her head that was never written down.”

“She’s like some kind of fancy computer,” Jax summarized. He raised his hand to stop the barrage of angry words about to come his way. “I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing. She’s fucking smart, and they knew it, clearly. That’s why they hired her.”

The Devil’s Predators exchanged a glance. “She wasn’t hired. She was sold.”

The tension in the room escalated. Ink’s anger burned, and Rogue’s blue eyes blazed with fury. Wren and Win were sold into a sex trafficking ring, and even though the club had eliminated the ring, it still infuriated everyone whenever it was mentioned.

The club protected women and children; they were not chattel to be sold.

“Who sold her?” Ink finally asked.

“Reports indicate that her father is one of the leader’s right-hand men, but only after he agreed to sell his daughter to help keep things moving,” Jag said, his dark eyes hard and jaw clenched.

“Fucker,” Code spat. The tech expert and probably one of the smartest men in their club, he would know exactly what that looked like. Also, having worked for the CIA, he had probably heard of situations like that before.

“So we’re her guards, then?” Razor asked, looking at Savage. “What kind of security do we need?”