Chapter 3
Tiny
Two months later
“I’m out, Bossman,” Riley’s voice cracks. Poor kid’s nineteen, and his voice still cracks as if he just hit puberty three weeks ago.
“Drive safe, kid. Shoot me a text when you get home,” I call behind him as he hefts his backpack over his shoulder on his way to the door.
I turn back to my computer in front of me with a scowl. I’m starting to get really fucking pissed that there is someone out there good enough to outsmart me.
My club, the Desert Outlaws MC, has been dealing with some shit over the last few months, and if I looked in the mirror close enough, I could probably pick out quite a few gray hairs from all of the stress all this shit has caused me.
I can’t seem to figure out how every single time something happens, all of our cameras are wiped. I know for a damn fact that my security is airtight so I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I’ve practically ignored all of the other aspects of my security company trying to figure this shit out.
I push away from my large oak desk and head into the small kitchen area. Pulling the carafe from the machine, I pour some into my mug. Fighting the urge to spit it back out when the cold liquid hits my tongue, I turn to the sink and dump out the old coffee.
“Shit,” I curse. Checking my watch, I realize it’s already twenty after six. No wonder Riley already left.
Making my way back to my office, I see I’m the only one left. All my techs are long gone, and passing the empty offices makes it clear none of the private security guards I employ are here either. So I decide to pack up my laptop and grab my bike keys before setting the alarm and locking the front door.
Desert Security became my baby as soon as I got out of the Marines. A few of my buddies came on after their retirement as well, so now we offer all different aspects of security. You need some cameras or a system installed? We got you. You need some cyber security for your business? We got that, too. You feel unsafe and need a short-term or even a long-term bodyguard? Bingo, baby. We’ve got you covered.
We’re a one-stop shop. It’s everything I ever could have wished for. I’m pretty fucking good at it too, which is why it’s pissing me the fuck off that I can’t figure out who the hell is threatening my club.
One of my brother’s was hit on his motorcycle a few months ago. He’s just now getting back into the swing of life, and it enrages me how almost six months of his life was taken away from him and his wife because he’s been pretty much useless while recovering.
Then, Lilah, Ringer’s ol’ lady, had her bakery mysteriously catch on fire a few weeks ago. I destroyed my entire office when I realized, once again, I’d been outsmarted and had no fucking access to any of the cameras on the entire block.
I have since gained access back and have made security so tight that even POTUS and his whole damn secret service couldn’t get in.
It’s taking time, but my team is strengthening every piece of security we have already up and are continuing to set. I’m done fucking around.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I pull it out, I curse when I realize who it is.
Desert Ink: Hey Tiny! It’s Shaye! I was told to check in and see if you’re still able to make your appointment tonight.
Fuck. I completely forgot I had an appointment with Brenna tonight to work on my sleeve.
Me: On my way
Desert Ink: Perfect! See you soon.
One of the perks of living in a smaller town is I’m able to make it from my office, which is basically a very large warehouse, to the complete opposite side of town where all the club’s businesses are in no time.
I back my bike up against the curb in front of the shop and grab my laptop, slinging it over my shoulder before getting off. The damn thing is practically an extension of me. I don’t go anywhere without it.
“Tiny!” Brenna rounds the reception desk and presses her tiny fairy-like body to my front in a welcoming hug. This girl has come a long fucking way since coming here over a year ago. My club brother, Flame, has really brought her out of her shell.
When she first got here, she was spooked by damn near everything. She couldn’t be touched and wouldn’t even think of giving me a handshake. Now she hugs everyone she can, as much as she can.
“Hey Bun, how are you?” When Brenna first moved to town, she went by the nickname Bunny, but as soon as she decided this was her new home, she started going by her real name again. Sometimes, out of habit, I accidentally call her Bunny or even Bun, but thankfully she didn’t seem to mind too much.
“I’m so good!” she chirps and smiles brightly. Her eyes widen in excitement, and she reaches over the counter onto her tiptoes. She settles back on her pale pink chucks and turns her tablet around to me.
On the screen is a mockup of the sleeve she has planned out for me. A black and white, Greek mythology masterpiece that will cover my arm from shoulder to fingertips. “Shit, babe. That’s fucking badass.”
“You like it?” she asks timidly.
“Hell yes! I’m glad I left this arm untouched.” I say, smiling at her. I use the pad of my finger to drag the art across the screen, zooming in.
She reaches over and points out the different details of the scenes.
The piece that catches my attention the most is the large Medusa head which will be the focal point on my upper arm.
“Where are we going to start?” I ask, handing her the tablet back.
She smiles wide and turns to walk back to the printer. “Medusa, obviously.”
Just then, Brenna smiles towards the back of the shop where Flame comes strolling out of the back room where they do piercings, followed by Shaye and another woman. “Tiny! What’s going on, brother?” he booms and greets me with a smile.
He parts from Shaye and heads my way. Pulling me in for a half handshake, half hug, I shrug with a smile. “Just thought I’d pop in and let your ol’ lady demolish my arm.”
“Oh shit, you’re starting that today?” Flame asks, pride in his eyes showing for his ol’ lady and apprentice.
“The start of it, at least.”
Brenna skips back over to us, wielding a large piece of paper that I’m assuming is the stencil for my arm.
“Whatcha starting with, baby?” Flame presses a kiss to Brenna’s temple.
Watching the tender moment sends a pang of something through my chest. Jealousy? No, that can’t fucking be it. I’d rather cut my dick off than be tied to one woman for the rest of my life. So then why does the sight of one of my best friends and his woman cause a slight bitter taste on my tongue? What the fuck?
I shake off my momentary insanity and watch as Flame admires the Medusa I can make out from this side of the paper.
Brenna’s cheery gaze meets mine over the top of the stencil. “Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
I make my way over to Brenna’s girly-as-fuck station and drop my ass on the side of her table. She has the table contorted into an angled chair, so before I turn the right direction, I pull the ball cap off my head and reach behind me to pull the Desert Security shirt off before tossing them both on the counter.
Flame, whose station is right next to Brenna’s, strikes up a conversation about Ringer and Lilah’s dad, Reaper, our VP, who started renovations on Lilah’s bakery at the end of the plaza and how well it seems to be going.
“Riley was able to correct all the issues you were having with the back door lock pad. You should be set now,” I make sure to tell him before I forget.
“Sweet, man. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”
I let out a scoff as Brenna slathers something cool on my arm before shaving the entire area she plans on tattooing. “If I was any good, I’d know what the fuck is going on around here.”
Flame’s eyes soften for a flash, and then he shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Tiny. You had nothing to do with any of that shit. None of us blame you. I hope you know that.”
“Still,” I say, leaving it at that.
Being a part of the Desert Outlaws MC is one of the most important things in my life. I don’t know how I would have converted to regular life again after being in the Marines. I would lay my life down for any one of my brothers in the club and my mom. The fact that I’m having trouble protecting the people that I care about doesn’t sit right with me.
I can’t even recall how many hours of sleep I’ve lost since the first incident. It seems that with each passing thing that happens, I get sicker and sicker with myself.
Looking down at my stomach, I can even tell that I’ve lost a significant amount of weight. I’ve never been one of those guys that has a six-pack or that great ‘V’ that every woman seems to drool over. I’m a big guy. I’m not ‘fat’ per se, but I’m damn sure what they call a big boy. My mama calls me ‘stocky.’ Sure, whatever the fuck that means. It doesn't help that I’m six foot six barefoot.
Speaking of height, my calves are halfway hanging off Brenna’s table. When she realizes that I’m looking at them, she lets out a giggle. “Sorry, would you rather sit in a normal chair? I figured the table has more cushion than a folding chair.”
“Nah, this is good, babe,” I wave her off.
Flame wheels his chair over, propping his legs up on her counter, and focuses all his attention on his own tablet lying in his lap.
“Alright, go check that placement and see if you like it.”
Flame pops his head up and turns my arm back and forth before nodding at Brenna, who blushes shyly. Turning back to me, she nods toward the large mirror at the front of the shop.
“What do you want to listen to, guys? Carlos is finally gone, and we can listen to whatever the hell we want,” Shaye says cheerfully as she scrolls on her phone from her perch behind the reception desk.
“Any requests?” Brenna asks me with a smile when I get back in position
“Good vibes,” is all I say.
“You heard the man, Shaye!” she giggles while prepping her tattoo gun.
“Good vibes it is,” Shaye says right before a new Post Malone song filters through the various speakers around the shop.
I’m no stranger to tattoos. I have the club logo covering my entire back: a skull with a bandana covering the lower half, smack in the middle of hot rod handlebars with roses at the base. That one didn’t particularly feel good.
But it sure as hell beats the tattoos that Ghost and I got together one drunken night.
Brenna’s practically brand new to tattooing, but based on the work she’s done for a few of the guys so far, she has a very successful career ahead of her.
Flame nods along to the song while drawing on his tablet. My eyes follow Shaye as she wanders from station to station, cleaning and restocking while Brenna throws every bit of concentration into the Medusa she’s artfully placing on my arm.
Once I get bored with watching Shaye’s ass shake in her shorts as she cleans, I close my eyes. Sure, she’s hot, but sitting on a chair while needles drag through my skin isn’t the best place to pop a stiffy. Especially considering my brother’s girl is the one touching me. I drop the back of my head to the chair while visions of code flash through my mind. I know it’s fucking odd, but it calms me.
“You going to The Castle tomorrow?” Flame asks, breaking the silence after nearly an hour.
I look at my watch, realizing that today is, in fact, Tuesday. I nod. “I didn’t go last week, so if I don’t go this week, I think Ghost might kick my ass.”
Brenna giggles. “I’m going to go too.”
“No shit?” Brenna hasn’t come to Family Night very often since the incident that almost caused us to lose her and Pebbles.
“It’s time. I love being around everyone, and I miss my friends from The Castle. So I’m going to come. I’m actually going to get behind the bar.”
I rear back at that. “Oh?”
She nods with a blush. “Ryan asked me. Roy needs the night off, and he says since school has started back up, they have been super busy.”
“That one club near the school closed,” Flame adds.
Trinity is the big school in the city, and since there aren’t many 18 and up clubs around, it doesn’t surprise me that they all flock to The Castle. Not only can you get in if you’re under 21, but you also get to see a lot of beautiful women butt-ass naked. What college-aged kid doesn’t want that?
Another two hours later, Brenna finally calls it a night on my arm. We only started on the outline and a third of the shading, but I think she could tell my exhaustion, mixed with the pain of the tattoo, was starting to get to me.
Normally, I’m not so much of a baby about it, but I haven’t slept more than two consecutive hours in the last four days.
“Thanks again, babe. It’s going to look fucking awesome,” I call over to Brenna from my spot near the front desk. She smiles brightly while cleaning up her station.
“I should be thanking you for trusting me with your skin.”
“Let’s book your next one,” Shaye says after running my card through the reader.
After booking another appointment for a month from today, I stop by Flame’s station before heading out.
It’s only a 7-minute drive from the shop to my house, and before all of this shit started happening, I would normally make my way to the club, have a few beers, and crash there. Instead, I’ve been spending every spare minute at my house obsessing over figuring this shit out. My sleep schedule is shit, so I know myself well enough to know that as soon as I get inside, I’m going to lock myself in my home office and work until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.
Unlocking the three deadbolts, I make my way inside to disarm the alarm and then fasten the locks behind me again.
I force myself to eat leftovers that Flame’s mom, Maria, dropped off before heading to my office. In this state, I don’t even care that the lasagna is cold as shit and probably should’ve been eaten two days ago.
Hours later, I’m still stuck on this damn fucking firewall.
I slam my fist down on the wood and shove my laptop away from me. Spinning in my chair, I aimlessly look at the large 65” screen that houses pages of different camera views. I only monitor the main areas of the businesses and the exteriors. I learned that the hard way when Lilah asked me to put a camera in her office since that’s where her safe is kept. I may or may not have figured out very early on that not only were Ringer and Lilah fucking, but I’m pretty damn sure they’re either married or engaged since she also wore a big-as-fuck ring on her finger while in her office.
It was a simple accident that led me to come across the footage. I’m not a voyeur, and I’ll go to the grave before I tell Ringer I saw his fucking ol’ lady suck him off in her office. But after the bakery fire, I went back, trying to find some sort of evidence. Unfortunately for me, I found no evidence. I just made a discovery that, prior to then, Ringer and Lilah were trying their best to ‘hide.’
I quickly flip through the screens of the hundreds of cameras I have placed around town, and once I’m satisfied that all is quiet, I lock the door to my office and head to bed.
On my way upstairs, I vaguely consider jacking off. I need the fucking release. But as soon as my head hits the pillow, the world around me goes dark as the need to sleep wins.