Mason:Inked Reapers MC(115)

"Where are you going?" Miles sharply turned to face them.



"I'm in the mood for some new ink now," Colin admitted as he pulled on his jacket.



"Me too," Hank agreed solemnly. "Plus is beats sitting around here all day. You coming?"



Miles hesitated. If he went with them they'd surely see how he was with  Brea and realize that they were a couple. No, as much as it pained him  he needed to hang back at the motel, protect the secrecy of his  relationship a little longer.



"I'll stay here in case Deacon calls."



Both Colin and Hank looked confused.



"You know how he hates cell phones," Miles explained with a roll of his eyes.



"Oh, yeah, man," Hank gave him a consolation pat on the shoulder. "The old dog really can't learn new tricks, can he?"



"Let us know if he hits you up," Colin was stepping out into the gloom  of the late morning. Heavy clouds hung in the sky preventing the sun  from shining.



"Will do," Miles promised as he watched his friends leave, envying them for being able to go and see Brea, his Brea.





Chapter 35



Gina entered the reception area upon hearing the gentle chime of the  front door. She stopped abruptly when she stopped the two heavy set guys  glancing at the designs adorning the walls. They were both over six  foot in oil stained jeans, leather jackets and the one had a red bandana  around his head while the other had shaggy blonde hair which hung past  his shoulders and clenched a half smoked cigar between his teeth, the  end still lit.



"There's no smoking in here," Gina told him firmly.



"Whatever you say, sweetheart," the blonde dramatically removed the stub  from his mouth and stepped back outside to dispose of it.



"Is Brea working today?" the other man asked, removing his bandana and  raking a hand through his jet black hair which was streaked with silver.



"Brea?" Gina felt her heart hammer in her chest. What did they want with  Brea? She thought of Sylar and his gang connections and instantly felt  uneasy. "What do you want with Brea?"



"Hey, lady, no need to get all touchy." The man raised his hands up,  smirking to himself. "We're just here to get inked up and heard she was  good, that's all."



"She's in, yes," Gina gave a curt nod, trying to hide how annoyed she  was that they were asking for her assistant instead of her. It was her  name over the door, she was the main artist in residence. Strangers were  supposed to come in and demand to have Gina work on them, not Brea.



"But she won't be able to do both of you today." Gina folded her arms  across her chest. She was hoping she could deter the men from getting a  tattoo done in her parlor in case they were interested in something gang  related.



"Could you do me?" the black haired man asked with a cheeky grin. Gina sighed and reminded herself to maintain professional.



"I can fit you in for a tattoo, yes. But only if you're ready in the next twenty minutes. I'm booked up the rest of the day."



The blonde haired man came back inside, sans cigar. He clapped his hands together eagerly.



"So are we in business?" he asked his friend.



"I think so," the other man confirmed. "Though I'll be with Gina over here. She's sweet talked me into going with her."



"Oh, has she?" the blonde man's eyes sparkled with menace. Gina shuddered but remained composed.



"So what sort of design were you guys thinking about?" she asked. As  long as they wanted nothing that resembled a scythe or a reaper she'd be  willing to do it.



"I want a black rose on my left shoulder," the black haired man stated.



"Sounds good." Gina nodded.



"They were my mother's favorite flower," he added softly. While Gina smiled the other man coughed the word ‘pussy'.



"And what about you?" Gina crossed her arms across her chest as she addressed the blonde.



"I'm thinking something tribal," he grinned. "An entire sleeve."



"That'll take a couple of sessions," Gina advised.



"Don't worry, I've got the time to kill."





Chapter 36



Brea pulled on her gloves and tried to ignore the invasive stare from  the man in the treatment room, sitting in her chair, waiting to be  tattooed. He was leaned on his side, the arm she was about to work on  angled towards her.                       
       
           



       



"You been living in Colridge long?" he asked, not bothering to hide the  fact that he was staring at her backside. Brea wished she'd worn  something a little less revealing than her denim hot pants and plain  black t-shirt. Her hair was up in a high bun and she was wearing her  favorite pair of Vans.



"A while," she told him vaguely. She approached his arm and studied the  transfer which had been placed on it. He was having a large tribal  design which went from his shoulder right down to his wrist. It would be  the biggest piece that Brea had done so far and she was giddy just  thinking about telling Miles all about it. She knew he'd be excited for  her. He was always really supportive of her career.



"For a tattoo artist your skin is pretty clear," he commented, his eyes  wandering up and down her bare legs. "Or maybe I just can't see the ones  you've got," he added smugly.



"Hold still, this will sting," Brea prepared the tattoo gun and lowered  it towards his skin which she held taut with her other hand. She had to  remind herself not to apply undue pressure, even if the guy was a  sleaze.



"Oooh," he released a shaky breath as she commenced work on him.  "Darling, usually when a woman makes me feel that much pain it's  followed by a bit of pleasure."



"It will be worth it when it's done," Brea used her go-to line for  clients in pain. She focused in on the design and got to work.





Chapter 37



Miles paced the room of the motel. He felt like a caged animal. As glad  as he was to be back in Colridge, it wasn't the same having Hank and  Colin in tow. He could only imagine what they'd been like with Brea and  Gina. They were the kind of guys who didn't care if they offended  anyone, especially Hank. He had a reputation for being cruel with women  yet still they were drawn to his bad-boy demeanor and cavalier attitude.



It made no sense to keep them all holed up in town. His Uncle had to be  planning something big, like a raid on a business owned by the Pact or  something of the same caliber. Miles knew how those sort of jobs went.  Skulls got cracked, blood spilled. He'd seen men take such a beating  that they're never again able to eat solid food.



When he'd first joined the Highway Reapers, he reveled in the  opportunity to unleash some of his pent up anger. He finally felt like  he was a part of something. The violence he experienced in his life no  longer felt needless. But that feeling didn't last long. The more blood  that was spilled by his hand, the heavier the toll on Miles became. This  wasn't who he was supposed to be. He didn't want to grow up like his  Uncle Deacon, wheezing away in the corner of some dingy bar. Miles had  dreams. He wanted to own a big house with a yard that he could play in  with his kids. And he wanted a wife. But how could he have those things  when he was terrified to even admit that he had a girlfriend?



Frustrated he dropped down onto the bed, his head in his hands.  Everything in his life felt like it was part of a vicious, violent  cycle. But he sensed that Brea might offer him a way out of all that.  When he thought of her, it was like the clouds parted and the sun  finally shone. And she brought out the best in him, he felt it each time  they were together. When he was with Brea, he felt like he was becoming  the kind of man he could be proud of being.





Chapter 38



"Okay, I think we're all done here," Brea moved back from her client and  grabbed a sterilized cloth to wipe down the work on his arm she'd done  so far.



"Is that it?" he croaked with a chuckle. "But honey, I didn't even finish."



Brea rolled her eyes and placed cellophane over the developing design on his arm.



"You need to keep this on for at least forty-eight hours," she  instructed sternly. "You can make your next appointment at the front  desk."



As the man got up, he reached for her and slapped her on the ass. It was a playful, flirtatious gesture, but Brea saw red.



"I'll ask you to keep your hands to yourself," she spun around to face him, seething.



"Sorry, sweetheart," he raised his hands defensively, smiling. "I was just having a bit of fun."



"I don't find sexual harassment very funny." Brea frowned, wishing Miles  or Sylar were there. She knew they'd quickly wipe the smug smile off  the guy's face.



"Look, I'm sorry," he let his hands fall to his side and actually sounded genuinely apologetic. Brea let some of her anger thaw.