Mason:Inked Reapers MC(116)

"Let me make it up to you," he suggested, tilting his head. "How about you let me take you out for a drink tonight?"                       
       
           



       



"No thanks."



"Is it because of your girlfriend? Is she the possessive type?"



Brea blinked at him, wondering what one Earth he was talking about. Did  he think that she and Gina were dating? She chewed her lip. If he did  then, it was a good enough excuse to get out of going for a drink with  him and might make him think twice about being inappropriate during his  next session.



"Yeah, she's real possessive," Brea widened her eyes and nodded at him.



"I got that vibe," the blonde guy nodded also. "She the dominate one?"



Brea groaned in annoyance.



"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I know I'm an acquired taste," he stuck out his hand towards her. "Names Hank."



"Brea," she politely accepted the handshake.



"Oh, I know your name," he gave her a cheeky wink. It was as if he actually couldn't turn off his desire to flirt.



"Buddy of mine was raving about your work. Said I had to come here and get inked by you."



"They did?" Brea had worked on quite a few people since she'd been  working at the parlor. Any of them could have pointed the guy in her  direction, but something stirred in her gut, telling her that it was  Miles. It made sense. Hank seemed like a roughened character, the sort  of guy she'd expect her boyfriend to hang around with. But she wasn't  sure she liked the idea of the two of them going out drinking together  in bars since Hank seemed liable to chase after anything in a skirt like  a dog with a bone.



"And I'm glad they did," Hank was smiling as sincerity crept into his  voice. "That's some mighty fine work you've done there sweetheart. Same  time next week?" he winked and Brea inwardly cringed.



"You can make your next appointment out front," she directed him again, eager to move on to her next client.



"Darling, you don't need an excuse to see me again," he chuckled as he  sauntered out of the room. He carried himself with a cool confidence,  like an old cowboy. That sort of silent self-assurance reminded Brea of  Miles. When he walked into a room, he didn't care if all eyes were on  him or not at all. But of course when he walked in everyone did stare  because he was so devastatingly handsome. And while Hank was handsome in  his own way, his features were weathered, his skin turning thick and  leathery. In his heyday, he'd surely been a sight to behold but now he  was like a Monet painting. From a distance, he looked good but up close  you saw all the heavy brush strokes which didn't look quite so nice.





Chapter 39



Gina smiled to herself as she cashed up that evening.



"Those guys were creepy, but they sure were generous tippers," she mused as she shuffled the dollars between her hands.



"They were definitely creepy," Brea agreed as she folded her arms and leaned against the reception counter.



"Mmm," Gina pursed her lips and continued counting under her breath.  Brea glanced at the front door, the sign on which had been turned around  to read ‘closed'. She'd concluded another day at her job. Her first  month in Colridge was almost at an end and the weekend was approaching.



After saying goodbye to Gina, Brea stepped outside and began heading  back the short route to her apartment. There was a chill in the air  thanks to the dense cloud cover which hadn't lifted all day. Brea rubbed  her upper arms, trying to get warm. She was tired from her long day and  for the first time in ages she felt a stab of homesickness pierce her  chest. She wondered what Sylar was doing. She imagined him cooking  himself some pizza for dinner before heading out on his motorcycle,  thundering out into the night.



Brea gave a forlorn sigh. She wished she'd spent more time with her  brother when he'd been in Colridge. But he'd seemed keen to leave,  disappearing the next day before the sun even had a chance to rise. She  also didn't like keeping secrets from Sylar. Things were getting serious  with Miles but her sole relative, her brother, still knew nothing about  him and she knew she needed to rectify that.



By the time Brea was climbing the steps up to her apartment, she'd made a  decision. Reaching for her phone, she hastily typed the message before  she had a chance to change her mind.



Missed you today. I won't be around this weekend, I'm going to visit my brother back home, but I'll be back early Sunday. xxx



She thoughtfully bit her lip as she pushed open her front door. She'd  barely seen Miles in the last few days, but he surely wouldn't begrudge  her a trip home to reconnect with her brother. Brea hoped that with Gina  not around Sylar might pay her a bit more attention and give them a  chance to actually catch up. She was desperate to tell him all about her  new job, about the repeat work she was getting and how much people  loved her art.                       
       
           



       



After turning on the kettle, Brea quickly sent a second message, this time to Sylar  –



I'm coming home this weekend for a visit. It's not up for discussion I'm owed some quality time with my brother x



Brea stared at the phone after she'd pressed send. It was strange to  want to go back to visit Sylar after she'd been so desperate to leave.  Aside from his overbearing nature, she missed his sense of humor and the  way he was always so fiercely protective of her. Being out in the world  could be scary, even with Miles to have her back.



Comforted by the impending trip back home, Brea made herself a chamomile  tea and settled down on her sofa to enjoy a quiet evening of girly  movies and snacks.





Chapter 40



Miles read his message from Brea in secret while he was in the bathroom  and groaned. She'd be away all weekend. That meant he was stuck with  only Colin and Hank for company and no way to get away from them.



A selfish part of him wanted to ask her to stay in Colridge, to not go.  But the more reasonable part of him, which knew it was safer for her to  keep her distance while his pack friends were in town, made him keep his  silence. A trip home would be good for her.



Staring at his weary expression, Miles wondered how long he could cope  being cooped up with Colin and Hank. This wasn't how he'd envisioned his  mission in Colridge going down. For too long he had sat idle awaiting  orders. He felt restless. And he knew if he felt this restless, then the  other two guys felt far worse. They paced around the small room like  caged tigers, bouncing off the walls. They needed some sort of release  and quick. What was it people said? ‘The devil makes work for idle  hands.' That was certainly going to be the case with Colin and Hank and  Miles knew it wasn't worth letting them get in trouble. If their cover  was blown in Colridge, they risked an uprising from the Reapers which  would get extremely messy. No, it was up to him to keep them happy and  occupied.



He splashed his face with cold water before stepping back into the room.



"Boys, grab your coats," he ordered with a devilish grin. "We're going out."



"About time!" Hank clapped his hands together with glee and was already  approaching the door. Colin stood up slower, not quite as enthusiastic  as his friend.



"Out?" Colin shot Miles a dubious glance.



"Just to a bar down the street," Miles shrugged. A bar he'd already  checked out. It seemed safe enough there. He couldn't see a sign of any  Reaper presence. "I figured we need to get out and let off some steam."



"Damn straight," Hank was opening the door and storming towards his motorcycle.



"Keep an eye on him," Colin urged as he followed after him. "You don't want him letting off too much steam."





Chapter 41



Brea released her bag from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor of  the den. Outside, the cab she'd arrived in was pulling away,  disappearing down the street. Sylar hadn't even responded to her  message. Brea tried to ignore his rudeness, but it did sting. She knew  he was home, his bike was outside, but the house was silent. No welcome  wagon had been rolled out for her.



"Sylar!" she called his name so loudly that it bounced off the thin  walls of the house. After a few seconds a distant door opened and her  brother appeared. He was naked except for a towel which he'd hastily  wrapped around himself. His hair was damp and dripped down his back.



Brea raised a hand to protect her eyes but then lowered it. She gaped at  the criss-cross of scars which were etched over her brother's lean  torso. Circular scars that looked like cigar burns patterned his chest.  Though all the wounds looked old, they were still painful to look at.