Mason:Inked Reapers MC(118)

Chapter 43



The sky was starting to lighten when Miles finally left the bar. He  shivered against the brisk morning breeze as he slowly walked back  towards the motel, hoping that Colin, Hank, and their female companions  would be in a decent state by the time he returned. He passed by the  tattoo parlor where Brea worked. The metal shutters were down; it was  too early for anyone to be at work.



Miles felt a pang in his heart over how much he missed her as he walked  by. He'd wandered in there when he first arrived in Colridge hoping to  get some new ink and he'd come away with so much more. But it wasn't  like him. Miles bunched his hands into fists of frustration and  quickened his pace. His time living on the street had taught him to be  tough, to learn to live on his own. Brea made him want to change, made  him want to share his life with someone.



As the motel came in to view Miles slowed. He shoved his hands deep in  to his pockets and sauntered across the parking lot towards his motel  room door. He paused beside it listened. There were no sounds coming  from inside. Taking a deep breath, he used his key and let himself in.



It was dark in the room. The drapes were drawn tightly closed, sealing  out the growing morning light. In the dim light, Miles could make out a  few crumpled bodies sprawled out over the first bed. It was a tangle of  naked limbs and difficult to discern who was who. Glancing away Miles  headed for the bathroom. Thankfully it was empty and he was able to  shower off the musty smell of the bar and freshen up.



When he re-entered the bedroom, the bodies on the bed had stirred. Hank  was now sitting up and smoking a cigarette. Dark circles had gathered  beneath his eyes. Colin and the two women appeared to still be sleeping.                       
       
           



       



"Last night was a good night," Hank grinned as he saw Miles. "You missed out on all the fun."



"So it would seem," Miles glanced towards the bed and raised his eyebrows.



"Haha," Hank was laughing, his teeth clamped around his half smoked  cigarette. "They were game for anything, those girls, I'll say that for  them."



"Glad you enjoyed yourselves," Miles leaned awkwardly against a nearby  dresser. He wondered if today would be the day he'd actually get a call  from his Uncle. There were three members of the Reapers now in Colridge,  surely it was time for them to start stirring shit up? Otherwise why  were they even there? Granted, Miles' original exile to the town had  been a form of punishment but Hank and Colin would have a more  legitimate reason to be there. They were some of the hardiest members of  the pack. The ones with the most fearful reputations.



During a fight, Hank had once dragged a man by his hair over to the  curb. He made him bite down around it and then he stomped on his head,  breaking the man's jaw and shattering all his teeth. All the while Hank  had been laughing like a maniac.



If Miles hadn't been there he would have thought the story to be a lie.  But he'd stood by and watched Hank's foot come down hard, heard the  sickening snap of bone and witnessed the spray of blood and broken teeth  which rained down around Hank's victim. It had been a sickening scene,  yet Miles had been unable to look away. He'd always managed to find the  beauty in destruction. He wondered if all members of his pack felt that  way.



"Will today be the day?" Hank asked, leaning back on the bed. "We keep waiting on that call."



"I hope it's today," Miles rolled his eyes. "But if it's not we just need to keep laying low and occupying ourselves."



"Don't worry about me," Hank's gaze drifted to the naked buttocks of the  nearby blonde. He hungrily roved her curves and chuckled to himself. "I  can easily be occupied."



"Good," Miles hoped the women could entertain his friends long enough to  keep them out of trouble. Hank would only be distracted by sex for so  long. Then his carnal need would grow and he'd need something more  brutal to satiate himself. That was when he'd go seeking out trouble.



Miles reached for a half drunk bottle of whiskey, which had been left on  the nightstand and took a swig from it. The liquor burned his throat as  it went down, but it succeeded in banishing some of his burgeoning  worries.



"Sure you don't want a ride?" Hank asked as he playfully smacked the woman's bare cheek. She murmured sleepily but didn't wake.



"I'm sure," Miles confirmed.



"What happened to you, man? You used to be fun."



Miles could only shrug apologetically. He wasn't about to tell Hank the  truth. That now he had someone he cared about. It would make him seem  weak in Hank's eyes and once that happened Hank would stop listening to  him and start doing his own thing. And that would be extremely  dangerous.



"You're young," Hank continued, sounding slightly envious of Miles' youth. "You should be fucking everything that moves."



"I've got the clap." It was the easiest and most convenient lie Miles  could think of. It was also a way to stop Hank and Colin trying to lure  him into sharing their bedfellows.



"Damn," Hank gestured for Miles to pass over the bottle of whiskey he was holding. "Been there. It's no fun."



"Uh huh," Miles passed over the bottle of whiskey. Hank raised it to his  lips and tipped it back before drinking heavily as though it were iced  tea. When he was done, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth  and gave a satisfied sigh.



"Well, don't worry, I'll be having plenty of fun on your behalf," Hank  returned what was left of his cigarette to his mouth and handed the  bottle back to Miles.



"Uh, what time is it?" the brunette's eyes fluttered open as she  stretched on the bed. When she noticed Miles she offered him a sexy  smile, not caring that she was completely naked and fully on display.



"It's time you sucked my dick," Hank told her boldly. She sat up and  faced him. For a moment she scowled and Miles wondered if she was going  to slap him hard across the face. But then her gaze became more  seductive and she began to shuffle closer to him on the bed.



"I'm heading out," Miles couldn't reach the door to the room fast  enough. He stepped outside just in time to hear Hank start to groan with  appreciation.                       
       
           



       





Chapter 44



"This is Miles?" Sylar stared at the cell phone in his hand, scrutinized  the image of the hardened guy with the sun illuminating his face. So  many angry thoughts tumbled against Sylar like a tidal wave that he  thought he might drown beneath.



In the picture, his sister and her boyfriend were in bed. Seemingly  naked. Which meant that they were having sex. Sylar tried not to lose  his shit at the thought of his little sister having sex. He told himself  to be reasonable. She was an adult now, she had a life to live. But he  couldn't detach from the little girl he'd consoled when they lost their  parents who had long braids and freckles on her cheeks.



But it was more than just the loss of her innocence that angered him.  The guy in the picture looked familiar. His tattooed arm was on display  as it wrapped around Brea. Sylar could see ships and anchors, it looked  like a naval themed sleeve. And Sylar had definitely seen that before.



He returned Brea's cell phone to her and wiped a hand down his face,  wracking his memory. Where had he seen the guy? The memory was foggy as  though it occurred a long time ago, or when he was drunk.



"Sylar?" Brea was gazing up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything. He managed to crack a smile for her.



"He looks like a nice guy."



"Thanks," Brea grinned and then gazed adoringly at the picture on her  phone which was now back in her possession. Sylar tensed. He didn't like  her looking at the picture like that. She was behaving like a lovesick  school girl. But the tattoo was bothering him even more than her  behavior.



"You okay to hang here for a while? I just need to pop into town," he was already reaching for his jacket as he spoke.



"Oh, okay," he could hear the hurt inflection in his sister's voice.



"I promise I won't be long," he insisted. "And when I get back we can hang out."



"Can we play Candyland?" Brea wondered hopefully, referring to the board  game they always used to sit and play together on rainy.



"Sure," Sylar smiled warmly at her. "It's in the cupboard near the hallway."



"I'll go find it and get it set up," Brea told him sweetly. And just  like that she was back to being his cherub faced little sister who he  needed to protect at all costs.