Mason:Inked Reapers MC(125)

She wanted what her parents had  –  someone to love and trust and go on  epic adventures with. Someone she could smile with above the Grand  Canyon. Someone she could, one day, start a family of her own with. As  Brea slowly headed back to bed she realized that she was crying. Miles  was still fast asleep as she joined him beneath the sheets. She envied  his ability to just silence all his thoughts and sleep. It would be  another hour before the questions in her mind quietened enough to enable  her to fade to black.





Chapter 59



"Where the hell have you been?" Hank unleashed the words sharply from  his tongue like a whip. Miles stared at him in surprise. He'd thought he  was back at the motel early enough so that both guys would still be  resting, sleeping off their latest hangover. But he was wrong. Colin and  Hank were stood waiting for him, their bodies tense and their eyes  alert.



"I've been out," Miles growled dismissively, moving deeper in to their motel room.



"Yeah, well we got a call from your Uncle." Hank explained tersely.  Miles froze. He could feel the blood in his veins turning to ice. His  Uncle had called. That meant that they had new orders.



When Miles was with Brea it was easy to forget the real reason for his  visit to Colridge. With her in his arms, he could forget all about the  monster he sometimes had to be. Staring at Hank and Colin his skin  started to itch and feel hot as though it now longer fit him right.                       
       
           



       



"We've got orders," Colin added, cracking his knuckles. When Miles had  left his two companions had seemed like lovable drunks. Now they  appeared more like seasoned killers. Their hardened expressions spoke of  all the punches they had thrown and they were eager to do more.



"What are the orders?" Miles lowered himself on to the bed, doing his  best to remain calm. He feared that the orders would be to turn over the  tattoo parlor, to rough Brea and her friends up. Miles had been so  careful to keep his relationship a secret but what if he hadn't been  careful enough? What if he'd somehow made Brea a target?



"That quaint little bar we went to the other night," Hank raked his  hands through his golden mane and smiled maliciously. "We're to go and  turn the place over."



Miles swallowed uneasily. It was a small bar off a side street in town.  He doubted it was even Blood Pact territory. But he knew his Uncle's  style. Whether it was Blood Pact territory or not, turning it over would  still send a message.



"We were thinking we'd head there around eight, wait until it picks up a  bit and then start some trouble," Colin explained, his eyes bright with  excitement.



Members of the Highway Reapers were always excited by the prospect of  violence. It was what drew them to the pack in the first place. They  were violent men who'd led difficult, violent lives. But among the other  pack members they found kindred spirits. They found a family.



Miles squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. He'd promised to see Brea  later. They were going to go the movies together. He didn't want to  start letting her down, especially when he knew he wouldn't be able to  tell her the true reason for his cancellation.



"Does it have to be tonight?" he ventured.



"Yes," Hank nodded briskly. "Your Uncle was very specific about that."



Miles shot a dubious glance at the telephone on the table in the motel  room. He'd wager that there was a possibility that his Uncle hadn't  called at all and that his roommates were just getting itchy feet. He  could imagine them sitting together plotting in his absence. It would  make sense for them to agree on the bar as a target since it was small  enough to not make too big a stir.



"He was?" Miles narrowed his eyes at Hank.



"Yes, he was," Hank repeated slowly. "He said it's high time we start  some shit in the Blood Pact territory. And I, for one, am not going to  let him down, are you?"



Miles wished he'd been present when his Uncle had supposedly called.  He'd perhaps have been able to make the old man see sense. The small bar  was a poor target. All they'd do is cause hassle for the owners, the  Blood Pact probably wouldn't even notice if it got trashed, it wasn't  like their members frequented it.



"Don't you think it's a strange target?" he asked his companions. Hank gave Colin a sideways glance and shrugged.



"I suppose," Colin agreed, "since no Blood Pact members even go there."



"What were my Uncle's exact words?" Miles pressed.



"He said it's time to start shit," Hank swiftly recalled. "And he  suggested we start small, go with a ripple rather than a wave."



"Hmm," Miles thoughtfully massaged his neck. It wasn't like his Uncle to  show caution. If he really wanted to anger the Blood Pact he'd surely  go all in.



"I think we should hit something bigger," Hank declared with a grin.  "Like the biker bar outside of town on the highway. If we hit that, we  really send a message."



Miles tensed. If they did that they'd be sending one hell of a message, they'd be making a declaration of war.



"If my Uncle wanted us to start small then we hit the bar," Miles  decided. He hated himself for agreeing to the plan but it was better to  turn over the bar then to start something they possibly couldn't finish  out at the biker bar.



"Good, I'm itching for a fight," Hank cracked his knuckles dramatically.



"Let's try and keep things as clean as possible," Miles pleaded, glancing between the two men.



"We don't do clean," Hank laughed, his mouth twitching up in to a grin.



"Your Uncle will want this done right," Colin agreed darkly. "We crack a  few skulls, break a few noses, that should get our point across."



Miles pitied the poor saps who'd be in the bar later that day. They'd  have no idea what was coming, they were just going to be in the wrong  place at the wrong time. Guilt pressed heavily against his shoulders,  causing him to slump down. The worst part of it all was that he was  going to have to cancel on Brea. And in the morning sunlight she'd  smiled so sweetly at him when he'd said he wanted to take her to the  movies. She always looked so beautiful first thing, with her skin  effervescent in the early morning light. He didn't want to be the reason  her sweet expression turned sour with disappointment.                       
       
           



       



"Tonight at eight it is then," Hank grinned manically. "I can't wait."





Chapter 60



Brea was just finishing up a tattoo of a Celtic cross. It ran down the  back of the petite woman she'd been working on and had a vine of roses  growing around it. It was a beautiful, ornate design, one Brea had  designed herself especially for her client.



"Urgh, my back kills," the woman exhaled tensely.



"It will all be over soon," Brea confirmed softly. "I'm nearly done."



"How does it look?"



Brea leaned back to take in the full image. It looked beautiful and gothic. "It looks amazing."



"Awesome," the woman titled her head to smile up at Brea. "I can't wait to show it off tonight at the bar."



"You won't be able to show it off tonight," Brea warned. "It needs to be  kept under wraps for a while to let the skin heal. But you'll be good  to show it off at the weekend."



"Urgh, that's like ages away," the woman protested though she still smiled.



"So is the bar where you work?" Brea asked, finding it best to engage  client's in small talk to distract them from the pain of their tattoo.  Towards the end of a design, once all the more intricate work had been  done Brea found that she was able to chat more easily.



"Sure is," the woman confirmed. "I'm busting my ass there to save up enough money to put me through college."



"Where's the bar?" Brea asked. The woman was now face down on the table  again, her short dark blonde hair fanning out over her shoulders.



"In town, down the street by the Laundromat. It's called O-Hannigans."



"Oh yeah, I've been there, it's a nice little bar." She'd taken Sylar  there and watched him spend all night talking to Gina instead of paying  attention to her. Brea frowned to herself, considering how strangely  Gina had acted that morning. She'd barely said a word to Brea and hummed  to herself as she puttered around the shop.



"I wish more people went there, so that I'd get more tips," the woman said, her voice slightly muffled.



"You close to having enough to go to college?"