Mason:Inked Reapers MC(132)

Sylar and Smith shared a look.



"Yeah," her brother spoke up. "That's how we know, Brea. Now do you  understand why I'm so worried about you? And why you have to leave  here?"



Brea understood. Numbly she got to her feet and made her way towards her  bedroom. As she hastily filled a bag with a few essential items, she  thought of the girl she'd tattooed at the shop, the girl who worked at  the bar. Had Miles hurt her? No, that was impossible. Miles would never  do something like that. Brea couldn't ignore the fact that her brother  might still be lying.



With Sylar and Smith waiting in the main area of her apartment, she  quietly pulled out her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Miles. She  wanted to at least give him a chance to explain himself. After five  drawn out rings, a woman answered.



Brea felt like someone had electrocuted her. A violent shock raced down her spine when she heard the unfamiliar voice.



"Hello?" they picked up with an air of impatience.



"Hi … is … .um, is Miles there?" Brea had to speak quietly for fear of attracting the attention of the men in the next room.



"He's passed out at the moment," the woman replied briskly. Her words were cold and lacked any emotion.                       
       
           



       



"Passed out?" tears started to run down Brea's face like a river. Why  was Miles passed out? Where the hell was he and who was this woman  answering his cell phone?



"Sweetheart, if you know what's good for you, you won't call him again."  And the line went dead. Brea stared at her cell phone in disbelief. How  could she have been so very wrong about Miles all along? She honestly  believed he was a decent guy who genuinely loved her. Had he got blind  drunk and slept with the woman who was now taking his calls?



Brea felt sick at the thought of such a betrayal. She dropped against  her bed and cradled her head in her hands, her clothes still strewn  around the room in her haste to pack.



Five long minutes passed before a gentle knock came at the door. "Brea, we really need to go."



It was Smith's voice, not her brother's.



"I'll be right there," Brea sniffed and wiped her eyes. The door creaked  open and Smith slid around it, throwing her a sad glance.



"I'm sorry if Sylar scared you." he noticed her tears glistening in the sunlight.



"It's okay," Brea wiped at her cheeks and stood up.



"Let me help," Smith came in and started to scoop up some of the  scattered clothes. As he did so, Brea glanced again at his scar,  noticing how it disappeared beneath the collar of his jacket.



"It must have really hurt," she noted sympathetically.



"It hurt like hell," Smith gave her a lopsided smile. "But I think it gives me a tough edge, don't you agree?"



Brea laughed softly. She admired Smith's strength.



"Your brother will keep you safe," he added, his tone becoming more serious. "He won't let them harm you."



Brea had previously thought that she could trust Miles to keep her safe.  But since a strange woman had just answered his phone she didn't know  what to think anymore.



"Where is Sylar?" she glanced beyond Smith into her apartment.



"Moving the bikes around to the front," Smith explained.



"The bikes?" Brea felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Was she  supposed to ride on the back of their bike all the way back home? She'd  never been on a motorcycle before and the thought of doing so terrified  her.



"Yeah," Smith cracked a smile. "I'll take your bags and Sylar will take  you. Unless you'd rather do it the other way around?" a flirtatious fire  burned in Smith's eyes. He was charming and despite his horrific scars  he was still handsome. But Brea couldn't give him the flicker of hope he  was yearning for. Her heart still belonged to Miles, even if it looked  like he was going to break it.



"I'll ride with Sylar, its okay." She also didn't want a relative  stranger feeling her quake with fear behind them, as they rode down the  highway.



"You called?" Sylar was coming back into the apartment. Shadows hung  beneath his eyes making Brea wonder when he'd last slept. As soon as  they got home she'd cook them something then insist he take a long hot  bath before going to bed for several hours. Her brother clearly wasn't  doing a great job of looking after himself in her absence.



"Apparently I'm riding on your bike," Brea tilted her head at him,  wondering if he'd sense her apprehension about the mode of  transportation.



"You'll love it," Sylar reassured her though his expression remained stern. "Now let's go."





Chapter 71



With the wind billowing in her hair, Brea glanced back to see Colridge  disappearing from view. Her brother turned the throttle on his  motorcycle and they picked up speed along the highway, expertly weaving  their way through the traffic.



Smith was close behind, his own bike roaring its way down the highway.  Brea clung tightly to Sylar. She could feel the power of the bike  trembling beneath her legs. It was both a terrifying and exhilarating  feeling. When Colridge was completely gone from view, she pressed her  head against her brother's back and closed her eyes. It wasn't supposed  to be like this. The first time she was on a motorcycle she was supposed  to be holding on the Miles as they embarked on an adventure together.  Hot tears washed down her cheeks as the bike moved ever faster. In that  moment, she didn't care if Sylar lost control and the bike skidded  across the road, tossing them both from its back like a bucking bronco.  She already felt like the world was burning around her. She wanted to  give into the flames, to let them consume her.



Miles had broken her heart. She could feel the pain growing within her,  being more pronounced each time her heart dared to beat. And now she was  leaving Colridge with no idea when, if ever, she would be going back.                       
       
           



       





Chapter 72



Miles groaned as he struggled to open his eyes. His whole body felt  heavy and awkward. Wincing, he eventually managed to sit up. His throat  felt dry and sore as he pushed his hands through his hair and looked  around.



He was bare-chested and sat on a sofa in a dingy back room, which he  recognized as being part of the bar. Distantly, he could hear the hum of  the jukebox playing a familiar tune. Miles shuddered, his shirtless  skin prickling in the cool of the damp room. He noticed his t-shirt and  jacket neatly piled up on a nearby table and hastily reached for them.  Pulling them on, he felt them snag against the tightness beside his ear.  Miles grabbed his cell phone and turned the camera towards himself and  then inspected his wound. It was no longer bleeding as several crude  stitches were now holding it closed.



"Ah," Miles massaged his aching jaw as he continued to scrutinize the stitches.



"You're up then?" the door to the room swung open and the aging blonde  strolled in carrying a steaming mug of coffee. Miles' felt drawn to its  acidic aroma, eager for the injection of caffeine.



"Here," she offered him the coffee and sat down on the sofa beside him. "This might help you wake up a bit."



"How long was I out?" time seemed to have lost all meaning. He could  have been asleep for hours or even days and it would have felt the same  to him.



"A couple hours," the woman gave a light shrug. "The sedatives I gave you should have pretty much worn off entirely by now."



Miles nodded as he sipped at his coffee.



"Whoever cut you with that blade caught you good," she glanced at his  fresh stitches. "Leave those in for a few days, let it heal and then  I'll cut them out for you."



"Thanks."



"Just don't go getting too roughed up tonight. There's only so much patching up I can do here."



"Tonight?" Miles' thoughts were coming too slowly as if they were stuck  in glue. What was happening tonight? He knew he was at the Highway  Reapers' bar, but he couldn't quite remember why. It was as if he'd  woken from a deep, deep sleep and was struggling to reconnect with  reality.



"You boys are storming Colridge tonight, remember?" the blonde gazed at  him intently, narrowing her wrinkled eyes. "Those sedatives didn't fry  your brain too much did they?"



"Colridge." Brea. Miles' senses instantly sharpened when he thought of  her. She was still in Colridge, still in danger. He had to get to her.  Leaning forward he placed down his coffee and stood up but, he'd  underestimated the effects of the sedatives that were still lingering in  his system.