Savoring Mila (Angels Halo MC Next Gen & Rockers' Legacy Book 3)(13)

My stomach was growling angrily by late afternoon, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since the nuked egg sandwich I’d inhaled before leaving the house that morning. My first thought was to order something, but this place didn’t have Uber Eats, and the only place that delivered was some pizza joint.

Grabbing my keys, I walked out to the front to lock the door, only to stop in my tracks when I realized I wasn’t alone. Eyeing the three men standing in my shop, I mentally cursed myself for not having turned on the security system that would have alerted me to any door being opened.

These men were all just as tall and wide as me, middle-aged, and wore leather cuts, as if they were part of a motorcycle club or something. They all wore patches. One said President, the other Enforcer, and the last VP. I wanted to laugh, because the only time I’d ever seen a gang like this was on TV. But there was something in the air that told me laughing at these guys wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” I asked, keeping my voice friendly and casual. “I’m not open yet, but if you want to make an appointment, I’d be happy to fit you in.”

“Name’s Masterson,” the enforcer said, and I took a better look at the man.

This guy’s name was Masterson?

As in, Mila’s dad?

Fuck.

He was built like a brick wall. He had a bandanna tied around his head and his brown and gray beard was trimmed short, but it didn’t hide the sick spider tattoo on his neck. I put him in his fifties, but the guy still had rock-hard muscles and a narrow waist. There was a wicked-looking knife strapped to his belt, and I didn’t doubt there was a gun under his cut somewhere.

“You own the other ink shop in town?” I needed him to clarify. Maybe there were other people in this town with the last name Masterson.

“That would be me, kid.” He nodded toward the other two without looking at them. “This is Bash, and that’s Hawk. We just wanted to stop by and offer you a little friendly hospitality. Welcome you to Creswell Springs, that kind of thing.”

I grinned, knowing he was full of shit. This was an intimidation meeting. Show me that my competition was part of the local MC, let me know I wasn’t welcome here. But I wasn’t easily scared. I’d spent my entire life around rockers who were just as mean-looking with more ink on them than these guys were sporting. It would take more than them coming into my shop and swinging their dicks around to intimidate me. And there was no way I was going to let anyone, least of all Mila’s enforcer daddy, keep me from her.

“You know, I would have rather worked with you than against you,” I told him. “But apparently you don’t want a business partner.”

“Don’t need a partner,” he said, his voice deepening, filling with menace. “You keep to this part of town, boy, and we won’t have any issues. Didn’t like dealing with these pansy-ass college brats anyway, so you’ll be doing me a favor.”

“Always happy to help, sir.” I rolled my shoulders, making sure to keep all three men in my sight at all times. I didn’t want to kick the ass of the man I wanted to be my father-in-law, but I would if he threw the first punch.

“What’s your name, kid? You look familiar to me,” the one with the patch that read “President” asked.

I glanced at him, started to say something snappy and sarcastic, but for some reason, changed my mind at the last second. “Lyric Thornton, sir.”

“Thornton…” the VP repeated, his green eyes narrowed. “Jesse Thornton’s kid?”

“One of them,” I confirmed with a shrug. “Don’t go spreading that little detail around, though. I wouldn’t want your quaint little town overrun with paparazzi.”

“Fuck,” Masterson muttered. He turned, stomped to the door, then walked back to me. The look on his face would have made a weaker man flinch, but I didn’t even blink as he stabbed his finger toward my face. I was too used to Dad getting up close and personal when he was pissed at me to be intimidated by this guy’s frustrated anger. “Your father shouldn’t have let you come this far north, boy. Stay out of trouble, stay out of my business, and don’t go asking questions that will get you killed.”

What the hell did that mean?

But before I could ask, the three men walked out the door. Moments later, I heard the growl of their motorcycles start up, and then they drove away.

All I wanted was to ink skin and be with Mila.

What fucking questions could I ask that would get me killed?





Chapter 12



Lyric





I put the whole thing with Mila’s dad behind me and went out to grab some lunch. There was a deli downtown that claimed to be food-allergy friendly, and I stopped there to grab a sandwich.

When I walked in, there was a wall of artwork to my right, and while the woman behind the counter dealt with the customer already in line, I glanced at it. Most of it was finger paintings, and a small plaque proclaimed them the best works of the Pre-K, kindergarten, and first-grade students at Creswell Springs Elementary over the years.

When I saw one with the name Mila on the bottom, I paused, studying it a little longer, and I wondered if it was my Mila’s masterpiece from when she was in primary school. There were no dates to tell me if it was, but for some reason, I could picture her painting the abstract I was looking at.

“Tell your mom I said hello, Lexa,” the woman behind the counter said as she handed over a bag to the dark-haired customer. As she spoke, I turned to smile at them.

The curvy customer took her sack of food, but she didn’t return my smile. Pushing her hair back from her face with her free hand, she exposed the right side of her face, and I saw the mean scar that went from her temple to the corner of her mouth. The scar looked like it had been painful acquiring, but it did nothing to detract from how beautiful she was.

The ring on her left hand proclaimed her married, and the baby wrapped against her chest in one of those swaddle harness contraptions my sister had used to hold my niece and nephew close to her chest while she went about her daily routine finally caught my eye.

The baby’s head was covered in thick, dark hair. Since he was wrapped in blue, I assumed the baby was a boy, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud until I had confirmation. I’d made assumptions before about strangers’ babies and been given an earful because I’d gotten the gender wrong. I wanted to be welcomed in Creswell Springs, so I wasn’t about to make some random new mommy an enemy by calling her precious bundle a boy when it just as easily could have been a girl.

“You must be the jerk-off who is opening the new tattoo place near campus,” she said as she eyed me dispassionately. “Just a little friendly advice.” Her voice was anything but friendly, but I didn’t call her out on it. “Cut your losses now and go back to wherever you came from.”

“Nah, I kind of like all the frost around this place.” I opened my phone and pulled up my pictures. I had two recent pictures of Hayat and Evan my sister had sent me. “Beautiful baby you’ve got there. Take a look at my niece and nephew.” I turned the phone so she could see my favorite little kids.

I could see her trying not to react to the cuteness that was Hayat and Evan with their dark curls, dimples, and those aquamarine eyes that pulled people in no matter how hard-hearted they were. It took all of five seconds before she grabbed my phone and the glare turned into a soft smile. “They are adorable.”

Leaning closer to her, I swiped my thumb over the screen, showing her a picture of Little Em. Normally I didn’t show any of the kids’ pictures to strangers, but for some reason, I wanted to show them to this chick.

“All that red hair,” she gushed.

“With all the hair this one has, I bet you had a lot of heartburn. My sister did with both, and they each came out with a mop of curls so dark and thick, my mom would sit and play with it for hours.”

She rubbed her hand over the baby’s back. “I was miserable, especially the last few months before I had Finn.” I heard a phone alert, and she lifted hers to look at the screen. Her eyes widened as she read, and then she was looking up at me with a glare again. “You’re Lyric Thornton.”

“That news traveled slower than I expected,” I said with a wink. “Figured as small as this place is, it would have already been old news by now.” Stepping back, I pocketed my phone and then opened the front door for her. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Once she was out, still shooting me hard glances over her shoulder, I walked over to where the woman behind the counter was watching me like I was her new favorite sitcom. “What’s your most popular sandwich?” I asked, upping the wattage on my smile.

“Son, you already have the sheriff’s wife half won over, but you’ve got the local MC president’s daughter about ready to scratch your eyes out.” She laughed. “Oddly enough, they are one and the same.”

I laughed. “That was the sheriff’s wife and the motorcycle club pres’s daughter? I thought MCs were criminals. What are they doing letting their own marry a cop?”

She laughed and started putting together a sandwich right in front of me, piling it with deli meats and veggies. “I ask myself that all the time. But those two are crazy in love, so I don’t worry about it too much.” She swiped on some spicy mustard, and my stomach growled in appreciation. “You’re Lyric Thornton?”