Mason: Inked Reapers MC (81 page)

Chapter 75

Miles wasted no time leaving the bar. He beat a swift retreat through the crowd, ignoring the ache in his head from his fresh stitches. Once he was out on the parking lot, the cool air of the late afternoon hit him like a brick wall. The painkillers in his system made him feel woozy and almost drunk. Slowing he reached for the exterior wall of the bar to steady himself.

“Come on, hold it together,” he urged himself. He fumbled for his cell phone and dialed Brea’s number before pulling it up to his good ear. Inhaling sharply he listened to each elongated ring and prayed that she’d pick up.

Chapter 76

Brea jumped in surprise as her cell phone started ringing. Cautiously she removed it from her pocket and glanced at the number flashing up on the screen.

Miles.

Her whole body tumbled off the bed like an uncoiled spring as she hastily closed her bedroom door, being careful not to make too much noise and attract Smith’s attention. She could picture him sat on the sofa down the hall, pretending to watch television when he was actually listening out for her like some sort of prison warden.

For a moment, Brea didn’t know whether to take the call. Her finger lingered over the green button as she bit her lip and battled with indecision. Finally, her heart won out over her head and she accepted.

“Hi,” she hoped that her voice sounded as brittle and hurt as she felt.

“Hey,” Miles sounded huskier than usual. And tired. What was going on with him lately? A pang of fear streaked through Brea as she considered that maybe her brother was right about him.

“Where are you?” he croaked the question at her.

“I should ask you the same thing!” Brea retorted contritely, hot tears burning in her eyes. “I called you earlier and some…some woman answered!”

“She was just…a friend,” Miles replied vaguely. “I’m sorry if she was rude to you. Where are you?”

“I’m at home.”

“In your apartment?” Miles sounded alarmed by this.

“No, home-home. With my brother and his friend.”

“Why are you there?”

Brea shrugged to herself. “He came to pick me up earlier, insisting I needed to get out of Colridge.”

She heard Miles swallow nervously on the other end of the line.

“A bar in Colridge got turned over last night,” she was shaking as she spoke, hoping against hope that Sylar was wrong. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“Brea - ”

“Don’t even think about lying to me!”

“Yes,” Miles sighed in defeat. “I was there. I was involved.”

Brea clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from sobbing out loud. Miles was a monster. She’d fallen in love with a beast. Trembling she scrambled back onto her bed needing to be close to the familiar duvet of her childhood.

“Are you part of some…some gang?” she could barely ask the question.

“Yes,” Miles admitted softly. “But Brea, it’s not like you think.”

“So you don’t go around cruelly beating on people? You don’t throw acid onto a stranger’s face?”

“No, to the latter,” Miles’ voice sounded fragile as though it might break. “Brea, I’ve done some stuff I’m not proud of, God knows. I made some really bad choices when I was younger. But my Uncle scooped me up when I had nothing and no one. When my Mom abandoned me, I didn’t have a big brother to step in and take care of me.”

“You’re making excuses,” Brea seethed. “And just last night you were making bad choices. You beat up innocent people, Miles! How could you!”

“Brea, I’m sorry,” Miles said, dejected. “I’m in too deep with this… lifestyle. And I want out. Truly I do. Even before I met you, I wanted out but you’ve given me something bigger to hope for. You’ve shown me the kind of life I really want.”

Brea was softly crying. She felt like her world was tumbling around her like a flimsy house of cards.

“My brother was right about you,” she told him tearfully. “You need to stay the hell away from me.”

“Your brother?” Miles sounded angry now. “He’s the one who told you I run with Highway Reapers? I bet he failed to tell you how he knew that.”

“What?” Brea wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “What do you mean?”

“Your brother rides with a rival gang, Brea. He’s part of the fucking Blood Pact. I imagine running dirty little errands for them, was a way to help him make decent money when you guys were younger. I heard about the guy who got hit with acid, I had nothing to do with that.”

“The Blood Pact?” Brea thought of Sylar’s motorcycle, of how he worked long nights and came back with mysterious injuries. It all made sense and she felt foolish for not having seen it before. She felt like she was drowning in all the lies she was being told by the men who were supposed to love her.

“Tonight your brother is going to return to Colridge to fight against my pack, because now we are at war. And I never wanted you to get caught up in this, Brea. You have to know that.”

“My brother,” Brea was shaking her head, not wanting to believe it.

“You need to get out of the house,” Miles urged her. “I’ll come and get you. Together we will run away from all of this. Brea, for you I’d give it all up. Let’s just get on my bike and ride until we run out of gas.”

“I can’t,” Brea could barely talk through her waterfall of tears. “I can’t leave the house. My brother’s friend is keeping an eye on me. I’m supposed to stay here.”

“My pack knows about your brother,” Miles explained grimly. “If things don’t go well tonight they’ll come to your home seeking revenge. You’re not safe there.”

Brea blinked through her tears. In her heart, she knew that her home hadn’t been safe since her parents died. The once vibrant room had dulled, taking with it all its magic and Brea’s childhood dreams.

“I can try and sneak out,” she looked uncertainly at her window. But first she wanted to talk some sense into Sylar, to stop him from going to war with the rival gang. If things went badly that night, she could risk losing both Sylar and Miles and that was just too awful to even contemplate.

“I need some time,” Brea explained. “If you’re right about my brother then I have to try and stop him.”

“I’m coming for you,” Miles promised.

Chapter 77

Miles hung up the call and gazed in stunned disbelief at his cell phone. Brea knew about the guy who’d been burned with acid by his pack members. If it was her brother’s friend who’d been attacked, as Miles suspected, then it meant that Brea’s brother had an axe to grind and a score to settle.

“Enjoying the fresh air?” Hank stormed out through the door of the bar, already unsteady on his feet.

Miles shot his parked motorcycle a longing glance. If only he’d been swifter, he could already be on the road and en route to Brea. But she’d asked for time and he knew he had to give that to her, even if it was the one thing he'd been running out of.

“What time is everyone making their move?” Miles nodded towards the packed out bar behind them.

“Soon,” Hank raised his eyebrows and leaned back against the wall to steady himself. “Everyone in there is fixing for a fight. Things are going to get real ugly in Colridge.”

“Yeah.”

“Your girl still there?”

“No.” Miles felt his shoulders slump. He should have been the one to get her out, to keep her safe. Jealousy burned through him when he thought of her brother trying to act the part of her saviour.

“That’s good,” Hank patted Miles on the back and smiled. “Best keep her out of it.”

“Her brother pulled her out of Colridge.” Miles knew that Hank couldn’t truly be trusted, but the words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could even stop them. He was still mildly sedated and struggling to keep his thoughts in his head where they belonged.

“He did?” Hank became alert with interest, his previous drunkenness seemingly forgotten.

“Yeah,” Miles kicked at a stone and watched it skitter across the parking lot towards the row of bikes parked up side by side like children, patiently waiting in a tidy line.

“Do you?” Miles sighed, wondering if Hank had been the one to pour acid on that poor Blood Pact member’s face. “A while back, someone poured acid on a Blood Pact members face, scarred him up real good.”

“I remember,” Hank’s expression was surprisingly grim. “What makes you bring that up?”

“I think that Br- my girl’s brother knows the guy.”

“Shit,” Hank gave a low, ominous whistle. “If someone had done that to my friend, I’d be looking to take lives tonight.”

“You think?”

“Explains why he got his little sister the hell out of Colridge.”

Miles tried to swallow past the lump, which had formed in his throat. Hank was saying everything that Miles feared. Brea’s brother was surely going to lead the Blood Pact to Colridge to meet the Reapers head on. It would be a bloodbath and only one pack would be left standing at the end of it all.

“I guess tonight we settle things between our packs once and for all,” Hank shrugged casually as though he didn’t care whether he lived or died.

“Yeah,” Miles agreed with a tense sigh, “I guess we do.”

Chapter 78

Sylar dropped the six-pack of bottled beer onto the checkout counter and wrestled his twenty dollar bill from his pocket. The store was quiet. Almost all of the aisles were empty, as Sylar swiftly made his way to the fridge section for his beer. His nerves jangled inside him like loose change. He knew what was coming, what was expected of him.

He’d sent word to his pack about the movements in Colridge, about what he knew regarding Brea’s boyfriend. They were understandably furious and the orders he'd gotten were simple –

Kill them all.

Later, under the cover of darkness, he’d ride back to Colridge with both Smith and all his Blood Pact brothers by his side. There, on the streets of the small town they’d face off with their nemesis, the Highway Reapers, for the final fucking time.

Thinking about Brea being with a Highway Reapers member, left a bad taste in Sylar’s mouth which he knew no amount of beer would be able to wash away. His little sister had been sleeping with the enemy, literally. He’d always thought she was such a good girl, so quiet and timid, yet the moment he’d given her an inch of freedom she’d run with it and taken a mile.

Beers in hand, Sylar strode out to the parking lot towards his motorcycle. His heart was already racing as he tried to visualize what would happen later. He’d have to remember to take a crowbar with him, maybe a hammer. Who knew what weapon Smith would have on hand. He probably had a vat of acid stored somewhere, specifically for this occasion.

Sylar secured his beer to the back of his bike and swung himself into his seat. Running a hand down his face, he tried to block out the memories from that awful night when Smith had been attacked. How his friend had pierced the cold night with his high pitched screams. His skin had all but completely melted away. The air smelt putrid like cooked flesh. It was a smell that would never truly be gone from Sylar’s memory no matter how much time passed.

Kill them all.

He hated the Highway Reapers gang as much as he hated the drunk driver who’d killed his parents. All of his anger and frustration, over the hand life had dealt him, had been directed towards the rival gang, growing stronger every year. And now, all that hate was about to be released. Sylar was almost excited at the prospect of finally experiencing such a release, but he was also fearful. If his orders had been to kill them all, surely the Reapers had received a similar directive. And in such a battle there could only be one victor. What if all Sylar achieved was robbing Brea of both her brother and her lover?

Clenching his jaw, he kicked his bike to life and roared off into the night.