Miles (Highway Reapers MC): Inked Hearts (23 page)

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 uneasy 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. Jealously 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 Reapers 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 Reapers to Colridge to meet the Blood Gang head on. It would be a blood bath 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 on to the check out 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 the'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 Reaper brothers by his side. There, on the streets of the small town they’d face off with their nemesis, the Blood Pact, for the final fucking time.

Thinking about Brea being with a Blood Pact 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 at 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 indifferent 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 airwaves no matter how much time passed.

Kill them all.

He hated the Blood 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 The Blood Gang 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 in to the night.

Chapter 79

Miles had a plan. It was a flimsy one he had to admit, but it was all he had. It came to him as he stood outside the bar talking with Hank. He thought of Brea held under lock and key by her brother. Miles thought that if given the chance, couldn’t he talk to her brother, come to some sort of truce. After all, they had shared common ground for their love of Brea; they both wanted what was best for her.

“What if I could stop all this?” Miles wondered aloud. Hank cocked his head at him in confusion.

“Stop the fight tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t stop it,” Hank shook his head wistfully.

“Why not?”

“You think this is all about you? and your girl? and her brother? but it’s not. This is bigger than us, Miles, it always has been. Old grudges go deep, really deep. You ever wondered why Deacon hates the Reapers like he does or why that little punk got acid thrown all over him? Things between the two gangs will never, ever be resolved.”

Miles was surprised by Hank’s insight but couldn’t disagree with him. He was right – the two gangs were hardly going to shake hands and let bygones be bygones. The hate between the two factions would always burn poker hot, no matter what happened.

“Maybe so, but if I could at least stop tonight - ”

“Tonight is already in motion,” Hank interjected. “To stop it now would be like standing in front of a freight train. All that will happen is that you’ll get yourself killed.”

“I fear that we are all just sleep walking to our deaths,” Miles looked up at the darkening sky. He was running out of time.

“Isn’t everyone?” Hank shrugged and raked a hand through his golden hair. “If we don’t die this night we’ll die another one. As is the predicament of being alive.”

“But don’t you want your death to mean something?”

“Death never means anything,” Hank declared, his gaze hardening. “It is always just an end. There is no meaning in that.”

Miles was starting to feel desperate. He couldn’t let the streets of Colridge run red with blood, even if the feud was bigger than him.

“I can’t just stand by and let everyone get hurt.”

“The way I see it, you got two choices,” Hank reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He plucked one out and placed it between his fingers, elegantly guiding it up to his lips.

“You can either fight with us tonight,” he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag on it, smiling in satisfaction.

“Or?” Miles prompted him for his second choice.

“Or, you can go get your girl and get the hell out of town. Like I suggested earlier. Yet here you still remain.”

“She won’t leave without her brother,” Miles sighed, “especially now she knows that he’s a part of all this.”

“Quite the predicament,” Hank blew smoke in to the air, letting it billow above him like a dark cloud.

“I have to make her leave with me, don’t I?” Miles looked desperately at his pack mate, yearning for some direction.

“Yes, you do,” Hank nodded solemnly. “And you need to do it fast because if Deacon catches wind that you’re even thinking of leaving tonight then you’re already a dead man.”

Chapter 80

Sylar kicked open the unlocked front door and quickly located Smith, who was stretched out across the sofa watching some porn. Two naked women with epic breasts were fondling each other as they kissed with excessive amounts of tongue.

“Hey,” he hurried over and grabbed the remote, plunging the screen in to darkness.

“I was watching that,” Smith objected, screwing up the good half of his face in annoyance.

“Not with my sister here you’re not,” Sylar glared at him. “Show some respect.” He stormed over to the refrigerator and placed the pack of beers he was holding inside.

“She’s in her room,” Smith shrugged. “And it’s not as if she’s coming out here to keep me company.”

Sylar almost wished that his sister would get involved with Smith. It would be a vast improvement on her current choice of boyfriend. At least being with Smith wouldn’t be like signing her own death warrant.

“Beer?” Sylar asked as he leaned in to the cool interior.

“Sure.” Smith straightened up and raised a hand in readiness for his beverage. “What time we ride?” he asked as Sylar handed him a bottle.

“Soon,” Sylar realized. Outside it was already getting dark, soon the Reapers would be assembling out on the streets, their bikes roaring loudly like some sort of ancient dinosaur.

“Well, I’m more than ready,” Smith grinned. “Those Blood Gang shit heads are about to learn that payback can be a bitch.”

But Sylar wasn’t listening. He was stalking down the hallway towards Brea’s bedroom. He swung open her flimsy door without pausing to knock. The room was shrouded in shadow but he could see his sister sat on the bed, her knees pressed to her chest. He flicked on the light and she squinted up at him in the sudden brightness.

“Don’t just sit here in the dark,” he told her. “Come have a beer with us.”

“I’m okay, thanks,” she answered curtly, her tone as hard as flint.

“Look, Brea, I know I said you have to stay here, but it’s for your own good. You can’t be mad at me about that.”

“I’m not mad at you about that,” she replied flatly.

“Oh,” Sylar straightened in surprise. “Well then…that’s good. But seriously, don’t just sit here all alone all night.”

“Are you going out later?” she cocked her head at him as she asked the question. “Do you need to work?” she emphasised the last word in a strange way.

“Yeah,” Sylar shrugged, trying to look casual. “I’ve got to head to work in a bit. So what?”

“Nothing,” Brea narrowed her eyes at him. “Nothing at all.”

Chapter 81

“Go now,” Hank urged, looking back towards the bar. The tumbled together sounds of the rowdy occupants stole out towards them.

Miles felt taut with adrenalin, which surged through his body. If he turned his back on the The Blood Gang now he could never come back. He’d be an outcast for the rest of his life.

“Is she worth losing all this?” Hank asked, limply gesturing towards the bar.

“Yes,” Miles answered without missing a beat.

“Well there you go. What are you waiting for?”

Still Miles hesitated. He stared at Hank, weighing up whether or not he could trust him.

“I’ll say I know nothing,” Hank held his hands up defensively.

“Why are you even helping me?” Miles wondered, cocking his head to the side.

“Because,” Hank sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. “You’ve got something to live for, something beyond the gang. Me? I’ve never had that. I’ve only ever been about the pack, there isn’t enough room in my life for anything else. I’d gladly die for these assholes, would you?”

Miles was silent.

“Exactly,” Hank raised his eyebrows. “And honestly Miles, I don’t want someone out there fighting with me who isn’t completely committed.”

Miles nodded softly, understanding where Hank was coming from.

“So go,” Hank prompted again, pointing towards where the motorcycles stood. “Go save your girl and ride off into the sunset together.”

Miles felt torn. He looked back at the bar,his sanctuary, the place his Uncle Deacon took him into all those years ago when he had nothing and no one.

“You think because he saved you that you owe him your entire life?” Hank asked, as though reading his mind at that exact moment. “That’s how we all feel, Miles. But that’s not normal, is it? Deacon, he plucks us out of obscurity and seemingly saves us, but always to meet his own needs. It’s never the selfless act it appears to be.”

Miles was stunned by Hank’s brutally honest assessment of life within the gang. And it pained him to acknowledge how true the other man’s words were. Why had his Uncle not intervened with Miles sooner? Why let him live rough on the streets for a few years? It was because Deacon wanted to see if he was tough enough, wanted him to see how bad things could get before he bothered to extend the olive branch of safety. Deacon had willingly let Miles suffer as a teenager just to ensure that he’d make a decent member.

“You’re right,” Miles felt steeled with decisiveness as he strode over towards his bike. He was ready to leave Deacon and the Blood Gang behind him and move on with the next chapter of his life. Brea, she was it.

“Ride hard and fast,” Hank advised with a wry smile. “And don’t bother checking over your shoulder because we’ll never be there.”

“How can I be sure of that?”

“You’re just going to have to take my word for it.” Hank grinned around the cigarette which was clamped between his teeth.