Miles (Highway Reapers MC): Inked Hearts (20 page)

Chapter 67

Brea stopped crying when she heard her cell phone ringing. Sniffling she wiped her face and reaching for the phone, expecting to see Miles’ name glowing on the screen. Instead it was her brother’s details she saw. For a moment her finger hovered over the decline button but then at the last moment she accepted the call.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Brea, are you at your place?” Sylar’s voice was muffled by a loud noise like a passing car. Where was he? Was he outside somewhere?

“Yeah,” she frowned at his question. “Why?”

“Are you alone?”

She straightened up on the sofa, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Why would you ask that?” she demanded angrily. “What the hell do you want Sylar?”

“Are you home alone, yes or no,” she could hear the tension in his voice.

“Is everything okay?” Brea glanced fearfully around her apartment. She was most definitely alone.

“Just answer the question.” She imagine her brother delivering the question through gritted teeth as he swiftly lost patience with her.

“Yes, I’m alone,” she replied tersely. “Why would you even ask me that?”

“And you’re in your apartment?”

“Yes!” Brea was getting wound up with all her brother’s strange questions. What was he even getting at?

“Stay where you are,” he ordered.

“Don’t go telling me what to - ” Brea stopped talking when she realized that the line had gone dead, Sylar had hung up. Her heart pattered nervously in her chest as she stood up and tentatively approached the window, which overlooked Colridge. She couldn’t see the street outside from her apartment, only the back of the building. She wondered what was going on and why her brother was asking such strange questions. And for a sickening moment she wondered if it had anything to do with what had happened at the bar the previous night.

Chapter 68

Miles popped two ibuprofens in his mouth before leaving the grocery store. He was about to make his way back to the motel when he froze. He clocked two parked motorcycles outside the closed tattoo parlor across the street. Both of the riders wore leather jackets and looked well built but from this distance he couldn’t discern their faces. Inhaling nervously he stepped back inside the shop, away from view. He watched them from within the safety of the store. He could immediately tell that they were Reaper members. They had the club’s emblem proudly displayed on their bikes.

“Shit,” Miles breathed as he watched them, praying that they’d soon leave. If they saw him he was done for, he was certainly in no state to defend himself. He wished he’d been smart enough to take Colin and Hank with him. Colridge was now a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding. Even a wander down the street could be dangerous.

After a few minutes the riders pulled off and disappeared down the street. Miles wasted no time hurrying off in the opposite direction. He had to get back to the motel and fast.

“They’re here,” he declared as he pushed open the door. Both Hank and Colin glanced up at him in surprise. They were both freshly showered which made their wounds seem less dramatic.

“Who is here?” Colin asked, wearily rubbing at his eyes.

“Reapers. I just saw two of their members in town.”

“Well I say we go roll out the welcome wagon for them,” Hank grinned, barring his teeth.

“No,” Miles raised a hand of objection at him. “We don’t do anything until we hear from my Uncle.”

As if on cue the telephone in the room began to ring. The three men shared wary glances before Miles stepped forward and picked up it, placing the receiver against his ear.

“Hello,” he tried to make himself sound as foreboding as possible.

“Miles, that you?” he instantly recognized the craggy old voice of his Uncle Deacon.

“Yes, Uncle, it’s me.” Still holding the phone Miles lowered himself on to the bed. He could see Hank and Colin sharing worried looks.

“You boys did a nice job at that bar last night,” Deacon complimented.

“Thanks.” Miles’ wounded ear started to throb so he switched sides with the telephone. As he did so he noticed that it was spotted with his own blood. He might need to consider getting stitches on his cut if it didn’t stop bleeding.

“I think you really stirred up the hornet’s nest there in Colridge,” Deacon continued, clearly amused.

“I think so too. I spotted a couple of Reaper members out on the streets this morning.”

“Good, good. Well then, I need you boys to high tail it back here as quick as you can.”

Miles tightened his grip on the phone. Go back? But why? Going back would mean leaving Brea. Miles closed his eyes in frustration as he recalled how she’d hung up on him. He couldn’t leave without making things right with her. But if he saw her now how would he ever explain his wounds without letting her think he was a monster.

“Come back?” Miles choked out the words. “But why? Don’t you need us here in Colridge in case they retaliate?”

“No, I need you back here,” Deacon clarified sternly. “There’s a war coming, Miles. We need to batten down the hatches and prepare.”

A shudder of fear flew up Miles’ spine. He hadn’t intended to start a war. Was that what it was coming to? Pack against pack? Where did Brea even fit in to all that. He couldn’t leave her in Colridge when things were getting so dangerous there.

“I need to bring someone else back with me,” Miles stated.

“If it’s that girl you’re fucking you can think again,” his Uncle replied coldly. Miles felt his body tense in shock. He looked over at Hank and Colin, expecting to see their guilt ridden faces but they were both avoiding his gaze.

“Uncle - ”

“Her brother rides with the Reapers. Don’t think I don’t know. I know everything, Miles. I’ve got eyes everywhere.”

“She doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this,” Miles pleaded, feeling panicked.

“I don’t have time to listen to you whine about some girl,” Deacon raged. “I need you and the others back here by this evening. We need to start planning how we’re going to ruin the fucking Reapers once and for all.”

Miles swallowed nervously. The rivalry between the two gangs was intense but never before had one sought to destroy the other.

“War really is coming,” Miles realized, tasting bile in his mouth.

“You bet your ass it is,” his Uncle swiftly agreed. “And you want to make sure that you’re on the winning side, Miles. So be here before sundown. Just the three of you, no stragglers. It’s high time the Highway Blood Gang proved that we’re the fucking authority in these parts.”

With a shaking hand Miles lowered the phone back down. Hank and Colin still refused to meet his gaze.

“I hope you’re both happy,” he addressed them flatly. “We’re going to war with the fucking Reapers.”

Chapter 69

“This has been a long time coming.” Miles listened to his Uncle Deacon address the crowded bar. Every available member of the Blood Gang had packed inside the flimsy building. The air was thick with sweat and cheap beer.

Miles stood towards the back beside Hank and Colin. His head still throbbed from the wound he’d picked up during the bar fight back in Colridge.

“Too long have the Reapers taunted us,” his Uncle raged on to his enraptured audience. Pack members hollered in agreement, raising bottles of beer to the air in a toast. “Too long have they crept into a territory that isn’t fucking theirs.”

“Your Uncle is certainly fired up,” Colin whispered quietly to Miles. All Miles could do was nod stoically in agreement. He had hoped he’d have time to talk to his Uncle, privately, before the entire crew assembled. He wanted to do all he could to discourage his Uncle Deacon, from going to war with The Reapers. But as soon as he pulled in to the bar’s parking lot, he knew he was way too late. Almost a hundred motorcycles were lined up outside, glistening in the early morning sunlight like precious polished toys. All members of the Blood Gang were in residence; his Uncle was preparing his troops.

“I like where the old man is coming from,” Hank growled with delight, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall.

Miles said nothing. He continued to gaze over at his Uncle who was decidedly more animated than usual as he addressed the packed bar.

“I say tonight we show The Reapers who really runs things around here!”

People were cheering, salivating at the prospect of spilling blood.

“We’ll run them out of Colridge, out of the
state
with their tails between their legs like the pathetic dogs they are!”

“Ooow! Yeah!” men howled like wolves

Groaning, Miles tried to disappear into the shadows of the bar. He couldn’t stop thinking about Brea, about how his old Uncle had known about her all along. Surely she was now in danger? But he couldn’t go back to her, not at the risk of turning the entire pack against him. They’d tear him apart before he’d made it to his bike. No, he needed to tread carefully, especially now.

Finally his Uncle dismissed his audience, insisting everyone go home and rest up before the big night. But this dismissal hadn’t included Miles, which he realized as he headed for the doors with the others but was promptly pulled back by a strong pair of hands which clamped around his shoulders like a vice.

With a sigh of resignation Miles stopped and turned around, letting the other members pass  around him on their way out, as though he were a rock in a stream. The heavy hands which had stopped him belonged to one of his Uncle’s most favored cronies, a six foot five rider called Jasper.

“I don’t get to rest up then,” Miles gestured towards the doors which Hank and Colin had previously gone through.

“Rest is for the weak,” Uncle Deacon waved a dismissive hand through the air as he staggered back to his regular table. All of the confidence and bluster had gone and he was once again a feeble old man. Still burning with resentment for his Uncle, Miles followed him to the table with Jasper lingering close by, keeping guard.

“I told you we were going to war,” Deacon declared with a sinister smile.

“That you did,” Miles agreed flatly.

“And I need to keep you here, where I can see you.”

Miles squirmed uncomfortably. He felt more like a child than a man being held captive like this at the bar.

“If I let you leave here, all you’ll do is go and warn that little girl of yours and we theres no way in hell we're having that.”

Miles tensed with anger.

“She’d warn that brother of hers,” Deacon continued. Miles wanted to correct him, to insist that Brea was loyal to him first but he knew that would be a lie. Brea loved her brother, she’d do all she could to keep him safe. She wouldn’t be the girl he loved if she’d do otherwise.

“She can’t get mixed up in this,” Miles tried to sound menacing but knew he was failing. He was exhausted and his wounds were burning, causing his thoughts to fog.

“Someone caught you real good,” Deacon nodded at his wound which Miles could already feel was bleeding again.

“A guy at the bar had a blade.” Miles winced as he spoke, it was starting to hurt to move his mouth.

“We should get that taken care of,” Deacon nodded at Jasper who left them alone and disappeared off behind the bar.

“I’m fine,” Miles insisted tersely.

“You’re not,” Deacon shook his head, gazing at his nephew intently. “And I can’t have you in anything less than top form for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Miles kept wincing. He felt like something was hammering a jack hammer against his skull. “Why so soon?” he felt almost delirious from the pain.

“We can’t afford to wait,” Deacon explained. “The Reapers will already be mobilizing and we'd be smart catch them off guard.”

In Jasper’s place returned a blonde with a heavily lined face. She was carrying a bright red first aid kit which she dropped down on the table before kneeling down beside Miles to scrutinize his wound.

“Ahh,” he protested, pulling away as she fingered around the tender flesh.

“Don’t be a baby,” Deacon chastised. Miles wanted to retort that it was easy for his Uncle to be so dismissive. He couldn’t remember the last time his old Uncle had left the safety of the bar.

“It needs stitches,” the blonde didn’t inform Miles, instead she spoke directly to Deacon who nodded his consent.

“Best take you out back to do them,” she was talking to Miles now, nudging his shoulder to get him to stand up.

“You’re in good hands with her,” Deacon gave a thin smile. “She’ll fix you up as good as new.”

“Come on now,” the blonde was guiding Miles through the bar, away from his Uncle.

“Don’t knock him out too good,” Deacon called after them. “I need him on his feet by tonight.”