Ink: A Wings of Diablo MC Novel by Rae Lake (classic reads .TXT) 📗

and I opened the door to the basement. I walked down the stairs, and just like this morning, there was no one there. I stood in the middle of the room with my arms folded across my chest.

“See, are you satisfied now?” I asked as they made their way downstairs. I looked to the side to make sure my weapon was there. I may be out of the lifestyle my father and brother once led, but that didn’t mean I was stupid. I would protect myself if I needed to.

“What about that door?”

“My fucking god.” I rolled my eyes and stormed over to the door. I pulled on it hard so they could hear the lock rattling. “See locked and no one down here.” I looked back over to the side of the room, and my heart nearly jumped straight out of my chest.

Two dark eyes glared at me. A man was lying under some of the tarps, behind some of my boxes. He hadn’t moved or said a word, and he was holding onto something in a tarp in front of him. The wounds on his wrist, red and angry looking. It looked like he’d been tied up.

I turned to the two men who were still in the basement, searching behind big paintings. I opened my mouth to tell them he was there, but when I turned back around to look at the man, he didn’t flinch or beg me not to tell. He stared and waited for what I would do.

“I’m so sorry to bother you. Please, if you see our brother, would you let us know?” The man who’d been doing all the talking took a few steps toward me. I took a few steps forward to meet him halfway. Something about the way he stared at me and the strange wounds on his wrists led me to believe maybe these creepy men weren’t the brothers they said they were. I didn’t want them to see him, and if it turned out the man was a nut job, I would use my pistol to run him out of my shop, but I wouldn’t just hand him over to these two.

“Sure. What’s your contact information.” The man pulled out a small pad from his back pocket and a pencil and began jotting down what I assumed was his contact information. I smirked at the sight of it. Either he was a cop or a criminal. No cell phone, and I was pretty sure whatever was printed in his book was coded.

“My name is Lou, and it’s important we find our brother. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to anyone in this town because of him.” The threat was evident. He smiled at me again, and I wanted to peel my skin off. He was creepy. I started walking toward the stairs and hoped the man hiding in my basement wasn’t going to get me killed by making a noise or something stupid like that.

“Absolutely, I’ll give this number a call if I hear anything.” I walked them briskly upstairs and out of my store. I watched as they left and waved to them politely as they walked over to the next store on the pier and walked in.

I turned as soon as they were out of sight, grabbed the pistol I had hiding under the front counter, and rushed downstairs. When I looked behind the boxes, the tarp was wrinkled up, but the man was no longer there.

I heard a step behind me, “Shit!” I swung the gun toward the sound, but the man had already ripped it out of my grasp before I could do anything with it.

“What the fuck do you want?” He growled at me as he moved closer to me.

“What?” I looked at the man, and fear erupted in my body as I moved back toward the other gun I had stashed. “What do you mean, what do I want? You’re the one hiding in my fucking shop. What the fuck do you want?”

He stopped moving forward. “You saw me. I know you did. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know them or owe them anything. What I do with the information I have is my business.” I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to stare him down, but it was hard. The man had dangerous written all over his face, yet he didn’t take another step toward me.

“You really their brother?”

“Fuck, no.” He answered quickly.

“They cops?”

“Why you asking so many fucking questions?” He tipped his head to the side.

“Why you hiding out under a fucking tarp,” I finally looked down to his body, his glorious awe-inspiring body, “wearing nothing but torn up pants?” the last part of my statement was lost. Just as I was lost, his body from neck to as far down as I could tell was covered in tattoos. His hands, feet, and face the only parts of him I could see bare.

I had to get a better look; he was a living breathing work of art. I turned and flicked on the switch for the lights to come on. The bright florescent lights caused him to raise a hand to his eyes.

“Is this everywhere?” I stepped closer to him, wanting desperately to examine each tattoo. It was only then I could see the scars. Too many scars. This man was beaten regularly. His massive frame entirely still as I looked at his body. I could see all the muscles in his body straining with the effort. I reached out to touch him, but he stepped back quickly. A suspicious look plastered across his face; he didn’t trust me.

“Inkpop?”

A small angelic voice called out from where he’d been lying, and he instantly started backing toward the sound. “Angel, get up right now. We have to go.” He put the gun into his waistband but never stopped looking in my direction.

“Who is that, did you steal that baby?” I tried to walk closer to see, but he squared up