Miles (Highway Reapers MC): Inked Hearts (21 page)

Chapter 70

Brea jumped at the sudden pounding against her front door. She stood frozen in the middle of her apartment, her cell phone brandished in her hand like some kind of weapon. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Fear rattled in her chest as she listened to the frantic beating of her own heart echoed in her ears.

“Brea, it’s me, open up.” Sylar’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

“Sylar,” she was striding towards the door, releasing the locks in bewilderment. She thrust open the door to reveal her brother in the hallway, his face tense and pinched. But he wasn’t alone. Brea glanced at his companion and did her best not to stare at the deep scarring covering half of his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she turned back to her brother.

“I don’t have time to argue.” Sylar barged past her entering the apartment, his friend close behind.

“And who is this?” Brea gestured wildly to the stranger. “And did I say you can come in?”

“This is my friend, Smith. You can trust him.”

Smith gave Brea a brisk nod in greeting.

“Trust him?” Brea pressed her fingers against her temple. “Sylar, what’s going on?”

“We don’t have time, Brea!” Sylar came over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing slightly. He stared at her hard, willing her to believe in his words.

“I need you to listen to me, Brea,” he spoke slowly to ensure she understood exactly what he was saying. “You’re in danger here. You need to come back home with me right now.”

“In danger?” Brea shrugged him off and stepped back. Was this just another of her brother’s attempts to thwart her relationship with Miles? If so she certainly wasn’t in the mood for it.

“Brea, I’m serious,” Sylar’s voice was razor sharp. “Miles is dangerous.”

“Please,” Brea scoffed at the suggestion. Miles might look menacing but he wasn’t dangerous. He was caring, and kind. And distant. His recent lack of availability pinched at her chest, winding her. Why was he blowing her off all the time? Had he stopped caring about her?

“He’s not dangerous,” she quickly blinked back tears, refusing to let her brother see her cry over Miles.

“He is,” Sylar insisted, his eyes wild with urgency. “He’s dangerous and being here, being with him, is putting you in danger. We need to leave. Now. Go and pack up your things.”

Brea exhaled sharply and placed her hands on her hips. She wasn’t back home, committed to obeying all of Sylar’s orders. This was her apartment, which she paid for with her own money. Her brother had no right to storm the place and start giving her orders.

“You’re out of line, Sylar.” She told him angrily.

“So help me Brea I’ll drag you out of here if I have to. You’re leaving Colridge tonight, with or without your consent.”

“Sylar!” she glanced at his scarred friend for support but he just turned away from her, letting the siblings conduct their argument between themselves.

“Pack, your things, now! Or I will pack for you.” Sylar bellowed at her, pointing towards her bedroom door.

“No,” Brea objected tearfully. Her brother was just trying to drive a wedge between her and Miles, she was sure of it. And he was being cruelly heavy handed about it.

“I promise you that Miles is dangerous,” Sylar repeated, his voice softening slightly. “That bar that got turned over in town last night, he was responsible for that.”

“How can you say that?” Brea felt like her brother had smacked her with a whip and she was still smarting from the wound. Why would he deliver such a vicious lie? There was no way Miles could have had anything to do with the fight at the bar. But Sylar had successfully planted a seed of doubt in Brea’s mind. She hadn’t seen Miles last night, nor this morning. Was he avoiding her to hide his battered face? He did sound odd on the phone.

Tears beaded in her eyes as she glanced helplessly at her brother, willing him to be wrong.

“He rides with a motorcycle gang called the Blood Gang,” Sylar continued. “They are a really nasty bunch of guys bred on violence. And they are looking to stir up trouble here in Colridge. Being with Miles makes you a target. I’m just trying to keep you safe Brea.”

A motorcycle gang. The Blood Gang. Brea felt dizzy as she tried to take it all in. She lowered herself against her sofa and lay her shaking hands upon her knees. Sylar had to be wrong. He just had to be. But even Gina had hinted about danger.

“How do you…how do you know this?” she wondered woefully.

“I just do,” Sylar told her vaguely. “Trust me, the Blood Gang are trouble, Brea. Look what they did to Smith.”

Smith stepped forward and angled his damaged half of his face up towards the light so that Brea could take a better look at it.

“The Blood Gang; they did that to you?” she gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth.

“Acid,” Smith explained tightly. “Me and your brother made the mistake of turning up at the wrong bar a few years ago. It was a mistake the The Blood Gang wanted to make sure we wouldn’t repeat again.”

“My God,” Brea couldn’t imagine the pain Smith must have gone through. And all because he’d gone to the wrong bar. It all seemed to needlessly cruel. “And that’s how you know?” she glanced between the two men. “That Miles is with this gang, because you’ve encountered them before?”

Sylar and Smith shared a look.

“Yeah,” her brother spoke up. “That’s how we know, Brea. Now do you understand why I’m so worried about you? And why you have to leave here?”

Brea understood. Numbly she got to her feet and made her way towards her bedroom. As she hastily filled a bag with a few essential items, she thought of the girl she’d tattooed at the parlor, the girl who worked at the bar. Had Miles hurt her? No, that was impossible. Miles would never do something like that. Brea couldn’t ignore the fact that her brother might still be lying.

With Sylar and Smith waiting in the main area of her apartment, she quietly pulled out her cell phone from her pocket and dialled Miles. She wanted to at least give him a chance to explain himself. After five drawn out rings, a woman answered.

Brea felt like someone had electrocuted her. A violent shock raced down her spine when she heard the unfamiliar voice.

“Hello?” they picked up with an air of impatience.

“Hi…is….um, is Miles there?” Brea had to speak quietly for fear of attracting the attention of the men in the next room.

“He’s passed out at the moment,” the woman replied briskly. Her words were cold and lacked any emotion.

“Passed out?” tears started to run down Brea’s face like a river. Why was Miles passed out? Where the hell was he and who was this woman answering his cell phone?

“Sweetheart, if you know what’s good for you, you won’t call him again.” And the line went dead. Brea stared at her cell phone in disbelief. How could she have been so very wrong about Miles all along? She honestly believed he was a decent guy who genuinely loved her. Had he got blind drunk and slept with the woman who was now taking his calls?

Brea felt sick at the thought of such a betrayal. She dropped against her bed and cradled her head in her hands, her clothes still strewn around the room in her haste to pack.

Five long minutes passed before a gentle knock came at the door. “Brea, we really need to go.”

It was Smith’s voice, not her brother’s.

“I’ll be right there,” Brea sniffed and wiped her eyes. The door creaked open and Smith slid round it, throwing her a sad glance.

“I’m sorry if Sylar scared you.” he noticed her tears glistening in the sunlight.

“It’s okay,” Brea wiped at her cheeks and stood up.

“Let me help,” Smith came in and started to scoop up some of the scattered clothes. As he did so Brea glanced again at his scar, noticing how it disappeared beneath the collar of his jacket.

“It must have really hurt,” she noted sympathetically.

“It hurt like hell,” Smith gave her a lop sided smile. “But I think it gives me a tough edge, don’t you agree?”

Brea laughed softly. She admired Smith’s strength.

“Your brother will keep you safe,” he added, his tone becoming more serious. “He won’t let the them harm you.”

Brea had previously thought that she could trust Miles to keep her safe. But since a strange woman had just answered his phone she didn’t know what to think anymore.

“Where is Sylar?” she glanced beyond Smith in to her apartment.

“Moving the bikes round the front,” Smith explained.

“The bikes?” Brea felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Was she supposed to ride on the back of their bike all the way back home? She’d never been on a motorcycle before and the thought of doing so terrified her.

“Yeah,” Smith cracked a smile. “I’ll take your bags and Sylar will take you. Unless you’d rather do it the other way around?” a flirtatious fire burned in Smith’s eyes. He was charming and despite his horrific scars he was still handsome. But Brea couldn’t give him the flicker of hope he was yearning for. Her heart still belonged to Miles, even if it looked like he was going to break it.

“I’ll ride with Sylar, its okay.” She also didn’t want a relative stranger feeling her quake with fear behind them as they rode down the highway.

“You called?” Sylar was coming back in to the apartment. Shadows hung beneath his eyes making Brea wonder when he’d last slept. As soon as they got home she’d cook them something then insist he take a long hot bath before going to bed for several hours. Her brother clearly wasn’t doing a great job of looking after himself in her absence.

“Apparently I’m riding on your bike,” Brea titled her head at him, wondering if he’d sense her apprehension about the mode of transportation.

“You’ll love it,” Sylar reassured her though his expression remained stern. “Now let’s go.”

Chapter 71

With the wind billowing in her hair, Brea glanced back to see Colridge disappearing from view. Her brother turned the throttle on his motorcycle and they picked up speed along the highway, expertly weaving their way through the traffic.

Smith was close behind, his own bike roaring its way down the highway. Brea clung tightly to Sylar. She could feel the power of the bike trembling beneath her legs. It was both a terrifying and exhilarating feeling. When Colridge was completely gone from view she pressed her head against her brother’s back and closed her eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The first time she was on a motorcycle she was supposed to be holding on the Miles as they embarked on an adventure together. Hot tears washed down her cheeks as the bike moved ever faster. In that moment she didn’t care if Sylar lost control and the bike skidded across the road, tossing them both from its back like a bucking bronco. She already felt like the world was burning around her. She wanted to give in to the flames, to let them consume her.

Miles had broken her heart. She could feel the pain growing within her, being more pronounced each time her heart dared to beat. And now she was leaving Colridge with no idea when, if ever, she would be going back.

Chapter 72

Miles groaned as he struggled to open his eyes. His whole body felt heavy and awkward. Wincing, he eventually managed to sit up. His throat felt dry and sore as he pushed his hands through his hair and looked around.

He was bare chested and sat on a sofa in a dingy back room, which he recognized as being part of the bar. Distantly, he could hear the hum of the juke box playing a familiar tune. Miles shuddered, his shirtless skin prickling in the cool of the damp room. He noticed his t-shirt and jacket neatly piled up on a nearby table and hastily reached for them. Pulling them on, he felt them snag against the tightness beside his ear. Miles grabbed his cell phone and turned the camera towards himself and then inspected his wound. It was no longer bleeding as several crude stitches were now holding it closed.

“Ah,” Miles massaged his aching jaw as he continued to scrutinize the stitches.

“You’re up then?” the door to the room swung open and the ageing blonde strolled in carrying a steaming mug of coffee. Miles’ felt drawn to its acidic aroma, eager for the injection of caffeine.

“Here,” she offered him the coffee and sat down on the sofa beside him. “This might help you wake up a bit.”

“How long was I out?” time seemed to have lost all meaning. He could have been asleep for hours or even days and it would have felt the same to him.

“A couple hours,” the woman gave a light shrug. “The sedatives I gave you should have pretty much worn off entirely by now.”

Miles nodded as he sipped at his coffee.

“Whoever cut you with that blade caught you good,” she glanced at his fresh stitches. “Leave those in for a few days, let it heal and then I’ll cut them out for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Just don’t go getting too roughed up tonight. There’s only so much patching up I can do here.”

“Tonight?” Miles’ thoughts were coming too slowly as if they were stuck in glue. What was happening tonight? He knew he was at the Blood Gangs’ bar but he couldn’t quite remember why. It was as if he’d woken from a deep, deep sleep and was struggling to reconnect with reality.

“You boys are storming Colridge tonight, remember?” the blonde gazed at him intently, narrowing her wrinkled eyes. “Those sedatives didn’t fry your brain too much did they?”

“Colridge.” Brea. Miles’ senses instantly sharpened when he thought of her. She was still in Colridge, still in danger. He had to get to her. Leaning forward he placed down his coffee and stood up but, he’d underestimated the effects of the sedatives that were still lingering in his system.

The dingy room titled on its axis and Miles swayed on his feet.

“Careful now,” the woman appeared behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and gently guiding him back down towards the sofa. “You don’t want to run before you can walk,” she advised, handing him back his mug of coffee.

“I need to get to Colridge,” he told her desperately.

“This about that girl who called your phone?”

“What?” Panic leapt up in to Miles’ throat, almost preventing him from speaking altogether. “Brea? She called me? When?”

He was firing his questions at the blonde, like bullets.

“She called while you were knocked out,” she replied slowly, not bothered by his level of desperation.

“She won’t be calling again.”

“Wait, what? What did you say to her?” Miles felt like a mad man possessed as he reached for his make shift nurse and grabbed her roughly by the collar of the dress she was wearing which would be better suited to a woman half her age.

“Relax,” she didn’t bat an eyelid as she eased herself out of his grip. There wasn’t even a flash of fear in her eyes. She was well accustomed to the tempers on display in the bar.

“I kept her safe,” she told him sternly.

“I can keep her safe!” Miles insisted shrilly.

“Can you?” she cast a dubious eye over his latest wound which would surely leave a scar. “Because, son, I’m not sure you can. And if you’re really sweet on this girl you’ll just let her go. You see, you’re already in a relationship, with the Blood Gang,  and your Uncle, he don’t take too kindly to anyone cheating.”

Miles groaned in frustration. What had Brea said when she’d called? What had his nurse said? He could only imagine how mad she must be at him. He needed to talk to her, to convince her of how much he loves her.

“Let her go,” the blonde advised, getting up and dusting off her dress as her old bones creaked in protest. “The Blood Gang is no place for a lady. Unless you want her to turn out like me.”

Miles looked at the old blonde, really looked at her. Behind her tired eyes there was the still the sparkle of the beautiful girl she'd once been. A girl who had been lured in to the gang by his Uncle Deacon back when the old man was enigmatic and handsome. No, this wasn’t the future Miles wanted for Brea, for her to sit around and stitch up gang members. He wanted her to follow her dreams, to follow her art, her passion. He rubbed a hand across his chest, across the tattoo which had originally bought them together.

“Take care, kid. Think about what I said,” the woman was at the door now, about to leave.

“Thanks for fixing me up,” Miles forced a weak smile and tapped the side of his head.

“Anytime. Just be careful out there tonight, you hear?”

Miles nodded. He wasn’t ready to go back to Colridge, to fight again. But if Brea was there he’d have to. Somehow he’d have to sneak away from the others and get to her apartment. They’d have to run. If he abandoned the pack during a fight there was no way they’d take him back.  He’d become as much as an enemy to them as a Reaper member. But for Brea, Miles was willing to run and turn his back on everything he knew. She was worth that. She was worth running away for.