Miles (Highway Reapers MC): Inked Hearts (25 page)

Chapter 87

Gina had drawn all the drapes in her apartment and sat on her sofa, her legs curled up beneath her as she held a large mug of hot cocoa and watched a marathon of Next Top Model. She had no intention of leaving the safety of her home until the following morning. Over the sound of the television, she strained to hear any sides of chaos drifting in from outside but so far the evening had been still.

She was about to fast forward through an ad break when her phone whirred to life on her nearby coffee table. Gina strained forward to glance at the screen. Sylar was calling her. She groaned and considered just letting the call ring out and have her answering machine pick it up. But after the fifth ring, she conceded and grabbed the device, pressing down hand on the green answer button.

“Hello?” annoyance flooded her voice, making it sound much sharper than usual.

“Is Brea with you?” Sylar barked the question at her.

“Wait, what?” Gina blinked and lowered her cup of hot sweet chocolate to the nearby table. “You call me up and the first thing you do is bark a question at me like some sort of drill sergeant!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Sylar groaned. “Is she there or not?”

“No.” Gina was alone in her apartment and she intended on keeping it that way, at least until the trouble in town had blown over.

“Shit.”

“Sylar, what’s going on? Where is Brea?”

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be calling you asking that very question! Fuck!”

Gina could feel her chest tightening with panic. Where was Brea? Surely she was secure in her own apartment. She hadn’t been foolish enough to leave, had she? To seek out her biker boyfriend?

“She’s probably just at her apartment,” Gina said logically.

“No, I took her from there,” Sylar replied tersely. “I bought her home.”

“Why?”

“You know why.” Ice coated each word Sylar spoke.

“How bad are things going to get here?” Gina glanced dubiously at her concealed windows, her vow not to leave that night strengthening with each passing second.

“Bad. Really bad.”

“Jesus.”

“And now Brea has up and left my place,” Sylar admitted. He sounded so desperate, so out of control. So unlike his usual strong self.

“Do you have any idea where she might be?” Gina wondered, wishing there was some way she could help. Brea was a sweet girl, she certainly didn’t want to see her pulled in to all the biker’s mess and possibly hurt.

“No,” Sylar sighed. “I’ve got my mate running laps around the block searching for her, I’ve called you. She must be with that… bastard.”

“Probably.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Don’t you think you need to let all this hate go?” Gina suggested. “After all, the reason Brea is in danger is because of all the hate you harbour towards this other gang.”

“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about!” Sylar raged down the phone.

“Don’t make assumptions about me,” Gina’s rebuttal was swift. “You’re not the only one who got dealt a shitty hand in life, Sylar. But other people don’t allow it to weigh them down like you do, they don’t wear their tragedy on their sleeve, like some heinous accessory.”

Sylar hung up. Gina blinked at her phone in surprise and then put it down and continued to fast forward through the ad break on the television.

Chapter 88

“She’s here,” Smith ran into the house, just as Sylar was angrily shoving his cell phone back in the pocket of his jeans.

“You found her?” Sylar felt hope swell inside him, warm and pleasant. Of course Smith had found her, it wasn’t like Brea could have gotten far.

“Not exactly,” Smith jerked his head behind him to the driveway. The thunderous roar of a bike engine erupted across the neighborhood. Sylar watched the motorcycle approach the house in disbelief, its single headlight illuminating the house as it turned to the driveway. Even in the darkness, he could make out his sister clinging to the rider like a limpet out at sea. He ground his teeth together and cracked his knuckles. Had Brea really been foolish enough to bring a rival gang member to his home?

“Go grab the crowbar,” Sylar ordered his friend, never taking his eyes off the rider who was now turning off the engine, killing the headlights, and climbing off his motorcycle. Brea held his hand in hers as they came towards the house, her hair wild around her head from her time on the bike. Sylar steeled himself. The fight had now moved from Colridge to his own living room. So be it. He’d still do the Reapers proud, still honor all his pack brothers. There was no way he was letting him walk out of his house alive.

Chapter 89

Brea felt sick with nerves as she approached the front door of her home. She could see the rage rippling beneath the surface of her brother’s face. At any second, he was liable to explode. Gripping Miles’ hand tightly, she was starting to fear that she’d made the wrong decision, that they should never have come here. What if Sylar wasn’t as willing to turn his back on his pack as Miles was?

She was now inches away from her brother, the extent of the hardness in his face was in full view.

“So you came back?” he asked icily.

“Yes,” Brea nodded and swallowed nervously. “I wanted to talk.”

“I don’t talk to his type,” he nodded towards Miles.

“Humour me,” Brea took a deep breath before barging past her brother and dragging Miles along with her. She prayed that she hadn’t just made a huge mistake as she led both men in to the living room. The same space which had once radiated with laughter in happier times. Brea pushed away those memories as tears filled her eyes. This was her chance to save Sylar from himself, to give them all a clean slate and a new start away from motorcycle gangs and violence. This was her shot and she couldn’t blow it.

Chapter 90

“Don’t you come another fucking step closer,” Sylar extended his hands towards the couple, his face twisted with fury. Brea froze, anchoring his rival beside her. Sylar heard Smith return, instantly reassured by his arrival. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the crowbar held tightly in Smith’s grip. When he glanced back at Brea’s boyfriend the color had drained from the man’s face. Sylar struggled to suppress a satisfied smile.

“Sylar, please, I just want to talk,” Brea pleaded, gazing at him helplessly. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Then you shouldn’t have bought
him
here,” Sylar raged. Even a second a Blood Gang member continued to draw breath on his property, Sylar risked losing favor with his own pack. He could sense Smith struggling with similar thoughts. Both men knew how deep the divide between the two packs went, how letting a Blood Gang walk free could be costly for them in ways they couldn’t yet imagine.

“You lied to me!” Brea cried contritely, moving forward from her companion so that she was just inches away from Sylar. He could see the torment reflected in her eyes, the tension in her jawline. “You ride with The fucking Reapers!!” she roared.

Sylar cowed beneath her vitriol, but only slightly. He shot Miles a hate filled glance, feeling his insides become churned with disdain.

“He tell you that?” he scoffed.

“Yes,” Brea confirmed stiffly. “He did. When it should have come from you. It should have been you who told me, Sylar. How could you keep that from me?”

“Because it doesn’t concern you!” Sylar was so angry he feared he might spontaneously combust, splattering all those around him with his feeble innards. “Brea, do you have any idea how hard it was when Mom and Dad died? Of course you don’t, I shielded you from all of that!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Tears were sparkling in Brea’s eyes, her mouth down turned in anguished sorrow. “You chose to take that burden on, Sylar.”

“What choice did I have? I had to protect you, Brea. To take care of you.” Something unpleasant crept up Sylar’s spine as he spoke. It reached his mouth and left an unpleasant taste there. He realized that he resented his sister for unknowingly stealing his childhood from him. For her, he had sacrificed so much and now she repaid him by bringing his enemy to his home.

“I did it all for you,” he wanted to be free of his burden, to be free from all the responsibilities which had weighed him down for so many years.

“Let’s just kill the fucker and be done with it,” Smith took a menacing step forward, raising his crowbar to eye level.

“Wait,” Sylar pushed him back. Brea looked so defeated, faced with his anger. Her pretty faced crumpled and she was once again a little girl lost in the world. Sylar remembered the day their parents had died, how she’d wilted against him and cried herself hoarse. He’d vowed in that moment, to always take care of her, to always love her.

“If he’s come all this way the least we can do is hear him out.” He stepped aside, allowing a bemused looking Brea and Miles to enter the house.

“Seriously?” Smith contested angrily. “If the pack hear about this, they’ll fucking kill us, you understand?!”

“Well they won’t hear about it from me,” Sylar said sternly. “Will they hear about it from you?”

“Shit, no,” Smith shook his head and closed the front door, sealing them all inside the little house. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“So why are you here?” Sylar addressed Miles, folding his arms across his chest. “And no bullshit. I want the truth.”

Chapter 91

This was the first time Miles had been in Brea’s family home. There was evidence of happier times in the framed pictures on the walls. He reached for her hand and locked it in his own. Her brother’s scarred friend was worryingly close, still gripping a crowbar. If things went south, Miles knew that he couldn’t take both men on. All that mattered was keeping Brea safe.

“Tonight there’s going to be trouble in Colridge,” Miles announced stiffly. It felt wrong to betray his pack this way, to speak with Reaper members on reasonable terms. He had to keep reminding himself that he was doing it for Brea. It was all for Brea.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Sylar snarled.

“It’s going to be a bloodbath,” Miles continued, hoping he could somehow reach Brea’s brother and convince him not to go.

“Good,” the crowbar wielding friend grinned excitedly.

“Not good,” Miles shook his head sadly. “It’s a fight few will be walking away from. Which is why I’m not going. Instead I’m leaving town with your sister.”

Sylar’s glance flicked between the couple, darkening with unease.

“You’re what?”

“We’re leaving town,” Brea stepped in.

“You mean you’re going on the run?” Sylar clarified coldly. “Putting yourself in danger because this guy is too chicken shit to fight?,” the look of confusion crossed his wicked eyes.

The scarred friend laughed wickedly at this.

“I’ve begged him not to fight,” Brea said defiantly. “And now I’m asking you the same thing. Sylar, why does this pack demand loyalty to the point where it would cost you your life? Can’t you see how mad that is? Please, just cut your ties with them and then we can all be free.”

“Sweetheart, this isn’t the kind of club where you can just opt out of membership,” the friend told her sharply.

“There’s only one way you stop being a Reaper member,” Sylar agreed. “And that is if you die.”

“Do you hear how insane you fucking sound?!” Brea raged, her pretty face pinched with anger. “If Miles can be man enough to walk away, why can’t you?”

“Walk away?” Sylar was starring directly at Miles now, his eyes cool and impassive. “Is that what he told you? That he’s just walking away? Then why are you two kids having to flee town? It’s because you don’t just walk away from The Reapers or The Blood Pact. His own pack will hunt him down for desertion like the dog he is.”

“Desertion? You’re talking like this is a war!” Brea blurted heatedly.

“It is a war!,” Sylar snapped. “We’ve been at war for a long time, Brea and tonight it all comes to an end. One pack will be victorious, one pack will end up ruling over the whole state.”

“Do you listen to yourself? You sound like a madman!” Brea was starting to cry, tears shimmering as they died on her cheeks.

“Brea,” Sylar raked his hands through his hair, calming slightly. “The Reapers, they are my family now. After Mom and Dad died they took me in, they let us keep a roof over our head when anyone else would have shoved us into care. I owe them everything, can’t you see that?”

“No,” Brea was shaking her head, refusing to believe her brother’s words. “I’m your family, Sylar. It’s always been you and me against the world.”

“Doesn’t look that way now, does it?” Sylar’s voice hardened as he once again locked eyes with Miles. “You’ve chosen your family and I’ve chosen mine.”

“If they stay here any longer, we’re going to be found out,” the friend stated fretfully. “We were supposed to be in Colridge a half hour ago.”

Sylar groaned in frustration.

“Smith, go load up the bikes,” he dismissed his friend.

“You sure?” Smith lingered for a moment, staring at Miles.

“Yes,” Sylar nodded. “Go.”

Smith hurried outside, the door banging loudly behind him as he left.

“Please, Sylar, please don’t go tonight,” Brea pleaded, her voice high pitched with urgency.

“If I stay or go, either way I’m a dead man.”

“Sylar -” she moved towards him but he ignored her to hold Miles in a steady gaze.

“You should set her free,” he told him. “Walk away from her tonight, otherwise your problems are just going to follow her around as they will you. You’re putting her in danger and you know it.”

Miles clenched his jaw and counted slowly to ten. He wasn’t putting Brea in danger, was he? He thought he was finally setting them both free. He doubted the Blood Gang would really hunt him down. He was leaving town as a precaution. After all, his Uncle might not even live to see the morning. So much was riding on the fight that night but Miles couldn’t think about all that. He had to focus on what was his and what was real, and that was Brea.

“I’ll always keep Brea safe,” Miles swore. And he meant it. He’d sacrifice his own life to protect her if he had to.

“Then get the hell out of here,” Sylar gestured towards the door.

“No,”Brea flung herself against her brother, her small arms reaching for his shoulders. “Don’t do this, Sylar. Don’t fight tonight, please. I can’t lose you.”

With one swift movement Sylar pushed her off.

“Sylar, please,” she was sobbing as she folded, drooping towards the ground. Miles scooped her up, pressing her against his broad chest.

“You understand, don’t you?” Sylar looked up at Miles. Brea’s brother looked so drained, like a man resigned to his fate. “They gave me everything,” he continued. “They took me in, they made me one of their own.”

“Yeah,” Miles replied gruffly. “I do understand. The Blood Gang, they did the same for me. At a time when I had nothing and no one they stepped in. Back then, they seemed like heroes, angels even. But now I’m older I see it for what it was – they took advantage of a desperate kid to mold me to their will. I’m just a pawn in their never ending game of vengeance. They never cared about me, they just wanted me to believe they did.”

Something changed in Sylar. His eyes misted and his gaze became distant. Miles dared to hope that he was actually starting to get through to him.

“We can’t be held to promises we made as desperate children,” he added gently. For a moment Sylar looked like he agreed. But then the moment passed and he was once again wearing his hardened mask of indifference.

“I don’t break the promises I make,” he stated darkly. “Now get the hell out of her while I’m still inclined to remain loyal to my sister first and foremost. The only reason you’re still breathing is because she clearly cares about you.”

“Don’t do this,” Miles pleaded. “Brea is your family, think about her.”

“I’m sorry.” Miles wasn’t sure if Sylar was apologizing to him or Brea or both of them.

The front door opened and Smith peered inside.

“Bikes are loaded and ready to go,” he informed Sylar.

“Okay, good, let’s move,” Sylar nodded at him. Brea was still sobbing, shaking against Miles’ chest.

“Don’t do this, man,” Miles pleaded again. “Think of your sister.”

“I am,” Sylar replied tersely as he strode towards the front door. “I always have been. That’s the problem.”

Sylar was now in the doorway preparing to leave.

“Since you won’t leave then we will.”

Miles opened his mouth to object but his words were drowned out by the roar of Smith’s motorcycle as he drove out of the driveway, shortly followed by Sylar. All Miles could do was watch them leave and hold Brea up against him. Sylar and Smith were now en route to Colridge and the fight that awaited them there.

“You tried,” Miles reassured the weeping woman in his arms. “You did your best, Brea.”

Looking out at the road beyond the house Miles thought of how Sylar would rather risk death then defy the pack. Was Miles really making a terrible decision to underestimate how vengeful the Blood Gang might be to him? If Deacon lived to see another day he’d surely be looking for someone to blame for the deaths of any of the Blood Gang members, and Miles’ absence at the fight would make him the perfect target. Fear gnawed at the base of his neck, urging him to move.

“We need to get the hell out of town before shit hits the fan,” Miles told Brea, unhooking her from his embrace and gently guiding her back through the front door towards his bike. They didn’t have much time.