Page 18 of Ink & Reina

Ink

Ikicked Sabotage’s bike to the ground, and then, I shoved Blink’s over, a growl vibrating up my chest. Rage pulsed through me red and hot. It was uncontrollable as it pulsed through my veins, and I didn’t give a single fuck.

Fuck Reina. Fuck Jordan.

Fuck this entire goddamn world and the shit hand I’d been dealt.

I didn’t give a fuck if I got my cut ripped from my back today for this shit. I was seeing red. I’d given her every fucking piece of myself. Had bent over backward to make sure she was happy. To take care of her. To be her rock.

And just like that, she’d fucking turned on me. All for what—some fucking dick that probably wasn’t even that good.

I snatched up the bucket I’d been using and threw it across the yard, water and soap suds spraying everywhere. Sabotage and Blink rushed outside, and Sabotage gripped my arms before I could cause more trouble. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouted, shaking me hard.

“She’s gone,” I seethed, yanking myself from his grip. I shoved him back a step. I wanted a fucking fight. I was goddamnburningfor one. “Jordan came back, spewed a bunch of bullshit to her, and she fuckingleft.” I shoved him again, trying my damnest to egg him on.

And Sabotage caved just like I knew he would. He swung his fist out. I blocked and quickly swung back out at him. I had pure rage fueling me, but Sabotage was thinking clearly. He knocked me across my cheek a couple of times, but I got in quite a few good hits considering I was quicker since I was smaller.

Finally, Sabotage pinned me to the ground, his hand on the back of my head, his knee on the center of my back. I spit blood out onto the rocks beneath me.

“Goddammit. Get him in the fucking garage,” Blink growled.

Sabotage yanked me up from the ground and steered me to the garage, shoving me down onto one of the rolling stools. He pointed a finger at me when I moved to get up. “Fucking stay right there,” he ordered. “Donotfucking get up, Drew.” His use of my actual name had me remaining seated.

I glowered at him, my leg bouncing, too much angry energy rolling through me to sit still for long.

“We’re patching you in,” Blink said as he strode into the garage. Some of my fight died out of me. I opened my mouth to protest, but he put up a hand. “I know—most men prospect a hell of a lot longer than you have, but goddammit, Ink, you’re family. On top of that, you’ve been proving your loyalty to all of us since day fucking one of you coming here and asking me for work. You’re getting patched in. End of fucking story. No longer your choice”

“But I just—” I started, waving my busted-up hand toward the lot where their bikes were still laying on the gravel.

“Easily repairable,” Sabotage told me, obviously referring to his bike. “Not a big fucking deal. Any of us in your position would have easily done a lot worse.”

I dropped my head into my hands. “Fucking hell,” I groaned.

Blink gripped my shoulder and gently shook it. “No matter what, kid, you can always count on this club to never turn their backs on you, you hear me? We’re family. This kind of family here? It sticks the fuck together, no matter how tough shit gets.”

I swallowed thickly and nodded my head.

“She come by here?” Johnny asked me as he got out of his car.

I nodded once. “Came by here to tell me that I’m basically a piece of shit,” I told him. He grimaced, his jaw tightening. “I told her to get the fuck out of my face. She left with him.”

Johnny scrubbed his hands down his face. “She and I had a fucking fight before she left. I told her if she walked out of that door with him, she wasn’t welcome back. She went anyway, even after Mom apparently begged her to stay.” I snorted. Jordan had done a fucking damn good job of brainwashing the fuck out of her. “Mom’s a mess. Dad and I got into it pretty bad.” He scoffed. “Apparently, I didn’t do a good enough job to make her stay. As if that’s my responsibility. As ifI’mher fucking parent.”

“That’s not your fucking responsibility,” I agreed. “Besides, she made her fucking choice.” I shrugged. “I just hope she’s happy.” As angry as I was with her, I did, at the very least, hope that.

Johnny scoffed. “Wish I could say the same,” he muttered. “I’m too pissed to want her to be happy right now. She turned her back on me—on you. She turned her back on the only people who had her back one hundred percent since day goddamn one.”

“Ink!” I looked over my shoulder at Grave, who’d shouted for me before I could respond to Johnny. “Table, brother.”

I nodded once. “I need to go,” I told Johnny. “Club calls.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Congrats on getting patched in, Ink,” he said, nodding at the new cut on my back.

I clapped my hand to his shoulder. “You ever need a home, Johnny, you let me know, yeah?”

He dipped his chin in a nod. Without another word, I turned on my heel and strode into the clubhouse, getting ready to take my new seat at the table.

Chapter Twelve

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