Page 8 of Ink & Reina

I glared at him as I crossed my arms over my chest, my fingers twitching with the urge to bash his skull in. “You need to stay the fuck away from her,” I growled at him. “She’s too fucking young for you.” Didn’t matter that Reina was old enough for the age of consent in this state. It was just fuckingwrong.

His smirk widened. “She’s sixteen, little brother. She’slegal.”

I took a step down the porch, being careful of the rotten spot on the step. “I don’t give a single fuck about her being legal,” I snapped at him. “I said she’s too goddamn young for you. But that’s what you like, right? You like kids? Get off on that shit?” I taunted. I was itching for a fucking fight, and I was determined to get it.

“Best fucking mouths are on little girls who talk too much.” My blood was pounding through me. I could hear the echo of my heartbeat in my ears. “Nothing like shutting them up by shoving your dick down their throat.”

I punched him in his face, knocking him back a couple of steps. He aimed a bloody smile at me as crimson slipped down his chin. “I can’t wait to fuck that pretty little mouth on Reina. Make her choke on my cum?—”

That was it. I saw fucking red.

I tackled him to the ground. Everything was a blur of punches and rage until I felt Jordan’s knife slice through my side, sinking deep beneath my rib cage. I roared in pain. He shoved me aside and stood up, his face bloody and discolored. He spit blood on my face as I tried not to throw up from the pain in my side.

“When I fuck Reina, bro, I’ll be sure to make sure you’re watching,” he snarled.

With that, he got in his car and spun out of the driveway. I wheezed out a painfilled breath and made a phone call to the only people I knew could help me without sending me to the hospital. A hospital would ask too many questions, and they’d also call my social worker.

I didn’t have time for that shit.

“Ink?” Blink asked when I answered. “You never call, boy.”

“I need help,” I told him. I sucked in a ragged, pained breath. “I just got fucking stabbed.”

Sabotage and Hatchet, the club’s Sergeant at Arms, showed up with Blink. They didn’t ride bikes. Instead, they came in the club van. All three of them rushed out of the vehicle and over to where I was leaning against the porch. Blood was staining my fingers. I’d long ago taken off my shirt to keep the blood from soaking my jeans. I hadn’t taken the knife out, but I was bleeding slowly. I knew enough to know that taking that knife out would have me bleeding profusely.

“Try not to move him too much,” Blink ordered as Sabotage and Hatchet moved closer to me. “But get him in the fucking van so we can get him to Medic.” Blink looked down at me, his eyes filled with murderous rage. But I knew it wasn’t aimed at me. “Who the fuck did this to you, kid?”

“Jordan,” I groaned. “He’s back in town. I called him—needed someone to pick me up from Reina’s because my bike fucking broke down. Mistake, obviously, but I didn’t know who else to fucking call.”

Blink gave me a look that said it all. I was a fucking idiot. I should have called him. But I was also trying to keep shit away from the club. Having an outlaw show up at the mayor’s place was just asking for trouble.

“Jesus fuck,” Hatchet snarled. He and Sabotage helped me up, supporting my weight as I stumbled over to the back of the van. “This ain’t fucking good.”

“No, it isn’t.” I groaned when they helped lay me out in the back. “He’s fucking with Reina—the mayor’s daughter.”

“I was talking about your wound, idiot,” Hatchet told me. I just snorted.

Sabotage grunted. “Let’s get you stitched up,” he said, hopping into the back with me. Hatchet and Blink got into the front. “You want to call this girl?” Sabotage asked me as the doors slammed shut and Blink began backing out of the driveway.

“No.” I clenched my jaw when Blink hit a bump in the drive. Fuck, my side hurt. I was in fucking agony. “I don’t know where my phone is anyway.”

Hatchet tossed something in the back. Sabotage handed me my phone. “Thank Blink later,” he told me.

I pressed Johnny’s name, muttering a curse when Blink hit a bump again. “You always call at the worst fucking times,” Johnny grumbled when he answered. “Reina just got home from her date a little while ago. She’s pissed at me.”

“I’m on my way to the clubhouse,” I told him, ignoring the shit about Reina. After my fight with Jordan, he’d stay away from her for a little while—long enough for his bruises to heal. Johnny stayed quiet. “Jordan and I got into it. He fucking stabbed me. Could use a fucking friend at the moment,” I confessed. I wasn’t much of one for reaching out to anyone, but Johnny and I… I thought we were pretty good friends.

“Shit,” Johnny hissed. “I’ll be there. Clubhouse?”

“Yeah,” I grunted, a little surprised he was actually coming through for me.

I ended the call. Sabotage narrowed his eyes at me. “He trustworthy?” Sabotage asked me.

I nodded. “He and his old man are always on the outs. Swear you don’t have shit to worry about with him. But he’s the only real friend I’ve fucking got these days.”

Sabotage gently squeezed my shoulder, a move that meant a thousand fucking words. “Not the only one,” he assured me. “We’re family now, Ink. Always promised you that.” I swallowed thickly, staring up at the roof of the van. “And the momentyou’re ready to prospect, we’ve got a prospect cut waiting for you.”

I roared in pain as Medic yanked the knife out of my side. Johnny and Sabotage pinned me to the table so I wouldn’t sit up. Hatchet pressed gauze to my wound to help stop some of the bleeding. Scorpion, the club’s treasurer, shoved a straw to my lips. “Drink,” he ordered. “It’s gonna burn like a bitch, but it’ll help.”

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