Page 100 of Protector

There’d been bad blood between the two of them since Galveston. I hadn’t realized that my biker would take my advice literally to get Mikey back in line; going as far as feeding the news outlets reports of skeletal remains being found on the beach.

Even months later, I still didn’t know who’d been more upset with Jamie’s form of discipline—Mikey or John. After John stormed into our hotel room, demanding to know how there was any evidence left behind, Jamie admitted that he probably should’ve waited until David was off on his honeymoon.

Despite the chaos, the plan worked.

While Mikey was still sleeping with any woman who made eye contact with him for longer than three seconds, he had sworn off the hard liquor.

In Jamie’s mind, the damage was done, and there was nothing Mikey could do to get back in his good graces. Refusing to see the similarities between them, he kept his distance, only interacting with his son when absolutely necessary.

After checking with Ryan, Mikey pulled up a chair. “Are you getting this because of the club? Is that something the Ol’ Ladies do now?”

“No,” I admitted, hoping he didn’t notice the circular scar. “I got it for me. You do know the history behind a phoenix, right?”

He shrugged. “A little. My old man was always going on and on about it when I was a kid.”

The buzzing from the tattoo gun temporarily ended our conversation. I’d grown up with a fear of needles and had never understood Jamie’s obsession with ink.

Until now.

The needle scraped across my skin, evoking a strange sense of catharsis. I closed my eyes with a long exhale and leaned into the pain, releasing the things I’d held on to for far too long.

At the feel of someone squeezing my hand, I opened my eyes and found Mikey watching me with a solemn expression. “It stings like a motherfucker, so you’ve got to train your mind to focus on something else, so you don’t feel it.”

He might’ve misinterpreted how I was feeling, but there was more truth in his words than he’d ever know.

“Tell me about the tattoo I prevented you from getting. Again, I’m really sorry about that.”

Mikey shrugged and held out his arms. “Not like I don’t already have a few. And, if we’re being honest here, I, uh, hadn’t actually fully decided.”

I studied the swirled script woven through barbed wire. Most were quotes related to war… to suffering. Our best efforts had never been enough when it came to him. The deck had been stacked against us, the same as it was when my mother took the girls.

Mikey may not have come from my body, but he’d always felt like mine. I mashed my lips together and blinked back the tears.

“‘Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim,’”I carefully recited the quote I’d come to know by heart. “Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.”

His eyes narrowed as he thought it over before repeating the words back to himself with a slow nod. “I like it. You write that?”

Ryan paused and looked up at Mikey with raised eyebrows, and I fought to hold back the bubble of laughter. “Me? No. That’d be the Roman poet, Ovid.”

Mikey laughed, suddenly looking a little unsure of himself as he reached for my hand again. “I knew that. I was actually trying to pay you a compliment, darlin’. You know, what are the odds that I’d get to be here when you got your first tattoo?”

His palm was sweaty against mine, and I had a sneaking suspicion that his feelings toward me were more Oedipal than familial in nature.

I swallowed. “You know, I’m not sure it has anything to do with odds. Maybe coincidence or luck.”

His thumb traced lightly across the back of my hand, making it easy to see how he’d been so successful with women. If the piercing blue eyes didn’t get them, the feel of his fingers on their skin would.

That was the distinct difference between him and his father. Mikey knew there was a game and had learned to play it well. With Jamie, it had all been instinct.

“I have to admit, growing up, I had a pretty big crush on you,” he said softly, eyes going dark with lust. “Never imagined I’d find you spread out like this, getting your body inked.”

As much as he wanted to convince himself that he had feelings for me, this was just another ploy to get back at a particular biker. He might’ve only been nine years younger than me, but Mikey was like a piece of knockoff art; beautiful to look at, but he’d never measure up to the original.

“Hey, Ryan.” The gun stopped buzzing, and he looked up at me warily, clearly aware of the entire exchange. “What do you think Grey would say if he were here right now?”

The lust that had been in his eyes only moments ago disappeared, and Mikey released my hand. “Celia, I don’t think we need to—I was just fucking with you—”

“He’d kill him,” Ryan stated simply before going back to work.

---