Page 7 of Marked by the Protective Biker

As I walk back into my work room, Miller raises his head from the back of the chair. “Everything okay?”

He’s a millionaire. Not that you’d know it by looking at him right now. His shirt and jacket, which are worth probably two grand, are lying over a chair in the corner. His arms and back are already covered in tattoos, and today was his appointment for his chest piece. “Yeah, I’m good. I just had to rearrange things. I know you want to get this piece done.”

Miller has a thing. He won’t let just anyone do his tatts. I’m the only one that has ever put art on him, and we started this chest piece right before I got put in prison. I was surprised that he was my very first appointment, but maybe I shouldn’t be.

He lays his head back on the cushion, and I must take too long to get started because he looks at me again. “You sure you’re okay, Felon?”

I grimace at the name. It’s my family name, but it rings different now that I’m actually a felon. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He leans up on his elbow. “You sure? You're different.”

I shrug as I wipe off some of my equipment to get another color set up. “Yeah, I just have my mind elsewhere.” Shit. I probably shouldn’t tell him that, but it’s the truth. I can’t stop thinking of Emily.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, man. You want to reschedule?”

My eyebrows lift in surprise, but there’s no way I’m taking him up on his offer. Mostly because I’ve had a feeling about something, and I wanted to ask him about it. I slide my chair over next to him. “Miller, can I ask you something?”

He grunts as he leans back in his chair again. “Sure.”

“I only served a year of my twenty years.”

He opens one eye. “Is that a question?”

I shake my head. “I talked to my club because I thought for sure it was them that got me out early, but Pres said it wasn’t. They tried and couldn’t pull it off.”

His eyes are closed now, but he’s paying attention. “Pull what off?”

I have my tattoo gun in hand and am ready to get started, but I’m stalling so I can ask. “Did you have anything to do with me getting out nineteen years early, Miller?”

As soon as I say it, I realize how absurd it sounds, but I can’t figure out what happened or why I’m out now. Miller is quiet, and I’m about to start my tattoo gun when he finally starts talking. “You did the right thing, Felon.”

I set the tattoo gun down. “What?”

He groans like he doesn’t even want to have this conversation. “I said you did the right thing… saving that kid like you did. You shouldn’t have been in there in the first place.”

Stunned, my mouth falls open. “So you did get me out early?”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “What? Did you think I was going to wait nineteen more years to get my tattoo finished? No way.”

All I can do is sit here, shaking my head. “So what… how?” I stutter.

I’m not sure how he did it, but instantly he’s shaking his head.

“It’s not for you to worry about. You’re out, and I’m working to get it expunged from your record.”

“Miller…” I start, overwhelmed. There’s no way I can repay him for this. He’s acting like it’s not a big deal what he did. But he made it to where I only had to serve one year of a twenty year sentence. And now he’s talking like it’s possible to get this off my record. It’s too much, but it’s also everything I’d dreamed of.

Miller groans and finally looks at me, face on. “Look, let’s not make a big deal out of this. I needed to get my tattoo finished, so I pulled some strings…”

I choke on the words. “Pulled some strings… it’s more than?—”

He cuts me off. “Look, seriously, you didn’t deserve to be in there, so I took care of it.”

I nod. “Fuck, okay, thank you… I mean, I know that doesn’t even begin to cover it, but?—”

He blows out a breath like he’s frustrated. “Shit, man. Forget it. You’re welcome. You sure you want to do this now?”

At that moment, Boss knocks on my open door. “Sorry to interrupt. I took care of that issue. They have eyes on her, and they’ve been instructed to stick with her until you get there.”

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