Page 7 of Saint
“Where I’m always at, King. Work.”
“Da said you haven’t been answering his calls.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. I admired the tattoo of a lion wearing a crown, I did when I first opened Forbidden Ink. It was a good day. We laughed and talked like family. It was the only time I felt accepted by my older brother.
I shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve been busy.”
“You know how he gets when we don’t come around,” King said, exasperated like he was tired of having this conversation. He wasn’t the only fucking one. I was tired of him trying tofix shit between me and our father. Shit would never be the same between us, and it wasn’t up to me to explain why. What happened would stay between us, unless our father took responsibility for the shit, he had done to me. Like I said, I would change shit if I could, but it wasn’t on me to change it.
“Not my problem, Prez.” He glared at me because I used his title. But that was how he always approached me. Not like a brother, but my leader. What did he expect from me? I sighed. “Look, I have a life and a business to run. I can’t be around all the fucking time. If he needs to talk to me, he knows where to find me.”
“Drop the attitude, little brother,” Reaper said. “We’re just checking up on you.”
“Fuck you, bro,” I said, flipping him off again. “You both know where to find me too.”
“Well, it’s time you make fucking time for your family, Saint!” King yelled, stopping our bickering before it started. “You have to get over whatever the fuck happened between you and Da because Ma wants to see you.”
“Easy for you to say. He didn’t fuck you over, King. Or you either, Reaper.”
“What do you mean he fucked you over?” King asked, confusion covering his face.
I stood and shoved my hands in my pants. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”
“If you don’t tell us what the hell you’re talking about, how do you expect us to understand, Gavin?” Reaper asked. “How do you expect us to help fix it?
“I don’t expect either one of you to fix shit!”
That was what they both don’t understand. I don’t expect anyone to fix anything. Those seven years were gone. Whether my father owned up to anything still didn’t change shit.
I dropped my head and focused on my breathing, trying to calm my anger. “Look, I’ll try to make time to go see Ma, but I can’t promise anything. I’m booked solid,” I said, ignoring Reaper’s questions.
If they wanted answers, I wasn’t the person to ask. Our da was the person they needed to talk to. My brothers wanted me to be the bad guy so bad, never stopping to think I wasn’t the problem.
I turned on my heels and made my way to the door. “Do more than try, Saint. I’m not fucking asking you to, I’m telling you to,” King ordered. “And your ass better be here tonight.”
I slammed the door, not responding to him. What the hell did he think he could do to me? I was a grown-ass man who onlylistened to him if it had to do with the club. My relationship with our parents didn’t have shit to do with the club. If my father and me stayed estranged that was my fucking business, no one else’s. There was more to the fucking story than they knew. So no, I’d never forgive him for the shit he had done and the years of my life it cost.
I made my way down the porch of the clubhouse bypassing the club whores, a few of the brothers, and prospects as they prepared for the bonfire tonight. Not the place I wanted to be, but I was a Sinner until the day I died. So, I’d stop by tonight, show my face for a few hours, and then skip out.
3
Forbidden Ink
I eyed the clock on the wall. I’d been booked solid and was tired as fuck. But it was only nine thirty and I couldn’t wait to see Oya again. To say she plagued my mind the past few days would be an understatement. Her smell, her laugh, and the way she looked at me like she wanted to tear my clothes off as much as I wanted to tear hers off played over in my mind. And despite the hectic few days since I saw her that first night, it was like the days had flown by.
I went to the bonfire like King demanded, but only stayed a few hours. It was all I could manage because regardless of what was going on at the club, I still had a business to run. I drank way too much, smoked even more, and enjoyed a night of relaxation. I hated to admit it, but I needed the break. I hadn’t had a realvacation in a long time. Not that I couldn’t afford one, I hated leaving my business in the hands of other people. I could admit, I was a control freak, especially when it came to what was mine.
At the bonfire, I met the two women Grimm sent, and it looked like King had finally met his match with Alana Robinson. The best friend of Grimm’s sister. She gave him hell, and I loved every minute of it. It wasn’t often my brother was left speechless and I thoroughly enjoyed watching him have his balls handed to him by the feisty woman. She didn’t care he was president. She didn’t care that everyone around him asked how high when he said fucking jump. She treated him like an ordinary person, not the badass leader of a one-percenter club. Something he wasn’t used to. But with Alana around until everything was cleared up with the Bianchis, he’d have to get used to it because I didn’t see her pulling any punches. He would either kill her or fall head over heels in love with her. It was still a toss-up.
I paused setting up my work area when there was a light knock on the door. “Come in.”
The door slowly opened, and Oya peeked her head in. When she saw me, her eyes brightened, and my fucking heart stopped in my chest. If she’d looked at me like that until the day I died, I’d die a happy man. I pushed the feeling down, so I didn’t come across like a creep, walked over to the door, and ushered her in, closing it behind me.
“Angel, just told me to head on back,” she said with her hands, and a clutch in front of her body as she looked around the room, “I hope that’s fine?”
Today she had on a white silk blouse, a bright pink skirt that stopped just above the knee, which looked like it was in love with her body with how it hugged her curves, and white strappy heels that added at least three inches to her height. Just looking at her made me wonder how much of a chance I had with a woman like her. She was educated, and classy. I was an ex-con covered in ink, not to mention at least ten years younger than her, if not more. Angel was right. She was completely out of my fucking league, but I was a glutton for punishment.
“Of course. He should be locking up the front and heading out. So, it’s just you and me. Hope that’s cool with you?”
