Page 16 of Broken

Phoenix is always as booked up as me. You want Phoenix, especially for portraits, you have almost a year long wait ahead of you.

“I want everything on this guy.”

I pull an envelope from my pocket and hand it over. “Everything I can find about him is in here.”

Nero grins and takes it. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

We’re in the clubhouse again but this time up in the room where he holds Church. It’s busy downstairs, the beginnings of a party getting underway.

My relationship with the club has always been different. Certain members look at me funny, wondering why I’m not held to the same standards they are. I don’t wear the patch or a leather cut, but I have it tattooed on my forearm.

Hanging out here is rare for me, when I do come, it’s usually with Phoenix. None of these people are friends, though there are a handful I’m friendly with.

I will never cross Nero, I will never do anything that goes against the club either. Hell, my tattoo shop is named after them. Most of the brothers don’t understand my relationship with Nero but I don’t give two shits. Nero knows what he’s getting from me and I’m valuable enough to him that I can negotiate terms.

When I was nineteen, I enlisted in the army. Not my best choice and I ended up hating it. One of the commanding officers in my unit noticed I had other skills, the kind that gave Nero a reason to keep me around. After two years I was moved into the Military Intelligence Core in Arizona. Moving to an admin role as a signal intelligence adviser didn’t make me like it much more, but it did teach me a lot.

After another year, I was given a Hardship Discharge from the army, due to a family matter.

Once I got back to Baltimore, I apprenticed at the tattoo shop and realized this was my calling. Brick was the one who got me hooked in with the Disciples.

The rest, as they say, is history. It suits me. I’m not going to complain.

“I’ve pulled back from Dexter’s place, all my equipment is out.”

I don’t like leaving things for longer than a week, there is always the chance the mark could accidentally come across something. I’ve been back to his place and grabbed everything and scrubbed his laptop of any evidence there was a clone and tracker worm in there.

Then there is the concern of running into the hot blonde again. Last thing I need is to be spotted more than once. I am disappointed at not seeing her again, which is fucking stupid.

Doubly stupid is watching her come and go on the security footage of the building.

Mostly she’s been dressed in jeans and T-shirts. One day she went out in a skirt and blouse but for some reason, it didn’t suit her. The jeans she wears are always tight, cupping her ass. It got to the point I was forwarding footage to see her come and go. That shit borders on stalker behavior, so I stopped.

Nero’s voice snaps me back to the present. “I might need you to watch him.”

“I can get more information if you need it, but it will cost you. I can’t spare the time to do full surveillance.”

“That’s quite the set of balls you got there, Ghost.”

I shrug. He stares at me in silence, but I refuse to wither. Like I’ve said, I have a life outside of the club and if he wants to keep using me the way he does, then the respect goes both ways.

“Let me look over this first,” he puts his forefinger on the package I dropped on the table. “I’ll be in touch if I want anything else.”

Nodding, I stand still. Like I said, respect goes both ways, so I wait for him to fully dismiss me.

Whether I’m an active member or not, Nero is the Prez. If I’m seen disrespecting him in front of the brothers, he’ll need to make an example of me, and I don’t have time for that shit. So, I play the game, like a good soldier.

“See ya round.” He walks away before I do.

Thank fuck that is over. All I want to do is get back to the shop. I’ve already called a client Phoenix put off and offered him a slot this evening if he can manage. He agreed, so there are at least a few hours of tattooing ahead of me today.

Parking my bike at the back of the shop, I enter through the rear door. It’s usually quiet at this time on a weeknight but I can hear laughing and women’s voices. Fuck this isn’t what I need right now.

Music is playing louder than I like when I’m here. They’re like a bunch of fucking unruly kids. I’m out for a few days and it all goes to shit.

Shane is sitting at his station with a girl that is vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her. She has a streak of blue in her half-shaved hair and is facing Shane as he inks her collar bone. He pauses what he’s doing so she can yell across to another woman.

She is lying on her side with Sumner in front of her. He has one hand on her hip and his gun poised. He’s stopped too and they all seem to be involved in a fucking full-on conversation.

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