Asher (Inked Brotherhood 1)

Problem is, I miss her already.

I look down into my mug of coffee and clench my jaw. My mind misses her, my body craves her. What we did yesterday... Fuck, is it only yesterday? Her warmth, her gentleness... It’s all I can do not to get up and go to her right now.

Suddenly cold fear grips my chest. Will she let me back inside? Why would she wait for me? I haven’t explained anything to her. Like an idiot, I keep telling myself I’ll fix my life first, be someone worthy of her—but what if she moves on, meanwhile?

I have to talk to her, let her know I haven’t just disappeared. That I’m still alive, and just need some time to get out of the hell pit I’ve fallen into.

Fucking hell, my life is such a mess.

But first I have to go see Johnny at the club. A vague memory from last night tells me he wants to kick me out and that I yelled at him—and then he said I should go see him this next afternoon.

Oh fuck, he wouldn’t throw me out, would he? I need this money. It’s all I have.

I chuck back the rest of my coffee, use the bathroom. Then I pay and leave the diner, bracing myself for the cold. I pull my jacket closed, my muscles stiffening. It does great things for my bruised ribs.

People throw me funny looks as I cross the street and hobble in the direction of The Bulldog. I give them the stink-eye. So what if I look like a zombie from The Walking Dead? Don’t they have anything better to do?

It sinks in, then, that I’m now officially on the wrong side of the tracks—a criminal, a lowlife, a piece of trash. At any rate, I look the part.

Pressing my lips together, I walk faster, hefting my duffel on my shoulder. Already in my head I’m arguing with Johnny, convincing him of my need to stay at the club. I’ll tell him all about my dad, whether he likes it or not, impress on him the importance the fight club has for me.

The entrance of the club looms dark; the door’s closed. I go down the steps and ring the bell. I don’t have to wait long. The latch lifts and the door swings inward.

What I don’t expect is one of the club’s bodyguards blocking my way inside. “No going in, buddy.”

“What? Why the hell not?” I sidestep him but he blocks my way again.

“Carl says you can’t come in.”

“There must be a mix-up somewhere.” I swallow hard. “Johnny said we’d discuss, said I should come—”

The door opens wider. Carl’s standing there, his face dark with anger. “What did you do, boy? Johnny was trying to look out for you, set you back on the right path, but it’s already too late for you, isn’t it?”

I can’t make sense of what he’s saying. “He told me—”

“You brought the goddamn cops down on us. You’d daddy’s dead. Jake Devlin is dead and you killed him. Didn’t you, you little shit?”

I step back, the words a blow to my gut. I can’t breathe. “My dad? The hell you’re talking about.”

“You’re a coward,” he says, “a murderer and a snitch.” Carl jabs a thick finger at me. “And as if that wasn’t enough, you told the cops to come find you here. You thought this was kindergarten? You thought we just fuck around here? You’re dead, asshole.”

“What...?” I can’t process any of this. Dad’s dead? Bigger than life Dad, with the pain and fear and the good memories of my early childhood and... All gone. Erased. When? How did that happen?

Three forms rise from the dark bowels of the club, run up the steps and grab me. They haul me away. I don’t even hear my duffel hit the ground.

***

I’m dragged into a back alley, kicking and snarling. I’m like a wild animal, all instinct and blind anger, fueled by panic. I manage to strike one of the guys in the stomach and he lets go of me, but another steps in and grabs my hair, pulling my head back.

My balance isn’t good with one of my eyes swollen shut and with my head drawn back like that. The only thing keeping me upright is the third man’s hold on my arm.

“You exposed us,” the guy behind me hisses. “You’ll pay for it.”

A fist to my kidneys startles a cry from me. The pain takes my breath away, a spear of fire shooting up my spine.

My hair is released and I fall to my knees, grunting in agony. Blows start falling on my head and back, splintering my thoughts.

I have to fight back; it’s all there is. Fight back until I can’t any more. But there’r