Page 7 of Bound By Ink

“Jesus, Killian, you’re such an animal.” I push him away and step towards the sink and brush my hair and shoulders off, knocking the stray cheese into the sink.

He chuckles and stuffs another mouthful in. I storm over and bat him away. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, tugging me into him before wrapping it tighter around my neck and scrubbing his knuckles into my hair.

“Killian, for God’s sake.” I push and swat at him, trying to get him off me before he barks out a laugh and lets go.

“Best be enough for me, too, Nerd.”

I roll my eyes and step over to the cupboard, grabbing another plate and setting it next to the other two. He turns around and heads into the living room, placing his hand on the back of the sofa and vaulting over it, landing beside my brother.

Oh, fuck, that’s sexy.

He snatches the spare controller off the table and starts clicking buttons. Neither of them speaks to the other; they just play.

In the kitchen, I dish up, leaving theirs on the side because I’m not Cinderella. “Dinner,” I yell as I take my plate and a fork upstairs. I shut myself in my room and flick on my TV, groaning around my forkful of food in peace before I stretch out on the bed. My phone taunts me as I stare at it, longing for it to buzz. I open up the message thread, and nothing. My fingers fly across the screen and start typing a message, only to delete it again. Then I type again, then delete. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Fuck’s sake.”

After tossing my phone onto the desk as far away from me as I can get, I crawl into bed. Dull curses and banter from Steven and Killian break the silence in my room, and I drift off, utterly exhausted from tossing and turning the night before.

Killian

Chapter 4

I crack my neck, straighten my shoulders, and stare into the mirror. A small smirk spreads across my lips. My blue eyes pop in the bathroom’s bright light. The five o’clock shadow gives me that rugged bad-boy look, and I ain’t mad about it. I know who I am and what I look like.

After running my hands through my hair, I add a bit more product, knowing my bike helmet will crush it. I’ll have to do something with it when I get there, and by that I mean scrub my hand through it, giving it that just-fucked look I wear so well.

I spray myself with aftershave and step into the bedroom, picking out my ripped jeans, tight black long-sleeved T-shirt, and slipping the gaiter over my head. After snatching my leather jacket off the rack, sliding my boots on, and grabbing my helmet and gloves, I glance around the flat one last time before I step out onto the back stairs, locking the door behind me.

It’s starting to get colder now, but I’ll always love the adrenaline of going out on the bike. It clears my head and makes me feel free.

I descend the stairs and trudge across the courtyard behind my shop. It’s just big enough for my bike and my car. I throw my leg over the bike, tug my helmet on, slip the key into the ignition, rev it a little, then sit back and pull on my gloves. After flicking down the visor, I click the button on my key fob to open the gates, pulling into the alley.

Once I get on the street, I don’t have to worry about pissing my neighbours off, so all bets are off. I rip back the throttle and scream down the street. I take the long way around the town before slowing down as I enter the warehouse district.

The car park is filling up; the headlights illuminate the normally dark, dreary space. And I ride straight to the front of the building. There are a few spaces that are always coned off near the entrance, and I ride straight into one, weaving between the cones. When I turn off my bike, one of the bouncers, Henry, wanders over to me, his stern face turning into a grin as I tug off my helmet, and he greets me with a fist bump.

“Didn’t know you were on the cards tonight, Killer.” I chuckle at the nickname I got stuck with; it could have been a whole lot worse. It’s also why I renamed the shop, a nod to how I was able to afford it all.

“Not tonight, Henry, I’m just spectating.”

“Any tips?” He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I laugh, climbing off the bike and stuffing my gloves into the helmet. I don’t need to lock it up; no one will dare go near my bike with these guys a few feet away.

“Surely that’s a conflict of interest? No?” I smirk. He grins at me as I hang my helmet on my bars. “My money’s on Beanpole.” I shake my head at his unfortunate naming.

“Seriously?” Henry frowns sceptically. Assessing whether I’m taking the piss or not.

“Deadly.” I wink as I walk past. “Go big or go home, am I right?” I head inside. The dull groans and muffled chatter of the crowd ring around the vast ceiling. Stale liquor, sweat, and desperation fill the air. The cage is set up in the middle of the room, with benches lining the sides and spreading multiple rows deep. With a makeshift bar at one end. I head over to grab my warm, overpriced beer before I find a seat.

“Hey, beautiful.” Patricia smiles at me, and I give her a flirty wink.

“Hey yourself, gorgeous. You’re looking damn good, sweetheart.” I rest my elbows on the bar and lean in, placing a quick, chaste kiss on her cheek. As I smile at her, she leans back, hitting me on the shoulder and sliding a can into my hand. I pull out my wallet and place some cash on the bar, but she wafts at me,pfttingthat my money’s no good here.

I tap on the cash. “Get those grandbabies something nice, yeah!” I wink, and she blushes, scooping the cash off the bar and stuffing it in her bra.

“If only I were thirty years younger.” She bats her eyes dreamily at me.

“Then you’d be in nappies.” I wink again and turn, stalking through the crowd. I’ve been coming here for nearly twelve years. She’s a sweetheart and used to look after me if the fights didn’t go in my favour.