Ride Or Die (Hell's Tribe MC Series) [Book 5]

Chapter 2: Lion's Den

Hey all, I hope you enjoyed the prologue and chapter one and that you are just as excited as I am to read chapter two and the rest of this book.

Happy reading!

~Bucky~

I had just wrapped up my last appointment of the day—a large leg piece of some weird wolf looking thing for one of my regulars, Marty. He came in once every couple of months with some strange concept that he always expected me to turn into a sick tat. Sometimes, even I was surprised at my ability to turn such abstract ideas into literal art on someone's skin, but I had been trained by the best.

Knox had been my mentor since he made the move to Utah. I had followed his work for years while he lived in Arizona, completely unaware of his connection to Utah or the Hell's Tribe. It was only when I started seeing the Hell's Ink Instagram page crediting him for some of their best work that I even knew that he had moved. I had lived in Provo at the time, but I made the hour trek to Tooele, just so that I could get something done by him. I ended up going with a sick forearm piece that had easily become my favorite tattoo. At the time, I hadn't even been sure what I wanted to get done, but I told Knox what I wanted it to symbolize and he had come up with the idea all on his own. After I'd seen it, I practically begged him to let me learn from him, desperate to improve my skills as an artist. Fairly quickly, I'd learned about the club, and started hanging around the rest of the guys when they came by the shop to see Knox. I began prospecting within a couple of months and found myself a part of a brotherhood within the next year.

Becoming a member of an MC was never something I expected for myself, especially because of the clean-cut way I'd grown up, but I fit in more with my chosen family than I ever did with my blood. I had always been the black sheep in my house, the one always getting into trouble and not following along in my older sister's footsteps or being a good example for my kid brother. My parents had a lot of expectations for me, ones that I always failed to meet. I barely graduated high school, didn't get into any Universities or even community colleges and took off the first chance I got. Sure, I had been struggling to stay afloat as an eighteen-year-old tattoo artist, but I made due until I met Knox.

He mentored me in more than just tattooing, he got me an in with the Tribe, allowing me to earn my patch just one year later. Now, after almost four years of being a part of the Tribe, it was a decision I never regretted. Sure, it got me into trouble from time to time—even got me locked up on a couple of minor changes, but I loved being a member. I loved the freedom of outlaw life, the glory of it, but more than anything, I loved feeling like something bigger than myself—like I was apart of something.

I had to keep reminding myself of all the reasons I loved the club since the main reason I had been avoiding the clubhouse and my brothers lately, came walking into Hell's Ink with the same redhead she had been with at the bar, some dude with a letterman jacket, and none other than my little brother, Rhett.

What the actual fuck?

That must have been why Carter was at the bar that night. She was there to celebrate Rhett's birthday, just like I was. I hadn't gotten the chance to confirm with my brother that night, but it made sense. Rhett and his friends were the kings of U of U and if Carter had gone there looking for a good time, there was no doubt in my mind that they had shown it to her.

Carter and my brother? This was not good.

I planned to duck into the kitchen and sneak out the back door, but it was too late, they had spotted me.

My little brother lit up with a smirk at the same time Carter did. I felt both of their gazes lingering on me as they approached my station.

"There he is!" Rhett cheered, walking over to me with open arms. The three others followed him, including Carter—who by the way, was looking annoyingly cute today.