Page 106 of Spring Break Fling

“Two guys cornered me near my car after I dropped you off at the hotel,” he explained, his voice tight. “Rich, the bigger guy, said my father owed ten grand to someone. They wanted me to settle the debt or they would fuck me up to send a message.”

“Did you know these guys?”

He shook his head. “Professional enforcers. Guys who collect debts for people who don’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer. One had a knife. They weren’t interested in talking it out like rational adults.”

I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as he remembered that night. “So, they attacked you?”

Nikko sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They tried. I didn’t go down easy. Fought back. Got pretty banged up, but I got out of there in one piece.”

I traced my fingers along a faded bruise on his jaw. “You could have been seriously hurt.”

“I’ve been in some bad scrapes,” he said with a half-smile. “But this was different. These weren’t random dick heads at a bar. They had done that kind of thing before.”

I squeezed his hand. “Are you safe?”

Nikko’s laugh was dry. “I’m sure I am here. They’re not going to hop a plane to come looking for me.”

“What about the shop?” I asked.

“I think Marcus made a smart move firing me,” he said with a shrug. “I’m dangerous to be around.”

“Do you think those guys would go after Jessie or the others?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but when you’re dealing with men like this, I put nothing past them.”

“How do you end it?” I asked. “Can you go to the police?”

“No,” Nikko said flatly. “These aren’t the kind of guys you go to the police about. Snitches get stitches isn’t just a fun little rhyme. Reporting them would just make things worse.”

I studied his face and saw the strain. “So, what’s your plan?”

He took another sip of wine, his fingers absently tracing patterns on my leg. “Wait it out. Eventually they’ll get my father to cough up the money.”

“And then what?” I pressed.

Nikko’s smile was sharp, almost predatory. “Then if they still won’t leave me alone, I’ll figure out how to make sure they never come looking for me again.”

The implication hung in the air between us. I didn’t press further. Some battles, I was learning, weren’t meant to be fought in courtrooms or with police reports. Some required a different kind of resolution.

“Will you look for another job at another shop?”

“No. I don’t know. I had a lot of freedom at Marcus’s place. I don’t want to work for a corporate place, but I don’t want to work at a grungy place either. For now, my tattoo gun is hung up.”

I frowned. “Nikko, you’re too talented to not keep tattooing. It would be a crime against humanity or, at the very least, against skin.”

He chuckled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I mean it,” I said, sitting up a little straighter. “Have you ever thought about starting your own shop?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his wine glass. “Not really. I always figured I’d work for Marcus forever. I don’t know the first thing about running a business. I barely graduated college. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out to work for anyone.”

I bit my lip, thinking. “Every door that closes makes room for another to open.”

He raised an eyebrow at me, smirking. “Who are you, and what have you done with the cynical Hannah I know?”

I laughed. “Shut up. I’m serious.”

He swirled his wine. “You know that advice goes both ways. Ever thought about telling Clarke to shove it and starting your own thing?”