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“If you don’t do this, there will be trouble. It’s not a threat,” she said, suddenly sounding terrified. “It’s a guarantee.”
I took a step closer and glared at her. “Then you should have thought about that shit before you shot off your mouth to those thugs. Whatever you think you can do to make me do this, just know that I can do worse. And I will.”
She looked worried, but I knew this wasn’t over. Krissy owed someone a lot of money and my guess was those thugs who accosted me the other day in the parking lot were part of that someone’s organization.
They would be back, of that much I was certain.
What they didn’t know was that I would be ready.
Chapter 4
Savior
“What are you doing here, man?”
Lasso’s smile was wide and friendly when I stepped into GET INK’D, his arms draped over two hot sorority girls.
“Too many Bitches at the clubhouse, a man can’t even get a fucking drink in peace.”
There were nearly a dozen lounging around in their tightest, lowest cut outfits to attract attention. The Reckless Bitches served their purpose but sometimes a man just needed to be.
“What’s up around here?”
His smile spread even wider if that was possible. “I’m going to give Katie and Becca tattoos. On their hipbones.” He emphasized the words, flashing me his best horndog grin over their heads. The man had as much charm as the state he came from, and the chicks ate that shit up. The sorority girls looked up at him like he couldn’t possibly be real. Too bad they’d be disappointed that he was only there for a few nights.
“You here for ink?”
“Nope, just here.” I was bored, restless and in search of something to do. Lasso disappeared with the sorority girls and I found Jag bent over a big ass biker who had ‘weekend warrior’ written all over him. He was big and bald, and had no visible tats, like someone who had a nine to five to go to every week. They were easy to spot, but they were good people, and most importantly, they kept guys like us, the real deal, flush with business. They came to us for tats, grass, ass and guns.
“Hey Jag.”
“Sup, Savior,” he said without looking up. His concentration had always been one of his most admirable traits. “Golden Boy is in with a customer, but she’s decent.”
I nodded at the biker doing his best to look cool as I walked by. “Thanks man.” I hoped Golden Boy was able to get away for a few hours, maybe go for a ride to clear the fucking cobwebs from my head. I knocked and waited, feeling agitated and impatient.
“Come in,” his gruff voice called, but it was less gruff now that he’d gone and fallen in love with a former model with a sharp tongue and long legs.
I pushed the door open and the smile on my face died when I spotted Mandy sitting in his chair.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I ignored the sharp look Golden Boy sent me, waiting for Mandy to answer.
She stared up at me, her expression blank and emotionless.
“I would think that’s obvious.” She turned back to him, dismissing me. “Privacy would be nice,” she said tersely.
Golden Boy flashed an apologetic grin at me and pushed the door closed in my face.
“Dammit!” I smacked the door, letting my anger get the better of me. Why the fuck was I so angry, anyway? Mandy was just my friend’s little sister and a chick I fucked. Once. I couldn’t let her get to me like this. Shit, I refused to. But I knew what was bothering me. Her anger and refusal to talk to me, combined with Cross’s words. She’s like family. Under our protection. Both of those things were true no matter how either of us felt about it, which made this the perfect chance to make her listen to my apology.
Twenty minutes later, Golden Boy and Mandy exited the room, all smiles and laughter.
“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it, Tate. But you can let Teddy know I did get the details. And not to worry that she didn’t hire me to do the cake. No way I could have transported a five-tier beauty down to San Diego.”
“Yeah, well she felt bad after promising you the gig,” Tate said, flashing a warm smile that spoke of familiarity.
“Listen, we’re good. She’s gonna love the pastry chef I recommended.”
