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Her hair was in pigtails, for chrissakes.
I’d tug on them. Lift her short skirt. Spank her ass. Tell Jet to hold her while I go down on her and—
Fucking shitballs. What’s wrong with me these days? Tell Jet to hold her—to be there? This is sick.
It’s got to stop. If I don’t, I may need therapy, or someday Jet will find out about these new twisted fantasies of mine, and he’ll be out the door before you can say banana.
Also, I should stop thinking of bananas. Even if Jet likes them. Because guys shouldn’t like phallic-shaped fruit, okay? Not straight guys, anyway.
And I’m as straight as a one-way road, for all the good it does me. I haven’t been out with a chick since forever. Haven’t had sex since fuck knows when. My dick has probably shriveled and fallen off, and I didn’t even notice.
Checking nobody is looking, I pat my package, reassured to feel my dick is still there. Phew. Maybe it was the stress of finishing college, the small crisis I had, and the new job. Well, it’s time to remedy that. Time to—
Oh shit. Oh SHIT, the manager is staring right at me through the room window, a scowl on his face, and my hand… my hand is still on my crotch.
And I think, goddamn fuck, not again.
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Zane
Inked Brotherhood 3
They ca
ll me Zen-man, the cool-headed one, the protector. I keep an eye out for everyone, take them in, find them homes. They think I’m the calm and collected one, the self-assured one, the one who knows the way. They think they see me. They think they know me.
But they’re all wrong, because inside I’m broken. I have a jagged hole in my soul I can’t fix, a festering blackness. I’ve been to the pits of hell, and nobody comes back unscathed. Life in foster care fucked me up, and now a thread is all that’s holding me together.
So I sleep around and never date, keeping chicks away. One day I’ll snap, and when I do, there’s no telling who I might take down with me.
All the same, there’s this one girl who won’t be scared away. Dakota. She’s hot, and I won’t deny I want her. But she keeps coming back, pushing me, trying to get me to talk, to open up to her.
She has no idea she’s playing with fire. When the demons come, she’d better be far away from me, just like everyone else.
Part One
Zane
I never knew my parents. There’s no record of the person who abandoned me behind a dumpster one summer morning. My only inheritance is my almond-shaped eyes and straight dark hair.
When I was little and watched Japanese cartoons on TV, I imagined my mother dressed up in a red kimono, her dark hair held up with sticks. I imagined her walking through the streets, looking for me. Calling my name.
Took me years to realize how stupid that fantasy was. I mean, even my name is borrowed, bestowed on me by a social worker. See, I have no past and no family. I have no one.
Except for Emma, my adopted sister.
And now she’s leaving me, too.
Chapter One
Zane
The gym is packed. Most of the guys are here. Rafe is showing Shane some kickboxing moves, while the others are in pairs, practicing what he taught us today.
Dylan is facing me, sweat dripping off his face, his bangs plastered to his forehead. “Come on,” he mutters, hopping from foot to foot, full of restless energy. “Come on.”
He feints, and I take a step back, raising my fists. He swipes his leg, aiming at the back of my knee, but I twist and block. He throws a punch at my jaw, and I thrust my arm up in the last moment, stopping the blow.
