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“Time changes some things. But sometimes it changes nothing at all,” Colt replied, sounding older than his thirty-five years.
She moved forward and squeezed her hand on Ash’s arm, wanting to show him she was supporting him, too. Wanting Colt to know she saw what he was doing, and wanted to stand alongside him and help.
“Colt will take a look at your bike tomorrow, Ash.” She cleared her throat, emotion had stuck it together.
“You’ve got your tattoo appointment tomorrow.” Ash raised his chin, clearing his throat, getting back to business. Colt removed his hand from Ash’s shoulder. Ash continued, “Dane said he was up for it. He’ll have his equipment ready-”
“Great, what time?”
“Two o’clock.”
Colt shrugged. “Fine, thanks. But I’ll be free before that-”
“You’ve got your deep tissue shoulder massage then lunch-”
“Fuck, you know my schedule better than I do.” Colt gave Ash a half smile. He returned it. “After my tattoo then-”
“You’ll be hurting-”
“Fuck that, your crank shaft is hurting me more than a bit of extra ink on my skin will.” Colt shrugged.
Ash hesitated, running his eyes once over Colt, and herself, one last time. “Okay then,” Ash said finally.
“Some vacation this will be for you, Mr. Black.” April smiled at them both, joking to try to relieve the heaviness that Ash seemed to be struggling with. “You’ll be either underneath a bike covered in oil, or underneath a tattoo needle covered in blood.”
Ash cleared his throat. “Or underneath April covered in-”
Colt stopped him saying any more with a light punch to the arm and a roll of his eyes.
Dane was fucking good, actually. He was a young, slight guy with hair that was shaved on the sides but long on top, so that it fell forward or could form a mohawk if he gelled it. He’d taken a look with quiet thoughtfulness at the existing tattoos all over Colt’s body. Dane had inspected the cigarette burns over the smaller tattoo on his bicep with a hiss. They’d have to wait until the burns had fully healed before considering that one, he’d said. Colt had shrugged, that was fine, he didn’t care, as long as the yawning skull was covered up, and the lettering, which his clumsy cigarette burns had achieved anyway. Dane had continued the rest of his inspection. Dane’s pale, long fingers roving and fluttering over Colt’s naked torso. Colt trusted Dane enough to show him his back. The black coyote tattoo, his former MC’s insignia, the coyote skull. Gazing blankly out of empty eye sockets. Hide it, Colt had said. Dane had paused thoughtfully and then replied, what if instead of hiding it under another tattoo, they hid it in plain sight. Dane had hesitated, but then shared his idea further; flesh out the skull. Have a snarling, living coyote face on top of the skull. Colt liked it. There was still an emotional connection for Colt to the Black Coyotes MC. He’d worn that insignia on his back so proudly. It had meant home, family. But now he found it to be as cold and empty as the fucking coyote skull. Flesh it out, what a fucking good idea. Create more, from less.
If he was still in charge of the MC, he’d update the insignia. Everyone would have to get updates to their tattoos. It would be a good opportunity for them to prove their loyalty. Start fresh. Cleaver would be history, kicked out. Stop all the shit the MC was currently caught up in. Bring Ash in to Prospect.
Hell, as he thought of all these changes, lying half naked under the needle of this skinny young tattoo artist, Colt felt a stabbing pain. Cold and brutal. But it wasn’t from the tattoo gun. It was from thinking about home. About what had been done to his family. About how he burned to fix it. He shook his head to shake that out of him. It was hopeless. He’d turned his back and ran away. Fucking run away, chased out by them. Turn around and never look back, they said to him. He’d already won, he was already living the dream. Ridden off with April, into the sunset. Beautiful, untouchable April in his bed every night. Sucking his cock, riding him until she couldn’t speak and he couldn’t, either.
Sweet fuck, he got hard right there. He was lying on his stomach on Dane’s kitchen table, as the kid didn’t have his own studio yet. He had the gun, the ink, all the equipment, gloves. Colt had been satisfied that it was all clean, but it just meant he was face down on a towel, with a raging hard on.
Colt was winning at life, for now. Could he stay ahead, though, that was the question. He was satisfying her for now, yes, he knew he made her happy. Fuck only knew why, but when she smiled at him, it lit his world. And he knew it was a genuine one, she was truly content. But they couldn’t stay at The Pines forever. They couldn’t run forever. She said that they’d figure it out. She said she was going to think. And he didn’t doubt, when April set her mind to something, it happened. She was that kind of woman. Colt imagined her in a suit and heels. Hell, she’d get shit done. She could fucking run for President of the United States, and the country would be a better place for it. He had faith that she’d be able to come up with a plan. But he was sure it meant running and hiding. Getting fake IDs and going to the other side of the country. Hell, maybe even the other side of the world. It would be the end of his involvement with the Black Coyotes MC.
“It’s going to be fearsome. Snarling,” Dane said from above, cutting into Colt’s thoughts. “It’s going to be a warning. But it’s also a mark of what you’ve been through, what you’ve survived. You are who you are because life has thrown shit at you that has turned you into this aggressive, fearless, rare coyote. And you’re going to need to channel that again, sometime, no doubt. But it’s here, waiting for you when you need it.”
Colt didn’t say anything, Dane didn’t seem to need any answer. He was saying it more to himself. Colt eventually spoke up. “I want another one,” he muttered into the towel.
“Huh?” Dane said, almost surprised to hear Colt, like he’d forgotten he was there. Dane was a bit of a daydreamer. Colt thought he and Ash made a strange couple. He couldn’t see it lasting long.
“Want another tattoo. Down here.” Colt indicated to his front groin.
Dane’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “What would you have? It’d be sensitive, the lower stomach area, or even your hip bone-”
“I don’t care. I want a kitten, a little black kitten, just the silhouette, no cartoony shit.”
Dane nodded. “Okay, I’ll draw up some sketches, we can talk them through tomorrow.”
Colt felt a little lightheaded, imagining having that little reminder of April in such a soft, vulnerable area. “Fuck it, and another tattoo. A lioness, with big, wise eyes that say don’t fuck with me.”
“Okay...” Dane’s imagination was instantly whistling away, Colt could see it in his eyes. “Where?”
“I dunno... on my lower back?” Colt suggested, twisting to look and see.
