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Chapter 8 Diablo
As the cleaner formy club, I learned long ago to be ready at a moment’s notice and drop everything when Grim called. That necessity required a staff of skilled artists I trusted to provide quality work and great customer service and keep my shop running smoothly without my presence. In the early days, I only had one part-time employee. Gil Hanes.
He’s still the shop manager when I’m not around. Five years ago, I added Brett Rocker as a second manager. Now I had eight staff, brilliant artists of varying skill sets providing a wide range of visual styles for any tattoo job, and the reputations and client base to keep my shop busy.
Revelations Ink earned the top spot on the west coast for quality tattoos and body art. Best ink within California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Idaho, and Oregon. Six fucking states.
Hell yeah, I was proud as fuck.
I’d been featured in newspapers, magazines, radio, and television.
Social media gave us an additional boost to our website. Customers drove for miles to meet with my artists, and we booked out months in advance. Repeat customers proved we provided the value and quality they desired.
I walked into the shop early on Monday morning, coffee in hand, greeting everyone before I entered my office. Stacks of papers and invoices covered the desk as I dropped into my chair with a groan. Hours of work loomed ahead, but I knew Gina would be working while the kids attended school. Prospects watched over Tonopah Elementary and the Middle & High School, leaving me the freedom to get a few things done.
Seven hours later, I stood, stretching as I keyed in the last of the invoices and expenditures, finished balancing the books, and entered payroll.
My cell began vibrating inside my cut, and I reached into the pocket, glancing at the screen as I pulled it free.
Spook.
“What you got, prospect?”
“Sasha just picked up Olivia from school. Rev is with her.”
Huh. Why was Sasha getting the kids? Did something happen?
“Where’s Gina?”
We texted a few times, but she didn’t say anything about the kids.
“Don’t know, Diablo, sir. New prospect is watchin’ her.”
Shit.
Brett Rocker’s son voted in smoothly a few months ago. I’d vouched for him, becoming his sponsor. Theodore Rocker, Teddy, currently had eyes on my woman. Why the fuck hadn’t he checked in?
A call came through, and I hung up on Spook when I saw Teddy’s name on the screen.
“Where the fuck is Gina?” I roared as I answered, ready to lose my shit if her fucking ex showed up and I wasn’t around.
“Damn, Diablo. She’s right in front of me. Gettin’ in her car as we speak.”
“Follow her,” I ordered. “Inform me as soon as she arrives where she’s goin’.”
“Yes, sir. On it.”
Fucking hell. Teddy was nothin’ but a pup. Zane too. Wraith’s son was seventeen. Teddy, eighteen.
