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I lift my heavy head as he holds the mirror, and I tilt down until I can see the tattoo. When I do, I gasp. It’s fucking beautiful, sore and bleeding a little bit, but absolutely amazing. It’s delicate, unlike their thick, heavy tattoos. Roses climb down my thigh with sharp thorns, dripping mandalas and beads, and curving around the stem of a rose is a tiny viper, its eyes peeking from the leaves. It’s stunning and so lifelike, its shading making it look like it’s alive.
“I love it,” I whisper, and meet his eyes. “You’re so talented. Thank you, Garrett.”
He shrugs and wipes it for me before leaning down and kissing my lips. “You’re welcome, baby,” he murmurs softly, and tries to pull away, but I grab the back of his head and keep him there, showing him with my kiss how much it means. When I pull away, he’s grinning.
“Ever thought about being a tattoo artist?” I ask curiously.
“Nah, my dad was, though, before he got himself killed by one of the families that used to run this town before us. I guess I just like how it reminds me of him, fighting was always my thing,” he explains, as he sits down again.
“You enjoy it?” I query, snuggling into Diesel’s chest.
“I used to.” He sighs. “A lot. Now? Now, it’s a release for me, of emotions, and one of the only places where I don’t have to worry about holding back. I can just hurt people, and that’s okay.”
Diesel snorts. “He used to be a professional boxer, and he was fucking good too, had some titles behind him.”
“Really?” I ask, eyes wide.
Garrett nods. “Was always too…restricting for me. I prefer fighting without rules. I like to hurt people, baby, always have, always will.”
I grin. “So? You don’t think I like it when I use my bat on people? Or when I kicked you in the balls?”
He laughs and so does Diesel. “I’m never going to live that down.”
“Nope, sorry, big guy.” I sigh and rest my head on Diesel. “Did they find who betrayed you?”
“Not yet, but we will, Little Bird, and when we do…” He groans. “The things I will do to them and then you.”
I shiver from the promise in his tone, and he laughs, slapping my thigh. “So what do you want to do now, Little Bird?”
I debate my options. “I want to see you work, not torturing. I saw Kenzo in his role…but what do you guys do every day?”
Garrett snorts. “It changes. We don’t tend to be in the boardrooms, that’s Kenzo and Ryder. We run the bars and casinos, and gather information on the streets and from vendors.”
“We could take her to The Lounge,” Diesel suggests.
Garrett raises an eyebrow. “The strip joint? Why?”
I perk up at that. “’Cause she wants to see us doing business, and we need to check in anyway, make sure that old Cherry bitch hasn’t been talking.”
Garrett looks at me, and I grin. “Naked women in glitter? I’m there.”
He blinks in astonishment, making me laugh. “Babe, you forget I run a dive bar, and just because I don’t like the salad doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the aesthetic.”
“Salad,” Diesel wheezes, and then we all burst into laughter. When we get a hold of ourselves, he slaps me again. “Go get dressed. Wear something so I can see your new ink, Little Bird, and we’ll take you.”
* * *
After a whore’s wash—notwanting to expose my tattoo to the shower—and straightening my hair, I put on makeup and my viper jewellery before looking over my new clothes. Deciding on the black number Ryder bought me, I slip into it and some heels, looking in the mirror to make sure it shows off my ink, which it does. I freeze then, staring at myself.
I don’t look like me, but at the same time, I do. This Roxy is better dressed, surrounded by colours, but it’s the smile on my face that shocks me. When was the last time I just smiled? I actually can’t remember…am I happy here?
What does that mean?
I don’t want to leave, I know that, but I’m still…mad. I want my freedom, I want my own life and the right to choose, but I’m still…fucking happy. Because of them. My door opens just then, and Diesel comes in. He wraps himself around me from behind, his head resting on my shoulder, his blond hair loose and those baby blues alight with happiness.
He’s in a leather jacket, tight, black ripped jeans, and no shirt. His golden chest glistens, his new tattoo proudly displayed, and his abs catch my eye for a moment. We look good together, light and dark, all golden skin and golden hair for him, all pale skin and silver hair for me.
“So perfect, Little Bird,” he murmurs, kissing my neck as he meets my eyes in the mirror. “You’re perfect. Always. Come on, you want to see what the Vipers get up to? You want to see who we are when we’re out there, and we want to show you off. To let them know you’re our girl.”
