AllFreeNovel
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I owned a tattoo shop.
My time was money, money I needed to survive. It was not my responsibility to ensure the town council could afford their million-dollar homes.
“Nope. I’m going to plant my ass here and go about business as usual. I’ve got appointments set up for the next three months. I don’t have time to take part in this festival. Besides, I’m sure the town council doesn’t want me participating.”
“It’s a great way to drum up business.”
“I’ve got enough business, Beth. Let one of the locals have my spot.”
“Bailey, you are local.”
“No, I’m the outsider who could afford the ridiculously high price for this building and didn’t complain too much when I paid the back taxes. No. If anyone else could afford this building, the town council would have sold it to them in a heartbeat. Residents didn’t want a tattoo shop in the middle of their town. Certain members of the town council had already voiced their opinions about my shop. According to them, my shop will bring down the revenue of the town and open it up to the dregs of society.”
“God, I really wish Martha Cohen would shut her mouth. That woman thinks she owns this town. King has gone head-to-head with her many times. She hates him the most.”
“Why?” I asked, genuinely curious, not that I really cared, but knowing that I wasn’t the only one who truly didn’t trust King made my curiosity more pronounced.
“Because King is part of a biker club called the Sons of Hell. She hates that club and has made it her mission to run them out of town. Bailey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Dear God, tell me I didn’t move to the one fucking place on earth I needed to avoid.
Chapter Three
King
“Fucking bitch,” I cursed, stomping into the clubhouse. The entire ride back up the mountain I stewed, fuming at the audacity of that cunt, thinking she could talk to me like that. Didn’t she know who the fuck I was? I was the motherfucking King of this damn town. Nobody talked to me that way. Not even that fat bitch, Martha Cohen, and her cronies on the town council.
Storming towards my office, I kicked open the door, watching as it slammed hard against the wall, knocking a picture frame to the floor. Glass shattered all around me as I walked over to my desk and plopped down in my chair.
“Fuck!” I roared, picking up my empty coffee cup, throwing it across the room.
When I walked into the tattoo shop, I didn’t know what to expect but it sure as hell wasn’t some five-foot nothing, smoking hot woman with long black hair and eyes so fucking silver that could see into my very soul. She was perfect. Every man’s wet dream. Smoking hot rack. Tits so fucking firm, the perfect size to fit in my hands. A waist so small, I could wrap my fingers around her as I pounded my cock deep. The sharp curve of her hips reminded me of the perfect riding trail that gave way to the longest legs and the smallest feet I’d ever seen. Her face was unlike anything I’d seen before. Milky white creamy skin with high cheekbones and fat luscious lips that my dick begged to slip between. But when that bitch opened her mouth, every sinister, lascivious desire I had evaporated.
That woman was just like all the others.
A fucking cunt.
“Problem?”
Looking up, I growled at my brother Pyro, who was leaning against the doorjamb, looking at the mess on the floor.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Nothing. Heard you being pissy. Thought I’d come watch the fun.”
“Fuck you.”
Pyro sighed, shaking his head as he ignored the glass on the floor and walked to sit on the sofa I had sitting against the wall. “Beth’s coffee is supposed to make you happy. What happened?”
“Met the new tattoo artist.”
Pyro grinned, leaning back, resting his arms over the back of the sofa. “So, you finally met Venom.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah. She’s done some work for me. In fact, I have an appointment next week for some touch-ups. She’s cool.”
“She’s a fucking cunt.”
