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His gaze narrows further, lingering on Crew with a deep suspicion that he’s somehow taken advantage of me—as if I didn’t hold all the power. “In that case, this ain’t a fucking whore house. Both of you get to work.”
“Yes, sir,” I mutter under my breath, turning back to my client as Crew snickers to himself and strides off toward his station. I get sucked into what I’m doing, putting in extra effort to make sure it’s perfect, but over the next hour, Big Jim’s curious gaze never leaves me.
I hate when he does this. Every few months he starts to worry about me like I can’t handle myself, and then I have to prove to him that I’m not the struggling kid he first met when I was seventeen years old. It’s a vicious cycle, but he should know by now that I always come out on top, no matter how hard I have to fight to get there. I’m not the type who gives up.
Crew is busy working on a spine tattoo while busily trying to avoid his client’s shameless flirting, and with my next client not due for another twenty minutes, I take my opportunity to have a quick break. “You guys want me to order you anything?” I ask, scrolling through the endless options on my phone.
“Always,” Big Jim says just as Crew mutters, “Nah, baby. I’m good.”
I get busy ordering lunch, and as I tidy up my station while I wait for my food, my gaze shifts back to my phone, and before I know it, I’m typing in the number that Alex left on my door.
Kyah - Why the hell did I come home to find your number on my door?
I hit send, and the moment I do, my gaze awkwardly shifts toward Crew. I wonder how he’d feel if he knew I was messaging Alex the night after he’s screwed me into oblivion, but my wondering doesn’t last long when Alex’s response comes shooting right back.
Alex - Figured you need it seeing as though I’m taking you out tonight.
Kyah - I thought I told you that I don’t date my neighbors.
Alex - Thought I told you I didn’t care.
A wide grin stretches across my face, and suddenly, I feel like a teenage girl talking to her crush for the first time. I’m giddy and excited, and that could only mean one thing—trouble. And yet, I can’t find it in myself to put my phone away.
“Yo,” Crew asks, nodding toward me, his brows furrowed as a deep suspicion flickers in his eyes. “What’s got you smiling like that?”
I press my lips into a hard line and glance away, unable to meet his stare. “Nothing.”
I feel Crew’s piercing stare on the side of my face, and I try to ignore it, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world, which is exactly why I didn’t want to cross that line in the first place. But damn it, there’s no denying that last night was incredible. I’ve never been fucked like that, and yet, there was still something missing. I needed more, but I’m not sure what.
Kyah - Saturdays are a no-go for me. I work till after ten, and I already have plans for a girls’ night after that. Not that it matters anyway because you’re not taking me out.
Alex - I can work with that.
Kyah - What the hell is that supposed to mean? Work with that?
I wait by my phone for an explanation, and after twenty minutes, I finally realize I won’t be getting one. My food is delivered, and I quickly eat in the back room before my next client arrives. An hour later, as I finish up the shading on his sleeve, I hear the familiar chime above the door.
“Where’s my fucking girl?” Viper’s deep tone rumbles through the store.
Oh no. I fucking love Viper, but why’s he always gotta come in when Crew is working?
Crew immediately mutters under his breath as my head whips up, finding Viper already making his way through the shop with one of his henchmen at his back. “Well hey, trouble,” I say, my gaze flickering to the guy behind him as they stride past Big Jim’s station and toward mine. “You didn’t have an appointment today, did you?” I ask, starting to panic that maybe I’d double-booked.
“Nah, don’t stress, baby. You’re good,” he tells me before indicating toward the guy at his back. “Spider wants to book in with the best in the business. Figured while we were close by, I’d introduce you.”
“Yeah, cool,” I say, glancing toward Spider. “What were you thinking of getting?”
Spider pulls his shirt up, showing off the goodies. “Chest and back. I want something to represent the Grim Reapers,” he mutters, referring to the motorcycle club they belong to. “Hooded reaper maybe. Something a little fucked up that sends a message.”
I nod, and a design weaves through my mind already. After working on Viper’s men for the past few years, I have more than enough ideas to work with. “I got you,” I say. “When did you want to get started?”
“As soon as you can get me in.”
I nod before pointing toward my schedule. “Could you grab that?” I ask Viper.
He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the little black book and putting it down in front of me, and I peel my gloves off before flicking through the pages. I don’t exactly have time to squeeze him in, but Viper’s guys have always been good to me, so I go out of my way to make sure I fit them in. “Ummm . . . I could have a design concept drawn up by the end of the week, and assuming you’re good with it, we could start as early as next week, but you’re in for some long sessions.”
Spider nods, and I scrawl his name into my schedule before closing the little book and grabbing a fresh pair of gloves. I position myself back beside my client, and as Viper and Spider turn to leave, I call out, “Hey, Viper,” and watch as he turns back. “If you’ve got ten, could you hang around? I wanna see how your chest is healing.”
