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“Already know exactly where my niece is hiding.” Maverick jerked his chin at my dad. “Was planning on tagging her next.”
“Good.”
My shoulder slumped when the sexy biker stomped off in the direction Britta had run. “Did you come out here to ruin my fun, or were you planning on playing too?”
“Stay away from Maverick. He’s the VP of another club and a decade older than you,” my dad growled.
Considering what happened when my parents got together and their age gap, he was being incredibly hypocritical right now. “At least he didn’t kidnap me like you did with Mom.”
“And he’d better not.” My dad’s eyes narrowed as he stared holes into Maverick’s back. “We let him get away with that shit once, but being Kansas’s big brother won’t save him if he dares to mess with you.”
I had no doubt that my dad meant what he said…but that didn’t stop me from wishing that Maverick wouldn’t heed the warning he’d just been given.
1
MAVERICK
Asane person would probably be second-guessing themselves when contemplating what I was about to do. But I’d been going crazy since the moment I laid eyes on Molly Mackenzie—the oldest daughter of Jared “Mac” Mackenzie, the president of the Silver Saints Motorcycle Club.
They had a fierce reputation, and not many people were brave enough to go against them. It wasn’t much different from the rep my own MC, the Iron Rogues, had in our territory. And if my dad—who’d been the first VP—saw some older punk sniffing around his daughter, he’d have warned him off too. Which was exactly what I’d done when I found out about Lee and Kansas. Then the shit hit the fan when I took his sister for a trade, and when everything finally calmed down, our clubs had a truce and loose connection.
Now, I was about to jeopardize everything. Still…I felt no hesitation.
Ever since the birthday party two weeks ago, I’d been racking my brain, trying to figure out how to see Molly again. She was well guarded since she was not only a club princess but also the first daughter. Although, considering the wide berth her protection gave her, I was pretty sure she wasn’t aware of them.
I’d been hoping to devise a way to see her that wouldn’t send up red flags and give me time with her before I had her dad trying to put me in the ground. But after two weeks of missing her, waking up in a sweat from dirty dreams, and biting my brothers’ heads off because I was always in a shit mood, I’d come to the conclusion that there was no subtle way of doing this.
I’d also spent the past couple of weeks learning everything I could about Molly and her life. She was a tattoo artist—one of the most highly sought after in the area. Silver Ink, where she worked, always had a waiting list. She was really fucking talented, and I was determined to have her stamp on me. So this seemed like the easiest way to see her again without alerting the cavalry right off the bat.
I hopped off my Harley and strode toward the entrance to the tattoo parlor. It was attached to the SS compound on the back, but the front entrance was public, so I didn’t have to deal with as much security.
A little bell dinged when I walked inside and pulled off my shades, sticking them in the inner pocket of my cut. The place had an edgy, rock n’ roll vibe that was kick-ass, with black floors that had silver flecks, dark gray walls, and black leather furniture. There was shiny chrome all over the place, though, and bright lights, so the place didn’t seem dark. The walls were also covered with metal artwork that looked like they had probably been drawings for custom ink.
Behind a front desk were a series of tattoo stations, all separated with curtains in case the client wanted privacy. I froze when I saw a gorgeous redhead sitting with her back to me, leaning over the arm of a client as she worked. Tendrils of jealousy snaked their way through my body, and I clenched my fists at my side.
Get a fucking grip, Mav.
The guy was at least fifty, had a gray handlebar mustache, and a bit of a beer belly. It wasn’t like he was competition. However, it was when he hissed and blinked up at the ceiling, clearly trying not to cry, that those feelings disappeared.
“Can I help you?”
Suppressing a laugh, I smoothed my expression as I turned my focus to the girl behind the front desk. When she smiled, I immediately knew she was related to my woman. They had the same lips and eye color, though this girl’s hair was a darker auburn, and she had fewer freckles. Molly’s sister Dahlia did piercings at Silver Ink, so I assumed she was the one who greeted me.
Tearing my eyes away from my woman, I ambled up to the counter. “Got an appointment.”
“Hi. I’m Dahlia. You must be M. Crawford,” the girl said as she typed something on the computer.
“Yeah.” While I was willing to deal with whatever shit blew my way over claiming Molly, I figured it best not to send up any red flags just yet. So I’d made the appointment under just my first initial and last name.
“I see it's your first time with us, but clearly, this isn’t your first tattoo.” She gestured to my neck. Most of it was covered in ink, as well as a string of words across my collarbone, and a lot of it was visible above the crew neck of my white T-shirt.
She leaned over the counter a little, and I lifted my chin to give her a better view. “That’s really nice work,” she murmured with surprise, her eyes coming back up to mine.
My ink had all been done by one of my brothers, Whiskey, who ran Iron Inkworks, the tattoo shop owned by our club. Whiskey was one of the best artists I’d ever met, but after doing some research and seeing Molly’s work, I was looking forward to having her stamp on me for multiple reasons.
“Did your artist retire or something?” Dahlia asked as she grabbed a clipboard with a sheet of paper attached and a pen. “He’s obviously very good.”
“Molly’s better,” I replied gruffly, taking the proffered clipboard.
