Page 58 of Cross To Bear

Us taking long drives out of the city and down the coast, the wind tugging at her hair until we stopped, and I took over. Putting her on my bonnet and stepping between her thighs, kissing her lips until they became blood red and soft from it. Of watching the sun set behind us and when the cold of night came, I’d give her my jacket to keep her warm, that possessive feeling that burned so hot inside me satisfied.

“What?” she asked, bringing me back to the garage.

“Nothing.” I grinned then, the mask I always grabbed for when I wanted to keep someone from reading my thoughts. “Just thinking Roxy has damn fine taste in dresses. Need that in at least three other colours.”

“Three? I never wear dresses,” Maddie said as I walked around to the driver’s seat.

“Well, that’s gonna change.” I pushed the key into the ignition, gave the motor a rev when the car roared to life, then eased the car down the front driveway. My eyes flicked sideways, not to look for incoming traffic, but to meet hers as she stared at me, a small frown making me think she might’ve seen a little too much in my eyes. “It’d be a public service, getting you some more dresses when you look like that. Of course, I’d have to put out the eyes of any fucker that looked at you, but I’m up for the job.”

“Razor!”

She punched my arm, and I just smiled as I took off down the road.

Bjorn better have something damn special prepared for this morning, because he didn’t know what it took for me to let Maddie go to him, to watch her get out of my car and walk away from me. For the sleuth, I thought furiously, over and over, the three words my mantra of late. For the sleuth.

Chapter 34

Bjorn

I’ve always fucking hated tattoo groupies.

The phenomenon, where a female, or male customer comes in not so much because they like your work, but because they have a tattoo kink, getting off on the process, the pain, the intimate atmosphere of my studio or something. Cress had become an expert at picking them when they came in for a booking, and so she walked into the studio with me now.

“Oh,” the client said when Cress sat down, “are you the apprentice or something?”

“Nope.” Cress pulled out her phone and started scrolling, the slow smile making clear her girlfriend, Jack, had messaged her. “We just have a zero tolerance for any kind of inappropriate behaviour.”

“Inappropriate?” The girl looked at Cress then me. “I’m not being inappropriate.”

Yet. When I was talking to the client about her design, there had been a lot of long, sultry looks, hands smoothing over my forearms. She giggled at all of my suggestions as if potential ideas for her tattoo were just hilarious. I’d glanced at Cress, who was pissed that she’d had to come in on the weekend in the first place, her heels clicking across the floor as she strode over. The client was a ‘friend’ of one of the more important MCs and when a few of the guys had had a word with me, making clear they’d be real appreciative if I fit her in for a tattoo, this was where we found ourselves.

“You?” Did the girl hear the arch edge to Cress’ voice. “No, of course not. But hey in this post-Me Too world, it pays to be careful, right?” The client just nodded mutely, pretending she knew what that meant. “I sit with Bjorn when he tattoos all female clients.” She didn’t. We’d talked about the fact I really needed someone who could fulfil that duty, though it was so rarely an issue I’d blithely gone about my business without a chaperone. “It’s just to make sure you’re safe.”

“Oh, OK, well…” The client looked me up and down, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “So how did you want to do this?”

“You want a thigh placement, right?” I said. “Your shorts shouldn’t get in the way.” There was no way they could. They were obviously an old pair of denim jeans, cut so damn high, the crotch seam was the only thing connecting the front and back. “Just hop up on the bench and—”

“Oh, I was thinking of placing the tatt a little higher than that,” the client purred.

Cress’ eyebrows shot up to her hairline, as did mine, because the girl put a dainty foot on my workbench, spreading herself wide as she ran her nails along her inner thigh.

“No—” I snapped, the bear shoving against my bond, demanding to know why the fuck some girl that was not Maddie was showing us her cunt.

“Here’s as high as we go.” Cress was out of her chair and poking a perfectly manicured nail at the mid thigh region, the client flinching at the sharp jab.

“But the other guy I saw—” the client started to whine.

“Then I’d suggest you book an appointment with him,” I said, going to snap off my gloves, grateful for an out. “I apologise, but Mongrel and his crew should’ve been upfront with you. They know we don’t do tattoos on anyone’s… more intimate areas.” I pointed to a laminated card Cress had made up one day, making clear that I needed to be explicit about my boundaries as an artist. Then she patted me on the head and called me a good boy once I articulated them to her as she typed. “Company policy.”

Her bottom lip popped out, which was always a weird thing for me. It made you look like a five year old cracking the shits, but hey, I guess some guys were into that shit. Not me, though. Warmth washed through me as I glanced at the clock, knowing that Razor would be bringing our girl over to the studio as soon as she woke up.

After sleeping with Crash and Hawk.

I wanted to wake them up when I got home that night, interrogate them about what the fuck went down, but Razor had just given me a look.

“We’re not a bunch of schoolboys gossiping about getting our end wet for the first time,” he’d growled then pushed a beer my way.

She’d walk in through that door, smelling of my brothers, her scent sweet, if they’d done the job right and I’d have her right where I wanted her.

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