Page 8 of Tiny's Law

Brenna skips back over to us, wielding a large piece of paper that I’m assuming is the stencil for my arm.

“Whatcha starting with, baby?” Flame presses a kiss to Brenna’s temple.

Watching the tender moment sends a pang of something through my chest. Jealousy? No, that can’t fucking be it. I’d rather cut my dick off than be tied to one woman for the rest of my life. So then why does the sight of one of my best friends and his woman cause a slight bitter taste on my tongue? What the fuck?

I shake off my momentary insanity and watch as Flame admires the Medusa I can make out from this side of the paper.

Brenna’s cheery gaze meets mine over the top of the stencil. “Ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

I make my way over to Brenna’s girly-as-fuck station and drop my ass on the side of her table. She has the table contorted into an angled chair, so before I turn the right direction, I pull the ball cap off my head and reach behind me to pull the Desert Security shirt off before tossing them both on the counter.

Flame, whose station is right next to Brenna’s, strikes up a conversation about Ringer and Lilah’s dad, Reaper, our VP, who started renovations on Lilah’s bakery at the end of the plaza and how well it seems to be going.

“Riley was able to correct all the issues you were having with the back door lock pad. You should be set now,” I make sure to tell him before I forget.

“Sweet, man. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

I let out a scoff as Brenna slathers something cool on my arm before shaving the entire area she plans on tattooing. “If I was any good, I’d know what the fuck is going on around here.”

Flame’s eyes soften for a flash, and then he shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Tiny. You had nothing to do with any of that shit. None of us blame you. I hope you know that.”

“Still,” I say, leaving it at that.

Being a part of the Desert Outlaws MC is one of the most important things in my life. I don’t know how I would have converted to regular life again after being in the Marines. I would lay my life down for any one of my brothers in the club and my mom. The fact that I’m having trouble protecting the people that I care about doesn’t sit right with me.

I can’t even recall how many hours of sleep I’ve lost since the first incident. It seems that with each passing thing that happens, I get sicker and sicker with myself.

Looking down at my stomach, I can even tell that I’ve lost a significant amount of weight. I’ve never been one of those guys that has a six-pack or that great ‘V’ that every woman seems to drool over. I’m a big guy. I’m not ‘fat’ per se, but I’m damn sure what they call a big boy. My mama calls me ‘stocky.’ Sure, whatever the fuck that means. It doesn't help that I’m six foot six barefoot.

Speaking of height, my calves are halfway hanging off Brenna’s table. When she realizes that I’m looking at them, she lets out a giggle. “Sorry, would you rather sit in a normal chair? I figured the table has more cushion than a folding chair.”

“Nah, this is good, babe,” I wave her off.

Flame wheels his chair over, propping his legs up on her counter, and focuses all his attention on his own tablet lying in his lap.

“Alright, go check that placement and see if you like it.”

Flame pops his head up and turns my arm back and forth before nodding at Brenna, who blushes shyly. Turning back to me, she nods toward the large mirror at the front of the shop.

“What do you want to listen to, guys? Carlos is finally gone, and we can listen to whatever the hell we want,” Shaye says cheerfully as she scrolls on her phone from her perch behind the reception desk.

“Any requests?” Brenna asks me with a smile when I get back in position

“Good vibes,” is all I say.

“You heard the man, Shaye!” she giggles while prepping her tattoo gun.

“Good vibes it is,” Shaye says right before a new Post Malone song filters through the various speakers around the shop.

I’m no stranger to tattoos. I have the club logo covering my entire back: a skull with a bandana covering the lower half, smack in the middle of hot rod handlebars with roses at the base. That one didn’t particularly feel good.

But it sure as hell beats the tattoos that Ghost and I got together one drunken night.

Brenna’s practically brand new to tattooing, but based on the work she’s done for a few of the guys so far, she has a very successful career ahead of her.

Flame nods along to the song while drawing on his tablet. My eyes follow Shaye as she wanders from station to station, cleaning and restocking while Brenna throws every bit of concentration into the Medusa she’s artfully placing on my arm.

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