Page 34 of Their Princess

“I’d like to complete the sleeve,” I said.

“How far down?” asked Graff, leaning away.

“To the wrist.”

“Not the fingers.”

“Not yet.” I smirked. “My mother would lose her shit.”

“How does she feel about you joining a motorcycle club?” asked Graff, smiling.

“Yet to be decided.” I didn’t want to share that my mamà would likely forget the detail as soon as I’d told her.

Graff was looking down the rest of my arm, but he hadn’t given me an answer yet. His mind had to be working, deciding what kind of designs he would mar my skin with. The thing was that I didn’t even quite know what I wanted.

“How are you with pain?” asked Graff.

I flinched, drawing his eyes flicked up to meet mine. “I’ve had my fair share.”

“In the Marines?”

“Yes... and no.” I gulped. “Anyway, you down to create my sleeve?”

“Absolutely,” said Graff, standing. He walked over to the trash and threw his napkin and empty bottle inside. He glanced over at the door where Sas had disappeared. “He’s probably waiting on you in the ring, ya know?”

“The ring?” I scowled.

“Yeah, gym and boxing ring downstairs. Sas spends a lot of time down there.”

Pursing my lips, I nodded. He’d called for me, but I wasn’t ready to jump to his commands. While Graff and I were silent, a roar came up from below. Men yelled, and then they laughed, causing a storm somewhere beneath the concrete under my feet. The whole sit’ reminded me of all the times I’d had to raid houses in the desert.

The screams. The yelling. All of it.

I closed my eyes, envisioning a huge pink eraser wiping away the scenes. Didn’t need to go down a rabbit hole in front of someone who was supposed to be one of my new brothers.Instead of addressing that, I looked around the huge empty living space.

“There don’t seem to be any other ol’ ladies,” I mused aloud. The fact made me not want Adelina here either.

“Nope.” He laughed. “Seems like when the brothers get one of those, they’re all settling down in The Ridge.”

“You?”

“Nah, man. Not this city guy,” answered Graff with a shake of his head. He lifted his chin toward the open basement door. “You better get going.”

I took the first few steps, then stopped and glanced back. Graff seemed safe enough, someone I could probably connect with as a brother, so I asked, “Should I be concerned?”

Graff shrugged. “Don’t piss anyone off, you don’t get your ass beaten.”

“I can handle myself,” I said without thinking, not afraid of an unarmed fight.

He beamed. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Really?”

“You’re a Marine.”

“Don’t give that too much credit,” I said, covering my ass. I shouldn’t be having this conversation.

“If you didn’t learn to be a badass there, then the Mafia taught you. Yeah?”

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