Page 35 of Taken By the Biker Daddies

I tried to calm myself down as I continued driving, eventually reaching my tattoo studio. I parked the bike, got off it, and took off my helmet.

“Where are we?” Lauren asked, removing her own helmet.

“My shop,” I answered. “I left in a rush, so I just need to check some things.”

“Oh.”

“Also, those Devils probably followed you after you left the house. I don’t know how they found out about you, or the fact that you’re staying with us.”

She scratched her head. “I might have let that slip when I was drunk. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. There were no Raging Devils at Billie’s that night.”

That meant a member of Black Storm could have informed the Devils, which meant there could be a traitor in the MC, something I didn’t want to think about.

Maybe later. Not now.

“I’ll tell Max to check the premises before we go home,” I said.

“And if there’s more of them?” I could hear the fear in Lauren’s voice.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “We’ll take care of them. I promise. We’ll protect you no matter what.”

I wasn’t going to let what happened today happen again. No chance.

Lauren nodded but still looked afraid. I took her hand.

“Why don’t you come inside and have a look at where I work?”

She gave another nod. “Okay.”

I opened the front door, turned on some lights, and led her past the entrance, only letting go of her hand once we were inside the studio. The look of amazement on her face as she looked around, her eyes sparkling wide and her jaw hanging, made my chest swell with pride.

She approached the wall covered in photos of the tattoos I had done. “Are all these your designs?”

“Yes,” I answered proudly, standing next to her. “In some cases, the clients bring a picture of the design they want, but I still tweak it and put my own touches on the final piece.”

“They’re…beautiful.” She touched one of the photos, then glanced over her shoulder at me. “You really are an artist. A talented one.”

“Thank you.”

I knew most people found it surprising that a man who looked like me was an artist, but creating art had always been my passion. Even before I taught Lauren how to draw I had loved art, though that experience was what had inspired me to want to share my talent with others in one way or another.

“Hm.” Lauren touched her chin as she took a closer look at one of the photos. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve seen this before?”

It was a picture of a gerbera daisy tattoo, the same flower I drew for her years ago because it reminded me of the little girl that she was. Innocent. Cheerful.

She probably wouldn’t remember, though.

I shrugged. “It’s a pretty common flower. The meaning changes depending on its color.”

Lauren’s eyebrows arched. “Really? What do pink ones symbolize?”

I paused to recall what I’d read. “A deep admiration for someone, I believe.”

“And red?”

“A longing to be in love or to be loved.”

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