Page 4 of Chasing Sparks

See, that’s not unusual during a convention. Things get lost, broken, stolen, or any combination of the above, and it always makes the job tougher.

“Nope,” Braden mutters, moving his cases from one table to another with excessive force.

“What am I missing?”

Braden pauses, his mouth turned down in a frown. “Are you a glutton for punishment?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He jabs a finger toward a young woman standing not three feet outside our booth.

“Who the hell is she?” I know I’ve never seen the woman before, no matterwhatshe claims.

“Your first client.”

I scrub my hands over my face, trying to deduce why this is pissing my brother off. “And?”

“It’s a collab piece, right?”

“Yeah. I spoke with Scott at Steel and Stain about a month ago. The client approved my design, and Scott will work on the piece with me. He’s a genius with dotwork, and that’s what the client wanted as a border to her main ink. I don’t get why you’re mad. Didyouwant in on the collab?”

Braden walks over, pulling off his baseball cap and tugging a hand through his hair. “Scott is in the hospital with appendicitis.”

Fuck.

I shoot another glance at the client, offering her a reassuring smile and a slight wave of my hand. “Okay. I’ll do my part of the design, and she’ll have to see Scott when he’s out of the hospital.”

Braden shakes his head, the frustration seeping from his pores. “Scott sent another artist in his stead. One who’s equally brilliant with dotwork.”

I nod slowly, trying to deduce what I’m missing in this puzzle. “That’s awesome, then. Who did he send?”

“Your worst nightmare,” Braden grits out.

What in the hell is he talking about?

“He means me,” a gritty female voice says behind me.

I freeze as an ice-cold thrill shoots through me.

It can’t be.

There’s no fucking way.

It’s been three years since I’ve last seen her and we agreed then to do our damnedest to avoid one another.

Sucking in a deep breath, I turn on my heel and face my nemesis.

The woman stands nearly my height in her knee-high stiletto boots, her curves wrapped in tight leather pants and a bustier. Her bright pink hair falls down her back and her bright blue eyes see right through me.

A hint of a smile plays on her full lips as she glides her tongue along her lip piercing, her tattoo bag slung over one shoulder.

No one would know it to look at her, but she’s poison.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s also beautiful, but she’s deadly on every level.

I should know.

“Scott sent you?” I grit out the words, feeling the bile rise in my throat. Seems like that black coffee might make another appearance all over her boots.

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