Page 33 of Dagger

The door flew open, and a young man wearing black jeans and a leather jacket sauntered in.

Immediately, I was struck by how much he looked like a biker in the making. Tall, good-looking, with a confidence far beyond his years oozing from every pore. “Prez,” he called over. “Will ya get Iris off my case?”

John turned to address him. “The minute Iris stops gettin’ on your case is when she stops carin’ about your ass. Be careful what you wish for...” his voice trailed off, and he peered closer. “What the fuck’s that on your face?”

He puffed his chest out. “It’s my new ink.”

My eyes rounded as I looked closer and saw a tiny tattoo of a diamond etched high on his cheekbone.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” John demanded. “No wonder Iris is havin’ a conniption.”

Mason shrugged. “I think it looks cool.”

Another voice called “Yo!” from the doorway.

I turned, just as a young boy—whom I recognized as one of John’s grandchildren—swaggered in wearing jeans and a leather jacket.

He made his way toward us, giving John a chin lift before stating in a surprisingly deep voice, “Mase got it for one of his honeys.”

John cocked an eyebrow at Mason. “Where d’ya meet girls who like face tattoos? Prison?”

“John,” I cried, slapping his shoulder.

Colt began to laugh.

Mason rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest in a typical biker pose. “Need to talk to ya about that. Been doin’ some diggin’ and—”

The sound of voices wafted in from the corridor as Iris stomped in the room with Cara. After a beat, Kennedy and Sophie followed, and then Abe came through, slamming the door behind him.

Iris jerked her thumb toward Mason and, with her other hand, grabbed hold of her ol’ man’s shoulder, “Abe, look what he’s done,” she shrieked.

Abe skewered Mason with a glare. “Jesus, boy. Are you simple? How the fuck are you gonna get through life with that thing on your face? Who’s gonna give ya a job? The local drug dealer? Or you gonna aspire to be a cooler at a downgrade titty bar?”

Colt busted out another laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Iris huffed. “People will take one look at him and think he’s a thug!”

Mason shrugged nonchalantly. “Ain’t a thing. I’m gonna prospect.”

John’s entire face lit up.

Abe lost his frown, and instead, he grinned huge. “Oh, right. That’s sorted then.”

“That’s not the point, Mason,” Iris cried, her eyes sliding to me. “Can youbelievehim?”

I smiled sympathetically.

There was no way I’d contradict her while she was so upset, but I’d been surrounded by thugs for the last thirty years, and not one of them had a face tattoo. It didn’t make Mason a bad person. Other people might judge him—especially in Hambleton—but not me.

“Wait,” Kennedy interjected, glaring at Mason. “What do you mean you’ve decided to prospect? You told me you wanted to go to law school.”

Mason shot her a wink. “Just said it as an excuse to get in there. Wanted to chat you up.”

Kai looked up at him and glowered.

Cara pointed a finger at Mason. “You told me you wanted to be an artist,” she said accusingly.

Mason smirked.

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