Page 11 of Choices

“Right here!” I shout at the neon lights glowing against the dark backdrop of the shop window. Ink & Metal. Straight and to the point. The Kings had their own artist for all members’ ink, but this was for me, and I chose this place because the artist is a badass bitch who came to a club party last year. I fell in love with the intricate designs painted all over her skin. I couldn’t say much about her choice of bed partners. She ended up in Monster’s room and said she had to take a week off work to recover. Biggest she’d ever had, she told me. She’s never been back, but I visit her when I can.

“We won’t be long,” I tell Tim, leaping from the car and yanking Carnell’s door open, ushering him out.

“They do piercings too.” He nods to the list of services written on the door.

“You want your bellybutton done?” I tease, pushing through the entrance. The bright lights illuminate the space. An almost overpowering scent of cleaning products burns my nostrils. Everything is white, the tiled floors, painted walls, and low ceilings. Even the chairs and tattoo tables are white. It’s clinical, reminding me of the dentist.

“Kitty! I nearly shit when I saw your name on my books.” Wynona squeals from her station where she’s cleaning her equipment. Her long, dark hair is pulled back into a high pony with braids weaved on either side of her forehead. She looks out of time, a Viking visiting from Valhalla.

“It’s been a long time coming.” The grin pulling up my cheeks hurts.

“Fucking right it has. Give me five minutes to finish getting set up.”

The incessant, unmistakable buzz of a tattoo gun fills the air as another artist begins a skull design on a guy’s leg.

“I’ll give you a grand to get your nipple pierced.” Carnell grunts, his body curling over mine to whisper in my ear.

“I wouldn’t even lift my shirt for a grand.” But the idea of getting my nipple pierced sends a rush through my body. “Sweeten the pot and I’ll do both nipples.” A hot flush sweeps over me. Could I really do my nipples? I can’t remember what it felt like getting my ears done when I was five.

“Ten grand,” he offers, studying me for a response.

“Twenty,” I counter. “Ten for each tit.” I shrug, a nervous laugh tickling out of me.

“Fifty, but you have to let me watch.” He attempts to pinch one of my nipples over my shirt. My hand whips out so fast, it blurs in my vision. My palm makes contact with his bony cheek, the slap echoing through the open space, drawing Wynona’s attention. Carnell barks out a laugh, stroking over the red handprint I left there.

“Fucking hell. A hundred grand.”

My heart pounds. He’s crazy.

“Deal.”

CHAPTER 5

UNWANTED GUEST

CUTTER

I stand stock-still in the entryway to the club bar, relief washing over me. After actively avoiding me all day, Kit’s back where she belongs. Watching her from across the room, my mind races with questions. Where has she been all day? Was she with him? Did she let him kiss her? Touch her? Eyes can be deceiving.

Maybe she knows him and they’re friends. Maybe someone else brought him here. She throws her head back in laughter as the youngest Carnell tips a shot into her mouth.

“Please tell me this is just a weird fucking dream and my baby sister did not bring that train wreck back to our club,” Callan growls, scrubbing his hands down his face. The tattoos on his arm appear to move as he fists his hands, his muscles tensing. Not a weird dream, a fucking nightmare. I want to break the little weasel’s neck.

“Dodger,” Callan calls out to our brother closest to us. Frowning, Dodger places his beer down on a table and marches over.

“Everything all right?”

“The kid with Kitty, how’d he get here?” Callan gestures with a tip of his head.

Cranking his neck to see through the crowd of brothers filling the space, Dodger scratches his chin. “Kitty showed up with him. Can’t say I like her choice. He looks like a junkie. You want me to throw him out? Rough him up a bit?”

“No. Go find Diamond. See if she collected his cell phone when he came in,” Callan tells him before turning to me. “You go pull Kitty aside and see where the fuck she found him so we can drop him back there and pretend this never happened. I’m going to give my old man a heads up. He’s going to be pissed,” Callan hisses, glancing one last time at his sister before his footfalls pound down the hall.

“Who is he?” Dodger asks.

“Best you don’t know. When you get the phone, take it to Pres’s office.”

“On it.”

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