Page 130 of Truck Stop Tempest

I nodded. “Really, baby.”

Her whole body trembled and she wrapped her arms around her middle in defense. “It hurts.”

“I know. But if you want this, we’re gonna do this together. You get inked, I get inked. Side by side. Nobody holding you down. You say stop, we stop. It hurts, you squeeze my hand. You cuss, scream, cry. You change your mind halfway through, we walk out of here. No hard feelings. You are one hundred percent in control.”

“You’re getting one, too?”

“Side by side.”

“But…you…and needles.”

I swallowed, forcing the fear from my voice. “I promised you forever. Ink is forever.”

“Tito.” Her face crumpled and tears breached her lashes.

I pulled her against me for my own benefit as much as hers.

Mick tapped on an art pad laid across his desk. “I’ve drawn a few pieces since we spoke last month, but the night is yours, so if Tuuli has some of her own ideas, we can sketch those up quick as well.” He walked to the door, flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and twisted the lock.

“Jazz!” he hollered. “Our guests are here.”

A tall woman wearing biker boots, fishnets, ragged cutoff shorts, and a black leather bustier sauntered through the heavy red curtain. Her wavy black hair framed a set of jade eyes and bright red lips. She planted a kiss on Mick’s cheek and offered her hand, first to Tuuli, then me. “Tuuli and Tito, right? Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you for doing this,” I said, eyeing the Grim Reaper tat covering most of her right arm.

“It’s my pleasure.”

“May I?” she asked Tuuli, placing a hand on her shoulder and moving to her back to inspect the ink. Tuuli pulled her hair out of the way, giving Jazz free rein to inspect. “Well. Good news is, I’ve seen worse.” She pointed to a photo hanging on the brick wall. “See this one?”

Tuuli nodded, stepping closer to the framed picture. “That girl escaped a sex trafficking ring. They’d marked her neck with a barcode and the pimp’s name in ugly, bold letters.”

Tuuli leaned closer. The subject wore a ponytail. The black, gray, and red design started at the root of her hair and stretched down her neck and over her shoulders, a gorgeous, gothic depiction of roses, thriving amidst of a tangle of stems and thorns.

“That sweet thing cried through the whole first session. She was so scared, but she wanted to prove she was stronger than the pieces of shit who tried to beat her down. She’s a regular client of ours now. Comes in twice a year. Runs a successful yoga studio on the other end of town.”

“What do ya say, Bunny? We gonna do this?”

Liquid eyes met mine. “Bunny and the Beast?”

“Yeah, baby. Bunny and the Beast.”

“You beast. Stop. Stop. I’m awake. I’m awake.” I wiggled, a half-hearted attempt to break free.

Tito ended the tickle session, pushed to hands and knees, and dotted kisses up and down my spine. “Good. We’ve got important things to do today.”

I yawned, then stretched, sucking in a sharp breath. My shoulder was sore, but I’d never suffered such a lovely burn. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost noon.” His thick, sleepy voice filled me with delicious, naughty plans, all of which required staying in bed.

We had spent all night at Full Tank. I had cried four times, not because of the pain, but because of the pure adoration aimed my direction every time I caught Tito staring at me. What he didn’t know was that I had spent most of the evening in silent prayer, asking God to give him strength. He had paled the moment the guns were brought into view. He sweated profusely. He stayed silent, breathing deep, dying a thousand deaths with each punch of the needle. But he had stayed strong, and every time I reached for him, he’d held my hand and talked me through my own bouts of weakness. I walked out of that torture session a new woman with two new friends, and more in love with Tito than I ever thought possible.

“One more hour of sleep?” I begged into my fluffy pillow.

The mattress bounced, a sharp sting bit my ass, and a gruff voice ordered me to get out of bed. I rolled my head to the side and watched Tito stride to the bathroom, his bare muscles bunching and flexing, hypnotic and intoxicating.

Five minutes later, I untangled my legs from the opulent sheets, stumbled out of bed, and found my Grim standing in front of the bathroom sink, hands planted on the edge of the beige marble, head hung low.

A sight I would never tire of.

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