Page 64 of When Sinners Dare

I huff and look at the rooms around me, now more pissed than I already was. It was good here. I fit. I even liked them all and was starting to feel like one of them. And now what? I’ve ruined it because of a woman? I stare at the door to my room. Ruined. A bitter laugh rumbles through me. I was ruined long ago. Maybe that’s just me. No coming back from it. Could be time to move on. If I’m even allowed to with parole breathing up my ass.

I eventually mutter some more to myself about my life meaning jack shit to anyone, including me, and just go in to get on with whatever needs doing. Lights are off in the room, and the blinds are drawn in tight so it’s more like dusk than the six thirty it is.

The sight of a big ass guy’s full back piece on display in the corner shocks me to the spot. Reds and oranges crawl everywhere, with an intricate black and grey dragon spread wide across his shoulders and spine. Same piece I saw in the folders out front. Doesn’t take a genius to work out what any of it means to me. Or who he is.

He flicks through some pages of my work. No speaking. No movement either, other than the slow roll of his skin moving as he keeps looking at my images.

“Close the door, Kai,” he eventually murmurs.

I do, quietly. I don’t know how I feel about him being here, but I’m guessing aggressive and pissed isn’t the right tack to go with if I want anything with her going forward. Still, my spine stiffens as if it's bracing for the inevitable.

“This is all you?” he asks as he turns another page.

“Yeah.”

“It’s good.”

“Thanks. What can I do for you?”

He finally turns, and features I remember well take a good look at me. I do the same, because whatever this is with Mariana, I’m not backing down unless I make that call or I’m too dead to argue about it. No one tells me what to do anymore. I’ve paid my dues on that front, and if this turns offensive, well, maybe I need that fight to get some fucking hostility out of me.

Throwing the folder on the bench, he gets some paper out of his pocket and offers it to me. I take it and look at the design. Clever. Simple enough, but it's got flare. Artistry. Just a bird, pretty colours on it.

I flick my gaze between him and it. “You want me to tattoo you?”

“Yeah. Freehand. Now.”

“You don’t want to talk about Mariana?”

He sneers and gets up on the bench, pointing at a spot just over his lower spine. “We’ll do that later. I’m gonna sleep for a while. Make sure it joins into the dragon'stail. Fill the space that's there.” He lies down, like that's enough. In this mood of mine, it isn't.

“You ever hit her?” I ask.

He looks sideways at me. Frowns. “Who?”

“Mariana.”

“Why?”

“Because your answer might change this atmosphere real damn fast.”

His eyes close and he straightens his head, a long breath pulled in. “No. Don’t fuck up.”

Right.

Gloves on, and spotlight brought down so I can see what I’m doing, and I get to work with what he wants. He barely moves the entire time. No flinching, and he certainly doesn’t speak or offer me any reason for why he’s chosen this design or why he’s even here. Pretty obvious on the latter, I guess. I’m fucking his sister, after all. But this isn’t what I expected from him. Or any of them once they knew. I expected aggression and attitude, a possible death sentence like Viper said. Talking of Viper, maybe that’s why he’s been off with me all day.

The outline piece is pretty quick to get down, and after some initial hand-shaking of my own and looking at his knuckles, which seem darkened from years of bruising, I push back on the stool to look at it. Takes me some more time to match the colours in and join it through, but I couldn’t have done it better with a trace put down. So, if nothing else, he’ll know I’m careful with ink.

“You’re done,” I say, and set about the aftercare and finish with stripping my gloves. “That'll be three hundred dollars. Call it a family discount.” Doubting he needs any explanation on how to look after the ink, I get up and start cleaning down the equipment. “Did you threaten Viper?” I ask, looking back at him.

He’s still laid flat on the bench – eyes closed. “Why would I threaten Viper?”

“Because of me.”

“Again, why would I threaten an old friend because of you?”

“Because of Mariana.”

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