Page 27 of Christmas with Four Tattoo Artists

Jack chuckled. It was a rare, heart-touching moment, hearing the three of them reminisce about such precious memories.

Watching them, I felt a pang of longing for something I never had—a close-knit family. A home full of laughter and love, and memories that made me smile just thinking about them. It helped me understand the Preston boys a bit more, their sense of loyalty, their fierce protectiveness over those they cared about.

“Alright, memory lane time’s over,” Jack said. “Let’s get to why I came here.”

He clapped one hand on each of the boys’ shoulders and the trio made their way into the office. Within minutes their expressions hardened and turned serious, their conversation dropping to a whisper. I strained to catch their words from across the room, but only one word filtered through—Klaus. A ripple of unease coursed through me at the mere mention of his name.

As if to emphasize the gravity of the situation, the windows tinted at the press of a button and the door was closed. I was left standing at the reception desk, curiosity gnawing at me. A chill of worry worked its way down my spine. Was this related to what had happened the other day?

I tried to push the matter out of my mind as best I could. After all, I didn’t have any business with Klaus. All the same, I felt connected to the shop, connected to the boys, in a way I hadn’t before. Was I getting sucked into their world in a way I wouldn’t be able to come back from?

After a time, the chime on the front door sounded as a pair of customers entered. When I turned my gaze toward the entrance, I was met with a chilling sight. Two men had entered radiating an aura of malevolence that couldn’t be ignored. The insignia emblazoned on their leather vests confirmed my fear—they were Crimson Devils.

They sauntered in like they owned the place, their eyes scanning the shop with casual interest. The room grew tense, the air crackling with a silent alert as if every person present sensed the impending danger. I swallowed hard, steeling myself for the confrontation that was sure to come.

Their gazes landed on me and for a brief moment, their intimidating facade faltered as they took in my presence. Their lips curled into smirks, and they headed straight toward me. It was clear these men were here with an agenda, most likely at Klaus's bidding.

"Can I help you?" I asked, putting on a bored face.

There was an arrogance to them that was hard to ignore, their presence filling up the room and casting a pall over the previously lighthearted vibe. I recognized them instantly from their last visit with Klaus, and I internally nicknamed them ‘Henchmen One and Two.’

In a way that exuded calculated nonchalance, they swaggered up to the front desk, the taller of the two leaning in a little too close for comfort. "We want new ink," Henchman One demanded, his beady eyes raking over me with a disturbing insolence.

"Well, congratulations. You managed to find a tattoo parlor," I shot back. They didn't crack a smile, their expressions stony.

Henchman Two extended his arm across the counter, the fresh ink on his arm still raw and angry looking.

"Looks to me like you need to let your last piece heal before you go adding anything new. You know, take it easy, do some Netflix and ice cream, maybe with one another?" I suggested, fighting to keep my tone light.

But they didn't budge, their hardened expressions making it clear they were there for more than just a friendly chat about their next tattoo. My heart began to race, my instincts screaming at me that trouble was brewing and about to boil over.

“Yeah, I remember you,” Henchman One said. “Smartass chick without a drop of ink on her.”

Henchman Two looked me over. “Not even a piercing.” He grinned. “How about I pop that cherry of yours, doll? Come back to my place, I’ll give you apiercingyou won’t forget.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I bet it’s small enough to make a nice, tiny hole.”

Two narrowed his eyes, One laughing his ass off. “Screw you,” he said.

His gaze didn't falter, and I could tell neither of them had any intention of backing down. An uneasy tension coiled in the air, whispering of the brewing storm. Before I could toss another snarky comment their way, the office door opened, and Jack, Kai, and Finn burst out.

Jack's gaze went from the Devils to me, then back to the Devils. He didn't need more than a second to assess the situation. His eyes hardened into steel, the air around him screaming authority.

"I think you boys have taken a wrong turn," he said, his voice as sharp as a razor. "Blackjack's isn't your playground."

The taller one started to retort, but Jack cut him off with a raise of his hand. "You better respect my employees and leave. I've known Klaus long enough, but that won't stop me from teaching you a lesson in manners."

The silence in the shop was deafening. I could almost hear the Devils’ bravado crumbling under Jack's unwavering gaze.

“Well if it isn’t the man himself,” One finally said.

“Theoldman,” said Two.

“Not too old to whoop your asses,” Jack shot back. “Now, turn tail and scram. And tell Klaus to cut out whatever shit he’s trying to start. He won’t like what happens if he pushes me or my boys far enough.”

One smirked. “Oh, we’ll let him know.”

“And we’ll be back to tell you what he has to say about it,” Two added.

---