Not that I’ve been paying attention. I haven’t. I don’t date men like him.
A solid week’s passed since he’s been back, and not one conversation’s passed between us. Not one correction. Not one ‘good job.’ The extent of our interactions have been a series of appointment announcements and quitting time goodbyes. Not that it matters, but he is my boss. Everyone likes a little positive reinforcement every now and again.
The door chimes overhead and I raise my eyes to see a couple of guys pass through. I take my glasses off, set them next to the laptop, and stand to meet them at the counter. “Gentleman, what can I do you for?”
“I don’t know.” The first guy’s whiny voice doesn’t match his tall stature. I would’ve expected something manlier. My eyes glance to his cohort, whose unwavering gaze stiffens my spine.
“Do you have an appointment?” I square my shoulders, keeping my voice steady. When you grow up in a family of rabble rousers, you learn to spot them quick—trust me, I can smell my own.
“Do we need one?” The slimy spokesman scoffs.
“Actually, you do. The artists’ calendars are booked up months in advance.”
The two men look over my shoulder, noting the empty shop. This close to quitting time, the only person left is King, working on the books in the back room.
“Looks pretty dead to me,” the slimeball’s eyes narrow. Before I know what’s happening, he reaches across the counter and caresses the back of my hand. I pull it away as soon as I know what’s happening.
“You and your buddy here need to leave.” I keep firm eye contact with them both. The big one circles around his slimeball friend and heads over to the rope. His fingers fumble with the brass clasp. “Hey, you can’t come back here.” A small sense of panic floods me. Before I can think twice, my fingers find the bat under the counter. For a guy that big, he moves surprisingly fast. Once my grip is firm I step away from the counter, bat in hand, ready to knock this guy’s lights out if he doesn’t back the hell away.
But I don’t get the chance. His shadow appears before I hear his voice. “Back up, motherfucker.” Out of nowhere, King appears. He crosses his arms over his chest, daring this guy to cross the threshold separating us. This guy is bigger than King, fatter and sloppier.
Fat guy lets out a little laugh. “What are you going to do to stop me?”
He barely gets the words out when King snatches the bat from my hands. He wrestles the guy into a chokehold, standing behind him, pressing the wood hard against his windpipe. A tiny gasp escapes my mouth.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.” King grunts, pulling the bat tighter against the man’s throat. “I’m going to give you five seconds to get the hell out of here, or I’m going to beat you and your dick weed friend to a bloody fucking pulp.”
“We didn’t mean anything, man.” The slimy dude pipes up, his hands raised at his shoulders in surrender, not expecting this sudden turn of events. “We wanted to get a tattoo. Is this how you treat potential clients?”
King gives the man’s throat a final warning squeeze. “Is this how you treat women?” Tension fills the air between us all. The slimy man’s eyes dart back and forth between myself, King’s and his friend who is slowly losing consciousness.
“Let him go, man. You’re killing him.”
A headline floats through my mind. The one they ran in all three papers the week that King was arrested. “Man charged with attempted murder says he lost control.” Panic rises in my throat. I want to shout to let him go, that it isn’t worth going back to prison for scum like this. Luckily, I don’t have to. King releases his grip, and the big guy erupts in a fit of coughs at the sudden burst of air.
“Get out of here.” King’s own ragged breath causes his massive chest to visibly rise and fall. “And if you come back. I will finish the job.”
The two men don’t wait around to respond. They’re out the door as fast as they came in. I don’t realize my hands are shaking until King takes them in his. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Did they hurt you?” His wild eyes bore into me.
I know he was just being protective, looking out for me, not knowing that my background requires none of it. I pull my hands away from his, and take a step back. “I’m a big girl,” I sniff. “I could’ve handled that.”
He looks like I slapped him across the face. My entire body’s made of rocket fuel. I gather my purse and head around the rope toward the door. “I’m not the type of girl who needs saving.” I throw the words over my shoulder and walk out, and the sticky embrace of the night’s heat envelops me.
3 King
I can’t stand back and watch a woman be disrespected. While I’m sorry if this mere act of chivalry overstepped Ronnie’s boundaries, I’d do it again. No one should treat women with disrespect, and if they do, there’s hell to pay. My fist slams against my desk in the back office. This is exactly what got me into trouble five years ago. But I am not the kind of man that can stand around while a woman gets shit on. Nope. Not in my house.
I arrived early today, needing some time to decompress before I see Ronnie. That woman is so headstrong, and while it should bother me how ungrateful she was when I saved her ass, it’s the exact opposite. I love how feisty and scrappy she is. Independence is one of the sexiest traits in a woman, and Ronnie possesses it in droves.
I could barely contain myself last night. Hot and angry, I slipped into the shower and let the water run down my body. Before I knew it I was rock hard, thinking about Ronnie. Her perfect figure, her angelic face, how self-assured she was when she walked out that door. I pumped myself silly thinking of her, stroking up and down until hot beads of liquid erupted down my knuckles. I’m stiffening just thinking about it.
Damn, that woman does something to me! I knew it the minute I saw her. Ronnie is my soulmate, and I have to convince her that she’s meant to be mine. With women like her, however, it’s easier said than done. She’s no wilting flower, she’s a strong laser beam of strength, and it’s getting harder and harder to resist her.
Knuckles rap against my door, jolting me from my thoughts. “Come in.”
Ronnie’s dark head peeps into the office. Her bubble gum tongue runs across her full lips. “I’m heading to the café on a coffee run. Can I get you something?” Her steady tone feels forced. If she’s still angry at me, she’s hiding it beneath a stoic exterior. I lurch against my zipper.
“I’m coming with you.” Her eyes follow me when I rise from my chair.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to, Ronnie. There’s nothing more I want right now than to go on a coffee run with you.”
Her eyebrows knit into a line. A tiny huff escapes her nostrils. When she opens her mouth to speak, it takes a minute for her to find the words. Her hand slaps the back of the door before she opens it wide enough for me to join her. “Knock yourself out.”
In the front, the tattoo machines are already whirring. Bone, Phoenix and Titus all have clients in their chairs already, and it’s barely noon. That sounds late to some, but to tattoo shops, that’s the butt-crack of dawn when it comes to business hours.