“You’d better take me seriously, fuckwit, because you’re nowhere near as awesome as you think you are. Not when it comes to slinging ink, and sure as fuck not when it comes to stepping up.”
Uh-oh.
Styx’s Joker smile got worse. “Is that a challenge, dumbass?”
“What do you think, dipshit?”
Uh-oh!
“Honestly, the two of you and your never-ending pissing contests.” To Alice’s relief, Sunny Fairfax, assistant manager and Scout’s right hand, came up behind Alice, clearly drawn by all the yelling. “If I didn’t think you’d wind up killing each other, or worse, damaging your precious hands so you couldn’t do your jobs, I swear I’d let you have at it. I’d even sell tickets just for the lulz.”
“There’s an idea,” Alice piped up, so desperate to keep the conversation going, if only to de-escalate the tension. If she was talking, that meant they were listening and not murdering each other. “You’re brilliant, Sunny. Why not showcase the natural rivalry between these two at the upcoming InkCon?”
“Alice,” Loki scowled, but Sunny turned to her, head tilted.
“What? You think I should set up a boxing ring and let them have at it? Maybe like a charity event?”
“Uh, I meant that you could… I don’t know…do a live tattooing contest with a timer, or something. Why not set up grudge matches between the best tattooists here at the House? Hype it up like they do on TV, or whatever.” Better to let their art battle it out, rather than have them beat each other to death.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Sunny said, pursing her lips as she turned back to stare at the two men like they were an interesting science exhibit. “Besides these two meatheads, we have a friendly rivalry going on between Angel and her husband Twist, and the not-so-friendly rivalry between Talon and Max as to who does better abstract stuff. Then there’s Sage and Max, both of whom think they’re the king of portraits. Then there’s my man Ice, who disagrees with Max on just about everything when it comes to art. Come to think of it,” she added, wrinkling her nose, “Max pisses off a lot of people around here. You two are amateurs compared to the Mad Russian.”
A faint snarl came from Styx. “I can always up my game.”
“Save it for the InkCon, if and when we decide to put the two of you in a head-to-head grudge match,” Sunny advised, leveling a quelling stare at them both. “In the meantime, your booths are on opposite ends of the hallway for a reason, gentlemen. I suggest you go to them now.”
“Exactly my damn point,” Loki gritted out from between clenched teeth. “This motherfucker was coming out of my booth when he has no goddamn right going in there touching my shit.”
“Paper towels, you paranoid asshole,” Styx yelled back. “I was helping Scout out by putting new rolls of paper towels in everyone’s booths. Not my fault you have your head jammed so far up your ass you automatically assume the worst when you saw me.”
“Just stay out of my shit, and I’ll stay out of yours.” With eyes promising every type of hell imaginable, Loki turned on his heel and stalked to his booth, with Alice hurrying in after him. As the door closed behind her, she spied the new roll of paper towels on the stainless-steel workbench a half second before Loki knocked it off with a savage swipe of his hand.
“Fucking smug sonofabitch with that holier-than-thou grin, daring me to do something about it. Wish to God I could, but then I’d be just like my old man if I downed that clown. My pops was taken in by one of that asshole’s people,” he added, sending an acid-hot contemptuous glance toward the door. “As much as I’d love to tune that fucker up, there’s no way I’d ever hand Styx-fucking-Hardwick that victory.”
“Wait, what?” With that bomb dropping on her, Alice forgot all about retrieving the paper towels. “What do you mean, your dad was taken in by one of Styx’s people?”
“Can’t swing a dead cat in the Chicago P.D. without hitting a Hardwick,” came the flat reply. “Believe me, I know. I was a senior in high school when my old man got collared, and you can bet he didn’t go down easy. I tried getting in the way—not that I gave a shit about saving that worthless bastard. But I’ve always been loyal. Loyalty is what matters in the Gravediggers MC, so I responded like the good little robot I’d been programmed to be and did my damnedest to interfere. It was a uniform who got a hold of me and pinned my ass to the wall, and I’ll never forget the name on his jacket—Hardwick. Hell, for all I know, it was Styx’s old man. That was the last day my pops breathed free.”
“So that’s why,” she murmured, hurting for him. No matter what Loki said, she could see he cared far more about what had happened to his father than he was willing to admit, maybe even to himself. “I always wondered why you and Styx hated each other. I thought it was because you’re both excellent cover-up artists.”
“I hate him because he’s an arrogant prick, just like that other Hardwick all those years ago was an arrogant prick. In fact, that asshole told me the same thing Styx just said—that I needed to get my head out of my ass and start walking the straight and narrow, or I’d be no better than my old man. Must be a common family phrase, or something.”
Or something. “That cop didn’t know who you’d grow up to be, or that you’d have the strength to turn away from the Gravediggers’ way of life, so forget him. He’s nothing.” She got in his path as he prowled around the room, wanting only to take away the pain she could feel ballooning in him from that long-ago memory. “You chose to not be like your dad and grandfather when you decided to live a life that’s separate from the Gravediggers. Some random cop who happens to share Styx’s last name could never define you. You’ve defined yourself. You made your own way in the world by relying on your strength and talent as an artist. You’re a creator, not a destroyer like your father was, and the art you create makes this world a better place. Considering where you started out, that makes you a frigging miracle.”
Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she saw some of that dangerous rage in his eyes drop a notch. “If I didn’t dig this tattooing gig here at the House so much, I would’ve cleaned that asshole’s clock a long time ago, just on principle. But the likes of Styx Hardwick isn’t worth fucking up the sweet life I’ve built for myself.”
She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“But if I don’t blow off some steam, my goddamn head’s going to explode.” He rolled his shoulders as if his clothes were suddenly too tight. “You got your housekeys on you, yeah?”
She blinked. What did that have to do with anything? “Yes. Why?”
“You’re taking a taxi home after work. I’ve got shit to do, so I won’t be home until late. Don’t wait up.”
Something cold and dark moved through her, freezing her into place. “You didn’t mention anything about that this morning. In fact, you talked about getting ramen after work.”
“Yeah, well, things change.”
What? “Loki, wait. What are you talking about? Where are you going?”