“Surprised you haven’t bitched about the long ride by now,” Crocker pointed out over his coffee mug. In his cut, he looked like the mean motherfucker he was. With the skull on his throat, the one that was smoking a cigarette, you wouldn’t think the bastard could get through four boxes of cake mix in a week.
The bastard was skinny as a fucking rake too, and he had all his teeth. Somehow. Maybe that was more of a miracle than anything else.
“My ass is aching,” I admitted, and grinned when they all hooted. Though I flipped them the bird again, I just mumbled, “Where’s the spit-pancakes?”
Kenzie grunted. “You trying to make me puke?”
“If four hours on a goddamn bike doesn’t make you puke, I think we’re good.”
“I’d have preferred a chauffeured limo to be the vehicle that was used to rescue me,” she stated with a wry smile, “but I’ll take my knights however I can get them.”
“Seriously, you okay?” Crocker asked, all serious now.
“Yeah. I’m used to being on the back of a bike. More than boy wonder over there. This the first time you’ve left the county?”
Fuck. Hadn’t taken her long to turn back into a bitch. Still, I preferred that to her flinching at everything and anything—in fact. What was that about?
As I said, “Not my fault. Only just fucking graduated, Kenz,” I studied her. Studied her and saw that she was leaning into Long John.
The hell?
Long John was twice my age, which made the fact he wore thermal undies all the time even fucking weirder in my opinion—dude wasn’t pushing eighty, after all.
“Bullshit. You still panting after little miz angel?” Kenzie taunted.
My narrowed eyes should have told her to back off. “What’s got you in a snit?” I demanded. “You go from flinching when Saint helped you off the damn bike to, what? Turning back into a grade-A bitch?”
“Just making a comment, that’s all,” she sniped back.
“Fuck, well, I didn’t miss this Kenzie. I can tell you that for nothing,” I ground out. “Ama has never done anything but be nice to you, and fuck, if it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t even be here. Her granddaddy would have let you rot with that cunt of an old man you chose. So don’t you dare talk shit about her when she ain’t here to defend herself.”
I wasn’t ashamed of the words I spoke, but I was annoyed at myself with the tone and the volume. She flinched again, but there was no way in fuck I was going to let Kenzie revert to the bitch of old just because she had a friend on her side again—because, now that I thought about it, Long John and my dad had been pretty close. But I’d been twelve when dad had been put inside, and I barely knew him, never mind his friends.
Long John, to me, was just another brother. Wolfe, Flame, Dagger, and Axe had all helped raise me after Lucie insisted I come and stay at their house when dad had been locked up and my mom had died. They were the ones who’d taken over that role, and it was why I’d die for them, why I’d do anything in my power to give them whatever they needed because they’d taken a terrified orphan in and had treated me well.
Long John… not so much.
Not that I held a grudge or anything. Why would he give a fuck about a snot-nosed kid? But I just remembered he hung around a lot back then, and…
My frown turned into a glower.
Five years ago, my sister would have just been turning nineteen. Jailbait, sure, but fuck, when had that stopped anyone in an MC before? We didn’t allow sick shit to go down, at least not in the Rebels, but nineteen? Nah. That wouldn’t stop Long John, and it would explain why Kenzie was acting like top bitch again… as well as why Long John and Crocker were sitting with us when I’d expected to walk in and eat with just Saint and her.
Neither man defended Kenzie, and Saint just tipped his chin, telling me silently he backed every word I said— I appreciated that he hadn’t waded in. I didn’t need anyone to fight my battles for me.
It was just like Kenzie to do this. Back in the day, she’d called herself a feminist, but she was the one who’d run off to be with a biker, and who was now acting like a grade-A bitch just because she had another biker at her back.
The silence was heavy as we waited on the server to deliver our meals, and I didn’t let it drop. No one could talk smack about Ama around me or Saint, and that was the way of it.
If Kenzie was back for good, then she’d better get the jump on that real quick. I loved her, wanted the best for her, and didn’t want her to be hurt by the creep she’d picked as a partner, but Ama was the love of my fucking life. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know that yet, didn’t matter that she might not reciprocate my feelings and that she may have a thing for Saint, I’d defend her and protect her with everything I had.
Just as I’d been doing since I was a kid.
❖
Ink
“This is the autoclave,” I informed Ama, showing her the unit that sterilized all sharp materials. “Remember when we broke down the gun? Which parts need sterilizing?”
She peered around the room. “Why’s it so tiny?”
I snorted. “Because the law states this room has to be separate from the rest of the parlor, but they didn’t state how big it has to be. Now, which parts?”
Ama waved a hand. “The grip, tube tip, and needles. They’re the only parts of the tattoo machine that come into contact with skin.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “How much reading did you do last night?”
She beamed at me. “I read that whole pdf document you made me download.”
“Didn’t you sleep?”
“Some. I woke up at four.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but it was a huge deal. Ama didn’t have a damn thing wrong with her ‘sleep.’ It was just the memories that fucked with her subconscious and woke her up. “I got reading and I’m glad I did. I didn’t expect things to get technical so soon.”
My lips twitched. “Babe, I know how good you are at art. That isn’t what you have to learn, although you’ll have to adapt your design to what the client wants. You can’t just go ahead with your own checklist, it’s what they want or nothing.”
“Of course.”
Huh. She said that so easily that I squinted at her—I’d kind of expected an argument on that front.
“Also, there are certain parts of the body that you have to be careful with.” This was off topic, but hell, I wanted to touch her, so I raised her arm, and smoothed my fingers along the line of her bicep and around to the ball of her shoulder. Then, I turned her arm gently, and trailed my fingers down to her elbow. “There are contours here, contours you have to study and see how they line up with your design. There’s a lot to learn but you have the talent.”
“That feels really good,” she admitted, her nose crinkling as she stared into my eyes.
My lips twitched. “It was supposed to.” Throat thick with all the emotion I was holding back, I dipped my head and pressed a kiss to her forehead before trailing my mouth down to hers. I kissed the corner, and on a murmur, asked, “What are the five ‘Ps’ of tattooing?”