A full five minutes early for his appointment, Jigsaw shouldered through the door and into Inked, the one and only tattoo shop in Townsend, Tennessee. But even if it wasnât, even if there was a shop on every corner, itâd be the best by far. Rip was a master with a tattoo machine who could bring anyoneâs vision to life.
Maverick and Rocket filed in after him, immediately taking seats on the ratty couch butted up against the display window. His brothers had tagged along despite knowing how much Jig hated an audience for this.
He had a tat on his thigh that he added to every year on his wife and childâs birthdays which just happened to be only three days apart. Without fail, it put him in a shitty mood, and his brothers damn well knew it. But they couldnât just leave him the fuck alone. They had to stick their fucking noses in his shit and follow him, so he didnât âdo something stupid.â
âHey, Jig,â Rip called out. âLemme talk to you for a second.â He stepped from behind the privacy curtain pulled around his customer. To say the shop was simple would be a ridiculous understatement. Inked about as no-frills as it came, with two tattoo chairs, a reception desk, a second-hand couch and a few sketches on the wall. Rip didnât give a shit about the dĂŠcor or ambiance. He gave damn good ink and had the reputation to prove it.
âWhatâs up, Rip?â Jig asked after Rip waddled his large frame cross the shop.
âHey, Iâm running about forty-five minutes behind, man. Iâm sorry.â Rip gave Jig a sheepish half smile.
From the couch, Maverick laughed and rubbed his hands together. âWoohoo, does this mean Jig gets to have his face inked on you?â
Not one to find much shit funny, Jig snorted. Rip was a bit of a psycho when it came to lateness. Threatened to tattoo his face on a client if they were late to their appointment. Heâd done it before too, the bastard. That was the reason Jig never let himself be later than five minutes early. Last thing he needed was Ripâs ugly mug on his ass cheek.
âI really am sorry, man,â Rip said. He ran a hand through his hair and shifted uncomfortably, seeming flustered which wasnât him.
âEverything good?â Jig asked.
Rip lowered his voice. âYeah, just had this broad come in crying a few minutes ago. Breast cancer survivor who recently had some reconstructive surgery. Wanted me to ink nipples on her.â
âWell fuck me, Rip,â Mav said. âWhy didnât you start with that? Now I feel like an ass for ragging on you.â
With a shrug, Rip swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. âShit, Iâm sweating, guys. This is a lot of pressure.â
This time, Jig let out a small laugh. âYou did all our Hellâs Handlers back pieces without blinking an eye, and youâre afraid of some nipples?â
âItâs a big deal,â Rip grumbled.
Jig slapped him on the back. âHey, man, no worries. I can reschedule.â In reality, the change to his schedule pissed him off, but what the fuck could he do? He wasnât about to be the asshole who pulled Rip away from a cancer survivor. Jig might be an unfeeling bastard, but he wasnât a robot.
âNah, not necessary,â Rip said as he walked toward the desk. âI got someone else who can do it.â
Jig froze and scanned the shop. It was then he realized there was a curtain pulled around the second chair as well. Muffled voices could be heard from behind the fabric wall but not well enough to make out what was being said. âYou telling me you actually hired some help?â
For the past two years, Rip had been saying he needed to hire a second artist. Ever the control freak, no one actually thought heâd let another professional into his shop. He found fault with every other artist out there.
âYeah, I did. Theyâre just finishing up the aftercare convo. Then you can meet âem.â
âI donât know.â Jig frowned. No one but Rip had gone near his skin with ink and needle.
âTheyâre good, Jig. Wouldnâta hired âem otherwise. Trained âem myself actually. Years ago. Take a look at some of their work.â He dug around behind his desk and pulled out a beat-up binder, laying it out on the counter.
Like a bunch of teenage chicks who didnât want to miss out on the gossip, Mav and Rocket hopped up to join him at the counter.
Mav, who had more inked skin than not, whistled. âShit, Rip. These are fucking amazing. This guy might do better work than you.â
It was meant as a joke, but Rip snorted and nodded. There was definite truth to Maverickâs words. The lines were so precise, the images so vivid and perfect it was hard to believe they were done by a human hand. One of the photos was a butterfly that literally looked like it was lifting off some chickâs shoulder. Amazing.
âGive âem a shot,â Rip said. âPromise theyâll do you right.â
Jig sighed and rubbed a hand across his jaw. Time to trim his beard. Heâd gotten lazy the past few weeks and had let the beard get a little out of control. He always kept some amount of growth because it covered the bottom third of his scar, but he tried to keep it neat. Most of the time. âAll right, man. Letâs do it.â
Seemed like Rip was really trying to push the new guy. Probably trying to build up his clientele. If the work in his portfolio was an accurate reflection of the guyâs skill, heâd be a fool to turn down this artist.
âGreat.â Ripâs yellow-toothed smile beamed. âOh, here she comes now.â
Maverick coughed in a weak attempt to cover his laughter, but it quickly turned to a gasp.
Oh yeah,â he said. âThat oneâll do you right, Jig.â
âHoly fuck,â Rocket whispered.
Rip wore a shit-eating grin, the fuckstick. Heâd purposefully misled them into thinking it was a dude. Jig didnât want some bitch getting anywhere near him with a needle. He flipped his brothers off and spun to check out this lady tattoo artist for himself.
About five-eight inchesâand that was without the four-inch stilettosâof pure sex and sin strutted her way straight toward him. Somehow, this woman had poured herself into the tightest black leather pants heâd ever seen. They molded around her long, shapely legs and damn if he didnât wish for her to turn around. He just bet she had a stellar ass that would only be enhanced by the grip of soft leather.
With each step, the back and forth sway of her hips drew his eye like he was watching the pendulum of a clock swing side to side. Forcing his gaze from her hips, he trailed it upward, not oblivious to the tight black tank top that cupped her breasts as snugly as the leather cupped her thighs.
âHey, boys,â she said, her voice on the lower side. Husky, heâd call it.
Mav whistled. âDamn, woman. And I say this in a totally non-creepy, non-flirting way because I have a woman that would shoot off my junk if I so much as hit on another chick, but you are some kinda fucking gorgeous.â
Jig clenched his teeth together as the new lady tattoo artist threw her head back and laughed. Fucking Maverick. Flirting and charming woman was just part of his DNA. He truly meant it when he said he wasnât hitting on her. The man just couldnât let a beautiful woman walk away without her knowing she was gorgeous.
âArenât you the charmer,â she said, placing her hands on those fantastic hips.
Damn her body was out of this world. Not skinny, not even too curvy, it was moreâŚathletic. Sleek lines, the swell of muscles in her arms, flat stomach. The girl must spend some serious hours in the gym.
âGuys, this here is Isabella. I taught her everything she knew about ten years ago. She finally agreed to move here and work with me.â Rip beamed with pride as he introduced his protĂŠgĂŠ.
âPlease,â she said. âCall me Izzy. One of you boys looking for some ink?â
Rocket cleared his throat like he had a whole steak lodged in there. If the asshole wasnât careful, heâd have Jigâs fist lodged in there instead.
A hand slapped down on his shoulder. âMy man Jig here needs some ink.â
âDonât want to mess up your schedule,â Jig said. âIâll come back when Rip can fit me in.â
Rips face fell making Jig feel like scum. Wasnât the shop ownerâs fault that Jig wanted nothing to do with most women. Unless he was fucking them. That was pretty much the only time he associated with them. Of course, his brotherâs olâ ladies couldnât seem to leave his ass alone. Always trying to bring him food, fix him up, and acting like freaking mother hens around him.
Especially Mavâs woman, Stephanie. Heâd helped rescue her from a fucking psycho not long ago, and he seemed to have become her special project.
âOh, Iâll, uh, check my book.â Rip waddled behind his desk and flipped through his old-school appointment book.
Izzyâs dark, almost black eyes just stared at him, hands on her hips, earning her Jigâs scowl. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?
Instead of caving under his murderous glare, one of her perfect black eyebrows arched high into her forehead. âYou afraid your dick will invert if a woman puts some ink on you?â
She had a set of balls, heâd give her that much. âNah, Iââ
âIâve inked hundreds, actually thousands of dudes.â She gasped and covered her mouth with her unpolished fingertips. âShit, Iâve even tatted some bikers.â
Behind him, Mav and Rocket chuckled. Fuckers were enjoying this way too much.
Izzy leaned closer and dropped her volume. âPromise you, Bubba, not one of those guys grew a pussy because I was the one holding the needle.â
A strangled sound came from Rocket, and Maverick flat out laughed. Rip joined in, and soon the three of them were howling like a bunch of fucking hyenas.
Goddamnit. Not only had she interrupted him, sassed him, and tossed attitude at him, sheâd thrown down a challenge. His damned male pride left him no choice.
âShow me to your chair,â he grumbled.
A massive grin of victory broke out across her gorgeous face. âFollow me, Bubba,â she said as she spun on one of those pencil-thin heels then sashayed to her station.
And fuck if he didnât feel a twitch of his dick and a twitch of his lips. Where his cockâs interest came from, he had no idea. Miss Izzy couldnât be further from his usual type.
He liked âem blonde, blue-eyed, small, sweet, and docile. Not tall, dark-haired, and mouthy. Sheâd even shaved the sides of her head, adding to her badass-bitch look.
But as he watched the very long tail of a tight braid swinging back and forth across the top of what was without a doubt a stellar ass, he couldnât deny the animal attraction to her.
This was gonna be a shitty few hours.
OHgeeleelee 