Ashley

I woke up to the sun creeping in Blackjack’s bedroom window. My arm was sprawled across the edge of the bed, fingers reaching out to the new day, and yet I wasn’t prepared for what would come next. I hadn’t expected any of yesterday’s prior events to occur. I wasn’t naive, I knew we would deal with the Bears somehow. I just…never expected for it to come down to this, to somehow lead me into bed with the man I always wanted.

My history with Blackjack was complicated at best. We made mistakes. I made a big mistake, that pushed him over the edge and the next thing I knew he was off serving our country. Back then I didn’t understand it, I felt betrayed, I felt as if I wasn’t good enough, like I was…nothing. After the years have passed I know that wasn’t the case. I was sixteen at the time, Blackjack was well…. over sixteen. I had to think about what it would have looked like for him to be with me, a minor, sure, but also Fist’s daughter. My Dad might’ve killed him. Still, back then he and I…well, we weren’t together, but we were something.

One emotional night I ran straight into his arms. My friend Miranda had just killed herself. No one understood why, at least not until her parents found a sealed note with my name on it. Within the note I had found out she’d just been raped by one of the Bears, she was dating him at the time and he forced himself on her. I ran to Blackjack - the only man I could trust. I knew that Miranda wanted me to do something about it, so I did what I needed to – I told the man I loved, the man that I knew would kill for me. Somehow during my emotional trauma I did something I never dared to before, I kissed him. I remember that kiss like it was yesterday – I remember how his breathing halted for a second, how he didn’t do a damn thing until he ravaged me like I always wanted him to, that night everything changed.

He’d done what I needed him to do and told me the hide had been skinned off of that Bear, then the next thing I knew he was gone – vanished, Dex was left in the care of the club and I was alone. I didn’t see Blackjack again until I came back home, beaten and bruised.

So much had happened over the years, it’s just…funny to me where we both ended up. Back with each other. It may not have been how I thought it would have but, nonetheless, we’re right here.

I turned over as I took a deep breath before looking at Blackjack’s slumbering face. I had to admit it. Waking up to this man was pure sugar in any bitter coffee. I’d bite my bottom lip as my hand came forward, stroking up along the length of his arm before reaching just behind his ear to tuck in a stray curl of hair.

The way his expression fell so innocently into the pillows made me smile. He’d nuzzle his nose into the sheets absentmindedly but wouldn’t even wake up. I blushed at the view as it made my heart melt even more. A little sigh left me, and I could’ve sworn this was all just a dream waiting to be spoiled by reality.

No, this was real. Every beautiful and chaotic part about it. Here I was, curled up in his bed like it was seven heavens. He was everything I’d ever wanted when I was pining over him in my high school years and truthfully, he still is.

It’d been only a couple of months since we started talking again and really began this close connection. Even then, some of those weeks were spent staying away rather than figuring things out. If this guy was supposed to be the man I’d spend my entire life with, I’d have to set some ground rules about transparency.

It drove me up the wall trying to figure out what was going through this man’s head and whether he saw me as desirable or desperate. That time spent away from each other almost destroyed any kind of hope left for us in the bottom of my heart.

I loved a good mystery, sure––but a man that wasn’t true to his feelings was another story. Harry had spent the entire years of our marriage lying to my face and that was a type of scar that wouldn’t fade so easily.

I knew deep down that Blackjack was far from Harry, but it would take time for me to…trust him with my heart. I could trust the man, but my heart was another matter.

There were still some pieces of me that went missing after Harry scrambled my world apart. The risk I took to run away from that marriage was the first crack to breaking my mold. I never looked back or regretted leaving that man’s side.

Even if this was an arranged relationship to keep the Bears off our skins, I did feel comfortable knowing that I was being set up with the man that saved my life. Looking at him now pushed the stress away from the back of my head and filled my heart up with some sort of longing. How is it possible to miss someone when they’re laying right beside you?

There was so much to talk about last night, yet we put it on hold the second we set the chains free from our hearts. Our desires left me breathless and content with everything he’d given me but I wasn’t sure with what I could’ve possibly provided him. In this union, was it lust or love that would cement us together? Are the two of us just lovers that are trying to answer “what if’s” or are we really starting to plan for a future together…

As my brewing thoughts were enough to keep me from going back to sleep, I saw Blackjack start to stir before me. His eyelids clenched for a moment, scrunching up his nose as he took a slow inhale of the new morning air. I watched him as his body turned on its back and his broad chest slowly came down with a long sigh. The man’s arm rose up from his side and greeted him with his fingers through his hair. My teeth released my bottom lip as I shifted forward from my spot to move in closer to him. His fingers glided along his forehead, traveling all the way down to rest at the bridge of his nose.

I reached out to touch his cheek and he flinched automatically before snatching my hand at his face. My breath was stuck to my throat as he felt along my fingers, refusing to open his eyes for even a moment. The way he persisted along my wrist with that rough hand of his made me smile through his little movement.

Up along my arm he went, circling the inside of my wrist with his thumb before drawing that smooth touch throughout my arm until he found my shoulder and pushed me onto my back. I let out a laugh as he rose up from the bedside to brood over my body with those smoldering eyes.

“You should be asleep.” He mutters huskily before moving down to my neck.

I smile as his mouth presses kisses to my throat. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He withdrew himself back to look at me, his big brown eyes growing serious. “Do you regret last night?”

In just one second my playful expression changed to disbelief.

“No. I’m just not looking forward to getting stabbed repeatedly today.”

He rolled his eyes at my response before kissing my forehead. “You’ll be fine.” His voice assures me, “I’ll be with you.”

The bed moved underneath me as he shuffled out from the covers to use the bathroom. I pulled myself up to the bed frame, watching the door shut behind him with a click. I rooted my arms to the mattress before swinging my legs across the edge. My eyes traveled his floors to look for any discarded pants that would make up my only change of clothes for today. Perhaps it would be a good idea to head back home before walking into the clubhouse looking like a backwoods ho.

Before I could even get up to walk out of the room, Blackjack had already opened the door to find me putting on a shirt.

“Going somewhere so early?” He cocks a brow with a smirk.

“We have an appointment, don’t we?”

Blackjack nods, “You’re correct.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Well, shouldn’t I get some clothes before someone puts two and two together?”

He shrugs and leans down to the bed, pulling his covers back up to the headboard. “Shouldn’t matter.”

“Blackjack.” I mutter lowly.

“Ashley.” He mimics just as low, giving me a playful glance from the bed. “Even before we step into that clubhouse, people are already going to know you’re mine.”

“Yeah, but...” I fold my arms over my chest.

“But’ nothing, Monroe.” He stands back up and starts his walk around the bed. “This isn’t a one-night stand to me.”

“Neither is it to me.” I reflect at him, staying rooted to my ground.

With every step he took closer to me, his expression grew more serious until he finally stops before me.

“Then you should know I’m not talking out of my ass when I say I want to be with you.”

“I know.” I restate simply.

“No, you don’t” He shakes his head with a smile, taking my shoulders softly. “You don’t know how much I mean it when I say I’ll always be here to protect you. You don’t even realize how crazy you make me feel…You have no fuckin’ idea how much you’ve always driven me mad Ash. Fuck, why do you think I left? When you kissed me that day I knew that there was no way I’d be able to stay away from you. I wasn’t gonna be a predator, so I left. You make me fuckin’ crazy.”

It all made sense in his one comment to me. He didn’t leave because he didn’t care, he left because he didn’t want anyone viewing him as a predator. Yeah, I was sixteen but I wasn’t a child. Sure, there’s a bout of argument to go with that, but hearing why he left helped me in this moment. His reasoning behind it helped heal part of my heart that hurt from all those years ago. I bit my bottom lip and finally looked up into his stare, feeling those intense brown eyes completely draw me closer to him.

“You never told me that. Not once.” I tell him, searching his brown eyes.

“Nope. Never did. I should’ve after you came home, but shit, Monroe. That isn’t easy. You think it’s easy for me to explain everything from…it’s not easy for me.” His hand slides up from my shoulder to take my chin tenderly. Just that very gesture made me close my eyes as I was already lost in that very touch. I could feel him leaning down to my face, his warm breath brushing across my little nose. Funny… I couldn’t stop myself from smiling when I noticed that minty scent of toothpaste instantly.

“What are you smiling at?” He mutters against my lips.

“You.” I chuckle, leaning back for a moment to see his confused expression.

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“You left me in bed…” I started, walking my little fingers up to his chest to take his jaw in my palm. “…because you’re conscious of your morning breath?”

He tilts his head back, grinning like a wolf. “That’s the first thing you notice when a man tries to kiss you, Monroe?”

“I just thought it was awfully cute.” I giggle at him.   

“Yeah, we’ll see how cute you are when you go under the needle.”

“Killjoy!” I whack his chest and push past his arms.

The two of us got ready for the rest of the morning. There wasn’t any time for breakfast but there was plenty of toothbrushes to spare while I made myself presentable. When I joked with Blackjack as to whether he wanted to be a dentist before going into the medical field, his remark was that he’d never gotten a cavity in his life and he wasn’t going to let Dex be the exception. As if the tattoo wasn’t stressing enough, that was another thing I didn’t think of before agreeing to this arrangement. Would his son be alright with these arrangements? The boy didn’t even know me that much apart from when I saw him at the clubhouse. Sure, he was old enough to understand but would he accept me into this family?

Before I could think too hard into it, Blackjack had tossed my pants at me just as I finished brushing. I threw him a glare back to which he chuckled and insisted I hurry up before the tattoo artist jilts us and leaves.

After last night, my legs were cramping up so much that I felt like a newborn fawn walking out on his driveway, after the first round we had rounds three, four, five, and well, it went up until I stopped counting at eleven.

A part of me wanted to curl back up into his bed with an aspirin but the second he got on his bike, I was already helping myself on behind him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of teasing me for being a little sore.

***

Surprisingly, there was already a line of bikes parked outside the club when we came rolling in. I winced at the idea that I’d be getting an audience out of this branding tradition. Blackjack slowly drove up to the curb at the edge, being careful to mind the space between him and the other bikes. He finally settles his feet down with the kickstand below him and the low hum of his bike is cut the second he keys the ignition off.

With his hands on his thighs, he finally leans back to stretch his spine after a long morning. I picked myself up with my hands at his shoulder, pulling my leg over the bike’s opposite side so I could jump down to my feet. He withdrew his key from the ignition and shoves it down the back of his pants before joining me to the sidewalk.

“You ready?” Blackjack gives me a look.

I returned his glance with a smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He nods before taking my hand in his. “Let’s do this.”

The two of us walked our way to the club without a breath of regret. Whatever the boys had ready for us, we weren’t backing down at this rate. I had every muscle in me determined to face this like a real Monroe.

When we entered the clubhouse, it was dimly lit with the window shutters blocking out even the faintest of light. You would think a tattoo artist would need as much light as possible to capture the most detail in their projects. At the bar Zane, Kade, Dixon, Tank, Booger, and even Zoro. As soon as they spotted us, they went straight to hooting.

“Well, look at that.” Kade whistled to the both of us. “Get in here, ladies. Don’t be shy!”

“We don’t bite, much.” Dixon nudges my brother with a knowing smile.

I crossed my arms over my chest with a scoff. “Shouldn’t you be with your lady, Dixon?”

The man took his belt in his hands, leaning back into the bar with an undeniably cocky smirk, “I’d be with her sooner had you guys arrived earlier.”

“Don’t tell me he left.” Blackjack curses as he places a hand at the small of my back.

“Who left?” A voice came up behind the men.

At last, we noticed the figure sitting at the bar. My eyes went wide with shock as the familiar face stepped out into the faint ceiling light with his hollowed expression as remarkable as death itself.

“Dean, is that you” I laugh in disbelief. “My God…” Dean was one of the most self-serving tattoo artists that ever lived in Montana. He was the Picasso of Dixie that brought Renaissance to the Western hemisphere. Without a doubt, he could convince any person––man or woman––to put their skin under his needle. The man was so smooth that he could sell anything to anyone!

“What’s your poison, Ashley-dear.” The man flashes me a savvy grin while swirling a blend of whiskey behind the bar.

“Dean, with all due respect, I am not drinking while I’m in your chair.” I smile pleasantly before taking a seat at the bar with Blackjack.

Oh, honey.” He shakes his head before taking out his ink gun from behind the counter. “You’re going to need it if you think I’ve forgotten how dizzy you get from getting your vaccine shots.”

“Pour her some tequila, boys.” Blackjack requested of my brothers before taking the whiskey out of Dean’s hands. “And no drinking for you while you’re on the job.” Dean gave Blackjack a haughty look of pride before shaking his finger at him.

“Even a doctor needs a drink to keep his hand steady.”

“You’re no doctor, Dean, and I’m sure as hell not your patient if you start drinking on me.” I retort coolly.

“I swear it’s like you two are married already.” He shakes his head. “Bunch of sticks in the mud.”

Kade passes me a shot of patron as we wait for Dean to set up the lights. To the right of the bar was a set of industrial stand-up lights that he had set up for the occasion. Each light was pivoted to point at the dead center of where he intended to work. Between the lights, he eventually pulled up a chair to which I assumed Blackjack and I were expected to sit in.

He had brought his cabinet on wheels from work where he carried tubes of ink, a selection of needles, and other instruments I’d rather not think too hard about. There were cords running everywhere between the chairs and tables as they all stemmed to the lights and tattoo gun in his hand. When he was finished setting up the booth, he pulled a smock of an apron out from his cabinet and pulled it along his waist before tying it behind him. He slapped on his gloves with a smack to his wrists, more than ready to start. The entire scene looked like something from a Dr. Frankenstein movie.

“Now, then…” Dean drawls slowly, “Who’s going to be first?”

Before Blackjack could even think to offer himself up, I downed my shot quickly and slammed its glass bottom to the table. It certainly raised everyone’s attention when they saw me determined from the get go. I pulled myself off the bar and stepped into the ring.

“I’ll go.”

Dean’s crooked smile intensified just at the whiff of my courage. “Anything for you, Ashley.”

As I walked across the floor, he welcomed me into the seat with an effortless gesture of his hands. I pulled myself down with the weight of my heart beating hard against my chest with every second that it counted. The second the tattoo gun started buzzing, I could feel that heartbeat practically creeping up my throat. I closed my eyes, pulling my head down so I wasn’t so tempted to look. With a squeeze of my nails into my fist, I tried to calm myself down while Dean tested out the gun repeatedly.

A hand came down to my wrist to give me a light squeeze and I flinched.  I blinked up to see Blackjack kneeling right next to me, offering his most assuring smile.

“It’s going to be fine.” He says, circling the inside of my wrist with his thumb. Releasing a slow sigh, I nodded.

I know, I know. Better to get it over with.”

“And where are we branding her, Blackjack?” Dean interjects smoothly.

The two of us exchanged looks before I finally arrived at a conclusion. “On my back.”

Dean cocked a brow, intrigued. “You’re going to have to give me specifics, dear.”

“Across my shoulder blades.”

“Anything you want specifically?” Blackjack inquires. I look back at him and think to myself, unsure of what to say. I didn’t think I’d have a big choice in it all but then again, it was my skin.

“What do you think?” I ask him. Blackjack looks at me for a moment and then averts his eyes back to meet Dean’s. “Add a deck of cards at both ends of the banner.”

The men overheard and whistled at that. I tried my best not to smile too much granted that this was going to be a bitch to have to sit through. Still, I had to give Blackjack creativity points where it counted. He really had put more thought into this than I did. It felt more exciting knowing that he had taken a moment to really customize the piece I was getting.

“Well, Ashley-dear, the time has come.” Dean mocks a sigh, “I’m going to have to ask you to roll up your shirt.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.” I scoffed hard before taking the end of my shirt, rolling it up over my head before pulling it close to my chest.

A choir of whistles persisted from the bar tops to which I flashed them my middle finger.  A cool gel like substance was spread across the flesh, giving me a moment to breath for a bit. When the buzzing went on, Blackjack slipped his hand in mine and gave me a soft squeeze as I waited for the inevitable needle to strike its mark on my flesh. I gave him a little smile, still trying to comprehend how I managed to land myself in this situation.

All jokes and laughs were left aside the second I felt that sharp pain fixed up against my skin. My eyes went wide as I opened my mouth to let out a sharp hiss as the needles jetted past the very spot in a deep line. I clenched my eyes closed with every inch of muscle in my palm squeezing into Blackjack’s hand. Dean had his hand fixed at my shoulder, steadying the skin so that it wouldn’t crease as easily with the way my body tensed up. He traced along the same damn line and started leveling it up to what I felt was like a curve until the needle finally left my skin. I winced when he rubbed the ink away with his gloved hand before starting up again where he last continued, drawing an endless scrawl of detail into the font. After thirty minutes of clenching, I peeked up at Blackjack when I could feel myself slowly start to get used to the irritating pinches that resumed across my back. However as soon as the needle started getting closer to my bone, I shut my eyes closed and yelped.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Ah, ah, ah. Language, Ms. Monroe.” Dean shook his head while tracing the line slowly.

I let out a breathy exhale as I squeezed Blackjack’s hand further with every increment of space that the tattoo brought out. Compared to how it started, this was unlike anything I’d ever felt with my trips to the doctor. It literally felt like I was developing a biting rash or an army of beestings hitting me at that same damn spot repeatedly.

“The corners are almost done babe.” Blackjack assures me while checking over my back so often.

“Mhmmmm…” I hum, frustration practically sitting at the bed of my tongue.

It took what felt like ages to get the center right. I had to restrain myself from punching Dean in the face every time he passed over the sensitive skin. Blackjack offered me five-minute breaks so often, but I had to keep myself under the needle, otherwise we wouldn’t be done with this for another day.

No, I wanted this entire process completed by the time morning hits so that I wouldn’t have to pine over the after-pain for another week. Zane and Kade would give me extra shots of tequila every time I made a miserable noise. After so long, the pain dulled into a collection of annoying pinches. The bee stings subsided, and I was left with not only a spread of aches along the coast of my back, but I was forced to listen to that irritating buzzing coming from Dean’s tattoo gun. Every time he pressed down on my skin to wipe the blood and ink away, I could feel my muscles tensing. Blackjack felt it every time I gave his hand a squeeze and pulled himself close to whisper something nice in my ear.

When Dean pulled the needle away after another good hour, I nearly thought he was giving me another five-minute break. To my relief, he was done with the entire etch from the font style to the details. We didn’t stop there however.

I had offered Dean my hand and described to him the silver pattern I wanted engraved on my ring finger with Blackjack’s name scrawled across. He warned me that fingers and knuckles were one of the most painful things to work on since they were closer to the bone than most parts of the flesh. That didn’t stop me from being persistent and insisting that he finish the job for me here and now. He tacked that down as another forty dollars to the $400 job he painted across my back. Without Blackjack’s discount, the entire piece would have been six hundred with the extra details he insisted on. Thank God for that.

Before Dean was about to plaster the bandages on, Kade held his hand up insisting that he take a photo. He needed photographic proof to send to the Bears so that we could rub it in their faces once and for all.

“What about the redness? Won’t it look too fresh?” I ask, tracing my hand over the bandages.

Kade laughs abruptly. “Hasn’t Zane told you that he’s been taking photoshop classes while you’ve been away?”

I cocked a brow, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding me.”

“No, Ma’am. Who do you think designed the new emblem?” Kade smirks before looking over his shoulder to his brother sitting at the bar. “You bring that fancy laptop of yours today?”

Zane looked up from the said laptop, giving us the okay. “I set it up as soon as you got your camera out.”

“We’re set for business.” Kade folds his arms over his chest.

“Can I see the picture?” I look over to his phone.

I hadn’t seen Dean’s work just yet and I was insanely curious to know how it turned out.

“Sure, sure.” He nods, pulling the picture back up on his phone.

When I saw it with my own eyes, I felt my heart stop beating. It was quite the piece. From the way the cusp of the “P” sailed across my shoulder up to the scope of his name, I was completely breathless with the design. This was no simple signature of a name; it was a legitimate Reaper brand with Blackjack’s name along my skin. The etch was gorgeous and nowhere near as degrading as I originally assumed from Dean’s style. Usually with any brand, a Reaper man wanted his name to be bold and stamped across his woman’s body. I was fine with anything originally, so long as it wasn’t as tacky.

I can see now that Dean was an exceptional eye to what a woman wanted…but Blackjack’s own delicate touch gave me a little smile.

“You like what you see?” Kade grins. I could tell he was enjoying this.

“Surprisingly yes…” I muse aloud.

“Well great. After we’re done cleaning this one up, we’ll touch up on Blackjack’s and…”

“Wait what?” My eyes flash up at him.

My brother’s brows furrow as he copies my confused expression.

“Blackjack’s tattoo. He’s getting a piece done on his chest.” He repeats slowly.

“You’re kidding me––”

I was cut off the second Dean started his tattoo gun. The heel of my boot turned me around so fast that I nearly caught whiplash the second I set my eyes on Blackjack in his seat. My eyes stopped dead on his broad chest as he bared his skin for the point of the needle.

“Blackja––!”

“Shhhh!” Kade hisses, giving my arm a little squeeze. “You want Dean to mess up his mojo and give him a butterfly instead of a brand?”

I pulled my arm away and strode my legs over there. Blackjack’s brown eyes went from Dean to my approaching figure, cocking a brow at the disbelief in my expression.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” I demand.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” He smirks at my fluster.

I bit the inside of my cheek, putting my hands on my hips.

“The Bears only need to see one brand.”

“And?” He inquires.

“You don’t have to do this.” I insist, pulling myself down to the chair beside him.

He takes my hand, giving me a wry smile. “Have you learned nothing, Monroe?”

Blackjack rubs his thumb coarsely against my hand, shaking his head. I’m serious about this.”

I open my mouth to protest but by the time I could, Dean had already cut me off.  “Save your sweet talk for your honeymoon, Ashley. I’ve got a job to do.”

My eyes narrowed back up to the artist with a glare worth a thousand daggers but that didn’t stir him up one bit. He started on Blackjack’s chest with the determination of a Spanish bull on parade. Blackjack kept his chin up as his chest was continuously prodded by the cycle of needles on rotation. I watched him intensely as his expression failed to change throughout the process. Every so often he’d give me a little look when it became apparent I was worried, but all it took was a little wink for me to end up smirking all over again. No matter what the relationship was, it was more than obvious that Blackjack was serious about seeing this whole thing through to the end and so was I.