Epilogue
Three months later
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Etta squared her shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
As a rule, she hated needles, but Etta was eager to get Grady off her back. Literally.
Justice told her what he’d done to Grady, and she didn’t feel guilty. Grady was in an assisted living home. He’d never hurt anyone again, but he was still alive. Considering what he’d done, he’d gotten a generous sentence for his crimes. The police had questioned both her and Justice but hadn’t been able to prove anything, and the case had gone cold.
The cops hadn’t been able to determine if he set the fire, and they’d given Grady a pass on the parole violation, in light of his injuries.
Everything had worked out well, for her and Justice at least.
“I’m ready if you are, Angel.” Justice led the way inside.
Over the past couple of weeks, she’d googled tattoo designs and picked one she liked. This afternoon, they’d come to Brimstone Ink to make her vision a reality.
Graffiti street art streaked the whitewashed exterior of Brimstone Ink. The Four Horsemen MC logo covered the bottom corner of the glass front door. A chilly blast of air from the industrial air conditioner hit her as she walked inside.
Etta had never been to a tattoo parlor and gaped at her surroundings. A crimson leather chair sat on a raised dais, reserved for Horsemen. According to Justice, all the brothers got inked here, so they must know what they’re doing.
“Sorry, but I’m short-handed today. Have a seat, I’ll be with you in a minute,” a redhead said. She stood behind the front counter with a phone to her ear.
“No problem.” Her stomach fluttered.
“You look nervous,” Justice whispered.
“That’s because I am.”
“Don’t be. You’re in very experienced hands. Fiona, that’s the woman on the phone, owns this place, and she knows her craft. Her dad used to be one of the best tattoo artists in the country, and she learned from the master.”
“Really?”
“His shop was featured in magazines, and every now and then a famous person showed up at his parlor. She’s carryin’ on the family legacy, so you’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”
It made her feel a bit better.
Flames crawled across the black walls and the ceiling, giving the space an unearthly glow. Iron lantern sconces holding firewood candles hung from the wall on thick chains.
“Looks Damn Good. Hurts Like Hell” was stenciled on one wall.
Most of the surfaces were stainless steel. The floor was made of black granite tile, shined and glossy. Large flat screens projected available ink designs, each image separated by a flash of flames.
Etta hated the fire motif, but she’d survive it long enough to get her tattoo.
Justice’s phone jingled, and he answered, then had a brief, monosyllabic conversation.
After the call ended, he grinned. “Hey, we can pick up our keys tomorrow mornin’. All the paperwork’s been finalized.”
They’d gone shopping for a new place together. They found a house in a brand new development in town. For now, they planned on living together, and then they’d talk about a more formal arrangement in the future.
If…when, they got married, her name would be on the deed to the house as well as any other big-ticket items. Etta wanted some assurances, although she seriously doubted she’d ever leave Justice.
“Fantastic. I can’t wait to show Tyler his new place.”
Etta had become Tyler’s foster parent. Since she was a social worker, her application had sailed through the approval process. Justice was attending parenting classes, and then he should be accepted as well. While he was a member of an outlaw biker club, he had a history of military service and no criminal convictions.
After things had settled down, Etta planned on petitioning the court to formally adopt Tyler. Justice’s friend, Jane Hunter, was a lawyer and she promised to help with the case.
All in all, things were going well.
Justice was no longer plagued by nightmares, and he’d given up marijuana. Her arm had healed, and while the skin was still blotchy, the wound didn’t look nearly as awful as it once had.
“I apologize for the delay.” Fiona glanced at the biker. “Hey, Justice, nice to see you.”
“Likewise.”
“Is this your new lady friend?”
“Make that old lady.” Justice looped an arm around Etta’s shoulder.
Etta beamed.
“Congratulations! Then I assume we’re doin’ a name tattoo.”
“Nope.” Etta reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of designs she’d printed out.
“Angel wings.” Fiona nodded. “I like the lines. Where do you want the tat?”
“Over the scar.” Etta lifted the back of her shirt and turned.
Fiona sighed as she surveyed the damage. “What a bastard. It would be my privilege to cover up his handiwork.”
“Thanks.” A sense of relief washed over her. When she walked out of the parlor today, every last trace of Grady would be gone from her life.
It was a fresh start.
Fiona walked over to a nearby chair and patted it. “Come on over, and we’ll get rid of that ugly thing, honey.”
Etta laid down, and Justice pulled up a stool beside her as Fiona cleaned the area with rubbing alcohol.
“It’s time to go to the beach, Angel.” Justice held her hand. “Close your eyes and let’s picture it.”
She shook her head. “Nope, talk to me about our home, instead.” It was her new happy place, where she’d be safe and sheltered.
“Mine too. It’s better than any beach I’ve been to. I can’t wait to move in tomorrow.”
“Me either.”
“I’m glad because you’re gonna be livin’ there, with Tyler and me, for the rest of your life.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s see, there’s a big backyard…”
Thank y’all for readin’!
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Books in the Series
(Dix & Belle)
(Byron & Jane)
(Jasper & Vick)
Cold Blood (Justice & Etta May)
Bad Blood (Mary & Chase, coming soon)
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About the Author
Cynthia Rayne is the USA TODAY bestselling author of the and the . While Cynthia was born and raised a damn Yankee in Ohio, her parents hail from Dixie, and she grew up on homemade buttermilk biscuits and southern wisdom. In her spare time, she enjoys shopping, reading way too many romance novels, and drinking a truly obscene amount of coffee.
Copyright
© Cynthia Rayne 2017
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review or book discussion, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
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Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s wicked imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and frankly a bit creepy.