Nate
Walking through the clubhouse and down to the studio, Emily chats away and I can’t help really liking her. For the first time in days, weeks even, I’ve found a distraction. Something to take away the dark thoughts, even if only temporarily.
Unlocking the door, I hold it open, flicking on the light. The light flickers above and her gasps fill my senses.
“Wow, so you really are an artist?” Her eyes scan the walls, my drawings framed and lining the wall. She steps down, eyes fixed on the wall full of art. She stops in front of a huge board with images of some of my finest designs and tattoos.
“Yep, and those are all mine too.” I point to the photographs pinned on the board in front of her, sliding down and resting on the couch. I reach in my pocket, pulling out my smokes. Tipping the packet, I grab one with my teeth. “Smoke?” I offer, holding them out in front of her.
“Thanks.” She turns, taking one and resting it against her lips. Getting up from the couch, I push my hand into my back pocket, retrieving my lighter. Flicking back the lid, I thrust my thumb over the wheel until the flame meets the end of my cigarette. Taking a quick drag, I hold it in my mouth while offering the flame to Emily. Leaning forward she lights her own cigarette and turns her back on me, her attention back on the images.
“I don’t have a single tattoo,” she informs me. “Not that I don’t like them, I’ve just never gotten around to getting one.”
I nod, watching as her focus flits between me and pictures on the wall.
“I’m so grateful for what you are doing for me,” she murmurs. Her thumb works over her lip while she clutches the cigarette between her fingers. “Don’t know what I’d do right now if it wasn’t for you.”
“You’d be screwing one of those fuckers back in there,” I say with a jab of my thumb.
“True.” She lifts her brows, a shudder visible.
“What happened to you, Emily? What happened in your life to make you think the MC lifestyle was for you? Don’t you have family? Friends?”
“I’m a traveler. Born and raised. My parents and I would move around from state to state, and I never settled long enough to make friends. My ma would homeschool me the best she could, but I never really did the high school thing. I’d make friends occasionally when we would stay in the same place for a few weeks, but we never stayed anywhere for very long.”
“Where are your parents now?” I ask, taking a drag of my cigarette.
“They’re dead,” she replies quietly and I almost drop the grip on my smoke.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I rush out, furrowing my brow.
“Road traffic accident. Lost 'em both when I was just fifteen. And I had nobody. No options. Even the damn trailer was a wreck. I had no choice but to sleep on the streets, working odd jobs to keep food in my belly and the occasional night staying somewhere warm and dry.”
I study her for a second, suddenly understanding why this is all so attractive to her. She literally has nothing and no one.
“Makes sense.”
“What does?” she questions.
“Why this dump seems so attractive to you.”
“Ozzie promised me somewhere to live. Told me that you guys would accept me with open arms and help me out. I guess you could say I sold out to the devil.”
“He brought you here under false pretenses. Shame on him.” I make a mental note to speak to the fucker. My father may have very few morals, but that shit doesn’t wash with me.
“I’m scared, Nate,” she chokes out. I walk over to the small door beside the garage door, unlocking it and tossing out my smoke.
I shake my head. “Don’t be. We stick together and I think we’ll be okay.”
She reaches out, squeezing my hand once as if to show her agreement. I nod lightly, dropping back on the couch. Emily walks over to the door, throwing her cigarette out of the door too.
“So…” she states with a clap of her hands. “What does it take to get a tattoo from the great Nate Jeffries, huh?” Hands together she tilts her head, eyes hard and focused on me. “Because you know I have no money, right?” A thin smile dresses her lips and her expectant eyes wait for my answer.
“You have an idea of what you want?” I get up from the couch and stalk over to my desk, pulling open the drawer. Pulling out my tattoo gun I place it on the desk. I reach for my sketchbook and make my way back over to her. “You tell me, and I’ll draw it up for you.”
“What, now?” she gasps with excitement.
“Sure,” I say with a loose lift of my shoulders.
“That one,” she says animatedly. “I want that one.”
My eyes focus on the sketch she points to. “It’s so beautiful,” she says with a clap of her hands. Excitement radiates from her and I can’t help the smile that twitches at the corner of my mouth. I reach up, grabbing the frame. I quickly remove the sketch and start to trace over it.
“Good choice,” I remark as I work the image onto the transfer paper.
“She is so beautiful.”
I nod in agreement. Even though the sketch of this woman depicts her crying, she is beyond beautiful. Roses surround the woman in the image, her hair long, cascading down the side of her face. The top of her hair shows a braid with woven flowers.
“What drew you to this image?” I ask out of morbid curiosity.
“Reminds me of myself. She looks broken, but like she won’t give up. Just like me, I guess.”
Lifting my eyes, I flash her a smile.
“What made you draw this? Is it based on someone you know?”
“Not at all,” I mumble. “Created from in here.” I use my finger to point to my head.
“Impressive,” she says with pursed lips.
“So, where’s it going?” I ask, continuing to trace over the outline of the image onto the carbon paper.
I hear the rustle of clothes and flick my gaze to her. She’s removed her top completely and stands with her hands on her hips wearing nothing but her bra. “Just here I thought.” She points to the area just under arm and down to her waist.
“Sure, if that’s where you want it,” I say, turning my attention back to the transfer.
It only takes about twenty minutes before I’m ready to get started. Positioning her on the couch, I pull on my gloves, using disinfectant across the area she has chosen for her tattoo. Grabbing the sterile packets from the cabinet, I take out the new ink cups, filling them with the colors needed for the image. I unwrap the sterile needle, attaching it to Dora. Dora is the name I gave to my machine when I got it.
“Are you ready?” I ask as she lies on the couch and I slowly place the transfer against her skin. I press down gently, rubbing over and over. Peeling back the paper, I inspect the placement.
“Stand,” I order, wanting to make sure the position is exactly right. “Go check in the mirror,” I tell her with a flick of my head.
“It’s fine.”
“Go look,” I say authoritatively. “I ain’t doing it until you have looked and are a hundred percent happy with it.”
“You always this bossy?”
“Maybe,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
Darting her tongue out at me, she turns and steps toward the full-length mirror just beside the door.
“Oh, Nate. I love it already,” she coos, stepping back over to me.
“Good, now take off the bra.”
“What? Like for real?”
“For real, babe. It’s going to get in the way.”
“Shit,” she mutters, her eyes looking a little nervous. “No peeking then,” she warns with a waggle of her finger.
“I’ve seen enough tits to last me a lifetime. I ain’t looking, believe me.”
“Good,” she replies, reaching behind her back and flicking the clasp. Her arm covers her tits while she removes the bra, dropping it on the chair with the rest of her things. Sliding back on the couch, she lies on her side.
“Arm up.” I grab it, guiding it above her head.
“No peeking I said,” she taunts playfully making sure her other hand covers the side of the breast closest to my face.
“Just relax, this might sting a bit.”
Dipping the tip of the needle into the pot, I stretch the skin with my other hand and start to work over the outline. Emily lies there, not making a sound. It’s funny watching how some react to the pain of getting a tattoo. I was sure she would be a screamer.
“You doing okay there?” I ask, peering over, trying to catch a glimpse of her face. “You haven’t made a sound.”
“It’s kind of therapeutic,” she replies as I swipe over her skin. “How long should this take?”
“A few hours at least. It’s kind of a big tattoo you chose.”
“Hours,” she gasps. “I’m desperately trying to be brave but I’m not sure I’ll last for hours.”
“We can break. Anytime it’s getting too much, just let me know.”
She nods and I hear her gulp. With a shake of my head, I chuckle, continuing to scribe the image into her skin. Zoning out, I concentrate, making sure every line is perfect, and every contact is in the correct spot. The buzz of the tattoo gun is the same comfort as the buzz I get from the bike. Similar noise, familiar comforting feeling.
* * *
After about forty-five minutes, I can tell that Emily needs to break. She’s wiggling like a goddamn eel.
“Shall we break? Get a drink or have a smoke or something?” I suggest, wiping over and over what I’ve already done.
“Fuck! Yes, please,” she chuckles. “Thought you’d never ask, you… you… sadomasochist.”
I can’t help but laugh, “You have no idea, darlin’.” Pushing back the swivel chair I’m sitting on, I hold out my arm, indicating that Emily should get off the couch.
“Shit,” she grumbles, “I can barely move. This beautiful piece of art stings like a bitch.”
“Anything worth having hurts.”
“Really?” She lifts her brow, shooting me a sarcastic glare. “I don’t know how you expect me to cover my modesty and get up from this damn couch at the same time.”
Stepping over to my desk, I drop down the tattoo gun, and remove my gloves. “Let me help you,” I say, offering her my hand.
“Quite the gentleman,” she quips, taking it and allowing me to sit up on the couch. I reach behind, grabbing her top from the chair and handing it to her.
“Don’t put it on, but you can use this to cover yourself.”
With a subtle nod she takes it, only her body jerks at the loud rasping sound at the door that joins the studio to the clubhouse.
“Nate, man. Hurry up.”
Furrowing my brows, I race over to the door, opening it just enough to see a drunk Zane and Jarvis.
“What’s wrong, brothers?” I ask with a quick lift of my chin.
“Whatchya doin?” They both giggle like a pair of damn schoolkids.
“I’m tatting the newest chick.”
“What you tatting? Nate’s pussy?” Jarvis jokes.
“Guys,” I say in a raised voice. “What is it you want?”
“To hang out. Your old man has gone fucking crazy again. We just wanted to get out of the way,” Zane replies.
“It’s one of those nights where you know some shit is gonna go down, ya know?”
I grimace a little, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” I duck my head back inside and find Emily at the door.
“You okay with a few visitors?”
Her eyes move downward to the material barely covering her chest. “I dunno,” she answers tentatively.
“They’re good guys. Promise…”
With wide eyes and a lift of her shoulders, I take that as an okay.
“Listen, by all means, come hang in here. But don’t for one second make the girl feel uncomfortable. You know how I take this shit seriously.”
Zane steps forward, giving the top of my arm a light slap. He leans in, whispering into my ear, the smell of alcohol potent. “What’s the deal with the chick? She got all the guys talking.”
“Not surprised,” I mutter with a fleeting look in her direction.
“Only, the guys aren’t sure if you still dig that Tara chick or whether you’re moving onto some fresh pussy.”
“Talk about getting deep.”
“The guys know what happened to you. They reckon your old man is out of order.”
I glance over his shoulder, wary of someone overhearing. “Come in, let’s talk inside.” I beckon him with a flick of my head and the guys step inside the studio.
“Hey,” Emily introduces herself with a wave.
The guys say a quick hello, sliding down on my desk, eyes boring into me.
“So, what’s the deal?” Zane asks. “Why has your old man got an issue with which pussy you fuck?”
Shaking my head, I allow my eyes to fall to the floor. I’ve known these brothers for years, but it still doesn’t stop me from wondering whether I can trust them or not. My father is under everyone’s skin. So much so that I have no idea who in my own club I can actually trust.
“Depends what you know,” I reply, lifting and sagging my shoulders.
“Shit, just spit it out, man.” Jarvis, the older of the two guys looks at me with anticipation.
“This is so fucked up.” I blow out an exaggerated breath. “I have absolutely no idea who I can trust anymore.”
Jarvis and Zane look at each other, confusion written all over their faces.
“Seriously? You think you can’t trust us? We’re your brothers. We wear the same cut, and for most around here, you’re the heir to this whole goddamn MC.”
“Yeah?” I retort.
“Yeah, man. You know this,” Jarvis confirms with a nod.
Reaching down, I pull up my jeans. “So what do you call this, huh?” My eyes fall on the fucked-up skin on my legs.
“Jesus, man. What happened?”
“Jeffries happened.”
“Because of the girl?” Jarvis asks with narrowed eyes.
“He warned me to stay away. Told me she was his and some bullshit about how he had made a deal with Carter Mellano. He sold out his own cousin to my father.”
“I didn’t think human trafficking was our thing,” Zane adds, humor lacing his tone. “But seriously, man. This is some fucked-up father-and-son shit.”
“The fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Plenty more pussy in the sea.” Zane laughs loudly. An audible tut comes from Emily.
“You guys.” She rests her hand against her chest. “You’re all heart!”
“That’s us, darlin’,” Zane replies, fluttering his eyelashes at a semi-naked Emily.
“Ever think that he may have feelings for the girl. That the girl…”
“Tara,” I interrupt.
“Yeah, Tara.” She smiles, correcting herself. “Well, maybe she isn’t just some pussy as you guys put it. Maybe she’s special, and that’s why Nate loves her.”
The guys chuckle. Zane widens his eyes and stares straight at Emily. “That’s some serious stuff, talking about love.”
“Behind those tattoos, beards, and motorcycles, are men who need to feel love too.” She kicks out her hip, pursing her lips together in some sort of sassy girl move. “Your manly exterior ain’t fooling anyone.”
Zane walks closer to her and I can’t help but notice how she clutches her top against her chest. “Looks like we got a keeper here,” he bellows, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her loudly on the side of her head. “Now that’s what I call old lady material,” he says with a nod and Jarvis slowly nods along in agreement.
“I don’t know about that,” she replies coyly, looking up at Zane through her long eyelashes. She blinks more than necessary, and I can’t help the smile that creeps up from the corner of my mouth. I recognize what is happening here. She likes him.
“I hate to break up this newfound friendship, but we got a tattoo to finish.” Reaching into the drawer, I pull out a new pair of gloves and get to work at setting up the tattoo gun. Emily resumes her position on the couch, still clutching her top to her chest. I lift my brows. Refreshing. Usually girls are dropping their clothes just to get their hands on one of the crew. Sitting on my chair, I swivel and push it along until I stop just in front of her.
“Get comfy, boys,” I instruct with a jab of my thumb. I hear the shuffling behind me, moving chairs and shit. Zane sits right behind me, just in the right position to carry on his conversation with Emily. I make a point of catching her eye before continuing. I need to know she’s okay with the pair being here. As soon as my eyes connect with hers I notice something I hadn’t seen before. There’s a light. No… not a light, more like a spark, a fire maybe. Yeah, that’s what I see. It’s fire flickering in her eyes. I dart my gaze to Zane behind me then back to Emily. It’s funny that I never really paid any attention to the little looks that are exchanged when attraction is in play. But since Tara, I notice all the little things I would never have batted an eye at before.
Placing the tip of the needle to her skin, I begin to scratch over and over, working on the color and shading of the tattoo. The guys chat with Emily, and I can tell she appreciates the distraction.
* * *
Hours pass by and I’m finally done with Emily’s tattoo. Leading her over to the mirror on the wall, I show her the final, finished tattoo.
“Oh. My. God. It’s amazing, Nate. Painful, but worth every second,” she says with a genuine smile on her face. She turns a little, facing in the direction of Jarvis and Zane.
“So good, right, guys?” she asks, almost like she’s seeking their approval.
“That’s some pretty cool ink, darlin’,” Zane responds, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. I stifle a chuckle, but now I need to get her wrapped up.
“Guys, why don’t you grab us a drink? Just give me a minute to finish up here.”
“Sure,” Jarvis replies, jumping up from his seat and making his way over to the door.
“Be right back,” Zane addresses Emily, and she smiles timidly, acknowledging him with the slightest movement of her head.
Following the guys over, I hold the door, ready to lock it when they have stepped out. “Just knock when you come back, okay?”
“Sure,” they both respond in unison. I watch them leave, bolting the door behind them.
“Right,” I say with a clap of my hands. “Let’s get you wrapped up.”
“What do I owe you for this?” Narrowing her eyes on me, she pulls in her lip, biting it a little.
“You owe me nothing. Well nothing but what was agreed. Your help with the Tara situation.”
“I don’t go back on my word, Nate. I said I would help you and I meant it.”
“Are you sure?” I ask with a tilt of my head, my eyes hard on her. “Because I saw how you and Zane were looking at each other.”
“What? You’re worried I will go back on my word? Oh, you don’t know me well yet, do you?”
“Considering we just met…” I quip, offering her a smirk.
“Look, the way I see it you’ve done so much for me already that there is no way I’d jeopardize what we have agreed. Yeah, sure, there seems to be some interest between me and Zane and getting to know him would be cool. But without you pulling me away from the party, making it look like something is happening between us, then God knows what could be happening to me with God knows who. I think I need you just as much as you need me right now.”
I place a hand either side of her face. Despite her natural beauty and her honest heart, I’m not interested in Emily, not in the slightest. Pulling her closely, I tilt her head down, kissing her on the forehead. Her hand finds my arm, and she caresses it gently.
“Thank you,” I whisper, only for my attention to be drawn to the sound of the door beside the garage door opening. Emily jerks in surprise, dropping her top and exposing herself completely. My eyes search for the cause of the sound, but there's nothing. I dart over to the door, pulling it open, and reach inside my vest, pulling out my handgun. I search the area trying to work out who just bailed. My throat feels like it’s tightening, and my hand begins to shake as my eyes find hers.
The familiar long brown hair sways as she runs like she’s afraid for her life.
“Tara,” I yell, but she doesn’t stop.
Shit.
What the fuck is she doing here? I pick up my speed, closing the gap between us as she runs out of the yard and toward the road.
“Tara,” I growl. “Stop, or I swear to God I’ll shoot.”
Her footsteps grind to a halt and she freezes on the spot. Turning slowly, her eyes fall on the gun I have pointed at her. I have no intentions of using it, but I needed her to stop.
“Really, Nate? You’re pulling a gun on me?”
“Just listen to me, okay,” I say, pushing the gun back inside the band of my jeans and rushing over to her and taking hold of her elbow. I guide her quickly out of sight, pulling her into the shadows of the trees.
“Baby.” I reach up, desperate to feel her silk-like skin against my hands.
“Don’t you baby me,” she says raising her hand up and slapping me with force across the face.
“I came here… I came to tell you that no matter what is happening, no matter how bad, we can work it out. I came to tell you that I can’t live without you, Nate.” Her voice quivers and tears stream down her face. My chest tightens. A mixture of pain and anger brewing in my chest.
“Only, you’ve moved on already, right?” Her teary eyes change to ones full of anger. “How could you?”
“It’s not what it looks like…”
“REALLY? You’re really going to give me that bullshit.”
Before I can correct her, I hear voices calling for me.
“Nate, man. Nate. It’s Emily. Silver’s got her, man.”
Fuck. My head whips around trying to locate the voice.
“Baby,” I say leaning into her. “You need to go home.”
“You really don’t care, do you?” she spits out, but I’m worried that Silver’s games are some sort of retaliation.
I grit my teeth, narrowing my eyes on her. “For your safety, and mine, you gotta go. Please, Tara, just trust me.” I lean in, pressing my lips to hers. She softens in my arms and there’s no mistaking the taste on her lips.
Bourbon.
I grip the back of her head, kissing her in the way I’ve needed to for days. “Please, baby, I’ll be in touch but it ain’t safe for you here.” Dropping my hand, I look her in the eye, hoping that she recognizes my sincerity. I bite my lip, holding her gaze. Then I mouth the words that I know mean so much to her. I love you.
“Please don’t leave me,” she begs and my heart almost shatters.
“Nate,” the voice continues to call to me and I’m caught between staying and comforting her, getting her to understand the dangers, and checking out what shit is going down inside.
Stepping back, I release my hold on her. “I’m sorry. Really, I am,” I whisper. “I’ll be in touch. I promise.” I turn on my heel and race back through the gates, making my way over to the garage door. Throwing it open, my eyes search for Emily. Zane appears and I instantly see the panic in his eyes.
“Silver followed us. Shot open the goddamn door. He’s got Emily.” He points to the door that leads inside the clubhouse, and I sigh, running my hands down over my face.
“Motherfucker,” I growl, racing to the door and into the clubhouse. I tear through the hall, shouting out her name, my eyes searching for her. I look at the crew, half-cut or so deep down some whore’s throat that they don’t even bother to look what the commotion is about.