Page 20 of Down & Dirty: Rage

“Damn right you did. You know he’s prouda you, too.”

“Thank you for letting me practice on you when I was still learning.”

“Even back then, had complete fuckin’ faith in your skills.”

“Then you had more than I had in myself.”

As he followed her motions, the heat of his gaze caused her nipples to peak under the snug racerback tank she wore when she worked. When she was her father’s apprentice, she’d quickly learned to avoid any loose clothing or long sleeves so they wouldn’t get stained with ink. Tattooing could be messy business and she had ruined quite a few pieces of clothing.

Her career also meant getting up close and personal with her clients. Most were respectful. Some were not. A few men had the mistaken thought that since she was touching them, they could do the same to her. Those handsy jerks weren’t clients for long.

With one guy, she didn’t even finish his piece before having him thrown out of the shop. Luckily for her, but not for him, his deposit was non-refundable. She hoped that half-finished cobra reminded him that he should get a woman’s consent before touching her.

When he threatened to sue, she laughed. She had proof of him groping her, not only from her employees witnessing it, but on video. She had upgraded In the Shadows Ink’s security cameras only last year.

“It couldn’t hurt to do a few touch-ups here and there. I see some faded shading and a few lines starting to blur on your older pieces. What do you want done today? I couldalways do some of the touchups today, then design the hawk for approval and do the new piece next week.”

“That’d be good,” he grumbled.

Breaking it up into two sessions would enable them to spend more time together.

A lot of people were scared of Rage. His road name alone was enough to make some hesitate. But not her. He could be as sweet as apple pie at his core with the right person, despite trying to hide it with his brash personality.

In truth, she loved that she got to grow up with him, and even now, she enjoyed spending time with him.

Despite them being almost seven years apart, they had always gravitated toward each other. Even as kids. Especially when the older DAMC kids always pushed away the younger ones, calling them pests. As with most large families, typical “sibling” clashes were the norm.

Because of that, Ash always had her back and had stepped in whenever she needed it. While she tried not to be too needy, not once had he complained when she asked for his assistance.

Like when she wanted the new security system installed. He was right there overseeing the whole process when the company came to upgrade the cameras and everything that went along with them. He used the excuse that he was familiar with the system since the company they’d hired had previously installed the same one at Heaven’s Angels Gentlemen’s Club.

She spent the next hour touching up various tattoos both she and her father had inked into his skin. The man never flinched whenever the tattoo gun touched him. No matter where the ink was located.

“You know the side of your head will hurt like a bitch, right?” she murmured as she worked.

“Nothin’ wrong with a little pain.”

“It’ll be worse than the ones on your elbows or ribs,” she warned. “I’ve had big, burly men actually shed tears from the pain.”

“Bring it on.”

She sighed, dipping the needles back into the tiny cup of black ink. She concentrated on keeping her hand steady as she darkened the lines of the large Viking helmet he had on his right arm.

Ever since he was a kid, Ashton had been fascinated with Viking lore. Beside the tattoos and the braids, a silver Thor’s hammer pendant hung from a black cord around his thick neck. He said, beside the famous weapon symbolizing the destructive power of the storm and of fire from Heaven, the hammer also provided protection against the forces of evil and violence.

It was the perfect symbol for the DAMC enforcer to wear.

Lyric disliked his road name and always thought the name Thor would have been more fitting. Even though he was more like his uncle Diesel than his father in temperament, the name Rage had such a negative connotation.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“It still hurts a bit but it’s bearable.”

“Ain’t wearin’ the sling.”

“The doctor said it’s okay to stop using it since it ended up being a soft tissue injury instead of a sprain.”

Ash grunted in response before growling, “Don’t like you bein’ in that club.”