why Kenzie was acting like top bitch again… as well as why Long John and Crocker were sitting with us when I’d expected to walk in and eat with just Saint and her.
Neither man defended Kenzie, and Saint just tipped his chin, telling me silently he backed every word I said— I appreciated that he hadn’t waded in. I didn’t need anyone to fight my battles for me.
It was just like Kenzie to do this. Back in the day, she’d called herself a feminist, but she was the one who’d run off to be with a biker, and who was now acting like a grade-A bitch just because she had another biker at her back.
The silence was heavy as we waited on the server to deliver our meals, and I didn’t let it drop. No one could talk smack about Ama around me or Saint, and that was the way of it.
If Kenzie was back for good, then she’d better get the jump on that real quick. I loved her, wanted the best for her, and didn’t want her to be hurt by the creep she’d picked as a partner, but Ama was the love of my fucking life. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know that yet, didn’t matter that she might not reciprocate my feelings and that she may have a thing for Saint, I’d defend her and protect her with everything I had.
Just as I’d been doing since I was a kid.
❖
Ink
“This is the autoclave,” I informed Ama, showing her the unit that sterilized all sharp materials. “Remember when we broke down the gun? Which parts need sterilizing?”
She peered around the room. “Why’s it so tiny?”
I snorted. “Because the law states this room has to be separate from the rest of the parlor, but they didn’t state how big it has to be. Now, which parts?”
Ama waved a hand. “The grip, tube tip, and needles. They’re the only parts of the tattoo machine that come into contact with skin.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “How much reading did you do last night?”
She beamed at me. “I read that whole pdf document you made me download.”
“Didn’t you sleep?”
“Some. I woke up at four.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but it was a huge deal. Ama didn’t have a damn thing wrong with her ‘sleep.’ It was just the memories that fucked with her subconscious and woke her up. “I got reading and I’m glad I did. I didn’t expect things to get technical so soon.”
My lips twitched. “Babe, I know how good you are at art. That isn’t what you have to learn, although you’ll have to adapt your design to what the client wants. You can’t just go ahead with your own checklist, it’s what they want or nothing.”
“Of course.”
Huh. She said that so easily that I squinted at her—I’d kind of expected an argument on that front.
“Also, there are certain parts of the body that you have to be careful with.” This was off topic, but hell, I wanted to touch her, so I raised her arm, and smoothed my fingers along the line of her bicep and around to the ball of her shoulder. Then, I turned her arm gently, and trailed my fingers down to her elbow. “There are contours here, contours you have to study and see how they line up with your design. There’s a lot to learn but you have the talent.”
“That feels really good,” she admitted, her nose crinkling as she stared into my eyes.
My lips twitched. “It was supposed to.” Throat thick with all the emotion I was holding back, I dipped my head and pressed a kiss to her forehead before trailing my mouth down to hers. I kissed the corner, and on a murmur, asked, “What are the five ‘Ps’ of tattooing?”
She shivered as my breath whispered over her skin, and if this room’s purpose didn’t revolve entirely around hygiene, I’d have pushed her against the wall and claimed a real kiss. As it was, this room existed for sterilization purposes, plus, she was sore. I knew that because when she sat down, she squinted a little, then wriggled around on her seat.
Thinking about why she was doing that had had me sporting a hard-on all fucking day, and I was way too old for that shit.
Licking her lips, she stated, “Proper needle depth, proper angle, proper assembly, proper strokes, and proper training.” She huffed out a laugh as she pressed her hand to