Cruz (Dark and Dirty Sinners' MC #5) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,25
round butt on the corner of my desk. It was a scratched old thing, vintage and retro weren’t words that could describe it, but I’d found it in a thrift store a couple of months back and just had to have it.
With a surge of new clients lately, I’d reinvested in the shop, replacing an Ikea-special sofa with a turquoise Chesterfield, putting a nice rug down on the floor that an old friend from school had designed for me—it had one of my mandalas laser-printed onto it—and the walls were a blank white with photos of my designs on there, some on client’s limbs, others just of the initial work up process. A few were framed, articles that showcased my skills and the body art that had forged the rep that was earned through hard work and determination… A determination that was founded in my desire to not let that bastard win.
The desk didn’t fit. At all. It was old and cumbersome. But I liked it.
Old and cumbersome wasn’t always a bad thing.
Sometimes, comfort mattered, and on a desk, drawers were like pockets in a dress—always came in handy.
“A pissed off mood,” I grumbled, frowning at her over my shades. “What do you want?”
She snorted. “Thought we were friends.”
“We are.” I arched a brow at her. “Being grumpy with you is a sign of friendship.” And it surprised me to realize I wasn’t bullshitting her. I liked Giulia. She was what my brother needed, and she didn’t take fools lightly.
My kind of chick.
My reply had her smiling, and that smile told me we were on the same wavelength, something she confirmed by telling me, “I work the same way.”
“Yeah? Then you’ll know I’m not chirpy enough for a wasted conversation. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She shrugged. “Just been thinking of getting some more ink is all.”
“I’ll always talk ink.” Her words perked me up some, enough to stop slouching and to sit up. Especially when I thought she might have wanted to talk about Nyx. I liked her but I didn’t want a pow wow about him before two PM. I needed coffee and maybe some Twizzlers before I could handle that convo. “What kind?”
“Thinking of a more effeminate version of the Sinners’ logo.”
“You want a different kind of patch, hmm?” My mind drifted off as I started putting pieces together.
“Yeah. Just feels right. I’m tied to Nyx in more ways than just what I feel for him.”
My lips twitched. “My brother is all grown up, sounds like you are too.”
“Think he was that a long time ago,” she said dryly. “Me? Well, that happened before him for sure.”
“I can believe that about you, but where he’s concerned? Barely.” I rolled my eyes. “You weren’t around for the ride when he was in his twenties.”
“I’ve heard,” she retorted with a laugh. “Stone’s pretty big on sharing stories of when you guys were younger.”
I liked that she said ‘younger’ and not young. Giulia wasn’t jailbait, but the age gap between her and my bro would make people curl their noses up. If noses could curl.
“Yeah, well, that’s Stone. All chatty.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “How’s she doing?”
“You only saw her yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. But today’s another day, and I just woke up so haven’t checked in with her yet.”
When Stone had almost died at the hands of a psychotic Angel of Death who roamed her hospital ward, it had been a revelation to both of us. There was an age gap between her and me too, not as distinct as my brother and his woman, but large enough for a friendship to have failed when we were kids. Still, we were closer than sisters, and almost losing her had been a prompt for us to be outed.
Until her attack, no one in the clubhouse, on the compound, had known about our friendship.
What could I say? We were sneaky bitches.
“She’s fine. She was talking about her and Steel finally getting to fuck.”
Hiding a grin, I said, “Christ, she’s been waiting to tap that for a lifetime. No wonder she’s antsy.” I kept giving her shit about how long it was taking her and Steel to get it on, but it was only teasing. Mostly, I was just relieved she was in one piece and capable of walking, never mind screwing a man she’d been pining over for decades.
“Antsy ain’t the word,” was Giulia’s wry rejoinder.