Broken (Blackhawk Ink #1)

Chapter One

Garrett

The worst kind of client to walk into a tattoo shop is a drunk as fuck one.

I’ve finished tracing a stencil for my next client when I hear the shouting coming from the shop front. It’s not the normal banter from my employees either. Grabbing my shit, I go see what the hell is going on.

The guy stepping up to my receptionist is six feet and three hundred pounds. He’s red faced and spitting while he’s yelling.

We have a strict policy about tattooing anyone visibly inebriated. It is a firm ‘ get the fuck out .’ I don’t run that kind of shop.

Lucky pulls the bat out from beneath the reception desk. If it has gotten to the point she is reaching for a weapon, then I’ve missed the lead up to her going batshit. She’s tiny, but I’d put my money on her against this drunken asshole in a heartbeat.

Every single employee in the shop is primed and ready to jump in. Shane, my apprentice, is holding a book of designs next to a customer. The woman is wide-eyed and frozen. Her two giggling friends on the sofa are silent too.

I went in back to avoid listening to them. Shane, and Sumner, our newest artist, got the pleasure of dealing with them.

I am lucky to have Sumner. He’s an experienced and well-known artist who recently moved to the US from Ireland. I knew him from industry conventions. He came here looking for work. I’d jumped all over it, gave him the job within five minutes of walking through the door.

Phoenix, my best friend and business partner, is standing at his station. To anyone who doesn’t know him, he looks nonplussed. Truth is, he’ll be first across the room if this asshole tries to lay a finger on Lucky.

They broke up a year ago and did the unthinkable. Remained friends. Lucky is the best employee we’ve ever had on the desk. I was pissed when they hooked up. Things are fine, for now. They double date if they’re seeing someone. It’s fucking weird.

The asshole hasn’t noticed Lucky getting the bat yet and thunders toward her, knocking a glass bowl off the counter. It shatters when it hits the floor. Breaking shit in my shop is not okay.

Phoenix moves and Shane drops the book. I’m about to wade in when Lucky flicks a smirk at me. It’s bad for business to insult or assault customers. I don’t give a shit about our reputation when my staff are protecting themselves.

Over the years, Phoenix and I have thrown punches and kicked plenty of assholes out. It never did any damage. Our reputation is that good.

I nod and her grin grows as she swings the bat. Phoenix is halfway across the shop but pulls to a stop. Pretty sure he flinches as hard as I do when she makes contact.

“Oh fuck,” Shane says.

The guy howls and falls to his knees, grabbing his crotch.

“Shit, Lucky,” Phoenix winces, taking another few steps closer. “Was that necessary?”

“If you’re gonna do it, do it right,” she replies, resting the bat against her shoulder like some kind of demented Harley Quinn. She gives her ex a cheeky look.

Phoenix is a good-looking fucker, with wavy black hair spilling over his forehead and bright green eyes. With those, his muscular, lean frame, and friendly and flirty nature, he has women falling all over him.

He doesn’t screw around. He isn’t the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. A rare breed of guy who loves being in love. Which is why I’m wary of his relationship with Lucky. Even if she swears they’ll never be a couple again.

“Okay, I guess you’re not wrong there,” Phoenix says with a laugh.

“Feck me, Lucky,” Sumner is standing in the hallway leading to the bathrooms. He has one hand protectively cupping his own dick.

“You fucking bitch!” The drunk guy shrieks.

He is in no position to continue his rant. In fact, I’m pretty sure his testicles are somewhere up near his ribcage.

“Someone call the cops,” he cries. “That is assault.”

“Oh my God. Should we call 911?”

I turn my gaze to the blonde on the sofa. She catches me looking and sinks back on the seat, moving closer to her friend. No one is going to help the guy, nor will we call the police. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. I’m not in the mood to deal with this shit.

“I got it, G,” Shane tells me, as he steps around the coffee table and gives the women a wink. “Be right back.”

I take the bat from Lucky. She is glaring at the ass doubled up on the floor. Fuck, is he crying? The annihilation of your junk will do that to a man. If his dick isn’t bent and pissing blood for a few days, it’ll be a damn miracle.

Lucky smiles smugly as Shane grabs his arm and practically drags the guy to his feet. I put the bat away and frown at the broken glass. It held candy Lucky offers to clients.

“I told him we couldn’t fit him in. And he needed to sober up before anyone would tattoo him.”

Lucky has full sleeves and tattoos going up her throat, the majority done by me. I’ve known her for five years. I’d do anything to keep her safe, including trying to keep my best friend away from her.

She is a sweetheart, despite the way people perceive her from her appearance. When she isn’t working here five days a week, she’s teaching lyrical hip hop dance to kids at a local studio.

“And stay out,” Shane says, swiping his hands together as if he tossed garbage. He slams the door, making the window beside it rattle. “Oops, sorry, got carried away,” he grins sheepishly.

“Clean this up,” I tell him, indicating the broken glass and candy.

As our apprentice, Shane gets all the shitty jobs. He doesn’t need to worry about the women, they are getting their things to leave. Clearly, they don’t want the ink badly enough.

You get to know the type. They think they want a tattoo because it’s a novelty, something to tell their friends. They almost always regret it. So, I don’t give a shit if they’re leaving.

There is a guy in Phoenix’s chair who’s been scrolling on his phone throughout the whole exchange and doesn’t care what’s going on. He is one of Phoenix’s long-time clients, who has seen far worse things than a drunk getting his ass handed to him by a woman.

When the women leave, and Shane is busy cleaning shit up, I head back to my own client.

“Does that kind of thing happen often?” Nina asks.

“No,” I tell her. “Could you stand?”

“Sure,” she hops off the chair, not in the least perturbed by my gruff response.

She’s removed her top, wearing only a strapless bra. Nina has numerous tattoos on her upper arms, hands, and calves. I’m tattooing a custom chest and shoulder piece I’m excited about. We met a couple of times to finish the design and I finally got a free afternoon to start working on it.

My station is already sterilized, the ink set out on my tray, with the coil liner machine I’ve had since my apprentice days. There is a lot of intricate work and fine line details in the outline of this tattoo.

I’d apprenticed with the original owner of Blackhawk Ink for three years. I decided to make a change in the direction my life was taking when I started working here.

When Brick retired due to back problems, he offered me first refusal to take over. Phoenix, who was also working here, came on board to make up the money. Art is my passion and all the designs I do these days are custom. I’m well known in the industry for my free hand work.

I rarely do walk-ins, unless they’re serious about what they want. Not some infinity symbol or their partner, or kid’s name and date of birth bullshit. Long stupid quotes irritate the fuck out of me too.

There are other tattoo artists who will do that shit without a second thought. Not at Blackhawk Ink. Even Shane’s work is better than that. I’m training him to be the way I want him, to fit in with the ethos of my shop.

Once the stencil is on her skin and Nina is happy with the placement, we get her settled on the bed. I pull on gloves and sit down.

Tattooing someone is something I take seriously. This will be on them for life. I also take great pride in what I do. Fucking it up isn’t an option for me. Nina is okay with my silence and lays back quietly with her eyes closed.

I’ve gotten over the embarrassment of having to lean on intimate body parts. It isn’t a turn on for me when my arms are on a woman’s breasts, covered or uncovered. Nor do I bat an eye if they want tattoos around their pubic area. I’m desensitized to it, it’s work.

Not that I don’t appreciate a good set of tits, nor do I turn away from pussy, when it’s between me and a woman who wants my cock. Not a client who is trusting me not to ogle or touch her in a place she doesn’t need to be touched.

I’d been a piercer for a while during my apprenticeship and shoved needles through countless nipples, clitoral hoods, and dicks. It does nothing for me.

Small talk isn’t my thing. I prefer to focus on what I’m doing. Too bad Phoenix is a fucking talker. Usually with his clients, but he always has to try to pull everyone else in.

“Hey Lucky, you still on for drinks tonight?” he calls across the shop.

“Yeah,” she answers, re-stocking her candies into a new jar. “I’m in serious need of a drink, or four. It’s been a long week.”

“It’s only Wednesday,” Sumner points out, taking a seat at the counter.

“Which makes the drink even more necessary,” Lucky groans.

“You coming, G?” Phoenix asks me.

I don’t answer until I’ve finished an outline and pause to wipe the excess ink out of the way. “No.”

“Ah, man, come on, it’s been ages since you came out for a drink with us.”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy,” Lucky says, rounding her counter.

There are no more appointments today. She’ll deal with walk-ins if any come in. She sits down on the sofa by the window and puts her Doc Martin’s up on the coffee table.

I grunt in response to her comment.

“It’s been forever since we all went out together,” Lucky pouts.

“He’s turning into a bore,” Shane agrees. “When was the last time you didn’t shut up the shop and go home alone?”

“I have better things to do than watch your dumb ass get shit faced. Sorry,” I say to Nina.

“No need to apologize,” she smiles.

I nod at her, then get back to work.

“You better make sure Lucky leaves her bat behind,” Shane jokes as he goes to Sumner’s station and begins cleaning. Sumner has already done his tidy up, but Shane is doing a deep clean, making sure everything is put away and sterilized. “I can’t believe you nailed him in the nuts, Lucky.”

“My Abuela told me if you need to shut a man down, you do it so he can’t get back in your face.”

“Wise woman,” Nina says, tilting her neck to see Lucky, who raises a fist in female solidarity.

“But the balls?” Shane shakes his head, leaning against the mop. “I don’t think that guy will be able to have kids.”

Shane’s been here a year. A twenty-year-old college drop-out and massive disappointment to his rich family. They don’t care for his new job role, or him throwing away his college education and future career.

They cut him off for going against what they want for their son. I pay him well, for an apprentice. He is crashing at Sumner’s place, because he can’t afford to get his own apartment after being kicked out of the college dorms.

He’s blond haired and blue eyed with a baby face, but he’s steadily been getting inked. I have him doing work on his own legs as practice away from pig skins.

“Wonder if he’s still there?” Sumner asks, checking outside. “Fuck knows how he managed to walk away. That is gonna hurt for days.”

Lucky shrugs and pops a candy in her mouth.

“Not that I think she’s in the wrong,” Nina says. “But won’t it come back to bite you?”

“My boss got me the bat,” Lucky laughs.

Nina looks at me, but I am focused on my work. I’m used to them talking around me. I can usually zone out, but they’re relentless today. I doubt the guy will call the cops.

“Come on, Garrett, come out with us,” Lucky begs.

“Got a meeting with Nero.”

Phoenix pauses and looks over at me. He chews the viper bite piercings on his lower lips.

“What about afterwards?” Lucky asks.

I don’t miss how Phoenix shoots her a warning stare. She frowns back, then pinches her lips to keep from pestering me. The others are aware I have something going on outside of the shop, but I have never elaborated, and they don’t press me. If Nero calls, I drop everything.

“I’ll be gone late,” I say, irritated.

“He may not be with us in person, but his wallet will be,” Phoenix jokes to take the edge off the atmosphere.

Sumner cheers. Shane isn’t legal yet, but it hasn’t stopped him. The pub they frequent down the street is owned by friends, and they have no issue with serving him.

“Fuck off,” I mumble, knowing I’ll give them enough cash for at least a couple of drinks each.

I am making plenty of money from the shop, and my side jobs when they come up, so it is no skin off my nose. I don’t want for much, I’m not a materialistic guy.

I live in an apartment above the shop. Most people don’t know I own the building and have no neighbors. I have a very specific use for the second apartment.

Everyone shuts up. Lucky goes to deal with a walk-in, who Sumner takes to his station. Shane goes back to his own small area and sits drawing. I instilled in him when you’re not tattooing, you’re drawing. He is an exceptional artist. I have high hopes for him translating his art into tattooing. His parents have no clue about his talent, but I’ll do everything I can to nurture it.

I check in with Nina to make sure she is still okay with the pain, and she assures me all is well, so I carry on, ignoring all distractions.

I don’t know what Nero wants. He never gives me details over the phone. Calling me in means something is up. I do my duties, but most of my time is spent here. Nero expects me to drop everything when he needs me. And I always do.

There is no way out of this.

Nero is the President of the Blackhawk Disciples Motorcycle Club. And I am his Ghost.