Ink and Insults (New Gothenburg Ink #1)

Chapter 1

RENSHAW “REN” BOOTH

New Gothenburg. The city was a pit, but I was here for one thing and one thing only—chaos.

My target? Luke Booth, my older brother.

“What did you say you moved here for?” The blonde, my real estate agent, peered carefully at me as I took a short walk around the empty shop she was showing me.

Cans of spray paint littered the dusty wooden floor and a canvas of the lakefront from the previous tenant hung crookedly on the exposed brick wall.

Dead flowers had wilted and flopped over the edge of a glass vase sitting on the built-in front counter.

Someone had packed up their shit and left as fast as they could, which made sense, since I’d sent a “friend” in to pay the old tenant to evacuate.

A hundred grand usually got people moving.

The one good thing about being from a wealthy family was cash, and plenty of it. My trust fund would outlast me unless I decided to build a gigayacht.

The previous owner had sold art supplies, and he could do that anywhere, so I didn’t have an iota of guilt for bullying him out of my way. Anywhere except in this shop. It was mine. As they say, location is the name of the game.

Cindy! Her name finally popped into my head.

She smoothed down her short pink skirt. Her boobs were practically falling out of the low-cut white shirt, and while I could appreciate a good rack, I wasn’t here to get distracted by a pretty woman.

I had a target to romance, one Luke would never forgive me for when I shattered him into a thousand jagged pieces.

And when I was done, I’d slice Luke’s heart out with those shards. Make him bleed.

It was the least he deserved for what he’d done to Andrea.

“I’m a tattoo artist.” I gave Cindy a brilliant, fake smile that was all mouth and no teeth.

She frowned and pointed at the wall to our left. “Across the alley there’s a tattoo parlor. The Ink Well. You can see it from your front door. I don’t know if it’d be a good idea to put another one here. I know a nice spot farther into the city.”

I spun the thick silver ring on the middle finger of my right hand. The slick sensation was grounding, reminding me of why I was here. “I want this place. It factors into my multistep business plan.”

It’s so fucking perfect because the other tattoo parlor belonged to Paris Deiters, one of the bikers in Luke’s stupid gang.

I was going to destroy his business any way I could.

Anyone who had a taste of Luke in their life was going down, joining my older brother in the hellfire of retribution.

Every single one of them would blame Luke for their shared nightmare.

I’d make sure they laid each piece of shit problem at his feet.

Cindy cocked her head, then shrugged. Her platinum blond pigtails made her look like she belonged in a tattoo parlor, especially since the ends were apple red, as if they’d been dipped in a can of paint.

Fun and sexy. “It’s three thousand two hundred and fifty dollars a month.

Prime real estate. You’re on a busy street.

Lots of foot traffic. The outdoor mall is only a few blocks away.

” She glanced toward the large windows that spanned the front of the shop.

Outside, cars streamed past on the street and a steady parade of people walked by, most clutching coffees.

“I’m not sure how you’ll do. As I said, the Ink Well is next door and it’s been there for a while.

Very popular. You’d struggle, being a newbie in the city.

” She slid her gaze back to me, eyes wide and pleading.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice.

“And the owner is a biker. Part of one of the clubs here. I can’t promise he’s not dangerous.

I really can show you a better location where there isn’t much competition.

” She all but got down on her knees to beg.

I shook my head and gestured around at the mess.

A mouse scampered across the room and the faint sweetly rotten scent of mildew permeated the air.

By the time I was done with this place, it’d be spick-and-span.

Perfection. As on point as the tattoo artists who’d work inside.

“This is fire, Cindy. Exactly what I need. I’ll sign the contract today. ”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows dropped low on her forehead and she brushed a pigtail over her shoulder.

“Are you sure?” She stroked a hand across her chest, eyelashes low as she glanced at me from underneath.

I didn’t know if she wanted to get in my pants or if she was trying to sell a more expensive space, but I wasn’t interested.

Not right now. The Ren who’d lived in LA would’ve been all over her, maybe on his knees with his head up her skirt, making her see stars, but I needed to stay on target.

“Yeah.” I studied the shop again, excitement expanding behind my ribs until my lungs were ready to explode.

It’d been a long time since I’d been this committed and ready for destruction.

“Fucking. Fantastic.” I pulled out my glasses case from the pocket of my jeans and slid on the horn-rimmed reading glasses, then threw a wad of cash at her.

She stared, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Uh.”

“Here’s your tip, if you can get the paperwork started ASAP.”

She flashed a flawless white smile and didn’t hesitate.

We went through the documents she had for me on her phone, and I signed all the necessary sections. When we were done, she passed me the keys, and I happily took them.

“A guy like you, new to the city. Maybe you need someone who knows all the hot spots to show you around?” She smiled and tapped my cheek, sliding a sharp red fingernail down to my chin.

Her pretty lips glistened with a glittery sheen that probably tasted like candy, if the enticing sweetness wafting from her was any indication.

God, sometimes life wasn’t fair. Where was she a week ago? My old school buddy, Ripley, and I would’ve happily shared her. We did that sometimes, when he wasn’t traveling for work.

“I would, but I have a lot of work to do. I already got my tattoo license from the city of New Gothenburg, so the only thing holding me back is me.” I ushered her to the door. The sooner I got her out of here, the sooner I could start.

She sighed playfully as she sashayed outside onto the sidewalk into the late-afternoon sunshine.

“You have my number if you change your mind!” She raised a hand and was on her way, phone at her ear before she got to her black Mercedes.

It was amazing that she’d found street parking during rush hour.

I watched until her car disappeared, then slid my glasses safely back in the case and slipped them into my pocket.

I strode outside and took the short walk next door to the competition.

The Ink Well was lit up in neon green over the door.

The jangle of the bell echoed as I stepped across the threshold.

This place was cute. Definitely not high end by LA standards, but it was spotless inside.

Behind the counter stood an attractive man with short dark hair.

I couldn’t see many tattoos on him, but I did notice the simple but elegant design on the back of his hand.

A pair of scissors, thorns, and a rose that swept up to his wrist. According to the detailed report Revere Moyle, my private investigator, had given me, this was Jake North-Greenwood, one of PD’s employees.

A nobody. And he definitely wasn’t the person I was trawling for.

All this research had been slow going because no one who worked in town wanted anything to do with a project that had them following around a member of the Kings of Men MC. It was stupid.

They weren’t even scary.

Jake leaned on the counter beside a turning rack of stainless-steel jewelry, grin wide across his angular face. “Hey, man. Welcome. Can I help you?”

“Do you own this place?” I knew the answer already, but if I wanted to play this cool, I needed to bide my time.

“Nope, that’s PD. He’s not in.” Jake pointed at the one tattoo chair that was free. “If you’re looking for ink, I can help you. I have an open space in my schedule today. Your artist packed some fire into those designs you have.” He nodded down at my inked sleeves.

My black tank top left most of me bare for him to see the collection of black ink spread across every available inch of my skin, from my hands, up my arms, across my shoulders, and around my neck.

I had some on the sides of my head, too, where my hair was shaved so I could show them off.

Jake followed the ink with his inquisitive eyes.

I understood getting that look from another artist. He was appreciating the lines of my work, evaluating the shading and technique.

Checking out other people’s ink came with the territory.

It gave us inspiration. A goal to reach.

“Where’d you get the work done? It’s sick.”

“Thanks, man.” I offered him a full-blown smile, the one that always got people to love me. I pointed at him. “I know your face. Have we met?” We hadn’t, but Jake wasn’t anonymous, either.

Jake chuckled. “No.”

I snapped my fingers. “You’re married to that hockey player from the New Gothenburg Blizzards. What’s his name? David?”

“Declan. His name is Declan Greenwood-North, and yeah, I’m married to him and our other husband, too. Logan. Well, as married as you can be in this slowly progressing world.” He smiled sadly.

I shifted closer and rocked on my feet when I stopped in front of the counter, acting as casual as I could.

“Right. You’re in the throuple. Hey, that’s cool, man.

Real cool. I like that you aren’t ashamed of your relationship.

You and your husbands give the haters the big middle finger and that’s fucking awesome. ”