Ink (Dirty Devils MC #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

SUTTON

Y ou know that feeling when you know you have to do something, but you’d rather stab yourself in the eye with the dullest object you can find than actually do it?

That’s me right now.

The intrusive thoughts have taken root, settling into a knot of anxiety deep in my stomach. The only thing keeping me moving forward is the simple truth that going back just isn’t an option.

I quickly glance down at my phone, holding it out in front of me like a compass.

If this thing sends me in the wrong direction one more time, I’m going to scream.

I’ve made a wrong turn twice now, each sending me backtracking a few blocks.

I can’t tell if the walking feature on my GPS isn’t loading properly or if it’s more user error.

Thank god I left early.

It’s the only positive thing about having anxiety. It doesn’t let me leave late. If I leave on time, that’s still late in my brain and I spiral. There’s just so many unknowns that can happen between point a and point b. Too many what ifs.

The automated voice tells me I have 500 more feet and I’m there. The ad I found online said it was on the corner, so that’s a little helpful at least.

Glancing at my phone again, I check the time.

Fifteen minutes early.

Maybe the universe is on my side for once. Lord knows it hasn’t been for basically my entire life.

Seeing a neon tattoo sign come into sight, I know I’ve made it to the right place. Before I can psych myself out, I pull open the door to Black Raven Ink.

Stepping inside, I immediately feel out of place.

The black-and-white checkered print floor clashes with my khaki dress pants, gold ballet flats that have seen better days, and cream blouse that I thrifted.

If I’m being honest, this whole outfit went out of style ten years ago.

I triple checked the ad to make sure it said business casual, and my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

With nothing but a few suitcases and ten dollars to my name, this was the best I could manage.

Tucking my phone in my back pocket so it’s out of sight, I take in the vacant front desk, making me wonder where I’m supposed to go from here.

There’s a huge part of me that wants to turn around and walk right back out that door and act like this never happened.

No one has seen me. They would just think I didn’t show.

But do I really want that?

No.

I vowed that version of Sutton died the day I got the hell out of my own personal nightmare.

I’ll never forget it, that’s for dang sure.

I’m not the same girl as I was before. I used to feel sorry for myself, wondering how the universe could keep dealing the same person a shitty hand.

Now, I’m looking at it as a lesson. Without it, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to leave.

Taking a deep breath before I lose what little courage I have left, I call out over the rock music that’s playing throughout the shop. “Hello?”

I wait for what is probably only thirty seconds but feels like the longest awkward five minutes of my life for someone to come out, but no one does.

Where is everyone?

Clearing my throat, I try again, only this time louder. “Hello?” I cringe as I hear my voice clear as day over the music.

No one likes a loud-mouthed woman, Sutton.

“One sec!” I hear a male yell from the back.

A guy that has to be at least a foot taller than my five-foot-three frame emerges from the back.

My eyes widen as I take him in. It doesn’t look like he has any surface left that isn’t covered in a tattoo.

His ears are stretched with mid-size gauges, and his spikey hair is going in multiple directions.

Guys like him always make the ‘I just rolled out of bed’ look hot.

I can feel my face flush at that. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. I shouldn’t be thinking about any man like that because I’ve sworn them off. All they want to do is keep you trapped, and I refuse to live another day like that.

It takes every last bit of courage my anxiety has not swallowed up to look him in the eye and offer the best half-assed smile I can muster. I’m sure it’s obvious to him that I don’t belong.

“Are you here for an ear piercing?” he asks as he walks around the vacant reception desk, peering down at an appointment book. “Tommy isn’t in until one, but I’m sure he would come in early if you didn’t feel like waiting around.”

I should be insulted that he’s assuming I’m here to get my ears pierced, but I can’t blame him.

I look like I should be attending a luncheon for a church group.

“Uh—” I start, but clamp my mouth shut. His intense gaze makes me nervous.

I can feel a bead of sweat starting at the base of my neck from being put on the spot like this.

I would bet the last ten dollars in my bank account my face matches the color of the gauges in his ears.

“No. I’m actually here for an interview.

” I watch as his eyes grow wide. “The, um, receptionist position? I applied online…” I trail off softly, wishing the ground would swallow me up to save me from this embarrassment .

Was the job ad some kind of prank?

“You want to work in a tattoo shop?” he asks slowly, his tone full of disbelief.

Old Sutton would have never applied to a place like this. This type of atmosphere has been shelved away in the little section of my brain that houses how I wish my life would be. The part that houses all of your desires and best-kept secrets. But new Sutton?

New Sutton is done letting someone tell her what she should and shouldn’t be doing. New Sutton is going to finally get something she wants out of life.

“Yes.” I swallow, raising my voice to what is a normal volume to most but loud for me. “I want the job. I’m good with administrative tasks.”

“Okay.” He inclines his head and raises his eyebrows. “Looks like I’m doing your interview. Ink’s not in yet. I’m Gage,” he says, holding out his hand.

Jesus.

His hand is as big as my head.

I grasp it lightly, praying that he doesn’t feel how bad I’m shaking. “Sutton. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Sutton. Let’s sit down over here.” He comes back out from behind the desk and leads me to the front of the shop, where a small futon-style sofa and two chairs sit by the window.

He gives me a small smile. “I don’t have your application on me to look over everything. I’m sure Ink has it somewhere in the back. Do you have any admin experience?”

Well, that makes me feel great. He wasn’t even expecting me.

“Yes.” I nod, swallowing the awkwardness of this conversation down. “I used to be a personal assistant at a law firm.” At least I was until it “wasn’t a good look anymore,” but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, fancy.” He lets out a low whistle as his eyebrows shoot up.

It sounds fancy and looks fancy because of the clothes you have to wear, so I guess for all intents and purposes, it is fancy. If only it came with a fancy paycheck for the amount of crap you had to put up with.

“You know what?” Gage starts off, slapping his palms on his knees. “I don’t know how to fucking interview someone. I say you’re hired and if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, yeah?”

My mouth parts open slightly as I try to process what he’s saying.

“Yeah,” I say in disbelief.

I can’t believe I got the job just like that.

“Cool. Tomorrow at one work for you?”

“That’s perfect,” I whisper.

I can feel the stress finally starting to ease its grip. The longer I went without a job, the more the doubt crept in, making me question if I could really make it on my own. If only working in a tattoo shop is as easy as it seems.