Chapter Thirteen
Jill
Walking through the door of Stained Heart Tattoos a week later, my eyes move around the space. It’s a nice place, nicer than I was expecting.
“Hi, can I help you?” Despite the tattoos covering the plus-size woman at the reception desk, her smile is as bright as her pink hair. There’s something about her that radiates sunshine.
“I made an appointment to get a tattoo,” I say, looking past the reception desk. “My name is Jill.”
Her eyes move from the computer screen to really look at me, making me pause. I’m about to ask her if something’s up, but then she smiles.
“Jill’s a pretty name. It suits you,” she says, clicking at the computer. “I’m Stevie. I’ll have you follow me.”
I follow her past the front desk to the workstations. Two men and a woman lie on tattoo chairs while artists ink their skin with needles. Dane sits at a workstation in the far back corner, sketching at a desk.
“Welcome to the chapel.” Stevie gestures around with her arm. I’m not surprised by the amount of black in the interior design. With sleek black walls and expensive-looking equipment, the historic building adds an air of charm enhanced with modern fixtures. The stained glass windows that rise several stories to the cathedral ceilings are stunning showstoppers in the otherwise monochromatic interior, adding both color and light to the space.
My eyes catch on the images laid into the stained glass windows—an angel holding a bleeding heart in his hand, a woman in biblical garb weeping, a horse geared for battle—they’re beautiful. I can see why Gage kept them.
“I’m not built for church, so I hope this is as close as I get,” I scoff. Narrow wooden pews and organized religion are two things I have no interest in. Stevie laughs at that, nodding to two of the other tattoo artists. One is stocky and tan, with thick black hair styled in Viking braids. The other is bald, with tattoos covering his head up to his hairline and large green gauges in both ears.
“You’re definitely built for worship, Angel. I’d join you in the confessional any day,” the Viking says. I roll my eyes as he makes a show of checking me out. He’s not unattractive. In fact, he’s kinda hot, but looking at him does nothing for me. Stevie swings out her hand to roughly knock him upside the head.
“Shut up, Saint. Your pedo ‘stache is bad enough. No one wants to go into the booths with you.”
He reaches up to touch the little line of hair on his top lip before shooting an accusing look on the bald man tattooing a woman in the next chair over. “That’s it, I’m shaving this damn thing.”
The bald guy looks up from his work to shake his head. “Not unless you wanna pay up. You’ve got two more weeks, Nacho Libre.”
“Dammit,” Saint groans. “I’m never playing pool with you again, Orion.”
The bald guy—Orion, I assume—snorts at that.
“God, I can’t wait for Vanessa to come back from L.A. I’m so sick of these whiney little boys,” Stevie says, flashing me an apologetic look. Saint grins and opens his mouth, obviously about to say something else to me, but Stevie cuts him off before he gets the chance. “Seriously, Saint, don’t even bother. This is Jill.”
The silence that falls over the room is startling.
Needles stop, conversations halt—no one even breathes too heavily. I look around at all of them, my eyes narrowing in confusion. Saint looks at Stevie and gestures to me. “As in Jill Jill? Gage’s Jill?”
Stevie nods, crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied smile at how the man deflates. This time, when Saint’s eyes move over me, it’s with reverence. He nods a few times in understanding, “Ok, yeah, I get it.”
“It’s just Jill,” I state firmly. Irritation itches through me like a heat flash at the implication I’m something that belongs to Gage. I don’t belong to anyone, debt or no debt.
Speak of the Devil.
Like the mention of his name summoned him from the underworld, Gage strides into the chapel through the dark doorway in the back corner.
“Well, well, well, look who we have here,” his deep voice sends a thrill through me and makes my pussy throb. He’s wearing a black tank top that shows off his bulging tattooed biceps, strong forearms, and large, rough hands to perfection. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it as he looks me over from head to toe.
He’s way too hot for his own good. And mine.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, striding closer.
“I have an appointment to get a tattoo,” I say. “My first one.”
“You never forget your first.”
“It won’t be the first virginity I lose in a church.” It’s the truth. I’ve come full circle—though I didn’t come in that church when I was sixteen.
I’m sure there’s some irony in there somewhere.
“Tell me what you want.” Those words coming out of Gage’s mouth could bring any woman to her knees—but I’m here for a reason, and not even Gage and his wicked mouth will distract me.
At least not until later.
“I want a martini glass,” I say, hooking my thumb in the waistband of my mini skirt and pulling it down to show the expanse of skin above my pussy where my thigh meets my stomach. “Here.” I turn around and flip up the hem of my skirt to show my ass swallowing my thong. “Or maybe here, I haven’t decided.” All eyes are on me when I look over my shoulder. After they’ve all gotten a good look, I drop the fabric back into place and turn back around to face them.
“Come with me,” Gage says deeply, his eyes hungry to get started.
“Oh, I didn’t make myself clear. My appointment isn’t with you.” My eyes slide over to Dane, who now stands in the group. “You’ll take good care of me. Right, Dane?”
“Fuck yeah,” Dane mutters before clearing his throat. “I mean, yeah, I can do that for you.”
Gage’s jaw clenches as his gaze cuts between me and the other man, his eyes promising pain and suffering. After a breath, he leans his head back, running his tongue across the edge of his teeth, and grins—the smile of a serial killer making plans for his next victim.
“Go ahead. I hope he gives you an experience you won’t forget,” he says, the violence residing in his tone chilling the room by several degrees. “I won’t.”
It’s a promise. A death note.
Everyone in the room freezes—everyone except me. I walk towards him, completely at ease. Stopping only a foot from him, I look over at Dane. “Lead the way.”
The fact that Dane moves shows just how stupid he really is. Everyone else in this building, including the ones only here for tattoos, can tell that Gage is deadly. And he isn’t bluffing. I know it—in fact, I’m counting on it. And Dane’s sealing his own fate right now.
No wonder he’s such a shitty gambler. He doesn’t know how to read a room.
I follow Dane into one of the confessional booths along the back wall. Turning around, I make eye contact with Gage as Dane reaches for the curtain. Gage’s dark eyes bore into me. His jaw clenched tightly as he stands like a harbinger of death plotting his vengeance. His dark expression is calm as still water, but the anger is rolling off of him in waves as tension crowds the room.
Stevie glances nervously between her boss and me, and I know she can feel it too. I flash Gage a wink just before the heavy black fabric closes and severs our connection.
“Alright,” Dane says once it’s just the two of us. He rubs his hands together eagerly, his eyes traveling over me. “Come lay down in the chair and let me get a good look at my canvas.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes as I recline on the large black leather tattoo chair. He sits on a rolling stool next to the chair, leaning in close as I tug down the waistband of my skirt again to expose the expanse of my bikini line. A gross humming sound comes from Dane’s throat as he stares at my bare skin, his hands running across the smooth surface.
“You shaved for me,” he murmurs in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“I’m waxed,” I respond flatly. He’s not special, and I don’t like him thinking he is. But he still grins at that—and for a split second, I consider torching this whole plan and just stabbing this creep myself.
Using Gage’s sociopathic tendencies to exact my revenge on this weasel was a good plan, and it’ll definitely work. By the look on Gage’s face when the curtain was closing, I wouldn’t be surprised if he set Dane on fire right here in the shop. This asshole’s suffering will be delicious, and it’s the only reason I’ll put up with this cockroach touching me long enough for this tattoo.
Dane sketches up a simple design of a black and white martini glass made of clean, delicate lines to stencil onto my skin. The sting of the tattoo needle is thrilling, making me wish different hands were holding the ink gun—wicked, tattooed hands adorned with silver rings.
The whole process takes under an hour, though it feels so much longer. The sounds of the tattoo shop behind the curtain are the only distraction that keeps me from crawling out of my skin until Dane finally leans back.
“Alright, you’re done,” he announces, handing me a hand-held mirror. “And it looks pretty good if I do say so myself.”
I might not be a tattoo expert, but even I can tell he did a mediocre job on a very simple design. For the amount of time his hands were on my body, you’d think he was tattooing something with more detail. But despite the uneven line work and unsaturated black, I couldn’t care less about the tattoo. It’s served its purpose.
“Great,” I say simply, which he takes as a compliment. He grins at me, leaning closer. He opens his mouth again, probably to do something stupid like ask me out, but he doesn’t get the chance.
“Dane, your next appointment is here,” Stevie says, her head appearing around the side of the curtain. Her eyes connect with mine, and I have to bite back a smile. She’s here to rescue me.
“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Dane replies, completely missing our silent conversation, his eyes still on me.
“Her appointment was supposed to start ten minutes ago, and she’s got a schedule to keep. Now quit dragging ass and get out here.” Stevie’s insistent tone makes it clear she’s not going to let him brush her off. Dane rolls his eyes but still shoves his stool back and stands up to acquiesce. Clearly Stevie’s the one running the show around here.
I like her.
Taking the opportunity to escape, I follow when Stevie ducks out of the curtain. Pulling back the fabric, I come face to face with Death himself. Gage looms just on the other side of the curtain, every muscle in his incredible body radiating with tension. His sexy jawline is sharp as a knife as he clenches his teeth against his anger.
I look up at him, forcing my body to remain at ease while he stares me down. His attention sets me on fire, every inch of me lighting up under his gaze.
“You’re very eager to see it, huh?” I tug down my skirt to show him the ink now permanently etched into my skin. “Do you like it?” I ask, raising my brows expectantly. Gage barely glances at the damn thing, his fury swirling around him like a dark cloud.
“Do you?” he counters, his deep voice rough and edged with violence. The sound makes my heart race and my pulse jump.
“You were right. It was an experience I’ll never forget.” I lean up and press a sensual kiss to his jaw. “I thought of you the entire time.” I step back before he has a chance to get a hold of me. Just then, Dane steps out of the booth, skirting around us.
His timing couldn’t be more perfect.
Gage’s eyes land on Dane like a vulture eyeing roadkill. The malice sharpening his gaze sends a thrill through me, lust heating my blood until I’m wet and throbbing for him. But instead of leaning closer like my body is begging me to, I take another step back.
“I’ve gotta go,” I announce, bringing his attention back to me. “I wouldn’t want to disrupt your day at work.” Seeing that he’s about to reach out and stop me, I evade his grasp to saunter through the chapel towards the front desk.
When I pull out my wallet to pay, Stevie flashes me a look that says she’s not sure what’s going on, but she approves. She announces my total and accepts my credit card, her eyes glancing past me every once in a while. I don’t have to look to know what’s happening behind me.
“Here you go,” Stevie hands me my receipt, an entertained smile tugging on her lips. “Please come again soon.”
“Oh, I definitely will.” I flash her a bright smile. “Bye, Stevie.” With that, I strut out the door, leaving the chaos I designed in my wake. Stepping outside, I breathe in the fresh summer air and slide on my sunglasses.
Wow, what a beautiful day.