9. Rogue
Six o’clock work for you?
Perfect, I don’t have to work.
The tail-end of Possum and Skye’s conversation plays over and over in my mind, taunting me with its potential meanings wrapped up in innocent words. It shouldn’t matter one damn bit if the two of them hang out or hook up, but for some reason, it matters. It really fucking matters.
Because you’ve liked her from afar for over two years.
Whether or not I like Skye is irrelevant. I’m her employer, and nothing could ever happen between us.
But you want it to.
“Bro, are you even listening to me?”
I whip my head up at Knuckles’ tone. I’ve been at Fists of Fury with him reviewing the final costs for the gym’s grand opening and the party we’re throwing that night to celebrate, but my mind is clearly elsewhere.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “What’d you say?”
“I asked if I should get all the booze from Purgatory, or if I should spread the love in the liquor stores in town.”
“Both. The bar will supply half, but the local businesses could use the bump. Spread the love.”
Knuckles grins. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. We’ll be open before we know it.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
Knuckles is the newest patched member of Saints Purgatory, and he’s young. He’s got what it takes to make Fists of Fury successful, but will he live up to his potential? That’s yet to be seen.
“Fuck yeah, I’m ready.”
It takes another two hours to solidify everything for the grand opening, and when I leave the gym, I’m more than ready to be on my bike. Unfortunately, I’m not on it long because Persuasion Ink is only a few blocks away, but a few minutes is better than nothing.
Skye’s car is parked on the street in front of the shop, and I stare at it for a long moment as if it’ll reveal all of its owner’s secrets.
The neon sign in the window flashes ‘open’, and I cut the Harley’s engine. The rational part of my brain reminds me that Skye loves tattoos and that’s why she’s here. But there’s nothing rational about my reasoning for being here. No, the irrational and jealous part of me demands I storm the building and beat my brother to a pulp.
I take a deep breath as I push through the door. Sammie, the only female tattoo artist Possum hired, lifts her head from the design she’s drawing.
“Hey, Rogue,” she greets. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“Wasn’t planned.”
Sammie shrugs. “‘Kay. Possum’s in the back with a client. I think it’s your bartender…”
Her voice fades as I stride through the shop toward the room Possum uses. I pause at the door, steeling myself against what I’m about to walk into.
When I turn the knob and push the door open, my breath hitches in my chest at the sight before me. Skye is lying flat on her back on the table, and her shirt is draped over the stool in the corner. The black lace bra hugging her tits leaves very little to the imagination, and I despise the fact that Possum is as close as he is to them.
“You’re getting a tattoo,” I say needlessly.
Without taking his eyes off his work, Possum chuckles. “Why else would she be here, bro?”
Why else indeed?
“Are you gonna tell me what the tattoo means?” Possum asks her when I remain silent.
“Nah.” There’s a teasing lilt in her voice, and it sends sparks dancing over my nerve endings.
What I wouldn’t give to have that tone directed at me.
“Boyfriend,” Rogue states matter-of-factly.
Skye’s eyes dart to his face, but she doesn’t respond.
It doesn’t take long before Possum finishes the design and wipes away any blood and excess ink.
“I’m guessing you don’t need aftercare instructions,” he says as he gestures toward her ink-covered body.
“I’m good.” Skye smiles as she stands and walks to the mirror. “Wow, Possum. This is better than I imagined.”
I stare at her reflection, but she quickly turns so my brother can cover the tattoo with a plastic film to protect it.
“I’m definitely gonna come in again and let you have your way with me.” Skye’s skin flushes as her words sink in, and my entire body tenses. “I-I-I mean, I’ll be back for more.”
Jesus, I feel like a third wheel.
Possum puffs out his chest like a proud peacock. “A girl after my own heart.”
I lean against the wall and shove my hands into my pockets to keep from beating the piss out of him.
Skye puts her shirt on and grabs her bag. “How much do I owe you?”
Possum glances at me and smirks as if he knows their whole exchange is driving me insane. “One fifty,” replies, his gaze remaining on me.
A quiet growl creeps up the back of my throat, and Skye’s eyes shift to mine before she ducks her head to dig in her bag. Normally, the design he just completed would cost three hundred bucks.
She hands him two one-hundred-dollar bills. “Here.”
“Gimme a minute to grab your change from Sammie in the front,” Possum states as he moves past her toward the door.
But Skye stops him with a wave of her hand. “No need. Keep the change. I’m just grateful you got me in so quick.”
“Friends and family always come first.”
Skye smiles. “Um, well, thank you.” She drapes her purse over her shoulder, careful not to let the crossbody strap touch her new ink. “See you around.”
She quickly leaves the room, and Sammie’s voice carries back from the front as she tells Skye to have a good night.
“Did you need something?” Possum asks me.
“What?”
“You didn’t come here to stand in the corner like a creep and watch me tat up your employee,” Possum says as he begins cleaning up.
“Are you hooking up with Skye?” I blurt, unable to bite my tongue.
His head whips up, and he glares at me. “Excuse me?” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him expectantly. “Rogue, I don’t know why you care, but no, I’m not sleeping with her.”
“I care because she’s an employee of the club.”
Possum narrows his eyes at me as if assessing the truth of my statement. Then his shoulders slump, and he chuckles. “Fuckin’ hell, brother.”
“What?”
“You like her.”
“Huh?”
“Play stupid all you want. You like Skye, and you came here to stake your claim.”
“You’ve got it all wrong,” I insist. “She works for me. I like her as much as I like any of our employees.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Possum strides past me and walks toward the front of the shop. I follow him, not ready to end our conversation.
“Go ahead and head home, Sammie,” he says. “I’ll close up.”
Sammie looks from Possum to me and grins. “Get the information you needed?”
“What’re you talking about?”
Sammie grins. “Well, you weren’t back there long enough to get new ink, and it’s not time to do the books so I’m guessing you came here to check up on what’s going on between that girl and Possum.” She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head. “How’d I do?”
“I think your boss just told you to go home,” I snap.
“Yeah, he did,” she agrees. “But?—”
“Go home, Sammie,” Possum barks.
She sighs dramatically. “You guys are no fun.”
With that, she grabs the duffel she always carries with her, the one full of art supplies, and leaves. Possum turns to face me and glares.
“If you like Skye, own it, man. And whatever your issues are with the fact that you like her, don’t fucking take it out on my people.”
Shit.