Royal Sons MC

Chapter Four

“What do you think?”He held a mirror out for King to take. The big son of a bitch didn’t have a lot of open canvas on his body, but Tymber had taken the art already there as a layer beneath what he was putting on him. The end result was kickass, in his opinion. Luckily, the president of the MC agreed, his dark eyes taking in the two clasped hands holding a rosary with the words Brothers Forever. Even In Death was written along the cross that hung from the praying hands.

“Looks great, man. Thanks for getting me in at the last minute.” King shrugged into his leather cut, his dark eyes not missing anything. “If you ever need anything, give me a holler.” He held his hand out, shaking Tymber’s.

“I appreciate that. I don’t need to give you aftercare instructions, do I?” he asked, shaking his head at the absurd notion. The other man had almost as many tattoos as he did.

“I’m good. See you around,” King stated, his hand releasing Tymber’s. “Remember what I said. If you need anything, give me a holler. The Sons will come without a question.”

Tymber agreed to call if the need ever arose. In the back of his mind, he contemplated what could happen that he’d need the help of the club. He knew about patches and their significance, which was how he knew King was the president. Not seeing a 1% patch on the cut didn’t mean they weren’t an outlaw club. It just meant they didn’t announce it to the world, or he missed it. Nobody could ever say he was a fool, and only a fool would’ve asked a member of the Royal Sons MC if they were or not. He preferred to keep his head attached to his unbeaten body. Thank you very much. He wasn’t scared to take on any of the club members one-on-one. However, he was pretty sure if you fucked with one, you fucked with them all. He hadn’t survived fucking breast cancer, only to get his ass handed to him by one of the brothers.

“You look like you’re contemplating a big problem. Want my advice?” King asked from the doorway.

He had to shake himself to pull his mind back to the present. “Hit me with it.”

King chuckled. “Never tell a brother to hit you. He just might. Whatever is bugging you, don’t let it consume too much of your time,” King warned.

Tymber watched through the window as King got on his Harley, the bike rumbling to life seconds before he pulled out into traffic, several other bikes falling in line behind him. Yeah, he wouldn’t forget the other man’s words.

A text dinged from where he’d left his phone. Tymber ignored it while he locked up the front of the shop. He cleaned up his station, then gazed around at the space. Besides him and his two partners, Ember, and Lincoln, they had three other artists who worked for them, plus a receptionist. This late at night, it was just him, and he could appreciate all they’d achieved, the three of them, after leaving the military. None of them left the place dirty or cluttered, something that had been drilled into them while in boot camp. However, he wasn’t a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old with a chip on his shoulder anymore. After five years, he’d known the life of a soldier wasn’t his. Between the three of them, they bought the location where their shop was located, creating a business he was proud of. There was an apartment above the shop that each had used at different times, like tonight when he didn’t feel like riding the fifteen miles home. Bone tired was what he felt.

After he reassured himself the place was locked up, he shook the gate they’d installed along the front of the room, ensuring it was secure. If vandals tried to break in through the glass front, they couldn’t get through without going through the locked gate.

He picked up his phone, raising one brow at the text. “Who do you think you are, my daddy,” he mumbled, his fingers flying over the keys while he headed toward the back. The immediate text back had him chuckling. He pressed the call button for Lincoln instead of responding via text.

“What up?” Lincoln’s deep voice echoed down the line.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You got cameras in the shop I don’t know about?” He entered the code into the lock at the top of the stairs, glad they’d had the foresight to install one that didn’t require a key.

“Shit, I don’t need to watch you to know what’s going on. The motion sensors alert me when someone walks across the threshold. From there, I pull up the app from the security company, just like you could. I didn’t know you were working late?”

He explained about the appointment with King and how the other man had wanted the piece done yesterday, which in Tymber’s world meant right that minute.

“You better stay on their good side,” Lincoln warned.

“Thanks, ma, I surely will do just that,” he said in a fake drawl before locking the door behind him. A nightlight glowed from one of the outlets, but the curtains in the front were open, allowing light from the streetlights and the moon to illuminate the space.

“I’m glad to hear you’re taking this shit seriously. I’ll be in the shop early. Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?” Lincoln was one of his best friends, his warning coming from the heart rather than him just being a jackass.

Like him, Link had both arms tatted up along with his back. However, Tymber’s chest now sported a huge piece over his scar, blending it with the artwork. Some days, he didn’t think about what he’d have done if he’d not found out he had the big C word so early. He’d likely be dead instead of standing in the middle of the apartment listening to Link mumble. “Shoot me a text when you’re on the way. If I’m still here, I’ll take you up on that,” he agreed, hanging up after a few more words.

Tymber went to the bedroom he used and looked at the clock beside the bed. The bright light of the numbers swam in his vision. “Fuck, I’m whipped.” He pressed a button on top, dimming the lights. He was going to sleep for the next twelve hours. His eyes caught onto the last numbers that had called him. Link, King, and Ivy. His thumb hovered over the keys to call Ivy with the thought of her. Without giving himself a chance to back out, he pressed the call button, waiting for Ivy’s voice or her voicemail to pick up. It was after midnight, so he wouldn’t presume she’d be up, but he wanted to hear her voice. After doing the memorial piece for King, his mind was a jumbled mess. Hearing a sleepy Ivy answer had his dick jerking in his jeans.

“Hey, lumberjack, what’s going on?”

Her tone wasn’t angry at him calling so late, which gave him hope. “I just finished doing a tattoo and thought I’d see if you were still up.”

The sound of fabric shifting had him imagining her in bed, nekkid. If only he were there to see for himself. Instead, he stripped his shirt off while holding the phone out. Next, he stripped out of his jeans, letting them lay where he dropped them. Her deep breath through the phone met his announcement.

“I want a tattoo of a quote. Do you have any appointments open, or maybe one of your other artists could do it?”

Tymber climbed in bed, his instant denial never spoken. If Ivy wanted a tattoo, it would be him inking her perfect skin, not anyone else. “What do you have in mind?” he asked, getting comfortable while she spoke. “Words on a body can be tough. Do you want to write it yourself, and I use it to make a stencil, or do you trust me and my writing?”

“I have shit for penmanship. How’s yours?”

Again, the sound of her shifting around made all kinds of thoughts swirl in his brain, but he ruthlessly pushed them back. “How about this? Tomorrow, you come to the shop, and we’ll figure it out?” Seeing her again shouldn’t excite him as much as it did. But, fuck, he’d never really wanted or needed to see a woman the next day, not even ones he’d somewhat dated. His mind ground to a halt. Had he been a dick all this time, he’d considered himself one of the good guys? Mentally, he shook the thought away. He was always upfront with women and never led them to believe he was the forever kind.

“I can do that. I, uh, I have some errands to run in the morning. What time is your last appointment?”

IVY CHEWED ON HER THUMBNAIL, the taste of acrylic filling her mouth when she bit too hard, breaking off a piece of her pretty nail color. Another errand she’d have to do tomorrow, or rather later today since it was almost one in the morning. Tymber gave her the time he’d be free, his tone not revealing how he felt about seeing her again. She took a massive leap of faith and told him she’d see him at six the following evening. Before she could hang up, she heard him speaking.

“What did you say? Sorry, I was distracted.” Shoot, even to her ears, that was a flimsy excuse.

“No worries. I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner afterward?”

Was that hope in his words or her wishful thinking? Either way, she was grabbing onto his offer with both hands. They talked for another half hour. His quick wit made her laugh more than she’d done in forever. Tomorrow, she’d get the words she’d thought of earlier inked on her ribs, then dinner with the sexy lumberjack.

“See you later,” Tymber said.

“Alright, sweet dreams.” Good God Almighty, what the hell made her say that? She squeezed the phone in her palm, her eyes closing while mentally berating herself.

“I sure hope they are,” Tymber agreed.

Her death grip relaxed as a laugh tumbled from her. He hung up without another word, but her mind wouldn’t shut down quite so quickly. Damn, she was so off her game it wasn’t funny, coming on to a man she barely knew like she had. “Oh well, what do all the cool people say? Yolo, motherfuckers.” Ivy’s laugh ended as she thought of Luke and his love of the YOLO way of living. He’d even had it inked on his body, only to have it covered up a few months later. “Such a silly man,” she whispered, wishing he were there to tell her what she should wear on her date with Tymber.

THE NEXT DAY, IVY GOTup, refreshed after a quick shower, and assessed the apartment. Whoever the club had sent over hadn’t done any real damage. It was more of a message sort of thing. Why they were fucking with her, she didn’t know. Her entire life had been with the club in some form. First as Luke’s friend, then as Luke’s girlfriend. She’d never had a cut like some of the ole’ ladies, the women who wore the patch declaring them the property of whatever brother she was with. Luke hadn’t wanted to be like his brothers, yet he was immersed in club politics just the same. It was easy to go along with him as his girl. Nobody fucked with her when she was with Luke. It looked as though that time was over. She wondered if she should call King and find out what was what. An image of him beating the hell out of someone he’d considered a traitor to the club kept her from following through.

Nope, she would ride this out like every other pothole she’d had to ride through. Going from her mother’s home to Luke’s after her stepdad had tried to get into her bed, Ivy had cried to Luke about the abuse she’d already suffered at his hands. Allowing the fucker access to her bed wasn’t something she had been willing to do. Memories of how her mom had reacted to Ivy’s claims flooded her. Her hand went to her cheek. The sting from the slap she’d gotten still hurt all these years later. She didn’t know if her mother and the jackass were still together. She knew that King and Duke had a come-to-Jesus talk with them both after Luke gave her stepdad a beat down. They’d returned with several bags of her clothes, promising she’d always have a home with them. “I shouldn’t have let Luke talk me into pretending.” Of course, she’d learned the hard way that there was no use crying over spilled milk.

After getting ready, she picked up her bag, making sure the new keys were on her keychain, then headed toward the door. A glance at the screen showed her the front of the building, assuring her nobody waited at the bottom for her.

Hours later, her palms were sweating while she backed into a spot by Twisted Ink. Mentally, she prepared herself to see Tymber, yet no amount of preparation could’ve helped her prepare for that first sight of him. He was sitting in a leather chair, bent over a man’s body with the tattoo gun in his hand. Loud, heavy metal music playing made her entrance less noticeable until the bells above the door dinged, signaling her arrival. Three men lifted their heads, each one previously intent on their tasks.

Ivy waved, her eyes caught and held by Tymber’s. Damn, the man is even more gorgeous than she remembered. Today, he wore a black T-shirt without a flannel, leaving his arms bare for her visual pleasure. Holy shit, he was mouth-wateringly sexy without even trying. She watched as his hand holding the tattoo gun lifted. He wore a ring on his thumb and another on the pointer finger of his right hand. She wondered where he’d gotten them, pressing the little jealous hussy down.

“I’m a little early,” she said, hating how her voice cracked.

“Have a seat. I’m almost done here.” Tymber nodded toward the man on his table.

True to his words, Tymber finished up, walking his client through the care instructions. While he cleaned up, she took in the inside of Twisted Ink. The art lining the walls was gorgeous. She got up to look at one closer.

“Ember painted that. He’s an artist with a gun or a brush.” Tymber placed his hands on her shoulders, speaking next to her ear. “I won’t tell you what else I’ve heard he’s good with.”

His warm breath fanning over her flesh sent a shiver of delight through her. “Hmm, well, I’m sure he’s all that and a bag of chips. How about you?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Tymber dropped a kiss on her exposed neck. “I’m pretty good.”

A snort from behind them had her twisting around. The man who spoke had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, his bad-boy grin telling her more than words. “Well, I hope you’re better than good,” she quipped.

He stepped back, his hand trailing down her arm until he reached her hand. “Come over here and see what I’ve done.”

She let him lead her to his workstation where several pieces of paper lay, the quote she’d told him she wanted on each piece, with a slightly different handwriting. “Did you do all these?” she gestured toward the drawings.

“I did two out of the four. Lincoln and Ember did the others. Tell me which you like the best, or if you don’t like any, we can start over.” As he spoke, he tipped his head to where Link was.

Ivy noticed him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, but she could feel tension crackling. God, what if she chose one he hadn’t done? She gave herself a mental shake. This was her body that was being marked forever. Taking the time to study each piece, she kept returning to one in particular. The curling of certain letters made the design seem more...feminine. “This one,” she said, pointing at the design she could already see on her rib cage.

A bright smile broke across Tymber’s face. “Perfect, that one is mine. So, where are we inking you?”

Ivy unzipped her jacket, exposing what she wore beneath. “Right here,” she indicated her ribs.

“Damn, girl, that’s a sensitive place. You sure you want it there?”

Her eyes jumped upward, looking for the speaker. A gorgeous woman with long black hair parted to the side, showing the shaved half of her head, strolled in from the back. Her tattoos were colorful, like the woman’s. “Oh, I want it there, alright.” Her pain threshold was high, but even so, she was prepared for the feel of the needle.

The woman brought over some papers for her to fill out, making Tymber mutter under his breath. “I have a set here for her, Lux.” He pointed toward the papers lying on the desk.

“Yeah, but sometimes you forget. Did you happen to get one of these signed by your customer last night?” One dark, perfectly shaped brow winged up, challenging Tymber.

He raised his right hand, and using his left, he began rolling until his middle finger was extended. “Special circumstances, and for your info, he’s filled out the forms before.”

Ivy felt like she was watching a tennis match. “Do you two need a moment?” she questioned. The last thing she planned to do was become the middle of another love story, making it a triangle. Nope, she was done with that shit.

“Nah, Lux just thinks she’s the boss around here,” he teased, winking at Ivy. “Come on, let’s put this on you and see if you like the size and placement.”

The beautifully written words looked perfect after he peeled back the paper, leaving the outline on her side, just below her breasts and down to her hips. Her black sports bra served as a shirt under the jacket she’d had on, and even now, lying on the table, she didn’t feel the slightest bit out of her comfort zone. The soft hum of the needle soothed her jagged soul, allowing her to float away while Tymber carefully worked on her tattoo. What seemed like only minutes later, she heard Tymber announce he was done. Her lids lifted. “I fell asleep,” she laughed.

“Yep, and you snore. I think Ember is jealous. Do you want to see? I added some color around the feather of the pen and a few more splotches, making it look like a watercolor, like you’d described.”

She turned until she was sitting, getting her bearing under her. Once she was sure her legs would hold her, she hopped down and walked to the full-length mirror. She lifted her arm so she could see the entire piece. “Holy shit, it’s gorgeous,” she said, not bothering to tamp down the awe she felt.

Tymber stood behind her, his hands still covered by black latex gloves. “I’m glad you like it. Who did the fairy on your back?”

Her shoulders lifted and fell while she kept her eyes pinned to his through the mirror. “One year down in Sturgis, I got the bright idea to get a tattoo. The guys vetted the shop for me. I told him what I wanted, and he did a quick sketch, making the fairy appear like I wanted.”

Tymber traced her back, his fingers tickling her like they were electric. “He was good.”

She nodded. “I think he was too scared not to...” She shut her mouth, not wanting to taint his relationship with the MC.

“I took the colors from it and incorporated them into this piece, figuring you’d like it.” Tymber became no-nonsense, covering her with a gel, then a clear plastic was placed over it, secured by tape.

“We still on for dinner?” Ivy didn’t look at him while she asked, picking up her purse and digging her wallet out.

Tymber’s hand covered hers. “This one’s on me.”

She snorted. “It’s on me.” She tilted her chin down toward her side.

“Cute,” he rumbled. “Let’s get going. My stomach is eating my backbone.”

“Go on, we’ll give him shit when he comes back.” Lincoln winked, his hand pointed at her. “Don’t keep him out too late, though. He’s a grump when he doesn’t get his eight hours of beauty sleep a night.”

Tymber lifted his hand, flipping Lincoln off. “Man, you’ll bite off more than you can chew one day. I can’t wait to see the day you piss someone off who’s not your friend.”

Lincoln only laughed while another man, an artist she hadn’t spoken to, stood up. Her eyes followed his progress, going up and up until she was sure she wasn’t seeing correctly. The man had to be like six seven at least.

Her mouth hung open, but she shut it as Tymber tapped her chin. “That’s Ember. We’re unsure if he’s human or an alien from another planet.” Tymber motioned toward the giant.

“It’s true, girl. Every time I hear of a UFO sighting, I ask him if that’s his people coming to get him.” Lincoln dodged the balled-up roll of paper towels aimed at his head. “Dude, be careful while I’m working.” Lincoln chuckled as the guy lying on his table grunted what she thought was an expletive. “Almost done. How are you doing?”

Ivy tried not to laugh, but poor Ember made it hard as he flipped his nonexistent hair behind his shoulder. “You boys are jealous because all your ladies see me and forget about you. Ain’t that right, sexy?” he asked, his deep baritone voice filled with laughter, making her smile.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to no.” Ivy flicked her hand as if she was shooing him away.

“Excuse me? Ask me to, no? What the hell does that mean?” Ember placed his hands on hips that had probably done lots of moving in and out of his lover’s or lovers’ thighs. She was not going to be added to that list.

“It means she thinks you’re a dumbass and has no plans to sleep with you,” Lux spoke up from her perch at the receptionist station.

“Let’s go before mayhem strikes,” Tymber announced.

“Don’t you need to—never mind,” Ivy stared at his workstation, shocked to see it had been cleaned already.

“You were in the zone, so I picked up before waking you.” Tymber shrugged.

Ember cleared his throat. “Seriously, you should check your other prospects before settling on that one.” He nodded toward Tymber. “Me, for instance. I don’t have family issues that’ll take me away from whatever we have going on. That one,” he stopped and pointed at Tymber. “He’s got all kinds of baggage.” His smile was pure sin, making Ivy roll her eyes.

“We all have baggage. It’s the knowing when to toss the trash out that separates us from idiots.” She winked at him, waiting to see his reaction.

Ember saluted her with a two-finger movement from his brow to his lips. “Well, from one idiot to another, I bid you both a goodnight. I’ve got a date with a woman who loves how I work.”

Tymber tugged her behind him, heading toward the back of the shop. “Wait, my car’s out front.”

“I thought I’d take us on my bike. There’s an overlook near the restaurant that’s pretty amazing.” He halted with his hand on the door leading outside.

His body was loose, letting her know it was her decision. “I don’t have a helmet.” Why did she say that? She wasn’t sure, but damn, she actually wanted to ride behind him.

“I’ve got one. And before you say anything, I keep one for when my nieces want a ride.” He pointed toward the wall where one was hanging next to a couple of others. “Come on, Ivy Girl, take a walk on the wild side,” he murmured.

If only he knew just how wild she’d been. However, that was in the past. She wouldn’t pass up a chance to be close to Tymber. Hell, he would probably forget all about her if he knew exactly what her involvement with the MC had been. A wild side, he said. The man would rethink his words if he ever stepped inside the clubhouse. Wild didn’t begin describing what went down at a party with the MC.

“Alright, but just to warn you, I will squeeze the life out of you if you do anything dangerous,” she warned.

Tymber chuckled, making her acutely aware that she hadn’t zipped the jacket over her bra, showing off the fact her nipples were hard.