Chapter 19 #2
And another shiver had her shifting in the chair even as her gaze sharpened on the artist. As if she hadn’t already figured out—based on all the snake tats on the wall—that this man had given Cass that very specific tattoo.
Her attention shifted from the artist to the wall of sketches. So many sketches.
Her gaze lingered on one of the dragons. Goosebumps rose on her skin. The man is talented. Definitely talented. His art is unique. Her attention tracked back to him.
The tattoo artist licked his lips. Eight gold hoops climbed up his right ear lobe. “I ain’t putting a two-headed cobra on her.”
“Of course, not,” Cass murmured. “Because she’s not a member of that select group. But…you know who the members are, don’t you? Because I was referred to you. To you, specifically. You’re the one who does the best snake work.”
“It’s all in the scales.” His forehead began to sweat. His gaze darted to the doorway.
Javion had just entered the tattoo parlor.
“Scales. Yeah. Right. You also tatted one of my crew, Levi Addams.”
A curt nod from the artist. “Levi’s cool,” he muttered. “Had some drinks with him and—”
“He’s dead. I fucking carved a T into the traitor’s body and left him to bleed out.”
He’d carved a what? She snapped her mouth closed to hide her shock. Agnes had not been aware of the carving portion of the event.
The tattoo artist leapt to his feet. “I thought you were tatting her.”
“Um. Change of plans.” Cass smiled. “I’ve decided I like her just the way she is. I’ll put a ring on her finger if the others need to see proof of my claim, but no one is touching her. Not with hands. Damn well not with needles.”
This would be why he’d asked her to trust him. The whole scene was a setup. She’d rather suspected it might be.
Cass inclined his head toward the artist. “I need information from you, Raz.”
Raz?
“I am looking for a very specific tattoo. I want to know who is wearing that tattoo. I strongly suspect, see, that you are the designer who placed the tattoo on the individual’s body. After all, you do the best snakes. All in the scales, right?”
She sucked in a breath. Cass had high-tailed it to this place so that he could get a name, for her? So freaking sweet.
She’d tried searching for the tattoo and the tattoo artist before, but that had been like searching for a needle in a haystack.
Cass had just found the, uh, needle for her.
The tattoo needle, that was. Excitement quivered through her.
They’d been surrounded by his crew during the drive, so they hadn’t been able to talk freely.
When they’d been on the motorcycle, Cass had been flying, and the roar of the motorcycle had been so loud.
If she’d wanted to talk to him, she would have needed to scream.
Not like she wanted her screams overheard by the others.
It’s all about trust. Cass was proving that she was right to trust him completely.
She jumped out of the chair and grabbed a piece of paper.
Raz had plenty of pens around, so she sketched out the image fast. Easy to do because her drawing skills weren’t rusty, and her memory of that particular snake burned hot and bright in her mind.
“This is it.” She slapped the paper against Raz’s chest.
He looked down. Eased the paper back so he could stare at it. As soon as she saw the flare of his eyes, she knew he’d recognized the tat.
“Who did you mark with that design?” Cass asked, voice as cool as a summer breeze.
Javion closed in, moving to stand right next to Raz.
The bell over the tattoo shop’s door jingled. Another member of Cass’s crew had just walked in. The one called Bear filled the doorway. Filled it.
“Does your memory need jogging?” Cass asked. Then, when there was no immediate response from Raz, he drawled, “Hey, Bear, come do me a solid and jog this guy’s memory with your fist—”
“He’ll kill me.” Sweat dotted Raz’s temples.
“Bear?” A roll of Cass’s broad shoulders. The powerful muscles of his chest flexed. “Nah, he’ll just shake you up a bit.”
A frantic widening of Raz’s eyes. “No. The man with that tat. If I tell, I’m dead.”
Cass closed in on the tattoo artist. “If you don’t tell me, you’re dead.
” He eyed the array of needles next to Raz.
“FYI, that death will be very painful. See, I’m not a professional when it comes to the art of tattooing.
Don’t know how to use all the equipment.
And when I try to use these needles on you—and I will have to try, if you don’t cooperate with me—it will hurt. A lot.”
Her body practically vibrated. This man…Raz knew the tattoo she’d drawn. It was his tattoo, after all. He’d been the designer.
Raz’s gaze cut to her. “Actually…I-I used that same design twice. Two people have that tat.”
Her heart thudded hard in her chest. Cass had said that he believed two men were killing, two leaders in the Twins. Two serial killers.
“I’m a dead man,” Raz rasped.
“You will be,” Bear swore from the doorway. His hands had fisted.
Raz’s gaze jumped from Bear to Cass. Then lingered on Cass.
“G-gave it to your uncle, Cass. Gave it to Winston Striker when he first came up with the idea of the Twins.” He grabbed a tattoo gun.
Gripped it tightly in his hand. “That was years ago. When I first opened my business. Wanted to make him something badass. So I worked hard. Went through about a dozen sketches before I created one that he approved.”
Cass’s uncle had come up with the Twins? She slanted a quick glance at Cass.
He showed no surprise.
“The other bastard…he came to me about eight years ago, wanting the exact design.”
Eight years ago. That was right around the time her whole life had changed.
“Tell me his name,” Cass demanded.
Instead of saying the name, Raz lunged forward, swiping out with the tattoo gun—
Cass planted an upper cut in his face. Agnes was pretty sure one of Raz’s teeth went flying as the man staggered back. The tattoo gun went flying, too. It banged into the wall of sketches.
“His name,” Cass repeated, tone patient.
Raz lifted a hand to cover his bloody mouth. “Bayne! Bayne Hendrix!”
That name again. Bayne had been the one who murdered Hugo. The one who’d taken a shot at Cass and killed Levi.
“Put it on his right wrist.” Raz had blood dripping on his chin.
“Bastard wanted it to match the one I gave Winston, but Winston wore his on his back, just like you! Now I told you what I know.” A swipe of his fingers over the blood.
His green eyes darted around the parlor.
“You’re all fucking twisted bastards, and I want you out of here! Out! I want you—”
Javion stepped forward and punched him. Raz went down hard. Out cold.
Javion sighed. “He was getting loud. I hate it when they get loud.” His lips pursed. “You get what you came for?”
Cass nodded. “Bayne Hendrix is a dead man.”
Bayne Hendrix. Bayne Hendrix. The name replayed in her mind again and again. Finally, she had her target. After all of this time.
“But he’s a Twin,” Javion muttered. “And the leader of the Western Mavericks. Won’t that be a problem for you?”
His head turned. His gaze held Agnes’s. “I’ll make sure he’s not a problem for anyone again.” His fingers curled around hers. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
But when he tugged her, she didn’t move.
“Agnes?”
“I kinda wanted a tat.”
“What?”
“Yours look really good. All tough and badass. I had worked up my nerve, and I was ready for one.” But the tattoo artist was still out cold. Not like she’d trust him to come at her with a needle now, either, so…
“Rain check,” Cass told her. “We’ll get matching ones.”
She quirked a brow. “Now you’re just teasing. You’re literally being a tattoo tease.”
“You’re stalling.” He tugged again. This time, he pulled her closer to him. “Why?”
Because when she’d glanced at the wall of tats, she’d recognized one. One of the dragons with the detailed scales, and she knew that they might have another problem. “He’s really good at scales,” she whispered.
Cass frowned.
Before she could speak again, they heard the roar of a motorcycle. Just another one of Cass’s gang closing in, right? But…
Her goosebumps were getting worse. If I’m right about that particular dragon tattoo, then that new rider might not belong to Cass’s crew. And…I think I might know who our visitor is. Someone who’d been doing some hunting of his own. Hunting that had led to Raz’s tattoo shop.
He’d been hunting and he kept this from me…typical. Very, very typical of her overprotective…brother. If I’m right…If I’m right…
Bear ducked out of the parlor, then bobbed right back inside. “He’s not one of ours.”
This was going to be bad. She could feel it inside.
“Hendrix?” Cass instantly demanded. “Part of his crew?”
“Don’t know. The SOB is coming right at the shop,” Bear fired out.
Cass’s jaw locked. He gently pushed Agnes toward Javion. “Keep her inside.”
“No,” Agnes said immediately.
“Princess, you keep that sweet ass of yours inside this place. I don’t know what I’m facing.”
She ran to the window in the front of the small parlor. She peered through the blinds. Saw the man on the massive motorcycle. Saw the black jacket. The black helmet. Saw him stand up, take off the helmet. And the light hit his dark hair. Then his face as he turned toward them.
Her breath caught. “You can’t fight him.”
“If he’s part of Hendrix’s crew, hell, yes, I can.” Cass stalked for the door.
She jumped in front of him. “No, no, you aren’t listening to me.
You can’t fight him.” Her feverish gaze searched his.
She’d trusted him with the scene at the tattoo shop.
She needed him to trust her now because she could not just spill all right then, not with both Bear and Javion watching and with Raz groaning and his eyelids flickering as he started to wake up on the floor.
She grabbed Cass and hauled him close. Agnes shot onto her tiptoes. His hands flew to her waist as she planted a desperate kiss on his mouth, hard and fast, and then her mouth darted toward his ear. “Trust me,” she breathed. Pleaded. Demanded.
His grip tightened on her waist.
Trust. That was what it came down to with them. He had to trust her. Or else everything was about to blow up in their faces.
Cass carefully shifted her to the side. “Bear, there’s a storage room in the back. Drag Raz in there and secure him.”
Bear immediately stepped forward.
“Javion, keep her in here. If she gets anywhere near danger, I am holding you personally responsible.”
“Shit.” From Javion.
“She does not walk out that front door,” Cass emphasized.
“Understood.”
Uh, no, nothing was understood. “I’m the one who saved your ass last time! You don’t bench a good player when the game gets intense!”
Cass sent her a hard frown. “You protect your most valuable asset. Always. Now stay the fuck in here.” He slipped around her and reached for the door.
“You don’t even have a shirt on!” Agnes snapped.
Axel popped into the doorway. Yes, she’d finally gotten good at attaching the names to all the crew members. Or at least, she’d learned the ones who’d challenged Cass in that fierce fight scene. “We’ve got unwelcome company,” Axel announced.
Uh, yes, Bear had told them already.
“Not someone I recognize.” He tossed a black t-shirt at Cass. A t-shirt and a gun.
Instead of putting on the t-shirt, Cass wrapped it around the gun. The better to hide his weapon.
No, no, no. “Cass…”
He looked back at her.
Then he winked.
And he walked away.
Agnes immediately lunged after him.
“Nope.” Javion locked his hands around her waist and hauled her back. “Can we take a moment and deeply analyze what he meant when he said I would be held ‘personally responsible’ should you rush out there?”