2. Chapter 2
two
CHAINS
In the tattoo room, I strip off my shirt, straddle the chair and wrap my arms around the backrest while I wait for Tricia to get the gear ready.
The anticipation of the drone and sting of the needle surges adrenaline through my veins.
I had a fucked night. Had to fire an asshole stealing money from me and my partners.
I won’t put up with shit like that. We pay our employees well.
More than well. Yet his greedy fingers weren’t satisfied.
No one fucks with our business. What’s mine is mine.
Instead of punching my fist through his face like I wanted to do, I decided on getting another tattoo.
It always gives me the buzz I need and releases built up tension.
Tricia snaps black gloves on and takes a seat next to me. “Since when do you flirt with women?” There’s a teasing tone in her voice.
Over my shoulder, I frown. “I don’t flirt.”
Her eyes widen with mock surprise. “No? What would you call what you were doing with Daisy?”
I face forward. “Having a conversation.” What the fuck was I doing?
She looked like a little church mouse in her loose-fitted jeans, conservative blouse and makeup-free face.
Yet, the moment she bumped into me and I stared into her deep brown eyes, an invisible string pulled me toward her.
At that, I should’ve left her well enough alone.
Not follow her in the shop. There was something about her that made me want more of her.
Teasing and daring her to get a tattoo was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. What shocked me most was that just touching the side of her tit had gotten me hard. No woman pulls that strong a reaction from me.
“I never knew you conversed with women. You only fuck them.” She giggles.
“What am I, a caveman or something? You’re a woman, and I’m talking to you.” She’s not completely wrong. I prefer to bury myself inside women. Not talk. Talking is overrated. I only want sex. And they know it from the start.
“Because you know I’ll never sleep with you.”
“How is Melissa?” Her wife is usually working in the shop too, but she’s due to have a baby.
“Great. Any day now, we’ll be parents. God, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“I’m sure you’ll work it out.” I’m glad I don’t ever have to figure that out. Being a parent is something I’ll never do. I’d only fuck up their lives like my parents fucked up mine. “Picked any names yet?”
She gives my shoulder a tap. “Don’t change the subject.”
“The subject is dropped. Get to work.”
She huffs. “Fine. Do you want Daisy’s name?”
I sit straight. “Fuck no. Do something else.”
The buzzing of the needle starts, and the first prick explodes over my skin. Closing my eyes, I breathe in deep and take in the sensation. I don’t bother telling Tricia what tattoo I want. For years, she’s designed my tattoos. Now she’s adding to them. I trust whatever she comes up with.
“I can’t believe you convinced her to tattoo your name, Kade.” I didn’t lie and give Daisy a fake name. It is my name. No one ever uses it though.
“I thought the subject was dropped.”
“It’s too interesting to ignore. And you tricked her. You made her believe you’d do the same. That’s not nice.”
“No one has ever accused me of being nice.” Yes, I misled her. I should’ve told her from the start that I’d never tattoo a woman’s name on my body.
“Sneaky,” she says with a disapproving tone.
“She’s cute. If you didn’t do the dirty on her, you could’ve gotten her number.
Oh, but you don’t get a woman’s number either.
What a shame. I loved watching you flirt with her.
It gives me hope that one day you’ll find someone you’ll fall head over heels for and settle down. ”
I choke. “Head over heels… settle down? Fuck no.”
“Why not? You’re hot, rich, and care for the people in your life. You’re a catch.”
She’s forgotten hard, heartless and screwed up. No one needs that shit in their lives. “I’ll stick to being single.”
I’ll admit, for a moment, Daisy was a woman I’d like to strip naked and fuck, but her squeaky-clean image tells me she’s the put-a-ring-on-it first type of girl. No matter how attractive, and how hard I still am thinking about her, it will never happen.
The needling stops, so lost in thought about Daisy I don’t notice the time passing until Tricia wipes my back and says, “All done.”
Rising from the chair, I pick up my shirt from the nearby table. As I’m about to put it on, Tricia says, “Aren’t you going to look at it?”
“Why? I trust you.” I don’t give a fuck about the designs anymore. It’s about the buzz the process gives me.
“Just take a look,” she insists.
“You better not have tattooed another cute puppy.” She’s done that shit before. I have a picture of a Pomeranian on my lower back. Punishment for getting her out of bed early one morning to do a tattoo for me.
She shakes her head and bites her bottom lip to stop from smiling. Amusement flashes in her eyes. What the hell has she done? My body stiffens. A cold wave washes over me. She wouldn’t, would she? “Did you tattoo her name?”
Not able to hold back laughter, she says, “Not quite.”
Marching to the mirror, I turn and look over my shoulder.
“Do you love it?” Tricia grins.
Years ago, Tricia tattooed a series of chains on my back. Each one linking together, attached to other designs until they covered most of my body.
On the back of my shoulder, threaded through each link, are tiny white and pink daisies.
Not her name.
But now I have a fucking daisy chain on my back.