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ONE
RIVER
The soundof the tattoo machine whirred in my shop. The day had long since set, and darkness closed in at the windows. The light in my station shined bright, illuminating the enclosed area as I worked a fucking immaculate piece onto my client’s shoulder.
It was close to ten, but I tended to make my appointments late when it was quiet out and there were fewer people loitering around.
I leaned in close and concentrated on getting the shading just right. It just so happened my client was also one of my oldest friends, Trent Lawson. He was on his fourth session where we were working on covering an old skull with a portrait of his wife.
“Piece is going to be fuckin’ sweet,” I told him as I paused for a second to wipe up the excess ink and blood seeping from the design.
He tossed me an arrogant grin from where he sat in my chair. “That’s because my Eden is fuckin’ sweet. Couldn’t turn out any other way…” He arched a flippant brow. “Unless your ass jacks up her pretty face.”
A rough chuckle skated out of me as I leaned back in and started sweeping the needle across his skin. “Think you wouldn’t be sitting in my chair if you thought there was a chance of that.” I’d been tattooingTrent for years. Since all the way back when we were both running the streets of LA.
Dude was covered now, head to toe, and almost every tattoo on his body was compliments of me.
He was a few years older than me, and me and a couple of my crew had ridden with his MC back in the day.
He’d saved my ass a time or two, same as I’d saved his. It was the way of that life, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t owe him mine, and he was one of the few I trusted with it.
He was also one of the few outside my inner circle who knew the true details about who I and my crew had become. What we did.
My shop, River of Ink, was little more than a cover for it, even though I had a two-year waitlist for someone to get the chance to sit in my chair.
I loved my work and took pride in the fact people came from all around the world for a chance to get inked by me. Tattooing was my peace. The only time when my mind would drift and some of the anxiety that knotted my guts would drain away. When the ghosts didn’t scream so loud.
Somehow, the constant flow of the needle bringing art to life gave me a moment of reprieve.
Completely unearned considering I deserved none of that.
Peace.
Not when I was a purveyor of destruction. An agent of ruin.
Sometimes I wondered what kind of person it made me that I didn’t feel an ounce of shame over the blood on my hands. My soul tainted and my heart stained.
When I’d confided in Trent what was going down, he’d encouraged us to make our way up here to Northern California where we could live low. Hide out and fly under the radar.
Moonlit Ridge was a small town about an hour outside of Redemption Hills where Trent and his family lived.
Angling my head, I focused on a deeper pass as I worked to get a lock of her hair just right.
Eden was a fucking knockout and a sweetheart to boot. Didn’t blame him a bit for immortalizing her on his skin.
Trent winced.
“You goin’ soft on me?” I razzed.
Ridiculous since the guy was intimidating as fuck. There wasn’t a goddamn thing soft about him.
He grunted. “You fuckin’ wish, man. Think you’re just getting a little aggressive with that heavy hand.”
Amusement had me shaking my head.
“Don’t know, brother…you are getting old.”
He grunted again. “As long as I’m doing it with Eden, Gage, and Kate at my side, then you won’t find me complaining.”
