Full Contact (Redemption #3)(23)

“What’s with Tag?” She keeps her voice low. “He’s not himself.”

“I told you. I think it’s his new case. I told Mom and Dad, and they tried to get him to talk about it, but he clammed right up. I don’t know what to do.”

We pass Rampage outside the snack shop and he gives us a big wave. “Hey, girls. You didn’t miss anything at the fight tonight. Headline match got canceled. The Predator didn’t show.”

Jess and I exchange a puzzled look and then I pull to a halt. “He didn’t show? When has he ever not shown?”

Rampage shrugs. “Never happened before. Misery’s saying he was too chicken to face him. Called for a rematch next week even though he could have just claimed the no-show as a win on the underground circuit and moved up the ranks. He’s desperate to fight the Predator.”

“Rampage.” Torment’s voice booms down the corridor as he closes in on us. “I hope you’re not discussing any illegal, unsanctioned fights in our licensed facility. You should also hope that I never catch you at an unsanctioned fight.”

Rampage pales. “I thought the threat was from the CSAC.”

Torment stops in front of us and folds his arms across his massive chest. “If I ever catch you putting your license at risk, you’ll be begging the CSAC to take you in by the time I’m finished with you.”

“He’s one damn scary dude,” Jess whispers after Torment stalks away. “It’s like they’ve taken all alpha male-dom, rolled it up in one mouthwatering package, and called it Torment.”

We break into a light jog to catch up to Torment, now on the threshold of the new addition to the warehouse. The plastic is gone and the corridor is bright and newly finished. Walls gleam and a warm, hardwood floor has been installed over the concrete. The sharp scent of fresh paint lingers in the air, and bright track lighting gives the hall a soft glow.

“What are you adding in this wing?”

Torment stops in front of a double glass door and pulls out a set of keys. “Newest thing. All the major MMA gyms have one.” He pushes open the door and gestures for us to follow him. “All my boys get tats. Why not offer them a safe, clean, convenient place to get them done?” He flicks on the lights, and I behold my dream studio.

Spacious, light, and sophisticated, it is the opposite of Slim’s cozy, stereotypically cramped and slightly garish shop. From the exposed beams in the ceilings to the angled alcoves, and from the gleaming hardwood floor to the polished oak reception desk, Torment’s tattoo studio leaves nothing to be desired.

“This is amazing.” I walk past the black leather hydraulic client chairs, trailing my fingers over the gray granite counters, and heavy-duty workstations, the best money can buy. He has everything I could ever have imagined in a tattoo studio. Bright lights, high-quality furnishings, antique mirrors, and tons of space for all our equipment.

“It’s not quite finished.” Torment leans against the reception desk. “I’ve commissioned murals for the walls and I’m trying to decide whether to go bohemian or exotic with the decor. I’d like to offer it to you and your coworkers rent-free until your studio is operational. You can help with the decorating, iron out the kinks, and I’ll be able to test out its viability as a business in the gym.”

Stunned speechless for a moment, I can only stare. “But…you would have no problems filling those chairs. Any tattoo artist I know would die to work in a studio like this.”

Torment gives an irritated grunt. “Not looking for dead tattoo artists. Looking for live ones. Especially one who I can trust and who does good work. You fit the bill and if your friends trained under the same master artist, then I have no problem offering them the other chairs. I’ll buy the supplies, and I have a team to manage the business side of things. You want to advertise or market, you let them know what you need. You keep what you earn minus ten percent to cover expenses.”

So tempting. But I can’t. Not while Ray is here. I can’t deal with seeing him every day, knowing I could have lived my fantasy, even just for a night, if not for what happened in my past. And what if we bump into each other? What would we say?

My gaze flicks to Tag. He doesn’t like me coming to Redemption. He’ll make a lot of noise, put his foot down, rant about how it isn’t safe for me to come out here, and for once I’ll be happy that he does. I wait, but he doesn’t speak.

“Tag?”

“Up to you,” he says with a shrug. “As long as you aren’t here at night and you stay away from—”

“Won’t work.” Torment folds his arms, cutting Tag off. “I need the studio open when the gym is busy, and that is mostly at night. I can make sure there is always someone available to walk Sia to and from her car, or I can arrange for transportation. My limo is usually available.”

Hmmm. I don’t know many tattoo artists who travel to and from work in a chauffeured limo. Might ruin my hard-core reputation. “I can drive, but I don’t know…”

Torment scowls. “What are you afraid of, Sia? I’m offering you a chair, a steady supply of clients, the best equipment money can buy, and chairs for any of the coworkers you want to bring on board.”

My cheeks heat. “It’s just…”

“Are you afraid of Redemption?”