Full Contact (Redemption #3)(48)

The treatment room door opens and Doctor Death pops his head out. I smile and mouth “one second,” and he gives me a wink.

“Do you want to talk about it? We can meet up this week after work.”

Expecting him to decline, I am momentarily floored when he says yes he needs to talk about it, but it can’t be with me. When I suggest Jess and he says he’ll think about it, my heart skips a beat. It must be really bad if he would consider talking to Jess.

After taking a few minutes to calm myself, I check out Doctor Death’s tat, a beautifully wrought scroll of Syndee’s name on his beautifully taut ass, and make a few suggestions for covers. When we’re done, Doctor Death makes a tat appointment with Rose, and I follow him out to grab a coffee from the snack shop, returning to the studio just as all hell breaks loose.

“This is my f*cking team.” Slim bangs his fist on Rose’s desk and glares at a scowling Torment. “I thought we had an understanding. I’m grateful for the use of the space and the equipment but I do have a reputation to protect. Half the clients coming into this shop are my clients. You want to paint a damn car race on the wall, do it when we’re gone.”

“It’s my studio.” Torment’s growl echoes through the room and Christos and Duncan shudder. “I own it, and I hired Seth to paint. He’s here. He’s got his equipment. And I want it done now.”

Seated on the couch, Seth, a tall, thin redhead with a scraggly beard, swallows hard. “I…can come back another time.”

“You will NOT come back another time.” Torment folds his arms and poor Seth cringes under the ferocity of his scowl. “I hired you to do it now, and you’ll do it now.”

“Is it the timing or the design that’s the problem?” Impressed by Slim’s willingness to stand up to the man whose name alone instills fear into the hearts of most fighters, I touch him on the arm to draw his attention.

Slim grabs a picture from Rose’s hands and thrusts it at me. “Look.”

Although I try not to grimace at the brightly colored scene of a NASCAR race, my mouth curls.

“It’s a…very nice piece,” I say to Torment. “But it’s not really right for a tattoo studio. You’ve been in other studios before. Usually the feel is edgier, more offbeat, something to draw people’s attention away from the pain of the needle, and take them out of their everyday life. Tattoos aren’t mainstream. And the people who get them want to feel that they are making a statement. The shop is part of that statement. A stock car race scene isn’t really the right vibe.”

“Don’t recall inviting you to be part of the conversation.” Torment’s voice rises to a shout. “This has nothing to do with you, so stay out of it.”

“Voice.”

Torment’s head jerks up, and I look back over my shoulder. Ray is standing in the doorway, arms folded, one ankle crossed in front of the other. Artlessly casual to anyone who doesn’t know him. A warning to those who do.

“Oooooh,” Rose whispers. “The cavalry has arrived.”

“Not your fight, Predator. Move on.” Torment dismisses him with a jerk of his head, but Ray doesn’t move.

“Sia wants this fight, she’s got this fight.” His gaze flicks to me and back to Torment. “But you shouting at my girl, that’s my fight.”

Torment’s lip curls. “Man’s agitated, he’ll speak however he wants. And Sia interfering in my discussion with her boss is agitating.”

Emboldened by all the support, Slim steps forward. “That’s ’cause you know she’s right. And I’ll tell you something else. You have Red over there paint a f*cking car race in the shop, and we’re outta here.”

“I’m doing you a favor letting you work here.”

“We’re both benefiting from this arrangement,” Slim says. “And I’m only asking for a coupla weeks, then my shop will be fixed up and we’ll be outta your hair for good. But in the meantime, we’ve got an image to uphold. We’re Rabid Ink, not f*cking Race Car Alley. A gal who comes in to get her clit pierced or her boobs inked doesn’t give a damn about race cars.”

Rose snorts behind her screen. She held my hand when Duncan pierced me. Jess, of course, held the other.

“Why don’t you let Sia do it?” Ray says quietly. “She paints. I’ve seen her work, and it’s damn good. Edgy stuff, although she might have to tone down the color.”

“No.” I glare at Ray. “I don’t paint anymore. I haven’t painted for years. I’m not interested.”

“You painted the other night.”

My stomach clenches at his betrayal. I opened myself up for him and only him, and he’s exposing me to the world. Why doesn’t he just tell them what else we did?

Torment studies me, considering, and then looks at Slim. “Sia or the car race. I’ll expect an answer in fifteen minutes. And if neither of those work for you, feel free to clear out.” He stalks toward the door, pausing only because Ray doesn’t move. “Predator, I’ll see in the ring Friday night. No one f*cking tells me to lower my voice in my own gym.”

Ray gives him a curt nod and steps to the side to let him pass. Red grabs his art bag and scurries after him. The room heaves a collective sigh.