Hooked (Viking Bastards MC #1)(22)

It’s not that far to Cade’s, and we could walk it if we had more time, but I told him we’d be there at six thirty, and as he’s doing this as a favor to me, I don’t want to keep him hanging. The bonus is Grace clings onto me like she’ll die if she lets go, and it’s kind of funny that she’s never been on a bike before.

I pull the Harley up outside Cade’s shop and Grace carefully dismounts. She pulls off the helmet, and there’s a huge grin on her face as she watches me get off the bike. I can’t help it—I kiss her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. I don’t give a shit if Cade sees.

“That was awesome.” She stares up at me, her hair all mussed and her cheeks pink. “Not long enough, though. Where are we?” She glances around, catches sight of Cade’s tattoo shop, and goes rigid.

“Surprise.” I tug her toward the shop. She seems a bit reluctant, and I can guess why. “It’s okay. Cade’s like my brother. He’s the best tat artist and—” I grin down at her oddly white face. “He’s shit crazy about hygiene.”

She doesn’t look convinced. Sure, the neighborhood isn’t what she’s used to, and I guess looking at the outside of Razor’s Edge with its blacked out windows might give her the wrong idea, but if there’s one thing Cade’s into, it’s safety when it comes to his precious ink business.

I rap my knuckles on the reinforced door.

“Zach.” There’s an urgent tone in Grace’s whisper. “Why are we here?”

For a second her question throws me. Yesterday when she was talking about the iris tat she wanted it’d seemed natural to call up Cade. But why did I? I’ve never taken a chick to get a tat. Never even crossed my mind before.

Except this is her first time, and the first time is always special.

No way am I saying that. I leer down at her instead. “So every time you look at the tat on your wrist, you think of me.”

Jesus, did I really just say that? Before I can talk any more shit, Cade pulls open the door. His glance takes in the way I’m holding Grace, but his expression gives away nothing.

“You’re late,” is all he says.

We enter the shop. I have the strange conviction that if I let go of her, she’s going to make a run for it, but that doesn’t make sense. “This is Grace.” Damn, what’s up with my voice? I sound like I’m talking about my club.

I shoot her a quick glance, and warmth surges through my chest. Again, it’s something I usually only experience when I’m involved in club matters, and it’s f*cking weird. Like I’m proud of her or something.

“Grace.” Cade stands there, arms folded across his chest, and gives me a calculating look. “Zach says you want a tat.”

She shudders, and the truth slams into me. She’s terrified.

Well, f*ck that. So much for my great surprise. I thought she’d be stoked. Almost as bad is the fact that Cade obviously knows it. He’s not gonna let me forget this screw-up anytime soon.

“Yes, I’d love one,” Grace says. “Thanks so much for fitting me in at such short notice.”

My arm tightens around her shoulders, and I give Cade a grin of triumph. My girl might be afraid, but she’s not backing down. No mistaking the pride filling my chest now.

“Anything for my brother,” Cade says. “You want me to show you samples?”

“That would be great,” she says.

Cade saunters to the back of his shop and disappears through the door to his office. I swing Grace around and she winds her arms around my waist. “Thought you were going to bail on me just then.”

She takes a deep breath. She’s obviously not as sure about this as she made out to Cade. “I don’t think I’d ever have the nerve to do it by myself, so…” She hesitates, and her smile is kind of shy. “Thanks, Zach. Please don’t laugh if I pass out when he sticks the needles in me.”

I laugh, and she gives me a pained look. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

She glances around the shop. It’s all in red and silver with photos of Cade’s work over the walls. Her gaze snags on one of the leather recliners in the corner and she kind of gulps.

“It’s nothing like I imagined. It looks like a dentist’s office, actually.”

I try and see it through her eyes, which is hard because I’ve hung out in tattoo shops since I was a kid. But I guess the state of the art equipment Cade has would be a shock if she was expecting some unlicensed backstreet fraud.

Cade comes back in with the samples and his laptop, and Grace makes her choices surprisingly fast. She settles into the chair like she’s about to have a root canal without anesthetic and I thread my fingers through hers and give her a squeeze. “You want some vodka?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Not before I’ve finished,” Cade says, as he preps his gun.

Grace gives a polite smile. “I’ll be fine.”

And she is, although it takes her a while before she finally sneaks a peek at what he’s doing. “It’s beautiful.” She sounds amazed, and Cade and I exchange a wry glance.

His work is the best, though. I wouldn’t have brought her here otherwise. By the time he finishes, Grace is gazing at the delicate iris with an enraptured expression on her face. He dresses her wrist and gives her the usual spiel on how to care for her tat, but I know the drill and have every intention of giving her the aftercare she needs.