RIXEY PREPARED TO get his head torn off as they stepped into his building’s back door. In the midst of the scene at Becca’s house, he’d forgotten the appointment with his tattoo client. Jeremy had called as they were leaving her place, but Rixey had let it go to voice mail, wanting to keep his focus on her and making sure they weren’t being watched or tailed. He’d sent Jer a text message saying he was en route, but without question, Jeremy was going to skin him alive. It wasn’t undeserved. He was almost fifteen minutes late.
Her keepsakes filling his hands, he turned to Becca and apologized. “I forgot I have this tattoo to do. It’s gonna take an hour. Maybe two. Go ’head up with the guys and grab some dinner. I’ll be up later.”
“You seriously do ink?” Shane asked, hiking Becca’s medic kit on his shoulder.
Rixey braced. Oh, goody, something else for him to ride me about. “Yeah, I seriously do. Occasionally.” He shrugged.
“You any good?”
“Bare some skin and find out.”
Shane grinned, his expression making it clear he enjoyed harassing Nick. “If you wanna get me out of my clothes, lovah boy, you gotta wine and dine me first.”
It was maybe the first smile Nick had cracked around Shane since the guy had arrived yesterday. And, damn, it felt good. Normal. Like before. “Asshole.”
“That’s southern fried asshole, to you.”
“Only you would want a more descriptive version of asshole, and then consider it a compliment.”
“We do everything bigger in the South.” Shane winked at Becca, whose face brightened with the bit of levity. It was miles better than the despair she’d worn the whole way from her house. And Nick wanted to buy Shane a barbeque dinner for cheering her up. Even if for only a minute.
“Here.” He jammed the box into Shane’s gut, enjoying the surprised “Oof” he earned, then dropped the tote bag on top of it. “Make yourself useful and carry this up for Becca, will ya?”
“Sonofabitch,” Shane said, half laughing. He and Beckett turned toward the steps, but paused for Becca to go first.
Holding the sketches, the booklet on the gang, and the remainder of the flyers tight against her chest, she glanced between the guys waiting to go upstairs and Nick, standing with his hand on Hard Ink’s doorknob. “Um,” she finally said. “Mind if I stay with you?”
The uncertainty in her voice slayed him. Like he might actually say no. Guilt parked itself on his chest again for being an angst-ridden asshole this morning, because that was probably why she’d wonder if he wanted her around. “Of course. Just, uh, give that gang profile and Charlie’s note to Beck to give to Marz. See what kind of sense he can make of those.”
Murda slipped them from her pile of papers. “Probably speed read it in about fifteen minutes,” he said, giving Becca what passed for a smile. “We’ll take care of your stuff. Don’t worry.” Neither of his teammates had been upstairs when Becca had broken down, but Rixey suspected they’d both heard it. He also suspected that accounted for the big guy’s gentleness with her now. There was a lot more beneath Beckett’s hard-ass surface than met the eye. He just didn’t like people to know it.
“Thanks,” she said.
“What’s this ‘we’ bullshit?” Shane said, starting up the steps. “I don’t see your ass schlepping anything.”
Beckett followed after, boots stomping out a rhythm on the concrete steps. “You that out of shape, McCallan?” The ribbing continued as they went up the stairs.
Becca smiled as she glanced at Nick. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
The words hauled him to her, and he leaned his forehead on hers. “I’d never mind having you with me. Come on. You get the fun of hearing Jeremy ream me out. Guard your eardrums.” He tugged open the door and held it for her.
“I’m sorry I made you late,” she said, twisting her lips. “I forgot about your appointment.”
“Not your fault. What we were doing was important.” Rixey entered the lounge with a mea culpa on his tongue. Whatever pile of pissed off he was about to step in, he totally deserved.
Jeremy leaned around the corner from the front desk, glared, and ducked back out. “Give us a few, Alek. We’ll be right with you,” Nick heard him say. Then his brother barreled down the hall toward him. “This might not be your thing. I get that. But it’s my business. My livelihood. My reputation. And I don’t appreciate you fucking with it.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The anger he could deal with, but that look of disappointment in his brother’s eyes was a real kick in the ass.
Becca stepped in close, her arm touching Nick’s, providing a united front. “It was my fault, Jeremy. I’m sorry. We were looking for my brother.”
“No. My commitment, my fault.” Nick reached out and squeezed her shoulder in silent thanks.
Jer looked between them like he was at a tennis match. “Fine. Whatever. Got your head on straight?”
“Yeah. I’ll take good care of the guy. Alek’s his name?” Jeremy gave a tight nod. “I’ll go meet him and get set up.” Jeremy turned on his heel and stalked back toward the front. Rixey gave her a little smile. “Thanks for the help.”
“It’s the least I could do.” She shifted her feet and tilted her head. “So, I don’t suppose there’s any way I could watch you, is there? Probably violates some kind of confidentiality, or something.”
The thought of her being in the room with him stirred heat in his groin, both because she wanted to watch him work, and because it made him think of working on her. “It’s up to the client. I’ll ask.” He crossed to the closet in the corner where he hung his jacket and gun holster. It was probably on the wrong side of paranoid, but given the situation, he felt better remaining armed, so he slipped the piece into the back of his jeans and made sure his T-shirt covered it.
“Do you think that’s necessary?” she asked.
“What?” he said, turning. She gestured to his back. “Probably not. Have a seat for a few.”
“Okay.” She dropped her purse and the stack of papers onto one of the round tables and settled into the couch. The puppy loped over to her and hopped her front paws onto Becca’s lap.
Grabbing his sketch from the desk in the office, Nick made for the reception area.
“Awwwww, you’re in troubllllle,” Jess said in a gratingly annoying voice when he passed her room.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m aware.”
She snickered. Typical Jess. Good thing he liked her. Mostly. When she wasn’t busting his balls. Then again, when was that?
Sitting on the big green couch, his client was a man probably in his mid-thirties, dark hair, tall by the length of the legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Nick approached and extended his hand. “Really sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Nick Rixey.” For the next ten minutes, he talked to Alek about the tattoo, its placement, and his past experience getting inked, and he got permission for Becca to watch.
Nick grabbed his stencil from the office and leaned around the corner where Becca sat. “We’re a go if you’re still interested.”
Becca smiled up at him. “Really? Yeah.”
“You sure you wouldn’t rather go up and have some grub? Lunch was a long time ago.” If he hadn’t had to do this tat, he’d have been three slices into some leftover pizza himself.
“I’ll eat with you after.”
He crossed to the fridge in the corner and grabbed two bottles of water. “Well, at least have something to drink. Come on.” He led them into the rectangular tattoo room and gestured to the visitor chair often inhabited by a client’s friend.