A shit-eating grin lit up Dagen’s face. “Just don’t wear him out too much.”
“Hey! I know that look,” Ollie shouted from behind the fan. “Are you talking about me?”
“Not everything’s about you dear,” Dagen called in a mock saccharine tone, but the ridiculous sappy look on his face had Harbor shaking his head.
“Dude, you’re killing me. I’m happy you’re happy, but I cannot deal with that level of sap this early in the morning.”
“Or ever, you mean?”
“Whatever. Not everyone is cut out for the lovey dovey stuff.”
Dagen opened his mouth to reply but stopped and turned his head towards the door leading from inside the tattoo shop. “Can we help you?”
Harbor followed his gaze and took in the man walking toward them in dark basketball shorts that showed off toned calves, a gray sleeveless t-shirt leaving sculpted arms bare, and a black baseball cap. A jolt of recognition went through him when his eyes landed on full lips and a square jaw. Even if that jaw was now covered in dark stubble, he was sure he’d know it anywhere. Theo lifted his head, and the heat swarming Harbor’s veins turned to ice the second their eyes met, and Theo’s widened in recognition. “I got this,” Harbor said to Dagen without taking his eyes off Theo. He met him in the middle of the gym and lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Theo jerked his head back and narrowed his eyes. “Wow, you are something else,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice at all. “I’m not here for you. I’m here for Ollie.”
“What do you want with Ollie?” Dagen growled from behind Harbor and he tensed. He didn’t realize Dagen had followed him over. His brother was still in full-protective mode over his boyfriend after the recent incident, not that Harbor could blame him. Theo looked from Harbor to Dagen, and his narrowed eyes opened wide.
“I have a tattoo appointment.”
Dagen stepped up beside Harbor and held out his hand. “Sorry, man. Dagen Rourke. I’m guessing you know my brother, Harbor?”
“Theo Smith.” After shaking Dagen’s hand, Theo held out his hand to Harbor. “We’ve met…but we weren’t properly introduced.”
“What are you blokes on about?” Rory said as he and Ollie joined their little gathering, then did a double take. “Holy shit. You’re Theo Smith! I love your training posts on Instagram. Great stuff.”
“Yes, I am.” Theo moved his extended hand toward Rory, darting his eyes to Harbor, a huge smirk pulling at his full lips. Harbor’s face started to heat. He wanted to smack that stupid look right off Theo’s face. He also wanted to jerk Theo’s hand out of Rory’s and tell his friend to stop gushing over his hook-up, and apparently, famous Instagram person. Rory elbowed him in the ribs and Harbor grunted.
“He’s the reason you’re always cursing my name during all those variations on Turkish Get-ups.”
Theo turned his smug face back to Harbor. “Fan of those are you?”
“They do the job. You said you had a tattoo appointment.”
At those words, Ollie stuck out his hand from where he’d settled himself in the circle of Dagen’s good arm. “Hi, I’m Ollie. It’s nice to finally meet you. Although I feel kind of bad for stealing you away from Rory.” Ollie chuckled.
“If this tattoo takes as long as I think it will, I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” Theo’s eyes found Harbor’s again. He tried to hold on to the anger that had bubbled up at Theo daring to show up here, but all that he felt was that same jolt of lust he’d been battling since he first laid eyes on the man.
“Are you ready to get started?” Ollie asked, giving Dagen’s waist a little squeeze before he stepped away.
“Let’s do it,” Theo said, smiling at Ollie. A real smile. Great. Now Harbor was jealous of Ollie, too.
“I think you’re really going to like your design.” Ollie motioned for Theo to follow him back toward the door to Open Wounds. And Theo went, without a backward glance.
Chapter Three
“Damn,” Theo said in awe of the sketch in his hands. “They weren’t kidding when they said you were the best.” He looked up to where Ollie was setting up the things he’d need to get the tattoo started to see a small blush bloom on the other man’s cheeks. Ollie was a good-looking guy— a little skinny for Theo’s taste— but with the start of some nice muscle tone, olive skin, and deep brown eyes and hair. Not that Theo was looking, seeing Harbor again had been enough of a gut punch for one day, and he suspected the resident giant would squish him like a bug if he even acted like he was looking at Ollie. “How are you even available? There should be a line out the door.”
With a shrug, Ollie motioned for Theo to have a seat in the adjustable, black leather chair in the middle of the room. “I’m really just getting established.”
“You are too modest, man. You need to own this shit.” Theo sat in the chair, still gawking at the black lines and deep red shading of the samurai that would soon be taking up half his back. The image was the profile of a samurai standing in full armor with his head tilted down. The top of his helmet would touch the top of Theo’s shoulder, and the rest would stretch down following the line of his spine to the top of his ass, the samurai’s body covering the entire left side of his back. And it wasn’t the artistry of the image alone that had Theo unable to pull his eyes from the page. It was the way Ollie had somehow managed to portray the solemn strength and dignity Theo had envisioned for his tattoo with a bit of ink.
“So, I’m guessing you like it? Anything you want me to adjust or change?”
Theo shook his head and cleared his throat. “No. It’s perfect.”
Ollie nodded, a knowing gleam lighting up his dark eyes. “Ok, then. If you’re ready, take off your shirt, and I’ll adjust this chair out flat and we can get started.”
Ollie prepped his back and adjusted the size of the original design to fit Theo, then put a stencil of the tattoo on his back so Theo could get an idea of what it would look like finished. Once Theo settled himself, shirtless and face-down on the now flat chair, his eyes glanced at the large cork board hanging on the wall above Ollie’s desk. Sketches and photos covered every inch of it, some overlapping, and some pinned half on top of others so the full image could be seen. While the sketches looked to be mostly tattoo designs, several familiar faces stared back at him from the photos. Ollie sucked up to Dagen’s side, the giant’s big arm curled possessively around his shoulders. Rory with Harbor— a huge smile on his face— and a dark-haired woman seemingly in the middle of a water fight. Another of Ollie and Dagen, this time with a backdrop of what looked like a rose garden.
Ollie moved into his line of sight, settling a rolling tray cart with little pots of ink held in place with what looked like dabs of Vaseline. “So,” Theo said, eyes glancing back at the images on the board. “You and the big guy, huh?”
Stilling for moment, Ollie went back to his tasks, but cut his eyes to Theo. “Yes. Dagen and I are together.” A hint of tension threaded through Ollie’s voice, and Theo wondered if someone had given him a hard time about it.
“Good for you. He seems like a nice guy.”
Ollie visibly relaxed and a small smile lit up his face. “He is. Now, have you ever had a tattoo before?”
“Just one, but it’s small and on my hip.” A simple Japanese character he’d gotten when he turned eighteen that meant freedom.
“Ok. Well, obviously, like we talked about on the phone—this is going to be a process. I’ve broken the design down into sections and I think, as long as you can tolerate about four hours in the chair at a time then we should be able to get it done in five or six sessions. And we can work those around your travel schedule however you need.”
“Perfect.”
Ollie got down to business, and Theo sucked in a slow breath at the first bite of the tattoo needle in his skin. He didn’t mind the pain, really. He didn’t enjoy it either, but for him, in life and in his training and fight
ing, pain equated progress. He let his mind go to the place where pain was simply a stepping stone to accomplishing whatever goal he’d set for himself. Make the junior high school wrestling team as the scrawny mixed kid in a predominantly white school in small town Indiana? He grit his teeth through morning and night training sessions until not even one of the varsity guys could pin him. Build a fitness and MMA training career from the ground up? He put his head down and worked himself to the bone even when he didn’t see results. Lay awake at night and wonder if there was someone out there in the world who knows what my name should have been?
Theo winced when the needle hit a particularly sensitive spot.
“I know some spots are a bitch, but try to keep still, and let me know if you need a break.”
“Sorry,” Theo said and closed his eyes again, trying to get back in his head, but he couldn’t find his focus. Opening his eyes had him staring right at the image of Harbor’s smiling face. “Do you know if the gym is accepting members?”
Ollie paused. “I think so. I know there are different plans you can buy, like just to use the equipment or if you want to take classes or have a personal trainer. Hold on.” He turned toward the open door of the room and raised his voice. “Niko, you up there?”
A moment later, a young guy with dark hair buzzed short and olive skin stuck his head in the door. Theo had to turn his head to see him. “Yeah? Oh, hey, the samurai. That’s going to be a bad ass tat, man.”
“Thanks,” Theo said, eyes skimming over the gorgeous vine and flower tattoos winding up the entirety of Niko’s right arm.
“Theo, this is Niko. Niko, Theo. He was wondering about gym membership.”
“I’m only going to be in town around my tattoo appointments, so maybe a week at a time, but it would be nice to have a workout space that isn’t the ancient stationary bike and fifteen-pound dumbbells in my hotel’s gym.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem. There’s a daily rate so just check in and pay at the desk, then you can use the gym all day. I think you’ll still have to fill out an application for us to keep on file. I can go grab one if you want?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Niko.”
“Get your hands up!” Rory said, the edge of the punch pad on his hand grazing Harbor’s head when he didn’t block fast enough.
Harbor growled and slammed his fists into the pads as Rory held them out for the next combo. Jab, jab, cross, block, upper-cut. Then bobbed his head to evade the next set of strikes before hammering his gloves against the pads again. The fire of his temper scorched through his veins, lighting him up and forcing itself out through the only outlet he had at the moment—his fists. Around and around he and Rory went in the center of the cage. The place where his mind always found its focus when the clang of the metal door closed behind him. He shifted on his feet, forcing his mind to quiet and let his training take over. His body knowing what to do even as his thoughts tried to wander to the other side of the glass door dividing the gym from Open Wounds.
“Enough,” Rory said, tucking one of the pads under his arm so he could pull his hand out and give it a shake. “You tryin’ to take to my hands off?”
“Sorry.” Harbor glanced at the irritated expression on Rory’s face before turning and stepping out of the cage to grab his water bottle and towel. The towel was damp, like every other piece of material on his body, the humidity making it impossible to keep anything dry. Harbor grimaced as he ran it over his face, then laid it out flat on one of the weight benches and maneuvered the whole thing in front of one of the fans. He plopped down and braced his elbows on his knees, head bent, and let the whoosh of air from the fan blow over him.
What tattoo is he getting?
This wasn’t like him. He didn’t get hung up thinking about people he’d slept with. Hell, other than his family, he didn’t get hung up thinking about people at all. He had neither the time nor desire to go chasing after relationships, and the people that really mattered knew him well enough to seek him out instead of the other way around. Sticking to his routine helped him rein in the hot-headed temper that had gotten him into trouble so often as a teen and young adult, and even though he was pushing thirty now, it was still known to rear its ugly head from time to time. Despite taking it out on the training pads, he could feel it like a knife’s edge today. Between the heat, his distraction, and Theo showing up here, he needed to cool down. Pale legs with a dusting of red hair stepped into his view and without looking up, he grabbed the towel and tossed it to another bench, leaving room for Rory to join him.
“Out with it,” Rory said as soon as he settled himself beside Harbor, bumping their knees together. “Come on, lad. What’s got your blood up?”
Harbor narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You’re only four years older than me.”
Rory chuckled. “Aye, but sometimes you’re a lad all the same.”
“Shut up.” Harbor shook his head, but the side of his mouth quirked up. “Is he really famous? On Instagram or whatever?”
Pale blue-green eyes focused in on his face. “Why would that be bothering you, Harbor?” Rory’s brogue coated the words, as it always did when he wasn’t paying attention to it. Despite being born in the United States, his Scottish mother and the years he spent in Scotland before her death had left a mark on him.
Letting out a huge breath, he decided he might as well spill. He didn’t talk about his hook-ups, mostly, because everyone already knew what he was after when he went out clubbing, and also, because it didn’t really matter. He was never going to see them again anyway. “I met Theo the other night. At Magnus’s.”
Aside from the way Rory’s eyes clouded for a split second at the mention of his brother’s name, he didn’t react at all. Then just as he opened his mouth, Niko came jogging up the aisle to stop in front of them.
“Vidar wants to see you.” The kid had been a good addition to the tattoo shop, as well. He seemed to be doing well under Kayla’s management. Harbor couldn’t figure out why Vidar didn’t like him. He seemed harmless enough.
“What for?” Harbor asked, already getting to his feet along with Rory.
Niko shook his head. “Not sure, but he saw some announcement about a fighter on TV just now and sent me in here to get you.”
Harbor glanced at Rory, who shrugged. “Let’s go see what’s going on now.”
Vidar was standing still as stone, one arm crossed over his chest, and the other holding the remote for the flat screen mounted to the wall of the Open Wounds lobby. As soon as Niko went through the door in front of them, he ducked his head and scurried back behind the counter. Harbor lifted his chin at his eldest brother. “What’s up?”
Vidar nodded toward the screen, and Harbor turned to see a press conference being broadcast on their local sports network. His eyes widened when he saw the snippet scrolling across the bottom of the screen. MMAPRO Middleweight champion stripped of title. “What the hell?”
On screen, the person behind the podium continued speaking. “This unfortunate turn of events will not impact our upcoming fight schedule, but will create some changes to the fight card. In fact, we are happy to announce that in lieu of holding a title match right away, we’re going to host an elimination style tournament, taking place over the next six months. We’re inviting eight of the most dynamic up and coming fighters in this weight class to participate. The fight card for the first round will be disclosed next month before the first round of fights in August. Questions?”
“I got the call five minutes ago,” Vidar said, pulling Harbor’s attention away from the TV. He met his brother’s eyes, their blue an exact replica of his own.
“What call?”
“You’re in. They want you to fight.”
“Are you fucking kidding me!” Harbor yelled, grabbing Vidar up in a bear hug. Rory was yelling something behind him and several hands landed on his back.
Vidar growled in his ear and Harbor released him, but even the scowl on his face couldn’t bring down Harbo
r’s elation. He was finally going to have his professional fight debut. In the MMAPRO. And for a shot at the title? He couldn’t have dreamed this shit up.
“I’m guessing I’m not the only one who got a call,” Theo’s voice filtered through the boisterous hug he and Rory were sharing and Harbor turned around. Theo was standing at the mouth of the hallway leading back to the tattoo rooms. He was shirtless, cellphone in hand, with Ollie standing beside him still in his black tattooing gloves.
Shit.
Chapter Four
A slow jazz song poured through the car’s speakers as the brick warehouse where he’d spent most of his day came back into view. After Ollie had finished the section of his tattoo, he’d headed back to the hotel for lunch and a nap to recharge. Images of a blue-eyed samurai filled his dreams, stalking him, taunting him. His subconscious wasn’t even trying to be subtle.
Theo was stoked. Finally, a professional fight and a title shot to boot. The call had come moments before Harbor’s voice had carried down the hall to Ollie’s tattoo room. He normally didn’t accept calls from unknown numbers, but something in his gut had him hitting the green button. He was so glad he did. This was it. The opportunity he’d been waiting for and exactly what his brand needed. His sponsors would be thrilled, and he couldn’t wait to tell them, but standing at the end of that hallway, watching Harbor celebrate with his family had glued his feet to the floor.
Harbor was gorgeous anytime, but with that smile? That joy radiating off him? He was breathtaking. Theo had wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them and wrap Harbor up in a hug of his own, to feel that muscular body against his and give Harbor a proper congratulations. Preferably, one that involved one or both of them on their knees. Instead, they shared a simple handshake that had left his skin prickling and an ache building in his gut.
Open Wounds: The Boxed Set Page 13
