On the image's wrist was the word "Tank" in an elegant script. She was assured the look of the name could be personalized, so for her Brady thought a ladylike script would work best. She loved it.
It would be black and gray, and on the inside skin of her arm it would show up perfectly.
Tank's hands smoothed down her back, then he moved to sit next to her and take her free hand. She gave him a reassuring smile as the tattoo gun buzzed to life.
Okay, that scared her. But at the first touch she resolved not to watch, to keep her attention solely on her old man.
Old man. She had an old man. It wasn't legally official yet. They'd go to the justice of the peace eventually; they were just waiting for the marriage license. But with Brady here and Buck's Gertie tattoo done, Brady was open to ink her and Tank as well.
Buck's tattoo was beautiful. It was done pin-up style on the outside of his forearm, a vivacious red-head that totally looked like his wife, wrapped only in an old-school banner that read "Gertie." The banner was wide enough to cover all the vital bits, but her legs and the tops of the breasts were prominent.
Tank joked that Brady was lucky he was gay, because while the ink was exactly what Buck wanted any other guy would be coughing out his own teeth for doodling something like that with Gertie in mind.
The needles made meatloaf of her skin, and when she felt as though there must be no skin left at all, Brady declared her done. Tank had done a wonderful job distracting her for the hour and a bit that it took, and when she brought her arm up she was stunned. The shading on the fist was amazing; the crinkles and cracks of the skin looked like they were part of her, not etching in ink. And Tank's name brought out a smile that she couldn't fight.
Then it was Tank's turn. They switched places after Brady cleaned her up and covered the area with plastic wrap. When he pressed the stencil into place over Tank's chest, where he'd shaved the hair away just for this occasion, Rose felt the tears start. It was old-school Americana, too. A bright, fat rose in red, opening behind a scroll that said her name. He was getting it in the center of that big chest, right over his heart. It was going to be gorgeous.
She gave him a quick kiss before Brady set to work. Behind her, Gertie and Buck came to check on the progress, giving Tank a hard time about being such a wimp when it came to tattoos. Rose knew that was bullshit; his back was covered, and that had to have hurt like a bitch. But Tank took their teasing with only his lopsided grin.
Everyone had shown up for Gertie and Buck's nuptials celebration. Trinny had come back with the kids, one of Gertie's brothers had stayed a little bit with his wife. The Nomads were in, like they always were for a party. Rose had met the Screaming Banshees for the first time ever, and while they were scary, she had to admit their name did most of the work setting people up to be intimidated.
"Welcome to the club, beautiful," a voice said over her shoulder as arms came down around her for a tight hug from behind.
Rose smiled and patted Jolene's arm. "Thanks, honey."
"Your ink is hot."
Rose was laughing. "Are you drunk?"
"That would be affirmative." Jolene circled her and sat on her lap, leaning over Tank's chest to inspect Brady's work. "Damn, kid," she muttered, or, rather, slurred. "You make me want to get another tattoo."
"You say what you want, we'll set it up," Brady promised with a grin that made his eyes twinkle.
"You only like guys? Or do you sometimes give girls a try, just to keep it interesting?"
Tank made a noise of disgust. "Jesus, Jolene. Leave the guy be. He's working here."
"I'm just curious, Tank. He's hot."
Brady was laughing as he went back to Tank's skin with red ink. "Sorry. Can't abide women, no."
"Damn. And my husband won't try guys, either."
Now Rose was laughing hard, her face warm. "Jolene, are you asking people to have a threesome?"
She shrugged and gave Rose a glassy-eyed grin. "Why? You interested?"
"She's not. Go find your old man," Tank snapped, but it sounded only about twenty-percent angry. Mostly amused with some annoyance.
"Okay, okay. I'm going. But if you two ever feel like playing—"
"Jolene." Now Tank's tone was a warning and Rose had to admit that turned her on.
"I'm going! Man. I thought you were a nice guy." Jolene left them with a pronounced sulk and jutting lip to go in search of Mickey. Rose was still laughing as Tank checked to make sure she was okay.
"She was kidding? Or are the rumors true?"
Tank shook his head. "All rumors have a bit of truth, right?"
Rose took that in as her giggles died off. "Really? Holy shit."
Tank shook his head, more of a warning. "Don't bring it up, don't stew on it. No one else's business."
They both seemed to realize Brady was there at the same time and he raised both hands. "Hey, just the tattoo guy. The gay tattoo guy. No judgments."
She held her man's hand while the tattoo continued, and he kept bringing it up to kiss the back of her hand.
"You talk to your mom?"
Rose nodded. "Yeah. She's willing. Once a spot opens up she can be here within a month."
"Good," he answered simply, then closed his eyes as the machine buzzed.
She couldn't possibly express how wonderful this man was. Bringing her mom here to be close to her, taking care of the both of them like it was something anyone would do given the chance. He honestly didn't know how extraordinary he was.
They'd put June Clairborne on a list at Markham Palm Manor, a care home with varying levels of care from assisted living to palliative. It would actually be less expensive, and Rose liked the look of the place, plus the employees were all local, so they were getting to know her and already knew Tank as well. They were kind and seemed excited to have her mother there for some reason.
And she had once thought all he wanted was the occasional booty call.
The club was turning around, too. In the upcoming weeks they'd be shut down for a major overhaul to Rebel Circus, and she couldn't wait to see how it all came out. The simple work was being done by the club, prospects and hangarounds. For the specialty stuff tradespeople had been arranged already so the electrical and plumbing had to get done in week number two or the closure would be extended. Which would suck, even though Tank and Jayce both assured her the club could cover the loan payments. She didn't want to count on them for her big ideas; she wanted to take care of this on her own as much as she could. Her and Gertie and Coco, that was.
"Looking good, big guy," Knuckles declared, standing behind Brady. He had a bottle of Coke in his hand and he took a long swig before nodding. "Rose, I know you gotta like the look of that."
She leaned in to see it full on and Brady backed off. It was nearly done and she covered her mouth with her free hand. "Oh my God!"
"What? Did he spell it wrong?" Tank was grinning as he said it.
"No. It's ... it's wonderful." She leaned into him, avoiding the work area, and scratched her nails through his growing hair as she kissed him. "You're wonderful."
He shook his head as she leaned back into her chair. "You must be nuts."
She was getting used to him declaring her insane for all her praises. It was becoming a game.
When the blood was rinsed off, Brady handed Tank a large hand mirror to inspect the work and he made a corny joke about it being backwards before handing it back and declaring that the ink perfect.
She had to agree. The ink was perfect, he was perfect, and for the time being, so was everything else.
They went upstairs to his dorm to be alone long before the party wound down. Making love was tricky with the gauze and raw skin but they managed just fine, if Tank's grunts and shouts were anything to go by.
Actually, Rose couldn't see anything keeping them apart. Not ever.
About C.D. Breadner:
C.D. Breadner is a self-published author. Her first novel, Sin Eater, was the beginning of The Sin Eater series, an
urban paranormal, slightly erotic series looking at the different forces of good and evil. Recently she was christened a contributing author to The Freak Circle; a collective of amazing and supportive writers who encouraged her to delve into the genre of motorcycle club fiction with them, which brought about her second series, the stories of the Red Rebels MC.
She recently also published a standalone novel that takes place during World War II, Drawing Blood.
She lives in a cozy home in the woods with her wonderful husband and two German Shepherds.
Connect With C.D. Breadner:
Visit C.D. Breadner’s Website
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C.D. Breadner’s Amazon Author Page
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