And his sights just landed on me.
From the moment he walks into my tattoo parlor, he owns me.
I can’t say no.
And I wouldn’t, even if I had the chance.
He’s just too much in every way.
Too much man.
Too much power.
And far, far too much danger.
It’s not enough for Bo to own my body, my heart, my mind.
He’s got to brand his mark on me – permanently.
By putting his baby in my womb.
But what I didn’t know is that he has enemies.
And they’ll do whatever it takes to hurt him.
Even if that means hurting me.
Now, I’ve got a child growing inside of me and a war raging around me.
I’m gonna give Braxton a piece of my mind…
As long as we both get out alive.
CHAPTER ONE
“Holy hell.”
The awed whispers of some of the clients in the tattoo booth drew Dakota out of the closet where she’d been organizing ink vials. She peered up and down the hallway. Two girls waiting in the first tattoo booth closest to the reception area giggled, craning to see around the corner.
“Is everything okay?” Dakota arched a brow, but the loud voices of the reception area drew her nearer. It was only her third week on the job, so she was still getting the hang of things around InkWorks. So far, her colleagues were cool and her boss Tony treated her more like a long-lost family member. Maybe it was because she was his understudy of sorts—following him around, assisting on everything. He’d even called her his protégé once.
It was a nice reception to Los Angeles, which was a new and overwhelming city for her. She’d gotten lucky getting hired in to this studio—gotten lucky that someone chose to believe in her after all the lackluster mediocrity she’d lived through since dropping out of art school. But really, even if it had been shitty at this studio, it would still be better than where she’d come from.
The girls responded as she peered around the corner but she didn’t quite process the words. In the reception area, flanked by customers and colleagues, a stranger stood with his back facing her, staring at Ray, her boss’ brother. Tension prickled in the air, and she’d missed whatever Ray had shouted. But it must not have been nice.
“If Tony’s not here, that’s even more reason to treat you however the fuck I want,” the stranger spat, his voice a menacing growl. Dakota’s skin pimpled with anticipation and confusion. The guy cut a fine figure from behind, and she was desperate to get a look at him head on. He wore a fitted suit vest over a pinstripe button-up shirt, which was rolled up at the sleeves. Swirls and colors filled his exposed forearms, all the way down to his tightly balled fists.
Ray scoffed. “It’s his business, but I belong here too. You can’t control everything about my life now that I’m out.”
“Like fuck I can’t.” The sexy man stepped closer to Ray. The precise edging of his hairline, the immaculately executed fade. She shivered. Aggression rolled off of him, yet he had an eye for fashion detail. Why is that so sexy?
“Ray, you better get out of here,” Red spoke up. Dakota furrowed a brow. Now this really didn’t make sense. Red was the assistant manager to InkWorks, right under her boss Tony. Her cherry red hair slipped out from behind an ear as she pointed at the door, a curling dragon tattoo covering her left bicep. “Come on. Get out of here.”
Ray huffed and retreated from the waiting room, glaring at the stranger. Ray was Tony’s younger brother, so why was Red kicking him out? She hadn’t known him to be provocative or anything offensive in these three short weeks. Questions swirled in her head and she jerked herself away from the doorframe once Ray stormed out of the building.
Dakota sent a disapproving glance to the girls still tittering. “Go on, get back in there. Red will be taking care of you soon, you don’t want to mess up your outline.” She nodded toward the faint blue trace of a dove on one of the girl’s shoulders. Clearly Red had stepped away from her appointment to handle the front desk, another downside to Tony’s unexpected absence. On a slow day, the workload was too much for her, Red and Tony to handle. But today, without Tony, it had been absolute madness.
Gruff shouting drew her back toward the waiting room.
“What do you fucking mean he’s gone?”
Instead of heading to the waiting room like a gawker, she peered into the side of the front office, which had a window overlooking the reception area. Red stood behind the reception window, hip cocked.
“Bo, I told you. Tony’s out. He got locked up last night.”
The sexy stranger scoffed, and Dakota caught a glimpse of his chiseled features. He was a goddamn GQ model. Black hair, almost a pompadour on top, and just a hint of scruff. A strong nose and hard eyes that stared at the ceiling as his jaw flexed with annoyance.
“Bullshit,” Bo spat.
“I’m not kidding. He had a warrant out for his arrest. He got pulled over last night for a busted headlight but they popped him on the warrant.”
Dakota arched a brow. This was new information. Red had simply told her Tony wasn’t feeling well. Why did this guy get the inside scoop and not her?
“Oh, come on. Tony’s a good boy, remember?” Bo’s voice sounded snide. She wanted to go into the front office and rummage around, to be able to at least be closer while he talked, but also she didn’t want to get in his line of vision. He’d already proven himself hothead, and maybe he’d turn his ire on her.
Red’s voice lowered, and Dakota had to lean in to hear. “I’m not kidding. He got an indecent exposure charge a couple years back—he and some buddie were at a bachelor’s party. It was a naked Easter Egg hunt, or some shit. I dunno. Anyway, he got popped then, never took care of it, and when he crossed state lines last night for a concert he got hauled away.”
Dakota pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. Naked Easter Egg hunt? This was too good to be true.
“Tony’s on my shit list,” Bo said. “He knew I’ve been waiting for this appointment for a goddamn month.”
“He can reschedule,” Red said, “As soon as he makes bail we can—“
“Darling, you don’t understand. I need him here now.”
The firmness in Bo’s voice rooted Dakota to her spot. There was something authoritative there, that told her he was used to getting his way. What a strange specimen to walk in the door. Somewhere between a child’s temper tantrum and a prince expecting his loyal subjects to bend to his will. Dakota crossed her arms, leaning against the wall, to continue eavesdropping.
“Why don’t I set you up with Dakota?” Red’s voice betrayed bright, forced friendliness. Dakota stood straight. Like hell this guy would ever accept that.
“Who the fuck is Dakota?”
“Our new girl. She’s been training with Tony for a few weeks now.”
Fear slid through her and she started shaking her head “no” like a silent plea to Red. What if this guy agreed? She’d have to be on the receiving end of his princely temper tantrums, and she doubted she’d be able to stand cocky bitching for the duration of a tattoo. He might even go as far as to make her mess up, just to bitch about it. His energy was fiery and consuming, even from across the room, even before he’d laid eyes on her.
“You think I want some fuckin’ noob working on this piece?” Bo scoffed, his voice even more caustic. Dakota shook her head harder, eyes widening as Red turned toward the hall and headed toward her.
Red paused, and when she spoke again she was right beside Dakota. “Hey, girl, there you are!”
Dakota looked guiltily at Red. Caught Red-handed. “H-hey.”
“Come here, I need you to take one of Tony’s appointments,” she said, pulling her through the doorway to the front office. Dakota gulped, stumbling behind her, an excuse at the tip of her tongue. What good reason could she give to get out of it, other than “this dude sounds like an angry rhino”? She couldn’t turn down clients, not in the fi
rst month on the job. Hell, not in the first year on the job. She had to make InkWorks work.
In the bright lighting of the front office, she glanced at Bo and then yanked her gaze away. God, he was hot. But he was also angry, and that didn’t make for a fun session. Dakota could handle whatever this guy wanted her to do to him, but he didn’t know that. Nor should he expect it—that tattoo artist bond was special, and she’d be at least a little pissed if her tattoo guy had unexpectedly ditched an appointment, too.
Not to screaming and threat levels, of course, but at least miffed.
“Bo, I want you to meet Dakota.” Red shoved her forward toward the window looking out over the reception area. Dakota cleared her throat, hands immediately moving toward the bandana in her hair, a nervous habit. She tugged at it to make sure it was in place, fingering the bobby pins keeping it down, smoothing her fingertips over the jet-black bangs sweeping across her forehead. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she awaited his response.
“Oh. So noob wasn’t enough, it’s a fuckin girl working on me?” Bo was across the room, staring out the window, veins bulging in his arms as he clenched his fists. A few guys sat in the seats near him, thumbing through magazines, strangely oblivious to his show. He spun on his heels and stormed back toward the front counter. His gaze sliced through her and she sucked in a breath, holding it.
Bo was quiet as he came up to the counter, smoothing his hardened hand over the surface. His gaze smoldered on her, lighting tiny fires all over her skin. “Are you Dakota?”
She jerked her head into a nod, steeling herself under his gaze. This guy was hot and a firecracker, but he wouldn’t shake her. “I am. Are you Bo?”
He hefted with a laugh, like he couldn’t believe she was even asking. “You really must be new around here.”
Red gestured toward Dakota. “Whaddya say? She’ll help you out and you’ll love it, I swear. I’ve got a client already waiting for me, Bo, so it’s either her or wait for Tony. And you might be waiting a couple of days.”
Dakota felt her neck heat up as his gaze traveled up and down her body. There was something about him that felt bad, like a dark side lurking behind this alluring shroud of meticulous aesthetics. The wings of something crept up the sides of his neck, another tattoo that snagged her attention. He looked hard-bodied and totally inked—exactly her type.
But something about this guy told her he couldn’t be her type. No matter how much her body responded to him.
A heavy silence hung in the air as Bo contemplated the offer. “Yeah. I’ll try Dakota.”
Her eyes widened. After all that stink, he was going to let her tattoo him? “Are you serious?”
A sly smile crossed his face. His fervor seemed to have dissipated considerably. “Sure. Why not?”
Dakota turned to Red for support, but she was halfway out the door toward the girls in the first room. “Take him back to your booth,” she said, her fluttering fingers disappearing through the doorway. Dakota turned to find Bo’s heavy gaze on her, an eyebrow arched.
“Okay, then.” She cleared her throat, jerking her head toward the hallway. “Let’s go.”
Dakota stepped out into the hallway, registering Bo’s footsteps behind her like they were broadcast through a sound system. Her own steps felt airy and padded, drifting through a strange dream cloud on her way to her booth. She stepped aside, gesturing for him to walk into the small room where all the magic happened.
For only three weeks in, she’d decorated it pretty well. Pin-up girls dotted the walls—her personal inspiration—alongside gorgeous, tragic drawings of castles and couples and landscapes. Her own artistic inspiration ranged from Salvador Dali to Dita Von Teese. She liked things that wept and screamed; challenged the perspective, but also felt familiar. Big busts, eye-catching styles. And more than that, she liked to display all of these preferences on her own body whenever possible.
Bo’s gaze raked her up and down as he stepped inside the room. He sat on the edge of the chair, tension bloating in the air.
“So.” She forced her voice to come out steady and strong. “What did you want done today?”
His eyes skipped around the small room, an interesting expression crossing his face. For such a boisterous man, he sure had been quiet. It set her on edge; who knew what to expect from this guy. And something about the confusion made her desperate to figure him out.
She caught a whiff of cologne and something else, the sting of the outdoors. He cleared his throat, unrolling his sleeves.
“Tony had the sketches for a new design I wanted to add to a piece on my back,” Bo said, gaze still skating around the room. He paused, squinting at one of the pictures on the far wall. She followed his gaze to it—it was a picture of her in a bikini, a retro photo shoot she’d done with total throwback hair and a motorcycle.
“Is that you?” His voice came out gritty.
“Yeah.” She crossed her arms, cocking a hip. “So what did you want me to do?”
The corner of his mouth turned up and his gaze met hers. Oh God. Please don’t say something totally inappropriate. She’d left that door wide open.
“Since Tony’s out and he’s got that design, I think you should touch up a different piece,” he said, undoing the buttons of his vest. He slid it off, draping it over a nearby chair. “It’s one that needs a little attention.”
The smirk on his lips held her captive as he unbuttoned his shirt. It hung open slightly as he worked his way down and Dakota gulped. He shrugged it off and laid it over the vest on the chair nearby. A sun kissed chest greeted her, washboard and all, and he sat there smiling at her like this was all a game. Tattoos covered his chest and ribs, over his shoulders, up and down his arms. She could spend a half hour taking them all in and still want to look just a little bit longer.
“Okay.” She furrowed a brow, trying to make this clinical somehow, like a doctor assessing a patient. So she might focus on the tattoos instead of the arcs and valleys of his muscles. “Which one needs the work?”
“This one.” He pointed to gothic lettering stretching across his low abdomen. She squinted to read it—Burning Angels. It looked old and faded. She nodded.
“Sounds good. That one definitely needs to be spruced up.” She tossed him a quick smile and stood. He eased back into the chair, adjusting something at his low back. The ink she needed was already in stock in her room, so she got those and slipped on bright purple powdered gloves before readying her tattoo gun. Bo’s gaze practically broke skin as she scooted close to him on a swivel stool, tattoo gun poised.
“So, Bo. Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER TWO
Bo’s eyes fluttered shut as the tattoo gun made contact with his low belly. Something about the whirr of the gun and the tiny points of pain were like a meditative trance to him. It didn’t hurt—far from it—just lulled him into comfort and peace. The only thing that hurt on him right now was the handgun tucked into the back of his pants, biting into his lumbar area. But going anywhere unarmed was out of the question—not with his lifestyle. His head dropped back to the headrest of the tattoo chair and he cleared his throat.
“You good?” Dakota didn’t look up at him.
“Oh yeah.” He smiled as he looked down at her, enjoying this perspective far more than when Tony worked on him. Tony wasn’t a sexy, immaculately made-up pin-up model, though. Hell, he might need to switch to Dakota just for the eye candy. Though if she sucked, he wouldn’t dare try a second time, no matter how sexy she was.
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as she shifted to look more closely at his tattoo, revealing the lush swell of her cleavage. He gritted his teeth. Dakota. She was hotter than sin and looked like she’d bend over real nice if he wanted to take her over the side of this chair after their session. Maybe she’d be into that. He’d sure as hell try.
But it was hard to tell. Dakota seemed clueless as to who he was. Most girls jumped at the chance to service Bo in any way they could, but Dakota’s reaction to him
told him she’d have preferred to tattoo a homeless man over him. Could it be possible she worked with Tony and had no idea who he was, or had never heard of his motorcycle club Burning Angels?
She must not have been here long. He was here only last month and he would have remembered tits like hers and those high-waisted pedal pushers. Everything about her made him salivate. From winged eyeliner to the luscious red vixen lips to the beat-up Chuck Taylors, this girl was made for him.
“You said you’re new here,” he said slowly, relishing the repeated stab of the needle. Between that and the view of her chest, he was semi-hard already. “So does that mean new to the neighborhood or to Ink Works?”
The hum of the gun stopped and she glanced up at him. Dabbing the tip into ink again, she resumed coloring in his letters. “New to all of it. I just moved here from Nevada.”
“Hm.” He shifted beneath her as she pressed a palm against his hip to stretch the skin a little. She peered at the work so far and then dipped the needle into more ink. “You like it here?”
BIKER’S SURPRISE BABY Page 39
