Liam

by James, Nicole

  She paid and glanced at him one last time as he stood there with his hands on the counter, his gorgeous arms on display and a smile on his face.

  She took a moment to take in that warm expression, because she wouldn’t see it again when she returned later, her mother hauling her in by her arm to play out their con.

  As Velvet stood on the sidewalk and stared at the shop across the street, she knew how special that memory was to her, every moment crystal clear.

  Velvet had had a secret crush on Liam ever since, and she’d felt incredibly guilty over what happened.

  Over the years, she had all the other tattoos covered with better, beautiful ink, trying to erase the reminders from her skin, but try as she might, and as stunning as her new ink was, she could never erase the guilt and shame she still carried. She’d covered every tattoo; that is, all but one—all but his. She could never bring herself to have Liam’s covered over. He’d been the only one to show her any care. And even when her mother’s scam was apparent, Liam had seen the shame on Velvet’s face. He’d recognized that her mother was using her.

  She’d had tears in her eyes when she’d whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  He wanted to have her mother brought up on charges, but his brother, Jameson, apparently knew what kind of people he was dealing with. “It’d be a waste of time, Liam. They’ll be gone by morning.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  A week later—

  “Brothers Ink,” Liam answered the phone. The rumble of a Harley pulling up at the curb drew his gaze toward the storefront window. A man and young girl climbed off the bike. He immediately recognized the man. Ryder, the President of a local MC had been getting all his ink from Jameson for years. Liam didn’t recognize the girl, but she looked like she couldn’t be more than sixteen.

  The voice on the other end of the line drew his attention back. “Yes, ma’am. We’re open until nine. I’ve got that product in stock if you want to stop by and pick it up tonight. Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  The bell over the door tinkled and the two strode inside. It was obvious before Ryder reached the counter that he was pissed.

  “Can I help you?” Liam asked, hanging the phone up.

  Ryder glared at the girl with him. “Show him.”

  The teen rolled her eyes, but held out her arm. Liam took in the red angry tattoo that wasn’t healing well.

  “Can you fix it?” Ryder growled.

  Liam took the girl’s wrist gently in his hand and dipped his head to study the tattoo, turning her arm to see the full ink. Two Koi fish entwined scrolled around her arm. Not only was it not healing well, the shading was horrid, and the line-work was complete shit. He whistled softly, his eyes lifting to meet hers. “Let me guess. House of Ink?”

  She frowned, her bewildered expression moving to her father, then back to Liam. “H-how did you know?”

  “Around here we call it House of Crap. We get about three or four of their customers a week wanting us to fix their shit work. Had two girls in here yesterday with some really bad ink; one of theirs was badly infected.”

  The biker huffed out a breath and shoved away from the counter. “Christ, Molly! You wanted ink, you shoulda told me. I would’ve brought you here in the first place.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t know. Ronnie said they were cool and—”

  Her father finished the sentence for her. “And they’d tattoo you even though you were underage.”

  She nodded.

  “I woulda signed the consent and gotten Jameson to do the work.”

  “Mom said you wouldn’t let me.”

  “You’re mom doesn’t know everything, Mol. You want something, you come to me and we talk about it. Maybe you get it, maybe you don’t.”

  “Okay, sorry.”

  He looked at Liam. “Can you fix it?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure we can once the infection heals.”

  “Infection? Goddamn it!” Ryder growled and glared at Molly. “I shoulda busted that guy in the mouth.”

  Liam frowned. “What guy?”

  “I took her down there to show ‘em what shit they did to my baby-girl, but the guy who did the work wasn’t around. Just some smart-mouthed guy at one of the chairs and—”

  “Dad!”

  Liam nodded, completely understanding this guy’s rage. “Yeah, I’d love nothing more than to see them shut down. I hate to say that about another shop, but they’ve got no business being in this industry. They’re the kind that give the profession a bad name.”

  Ryder huffed. “Yeah, they do. Anyway, the chick working there apologized. It threw me for a minute because I recognized her from the magazines. Thought it was weird someone like her was there.”

  “They’ve got a chick working down there now?”

  “Yeah. You know the famous one in all the pictures?”

  Liam frowned, not sure he did.

  “Shit. What’s her name?” He snapped his fingers a couple of times. “Fuck, I can’t remember—Wait, it was her. The one in that picture.” He pointed toward Liam’s workstation.

  Liam twisted to look over his shoulder, his eyes landing on the calendar. No way. It couldn’t be. “Velvet?”

  “Yeah, Velvet. That’s her name.”

  Liam’s brows shot up. “You’re saying Velvet Jones is down at House of Crap Ink? What the hell would she be doing down at that shithole?”

  Ryder shrugged. “Fuck if I know. But I’m tellin’ you, it was her, sure as shit. Nice chick, too. Apologized profusely about the work that asshole did on Molly. Gave all the money back plus a hundred bucks.”

  Liam barely heard what the man said. All he could think about was that Velvet—his Velvet—was here in Grand Junction. Hell, she was just a couple of blocks away. His eyes strayed to the window.

  “So what about fixing Molly’s tattoo?”

  Liam mumbled, “Yeah, I’ll put her down for a session at the end of the month. But you should have a doctor look at her arm. The infection needs to be treated.”

  “Yeah, more money this is gonna cost me,” the biker grumbled. “Thanks, man. Come on, Mol.”

  Liam stood, his palms on the counter, one thumb tapping rapidly as his mind reeled.

  The tinkling of the bell over the door as Ryder and his daughter left broke him from his trance, and he twisted to look over his shoulder. “Hey, Max, I need to step out for a couple minutes. You good?”

  The buzzing of the tattoo machine paused as Max glanced up from the customer he was working on. “Everything okay?”

  Liam straightened. “Yeah, man. I’ve just got something important I need to check on.”

  “All right. But be quick. You’ve got that guy comin’ in to finish that dragon at four.”

  Liam glanced at the clock. It gave him forty minutes. “I’ll be back.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Liam walked into House of Ink, and his eyes traveled around the shop, taking in the grungy floors, the lack of sketches on the wall, and no trace of disinfectant.

  All the warning signs and red flags that should scream to a customer to turn around and walk out were there: dirt, gross smells, the needles they’d probably reused. An artist—and he used the term loosely—was talking with a client. The man was making some excuse to avoid showing the kid his portfolios. Liam’s eyes hit the price list on the wall. They offered crazy cheap tattoos. The place, if it were cleaned regularly should smell like disinfectant. Instead it smelled like unwashed bodies.

  He knew practices varied based on the studio, but ultimately it should be evident that needles are being sterilized or are single-use. The artists should always open the tools and tubes in front of the client before putting needle to skin.

  As Liam watched for a while, that was not the case here.

  The guy at the counter continued to rush the client toward a design and push him into getting the tattoo. In the business it was called tattoo bullying.

  House of Ink was the definition of everything bad in the tattoo world. Whil
e Brothers Ink was everything that bespoke of the art of tattooing—it was clean, organized, and with a sleek and contemporary interior, and artists who were extremely talented, with work so far above the slipshod crap the men working here put out.

  Liam observed one of the artists, a young punk of a kid who couldn’t be old enough to have much experience, begin to clean a young girl’s skin without first putting on gloves. When he reached for his tattoo machine, still without gloves and, from the looks of it, without changing the needle for a new one, Liam had to intervene. There was no way he was going to stand by and let that girl be infected with a dirty needle in unsterilized conditions right in front of his eyes.

  “Hey, man, you change that needle out?”

  The kid paused and looked over at him. “You talkin’ to me?”

  “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you.”

  “Ain’t none of your business.”

  “Where are your gloves?”

  He paused again. “What is your problem, man? You don’t work here. I’m the tattoo artist, and I know what I’m doing.”

  The girl in his chair suddenly looked concerned. “Wait. He’s right. You’re supposed to be wearing gloves, aren’t you?”

  He patted her shoulder. “Don’t you worry about it. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Apparently not, buddy. Or you’d have changed out that needle for a sterile one or a single use one, and you’d have gloves on. Did you even clean the tattoo area?”

  “Look, mister, you need to get the fuck outta here. I don’t need you tellin’ me shit or scaring my customers.”

  “Sweetheart,” Liam looked at the girl, “I’m just lookin’ out for you. I work down at Brothers Ink, and I know what I’m talking about. I’m just trying to save you from a bad infection.”

  The artist tossed his tattoo machine down on his workstation and stood, charging toward Liam. He pointed toward the door. “I done told you to get the fuck outta here, you son-of-a-bitch!”

  Liam stood his ground. “Where’s the owner? ‘Cause it sure as shit ain’t you.”

  “He ain’t here. Now get the fuck out!”

  “You want to try and make me, pipsqueak?”

  The skinny kid shoved Liam, but Liam barely moved an inch.

  “Stop it! Please, stop!”

  From the corner of his eye, Liam saw two people come out of the back. He felt an arm on his, and he swiveled his head at the sound of the feminine voice he knew right away. He’d been expecting to find her here, but still, her sudden appearance had him freezing in motion, his words deserting him. All he could do was stare at her.

  “Please leave.” She would barely meet his eyes.

  “You want me to leave, then come outside and talk to me.”

  The man who had followed her out of the back spoke. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

  “Shut up, Vano,” Velvet snapped at the man, and Liam couldn’t help noticing the tick in the man’s jaw when she spoke to him that way. She looked like she’d even surprised herself with those words. Liam wondered who this guy was, but the tension in the shop had their emotions charged, and for some reason Vano let it slide. She jerked her gaze back to Liam. “Fine. Come on.”

  Liam trailed behind her out the door. The shop sat on the corner, and so she led him around the wall and out of sight of the storefront window.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Liam followed Velvet out the door and around the corner, irritation rolling through him. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing away, and then spinning back to her. In three steps he had her up against the wall. Wide eyes stared up at him. He only held them a moment before his gaze dropped to her lips, and then he was a goner. Christ, he couldn’t help himself.

  His mouth descended on hers, capturing her soft lips under his. He felt and heard her quick intake of breath through her nose, and knew he’d taken her by surprise, but he didn’t give a damn.

  She recovered quickly, and her palms settled on his chest, but they didn’t push him away. After a moment her mouth softened and opened for him. He took the invitation, and his tongue swept inside. Her head fell back, and her hands slid up to twine around his neck. He crowded her against the wall until her soft breasts pressed against the unrelenting muscle of his chest. Damn, that felt good, but he was a selfish bastard, and he wanted more. His hands landed on her hips, then smoothed up under her soft tank top to the warm skin of her curves, settling at her tiny waist. His grip tightened, and he dragged her pelvis against his, letting her feel the erection that pushed against the placket of his jeans, yearning toward her. He rubbed against her until she was moaning under his mouth, and her hands clutched him tighter to her.

  When he finally broke the kiss to breathe, they stared speechless at each other. The need in him welled up, and he fought to tamp it back down.

  Recovering first, she glanced toward the door. “Umm…you need to go.”

  Was she worried one of those assholes would come outside? He wasn’t. They were the last things on his mind right now. “Why’d you run out on me?”

  Her brows arched. “I didn’t run out on you. I merely got dressed and left that morning.”

  “Why didn’t you at least say goodbye? We had a connection. We both felt it. We still feel it. So don’t pretend that night was nothing to you.”

  She swallowed but didn’t deny it, and Liam was grateful for that at least, but he needed more. He lifted his chin to the shop. “What time do you get out of here tonight?”

  Cute little frown lines formed as her brows drew together. “Why?”

  He couldn’t resist pressing his mouth softly to them, touching the spot just between her brows. When he pulled back, her face softened. Had no one ever shown her tenderness? “You’re going to meet me tonight.”

  She pushed him back a few inches, shaking her head. “No I’m not. I can’t. I—”

  “Yes, you can and you are. And we’re gonna talk this out.” He glanced to the side. “Not here on the street, but at my place where we’ve got some privacy.”

  “Liam—”

  “I live in the apartment above Heinzelmann’s Bakery, down the street from Brothers Ink. It’s the blue door next to the bakery entrance. Can’t miss it. My apartment is top of the stairs.”

  “I-I don’t know, I—”

  “You don’t show, I’ll turn up here again tomorrow and every day until you do. That the way you want to play this?” He wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

  Her defiant little chin came up, and all he could think about was kissing that mouth again. “Don’t boss me around. I don’t like it.”

  He grinned. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Used to it?” There was a snap in her voice.

  He bumped his nose to hers. “Yeah, I can be bossy, I admit it. But I can also be sweet and attentive and devoted.”

  “Devoted?”

  “Loving and affectionate and devoted to your every need.”

  “My every need?” Her brow arched with her smirk.

  He pulled her lower half against him for another slow rub. “Every single one.”

  “That’s quite a promise.”

  “One I intend to keep. Tonight.” He sealed the promise with a kiss and let her go, leaving her standing open-mouthed. He smiled to himself as he walked back toward Brothers Ink, a new jaunt in his step. He smiled at passersby; the sun seemed brighter, hell, the whole day seemed brighter. Yes, things were definitely looking up.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Velvet hesitated, her knuckles inches from Liam’s door. Her heart wanted her to go in, but her head told her this was a bad idea—for so many reasons—first and foremost because she hadn’t been honest with Liam. What was she doing? She knew if she let herself get close to him, she wouldn’t be able to resist. And then where would she be? She’d fall for him, and it would be hard and fast, and when she hit bottom and he found out her secrets, what then? He’d hate her. He’d want nothing more to do with her. Would she be able to handle that? Would being
with him now be worth the pain that was sure to follow?

  He’d been the mark in one of her family’s cons for God’s sake. She knew better than to get involved with him. That was rule number one.

  She listed all the reasons being here, standing poised with her hand an inch from his door was a terrible idea. None of that mattered to her heart, though. And in the war between her head and her heart, it was no contest. It never had been and never would be, not where Liam was concerned. She took a deep breath and rapped against the wood.

  When Liam opened the door, his eyes swept over her, taking in every inch. As his gaze traveled the length of her body, a tingling flush moved over her skin, almost as if he were already touching her.

  He stood before her in a tight t-shirt, his jeans hanging low on his hips.

  Being here, seeing him again and knowing what might happen here tonight—hell, what probably would happen here tonight if she were being completely honest with herself—had her pulse beating rapidly and her breathing accelerating. Then seeing him—all that was him—took the words from her, and she had to lick her lips. “Hello.”

  She barely got the word out before he drew her flush against him and claimed her mouth for a kiss. It was hot and passionate, and the way he took what he wanted was totally alpha male, and she loved everything about it, but she knew she had to keep her wits about her if she was going to maneuver this “reunion” with care.

  She pushed away, breaking the kiss. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

  He pulled her back. “We’ll get to that.”

  After a longer, deeper kiss, he lifted her up and carried her down the hall to his bedroom.

  Velvet had the just barely time to take in a few quick impressions of his place. It was small with a living room that faced the front street on the left, a dining room/kitchen combination on the right, and a hallway in the middle that led to a bedroom. She noticed a flat screen TV and shelving cubes stacked under the windows filled with what might have been record albums. A brown leather couch and rustic wooden coffee table flashed by as he carried her down the hall.