by Cole, Regina
It was a full half hour and twelve contestants later that she saw him.
And gasped.
Standing only a few feet from Hammer, wearing a bright-red tank top, was Guy Dionis.
Panic choked her and she gasped for air. Why was Guy here? He hadn’t been anywhere all day long and now he showed up when she was going to be parading the cover-up of his tattoo in front of hundreds of people? Why was fate so fucking cruel?
Her worries skewed her sense of time. She wasn’t even close to done fretting when Beer Belly said, “And now for our final contestant, Quinn LaBrea.”
She blinked. And blinked again.
The girl with the dreads and piercings shoved her onto the stage just as her fight-or-flight sense kicked in. The table in front of her held the four judges, all displaying varying degrees of curiosity and confusion. She was about to run away when Beer Belly started speaking again.
“Judges, you’ll be scoring at the phoenix tattoo on her right thigh. This is a cover-up piece, you can see the original in the provided photos there.”
Quinn slammed her lids closed.
“Come closer, Quinn. It’s okay, we don’t bite,” the judge on the end said, her septum ring shaking as she laughed.
It’s okay. This is for Hammer. Guy won’t make a scene in front of all these people, she told herself as she smiled at the judges and lifted her hem to give them a better view of Hammer’s work. Pens scratched on paper as she rotated her leg right and left. Almost through now.
While Beer Belly spoke again, Quinn made plans for her escape.
“That was Quinn LaBrea, our final contestant, and the art is by Hamilton Dean of Tattoo Hammer, new shop to be located in Fell’s Point.”
An angry, familiar voice shouted up from the crowd, “That’s bullshit! I did that tattoo!”
All the blood left Quinn’s cheeks as she faced the confused crowd. Guy shoved his way through the throng toward the stage. She took a shaky breath and looked at Beer Belly for help.
“Who are you?” The emcee asked, his words as bewildered as she felt.
“I’m Guy Dionis. I did that tattoo. That’s my art and I’ll be damned if someone else gets credit for it.” Guy hopped up onto the stage like a heel wrestler gaining the ring.
Quinn took a step backward out of instinct. She opened her mouth to contradict Guy but Hammer’s clear bass voice cut through the crowd.
“That’s my art. This guy is full of shit.” He strode through the ballroom, making use of the aisle left by Guy’s entrance.
The judges muttered behind Quinn. She was afraid to look back, afraid to take her eyes off the scene unfolding in front of her.
“You are a liar and a cheat. That’s my ink.” Guy gestured to Quinn. “Quinny will tell you.”
Beer Belly turned to her. “Well?”
Quinn stared at Guy, all the hurt and rage frothing into a foam within her. Since the day he’d disappeared, she’d had to struggle. Since before then, even. He’d fuck up and she’d have to pick up the pieces. He’d take her for granted, push her into things she didn’t want to do, absorb her time, her money, her whole damn life. He had so much to answer for. So many things he’d done and said that it would take years for those wounds to heal.
But the biggest wound of all, the cruelest blow, was that she’d given him so much of herself. Shame closed her eyes on that thought but before she could recover and give the perfectly worded, skewering answer that would bring Guy Dionis to his knees, Hammer spoke up.
“I guess not answering means you’ve made your decision, Sparky.” His face creased with anger, disappointment, but the knife in her heart was the sorrow she found there. He walked away.
“No, Hammer, wait! That’s not what it was, please, come back!” She ran past the emcee and Guy to get to the stairs but Guy’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. She pulled but Guy wouldn’t let her go. “Hammer, please!”
He didn’t stop. The ballroom doors clicked shut after him.
Quinn stomped hard on Guy’s instep, wishing like hell she’d worn shoes other than flip-flops today. It worked and he released her.
She ran to the judge’s table. “Guy is full of shit. He did the crap that Hammer covered. This is Hammer’s work, not Guy’s. Guy was my boyfriend but now he’s just a bad mistake.”
“What did you say?” Guy sounded honestly shocked. Two of the judges tried to hide their reactions but the others raised their brows.
Quinn turned back to Guy. She didn’t give a shit that hundreds of people were watching this go down. She didn’t care that she’d planned to do this privately, at length, explaining everything in detail. She had to make a clean break and get her man before he was convinced she’d betrayed him.
“Guy, you’re an asshole. I want all my shit back and then I don’t ever want to see you again. Either you give me that bike, the tattoo equipment, all the other shit I financed for you and six weeks back rent, or I’ll sue your ass so hard you’ll be lucky to own a fucking paper clip.”
She started to storm past her stunned ex to run after Hammer, but he caught her arm in a cruel grip.
His eyes were cold as he growled, “You threatening me, Quinny? You can’t leave me if I don’t want you to.” His fingertips dug into her biceps so hard she cried out.
“Let go of me, you asshole. Hammer!”
The betrayal filling his mouth tasted bitter as chalk. Hammer slumped against the wall outside the auditorium, trying to get his shit together and go upstairs. But even the thought of getting away couldn’t distract him from the exquisite agony rocketing through his chest at Quinn’s treachery.
She’d had Guy right there. Jersey Shore was, in fact, Guy Dionis, the scratcher who’d fucked up her leg tattoo and her life. But when it had come down to it, when Guy’d laid claim to Hammer’s ink and Quinn’s leg, she hadn’t been able to tell the world that Guy was a fucking liar. Her indecision had broken his fucking heart.
He jammed his hand in his pocket and felt for his room key. He wanted to get his shit out before Quinn came back with her boyfriend. For all he knew, they’d want the room to get cozy and reacquainted.
The thought made him punch the wall. The sound ricocheted along the corridor as he stared at the mark his fist had left. This relationship had been different, for him at least. But Quinn wasn’t any different than Lora. They had both been waiting for the bad guy to crook his finger and whisk them out of Hammer’s life.
A sharp cry echoed through the auditorium’s sound system.
Sparky.
As quickly as he’d left the crowded room full of convention goers, he went back inside at a dead run. What he saw sent rage curling through his veins.
“Get your hands off her, Dionis. Now.”
Guy didn’t appear to have heard Hammer. He had Quinn by the upper arms, shaking her like a fucking rag doll. The crowd was stunned, apparently frozen at the real-life soap opera happening in front of them. Hammer blasted his way through them, locked on Sparky. No matter her decision, he wouldn’t stand by and watch her in pain. Oh no. He and Dionis had a score to settle.
Hammer leaped onto the stage and grabbed Guy by the neck, slinging him away from Quinn. She kicked the bastard in the groin as soon as he was down but Hammer didn’t stop there. He threw a vicious right into the downed guy’s face, cheering inwardly at the sight of blood spurting from Guy’s nose like water from a shopping-mall fountain.
Another punch, this time to the jaw. The stinging pain in his knuckles was glorious. He cocked back his right arm to throw another but the emcee and the judges had apparently woken up. Unfortunately.
Hammer allowed himself to be dragged off Guy, who moaned and covered his face.
Quinn was right beside him. “Hammer, oh god, why didn’t you wait? Please, give me a second to explain.”
The emcee left to help the other judges with Dionis, and Hammer turned to Quinn.
“Explain what, Sparky? You laid it all out for me. You only wanted fun. I just didn’t take yo
u at your word.” He started to jump down from the stage, all thoughts trained on leaving.
“Just give me a goddamn minute, will you?” She ran around in front of him, both palms splayed on his chest to keep him from jumping down.
“Fine. Sixty seconds.” He crossed his arms over his chest and drew himself up to his full height.
“If you’d waited a second, you would have heard me tell everyone that Guy was lying,” she pleaded.
He searched her expression for duplicity and found none.
“I was just shocked at seeing him in the ballroom. I’d been searching for him all day…”
Hammer dropped his arms in surprise. “You knew he was at the convention?”
She shoved the hair from her forehead and closed her eyes. “Yes. He cornered me yesterday. Wanted me to meet him at the bar to ‘catch up’.” She made air quotes. “I was trying to find him today.”
Hammer lowered his brows, trying to keep the intense aching pain he felt from his face. “So you wanted to find him today because I made you miss your rendezvous last night?”
“No, you jerk, I wanted to find him today to tell him to bugger off because I love you.” She screamed the last three words.
Silence fell on the crowd like a curtain, even on the two guys helping Guy from the auditorium.
Hammer staggered backward, nearly falling into the empty judges’ table. “What?”
“I said I love you, Hammer. I told Guy I wanted all my shit back and I never wanted to see him again.”
Hope sprouted in his chest like a tiny green plant in a cracked, dry desert. He was afraid to believe her words so he asked her again. “You love me?”
She laughed then, and all the sunshine he’d been missing for the last twelve hours returned in full force. “Yes, Hammer, I love you.”
He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply, fiercely enough to convey the depth of his feelings for her. He put every ounce of love into the movements of his mouth on hers, the masterful sweep of his tongue in her mouth, his hands cupping her ass, bringing her close to him.
Only when she was breathless, limp, did he raise his head. “I love you too, Sparky.”
She smiled up at him, his piss-and-vinegar firecracker. “Good. Now kiss me again.”
He was only too happy to comply. The catcalls and hoots of the crowd barely registered. He didn’t give a shit that several hundred, if not a thousand, people had heard his life fall apart and then come back together again in the space of a half hour. He was just happy to be kissing her.
A clearing of a throat accompanied by a tap on the shoulder made him break their kiss.
“Hey, Hammer. Get a room later. First we’ve got to clear off this stage for the awards.”
“Sorry man.” Hammer nodded at the emcee and caught Quinn’s hand. “If he bled on the stage, I’ll pay for any cleaning or repairs.”
Beer Belly grinned. “Don’t worry about it. Best show we’ve had in years. Now get your asses off my stage. I’ll call you back up in a minute.” He winked at Hammer.
With a little thrill of hope that maybe this giant scene hadn’t cost him the competition after all, Hammer led Quinn off the side of the stage. She snuggled up against him and wordlessly they waited for the judging.
“And now, since the show’s over,” the emcee quipped, “on to the awards. You’ve seen some great tattoos today, some impressive work. I’m proud to announce the winners of this year’s Inktastic Tattoo Competition.”
Quinn’s grip tightened on his. His chest lightened at her touch. He couldn’t imagine being this happy with a win, not with the most successful tattoo business in Maryland or even the fucking country. Ignoring the audience’s cheers and applause for the first winner, he pulled Quinn toward the door.
“What are you doing?” she whispered as they passed through the crowd. “We’ll miss the awards.”
He looked over his shoulder and curled a lazy smile. “I’ve got the only prize I need.”
The doors clicked shut behind them.
“And now,” the emcee said to the crowd, the assorted winners beside him on the stage, “for the best overall winner. The judges agreed unanimously. The best single tattoo in this year’s competition is…” He paused for effect, relishing the thick, anxious silence of his audience. “Quinn LaBrea’s phoenix cover-up by Hamilton Dean of Tattoo Hammer!”
Cheers and thunderous applause signaled the audience’s agreement with the decision. The emcee nodded graciously, scanning the crowd for the winners’ approach. His smile slipped when the audience’s applause died down. The convention goers appeared as confused as he did.
“Quinn LaBrea? Hammer?”
Confused mutters rose from the restless crowd.
“Um. Okay. On behalf of the Inktastic Convention, thank you all for coming. I’ll make sure the award and cash prize get to Quinn and Hammer tomorrow.” The emcee grinned. “Now get the hell out of here. I’ll meet you at the bar.”
Cheers erupted from the crowd and the emcee made his bow. Best show ever.
Epilogue
The tow truck beeped as it reversed in the overly crowded lot.
“Easy, Bobby,” J.T. yelled. “You’re going to scratch this Beemer!”
Cutting the engine, Bobby descended from the truck and joined his partner in examining the motorcycle wedged between a luxury car and a Ford POS. Damn, these tattoo people drove some different stuff. “Did you check the VIN?”
“Yep. This is our guy. The lienholder has been looking for this joker for a month now. We’re lucky this Hammer guy gave us a call.” J.T. grinned like a possum. “It’s payday, son.”
They loaded the bike on the truck lickety-split. Bobby climbed back into the cab and the engine rumbled to life.
J.T. threw the door open and fell into the truck. “Go, man! Go!”
They peeled out of the lot, laughing as they watched a tanned guy in a tank top give chase then trip over a Mazda’s bumper.
About the Author
Regina Cole, lover of manly muscled arms, chest hair and mini-marshmallows, has been reading romance since her early teens. While she adores a love story of any heat level, she’s been drawn to the erotic side and is loving every minute.
When she’s not frantically pounding away at the keyboard, she can be found fishing with her family, playing with her dogs, trying out strange new recipes or snuggling with her hubby.
Regina welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Regina Cole
Love Letters: Dear Addi
Sinful Truth
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Indelibly Intimate
ISBN 9781419940545
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Indelibly Intimate Copyright © 2012 Regina Cole
Edited by Carrie Jackson
Cover design by Fiona Jayde
Photo: Jeff Thrower/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication July 2012
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