“She might not have been all fired up to put the wheels in motion before you came back, but it wasn’t like she was opposed either, Jay. And the results speak for themselves,” Goff hedges. “Revenue’s up thirty-eight percent in the last three and a half months, and it doesn’t look to be easing off anytime soon. If anything, it’s only going to go up.”
I can’t argue the results and what it could mean to my business, but I sure as fuck can complain about how they went about instigating getting what they wanted.
“Break this down for me because what I’m hearing is, you two got a harebrained idea, put it to a swayed vote, and ran with, neither of you being in the position to actually make that fucking decision in the first place. I’m all for exploring new ways to make the shop money, but you both stepped over a fucking line here,” I reason, trying to rein in my anger.
“What’s going on here?” The voice I’ve only heard in my dreams for the last month sounds from behind me.
Fuck, just what I didn’t need today. Blaine.
Torr’s grin widens into an all-out smile, and Goff, my usually brooding, expressionless counterpart winks at the equally infuriating and beautiful woman at my back.
Turning to face her, I stop dead when I take in all that is her for what feels like the first time in forever. I suppose, in some ways it is, but still. Every time I see Blaine, I get the wind knocked out of me. She is just that goddamn stunning.
At five-foot-three, which is short for a woman, the top of her head barely reaching my chest, Blaine is one hundred and twenty pounds of curvaceous, grace in motion. Watching her walk is like watching living, breathing, spectacularly molded art. She all but floats across a room, completely in control of every movement of her body.
The way this woman struts is like an aphrodisiac to all men, everywhere. And it’s not an act; it’s just her. She isn’t aware she’s doing it, and fuck me, for the life of me I hope no one brings to her attention the impact she has merely entering a room because that would be a sad fucking day indeed.
Today, Blaine’s waist length blonde hair interspersed with strawberry blonde highlights hangs loose, just how I like it. I’ve imagined my hands in her hair, fisting it, twisting large sections of it around my fists as I pound into her for years. It’s one of the things I love most about her. All that hair, so feminine, so thick, lush, and healthy.
Allowing my eyes to run the length of her toned, tanned body, stopping at some of my favorite places like her hips, her upper thighs, and her tits, I groan to myself and hope to fuck no one heard me.
It isn’t a secret I take every chance I can to sneak glances at her when she comes into the shop, but I don’t try to advertise my interest either. In saying that, you’d have to be a complete moron not to realize how I feel about Blaine, and none of the people in this room are that. And that includes the object of my unrequited desire.
Skipping over her tits, because let’s be honest, if my eyes linger there much longer I’ll be sporting wood I’ll have no choice but to go take care of, I freeze solid when I notice the curling black ink on her inner bicep.
Grabbing her wrist, I tug Blaine into my body bringing her up short just before she hits me.
“What in the fuck is that?” I demand harshly.
Blinking up at me, Blaine looks a mixture of confused, hurt, and shocked. I’m not sure if the latter is because I noticed, or because I’m actually touching her by choice – something I usually avoid at all costs.
“Um, I, I meant to tell you…” she lets her sentence trail off.
Bending at the waist until my face is only an inch from hers, I bark,
“I asked you a question, Blaine. I’m not gonna be happy if I’ve got to repeat myself, so I suggest you answer me.”
“Back off, Jay, and let her go, yeah?” Goff says over my shoulder.
Snapping my gaze to him, he quickly takes a step back at the look I pierce him with.
“I wasn’t talking to you, but you can bet your ass we’ll be having words later. And I hope for your sake it wasn’t you who marked her, or those words are going to be communicated with my fucking fists, not my mouth.”
Dragging Blaine behind me, I eat up the distance between the front of the shop to my office in less than ten long strides. Blaine hurries to follow me, but she can’t do much more than trail behind me obediently.
The second I have us both across the threshold to the small room I claimed as mine, I throw the door closed with the heel of my boot and round my desk with Blaine’s wrist still firmly clamped in my hand.
Once seated in the high-back leather office chair, I tug her between my spread thighs, standing her directly in front of me, demanding,
“Lift up the sleeve of your shirt, Blaine.”
At her wide-eyed stare, I repeat, but more forcefully this time,
“Lift up the sleeve, Blaine, or so help me God I’ll tear the fucking thing off.”
“Wh-what?” She stammers.
Removing my hand from her wrist, I place both of them on her hips, my thumbs almost touching just below where I know her cute little belly button sits, as my fingers curl around and dig in.
“Not speaking anything but English, baby. I said, lift your sleeve and do it now.”
Blaine doesn’t hesitate this time, seeming to understand my barely concealed impatience, and when she does, I have to work really fucking hard to bite back a vicious string of curses at what I see.
Spanning the entire inside of her bicep is a quote I know, and know well. It’s the same thing I have tattooed across my ribs.
“I am Strong because I know my Weaknesses.
I am Beautiful because I am aware of my Flaws,
I am Fearless because I can tell reality from Illusion.
I am Wise because I learn from my Mistakes.
I am a Lover because I have felt Hate
And…
I can Laugh because I have known Sadness.”
I don’t have any idea where I saw it, I can’t even remember when, but I do know, when I did, I thought of Blaine. It is everything she means to me and more. It epitomizes how I feel about her, and now that I can see the dark scrolling script, the curlicues that edge it, and the light shading that differentiates that milky-white color of her skin from the harsh ink, I’ve never found it more beautiful and poetic than I do now.
That’s not to say I’m not fucking pissed right the hell off, though because I am that. I’m more than that.
Until she got this, Blaine had been a tattoo virgin. I always thought she would let me ink her first – that she’d let me pop that cherry for her – but obviously, I was wrong about that too.
“Ah, Jay,” Blaine whispers, ripping me from my thoughts.
I don’t look her in the eyes because I can’t, but I do give her something. Stroking the center of her stomach with my thumbs drawing invisible patterns, I ask,
“Who? Who inked you, baby?”
I shouldn’t do it, call her baby, that is. But like a lot of other things when it comes to Blaine, I can’t fucking help it. She does this to me; makes me lose control.
“Um, if I tell you do you promise not to kill them?” She asks timidly.
Right now, I’d like nothing more than to set her mind at ease but that’s not going to happen. I won’t lie to her, so I can’t promise that instead saying,
“Won’t kill them, maybe hurt them, but I won’t kill them.”
“Ah, I’m not so sure that’s much better, Jonas.”
“Well, that’s all I’m giving, so that’ll have to do. Now, tell me who inked you, baby.” I prod.
Covering one of my hands with hers, she uses the other to tilt my chin up until I’m forced to look at her. And what I see there is nothing short of heart-stopping.
Blaine’s big blue eyes are filled with unshed tears, and that alone cuts me to the quick.
“I don’t understand, Jonas. I mean, I know you said if I wanted a tattoo to come to you, but I didn’t think you would be this upset
about it. I’ve been asking you for months, and you kept putting me off, so I just assumed you didn’t want to do it. I’m sorry, though. If I knew you would react like this, I wouldn’t have done it.”
There are so many things wrong with that statement that I don’t know where to begin.
First, I don’t remember Blaine asking me to ink her. And second, I hate, as in, fucking hate she thinks I’m upset with her because I’m not. I’m fucking furious at whoever thought it would be okay to put their filthy hands on her, but I’m not angry with her per say.
“Take a breath and beat those tears back, baby, because I’m not mad at you,” I reassure her, hoping she can see the sincerity in my eyes.
Blaine has always been able to read me better than anyone. Better than my Ma, my sisters, my brothers; anyone. It’s her gift and my curse. Her gift because it means I’ve never been able to successfully lie to her, no matter how hard I try. And my curse for the same reason.
There are so many times I’ve wanted to tell her to leave and never come back, and in doing so, make her believe that I mean it. Not for me, but for her because she deserves it. Because she deserves more than hitching herself to a washed up ex-military man whose aspirations don’t stretch further than owning a tattoo shop, getting laid, and seeking out fun in whatever form it comes. It’s yet to happen, though. Convincing her I mean it, that is.
“Now, we can play this one of two ways. You can either tell me who inked you and I go have a chat with whichever asshole did it and I’ll leave it at that, or you can keep making me guess, and I’ll go through every last one of them until I get the answers I need. Your choice, baby. Make it now because I’ about two seconds from getting up and doing this my way,” I assure her.
Because I am. I will tear through those assholes out there until one of them gives up the goods and tells me what I want to know. I can only pray it wasn’t Beth who did Blaine’s tattoo because if it was, I could foresee dealing with on pissed off MC Prez after I give his wife the verbal smackdown of the century.
Twitching under my hands, Blaine goes still.
“You wouldn’t,” she breathes.
“You can bet your sweet ass I will,” I confirm. “It’s not a difficult question, Blaine. Tell me who did it. And it’d be good if you hurry up because I’ve got to tell you, my patience is wearing pretty fucking thin.”
“I don’t even know why it matters so much to you,” she huffs. “You barely acknowledge me on a good day, and on a bad one, you yell at me like I’m the reason for all your problems. I don’t get you, Jonas. I really don’t,” she admits, tilting her head to the side. “No one in this scenario has done anything wrong, except for maybe you.”
“How do you figure that?” I growl, my patience slipping another notch.
“Well, the way I see it, I’m a grown ass woman. It is my body, my choice. If I choose to tattoo a green fire-breathing dragon on my freaking forehead, that is none of your concern. As long as I pay for the work, I’m entitled to do whatever the hell I want. I turned eighteen almost eight years ago, Jonas, so the time for you, or anyone else for that matter to make my decisions for me is long gone.”
Not that I needed the reminder, but she’s right. Blaine grew up a long time ago, but it’s only just hitting me now how much of a woman she is. Not because I haven’t paid particular attention to how phenomenally she grew up because I did that in spades, but I didn’t quite count on her fighting for what she wants so fiercely.
If she had come to me – and I know she said she did, but for the life of me I can’t remember her doing it – I would have done her ink for her. I wouldn’t have liked it, and I would have questioned her intently before I even threaded the needle in my gun to make sure she was certain, but I would have eventually caved and done it for her.
Conceding the point, I sigh,
“I know you’re all grown up, Blaine. Trust me that has not escaped my notice, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have liked to be the one to give you your first. We talked about this, we’ve been talking about it since I opened the shop, and I though we both agreed I’d be the only one to do your work.”
“And you would have been if you’d been here, Jonas.” Pulling herself from my grasp, Blaine rounds my desk and sits in the chair opposite me. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you to come back to work, but to be honest, none of us knew when that was going to be. You wouldn’t answer the phone, jeez, you hardly ever answered the door when people came calling. I understand you needed time, and for the most part, we gave that to you. But Jonas, we couldn’t wait forever because while you were grieving, life went on. And it pains me, as in, breaks my heart to say this, but no matter how much you wanted it too, life couldn’t stand still and wait until you decided to come back into the land of the living.”
“I fucking know that. I more than anyone know you can’t hit pause on that shit, but that aside, you still should have fucking waited for me,” I return more harshly than I intended.
Sucking in a breath, Blaine looks at me again with wounded eyes.
“I did,” she murmurs. “I did wait, Jonas, but when was enough going to be enough? How long should I have waited for you when it was clear as day you didn’t want to follow me into the light? I tried, Jonas, I honestly did. There was nothing I wanted more than you to realize that you are strong, beautiful, fearless, wise and that it was okay for you to laugh again. I was desperate for you to stop hating yourself, and in turn, everyone else who tried to help you. Watching you retreat from everything you held dear, everything that before she died was so important to you, killed me.”
Blaine looks down at her hand which is now demurely clasped in her lap before staring back at me, telling me everything I don’t want to hear but at the same time need to.
“You know, if someone asked me a year ago who the smartest, most driven, loving person I’ve ever met is, I would have said you. Not just to me, but to everyone, you were superhuman. You could do anything and everything you set your mind to, and when you did, the results were spectacular. There isn’t, or I should say wasn’t one thing I didn’t think you were capable of, but you proved me wrong. And that hurt, Jonas. That hurt so bad because of anyone in my life I thought you would always be that man. The man who could rise above anything and come out on top. But this? This broke you, and it broke you in a way I still don’t understand, and I don’t think I ever will. I know you loved her. I know losing Rebecca added to the already mounting demons you have clawing at your soul. And I’m sorry. I’m so very, truly sorry. If I could take away your pain, bring her back, even if that meant losing all that is you for me, I would. I would do that for you tomorrow because you deserve it. Because you deserve her. But mostly because you deserve to be happy, and she did that for you; she made you the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”
“Blaine…” I groan, not knowing what else to say but wanting her to stop.
“No, let me get this out. I’ve been waiting months to tell you this, and if this is the only chance I’m going to get, I’m going to take it,” she states, the sadness evident in every syllable. “I’m sorry you lost her. I’m sorry the love you felt for her didn’t get the chance to grow into something even more beautiful than you already had. And I’m sorry that when she died you did too. I hate that for you, you know? I hate that you can’t have what you want. I hate that I and everyone else has to see the man we thought of as superhuman, strong, brave, and so freaking fearless disappear right before our eyes. But more than that, I hate that I know you will never be that man again. I hate you destroyed that, not just for the people who love you most, but for me too. I saw something in you that I knew I didn’t have a hope in hell of battling, but still I went all in and threw myself into the fray. I didn’t care your monsters could eviscerate me, that they could tear me apart so much so, I would never be able to piece myself back together again. And do you know why?” She prompts. Not waiting for me to answer, Blaine goes on to say, “Because no matter what, I knew you were worth it.
You, Jonas. Not the man everyone else thinks you are; the man I know you are. The hero. The backbone of your brothers. The man everyone wants to be around because he’s so Goddamned strong he feeds that in others. That man is worth everything. There is so much to love about him, but he’s lost to us, you’re lost to us. I’m done, Jonas. I can’t wait anymore. I want to, I wish I could, but I can’t.”
Standing from her seat, Blaine looks across at me delivering what would be the single most destructive blow I’d receive in my entire life. After years in the Army, being deployed on battlefields across the world, there was nothing more fatal than Blaine giving up on me.
I had known it before she spoke, but that didn’t prepare me for the gut wrenching agony that followed.
“My Dad told me once that there is a lid to every box, that out there somewhere is the perfect person for each and every one of us. And for me, I thought that was you. I prayed it was. I hoped you would one day see me the same way I see you, that you would love me as much as I love you. But that wasn’t to be, and I have to be okay with that. So that means, I have to move on. I have to let you go.”
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas Page 66