Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Even from outside, I could hear the buzz of it, the telltale sign of a needle piercing her skin over and over.
Her eyes fluttered closed. Judging by the purple smudges under them, starkly standing out in the harsh light of the shop, from exhaustion, not pain.
Who came back to town after months looking dead on their feet, and decided to go get a tattoo instead of hitting the sack for a few hours?
And, well, I had never been the kind to leave questions unanswered.
I pulled the dogs closer, reached for the door, and let myself in.
Lou kept her eyes closed, not so much as a fluttering to her lids, making me wonder if she had actually passed out.
It was Paine whose head swiveled, cursing under his breath.
"This is supposed to be a sterile environment," he informed me, shaking his head in a way that said he was used to people being a pain in the ass in his shop and wasn't one for letting it get to him.
I liked Paine.
I hadn't gotten any new ink - or even touched up old - in years, but I had sat with Sugar and Virgin when they got work done. At both Hunt's and Paine's shops. Paine's girl Elsie was a member of the girls club by association to Alex and Amelia, so I had seen her around as well. I liked her too. And them as a couple. Good people. And Paine had some stories. From his days running Third Street. We'd shared some drinks and laughs a time or two.
"There's gonna be dog hair everywhere," he added, dipping the gun into black ink. "When did you become a dog walker anyway? Decided gun-running was too cliche for you?"
Lou's eyes flew open at that, landing directly on me.
Her lips parted slightly, brows drawing together.
"Saw an old friend," I told Paine as I watched Lou's eyes lose their surprise.
"Friend? Hardly. He decided to play ride-along-bounty-hunter a couple months back," she shot back, her voice doing that snark thing it did when she talked to her boss.
So that was how she wanted to play it.
"Aw, duchess. That's all ya got to say? After we shared a shower?"
Paine's head lifted, giving both of us a smirk.
"You co-opted the shower in my hotel room. Without asking. I didn't use it at all. Now if you're done with the dick-swinging with your buddy here, I came here for some peace. Go away."
"Getting stabbed a few thousand times with a needle is your idea of peace, duchess? I'm startin' to worry 'bout yer sanity."
"Luckily, your opinion isn't a factor here."
"Ya are in a mood." She was the type who liked shite on the table, so I was happy to put it there. "What are ya getting done?" I asked, moving a foot forward to lean around Paine's body.
Her arm.
She wasn't getting a new tattoo per se.
She was getting work done on an old one.
She was getting a bullet filled in.
I felt my brows drawing low, wondering what would prompt it. If it was an anniversary thing, or a job thing. Like maybe she got one filled in whenever she brought in a certain kind of scumbag.
"Well, I'm done here," Paine said, putting the gun down, pulling off his gloves. "I am going to go in the back for some coffee so you guys can do... whatever the fuck you are doing," he said, taking off toward the place that used to be his apartment, but now just served as a break room for himself and his new protege.
"Seriously, what are you doing here?" she asked, folding upward, reaching for the paper towel and the spray Paine had already laid out, spraying it on her arm, then wiping away the excess ink.
"I was walking my brother's girl's dogs."
At that, her gaze went to the floor for the first time, and that hard look on her face, in her eyes, melted away.
"Oh, my God. They're hideous," she declared in that sing-song voice every woman I had ever met used around animals. Before the words were even out of her mouth, she was sliding off the chair, and dropping downward. Right onto her knees, waiting for the dogs to come to her.
I dropped the leashes, too curious not to see this through, watching as all five of them charged forward toward her, the clicking of their nails on the linoleum drowning out the soft croon of music from the overhead speakers.
"Oh, you ugly little thing you," she crooned, reaching out with both hands to pet behind One-eye's ears. "Oh, kisses. I love kisses," she added as Tripod climbed up on her legs to lap at her neck. "I only have two hands. Hold on!"
I couldn't seem to hold back the smile that pulled at my lips as she sat there, rubbing bellies, ears, and backs, talking to them like they understood her. "Can I walk them?" she asked unexpectedly, angling her head up at me, dark eyes bright, shining, all the snark and malice out of her tone.