Rock Steady (2 page)

Her mother made a low sound of disbelief. Jewel couldn’t really form another argument because, well, it would be a flat-out lie. Her boss was a prick, who paid her only when she had a client, and he scooped up the best hours while the parlor was open, leaving her to mind the shop from three in the morning until lunchtime, when most of their clientele woke up.

And she did sleep on a futon. In an apartment building that had been built in the twenties. Plugging more than one kitchen appliance in at the same time was asking to break out her fire extinguisher.

It wasn’t anywhere near the exciting adventure she’d hoped for when she’d decided to try a year of being a struggling artist. So far, all she’d really experienced was the “struggling” part. Substandard wiring and plumbing were everyday challenges. So was scraping together enough funds to pay the landlord. She had a newfound understanding of the girls who resorted to stripping a couple of nights a week to supplement their income.

“Mom, I just wanted to venture a little off the beaten path. Just for a bit, while I’m not responsible for anyone else. I don’t even have a houseplant, and I have the safety net of knowing I can come home. I do appreciate you. I just want to try walking on the wild side, to say I did it.”

There was a soft sound as her mother sighed. “I was young once too,” her mother confessed with a soft snicker. “Burned my bra at a concert once; bet you didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t!” Jewel exclaimed.

Her mother smothered a giggle. “I did. Whipped that puppy off, tossed it into a trash can, and lit it up. It was the night I met your father. I wanted him to see me as a woman of the world: fearless, confident in my sexuality, a true wild child.”

“Get out!”

“Your sign says twenty-four hours.”

Jewel looked up and fumbled her phone. She was pretty sure her mouth hung open, but wasn’t completely sure, because her brain decided to fry, leaving her staring at the decadent man prowling across the shop toward her.

“Tell your mom you’ll call back. I need you right now.”

Okay,
fried
wasn’t nearly hot enough a word to describe the sensation going through her. The guy in front of her was a god. Six and a quarter feet of raw muscle, with black eyes that looked like they’d been carved out of a moonless night sky at midnight. His shoulder-length hair was spiky and screamed nonconformity. But it was the flash of arrogance in his eyes that drove home just how raw he was.

This guy took what he wanted and never apologized for any of his desires.

It should have raised her hackles. Instead, it made her wet.

And she wasn’t sure she liked it.

Scratch that. She was sure she didn’t like it, because it felt like she was losing control.

“Mom, I’ve got someone in the shop.”

Her voice had become raspy. She blinked, trying to scrape together some poise. It felt like mission impossible as the god grinned at her, his lips curving in a sensual way that sent a bolt of heat straight into her clit.

Shit.

The guy was sex on a stick. And his leather pants made it clear he had quite a stick.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

“So, you’re open?” She hadn’t realized the god had companions. One was an Asian man with short, spiky hair, black as a raven’s wing, with a flash of blue fire that made it look amazing.

“Oh…sorry. I was talking to my mom.” Her tongue felt like it had gone lame. “When you walked in, that is. We’re always open.”

And her day was suddenly looking up. “I’m Jewel. What are you gents looking for?”

“Do you do tattoo rescue?” The blond one was talking now. His hair fell just to his shoulders, and his eyebrows were slashes.

“You can only go darker. So if it’s already black, your options are limited. But sure, I do rescues.”

“Wait,” the Asian guy insisted. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“Of course.” Jewel pulled a large book from under the counter.

She was used to seeing leather and brawn in the shop, but there was a level of detail on all three of them that spoke of money. The pants were all custom-made, or she’d pack up and start sending out marketing résumés like her parents advised. She knew the difference between wannabes and genuine badasses.

These were the real McCoy.

“I mean, nothing personal, but we can’t have this done by an amateur,” the Asian continued as he started flipping through the pages of her work.

“Speak for yourself, Taz.” The dark-eyed one was leaning farther across the counter, making the air between them sizzle. “I’d like to get very personal with you.”

His voice was like black velvet. It would be super easy to just let it rub all over her. She got the feeling she’d end up purring. There was a flash of something in his eyes, sending a tingle of apprehension through her.

He knew exactly what sort of effect he was having on her.

God, that was sexy. It really redefined her concept of the word. He knew exactly what to do with every inch of her body.

She ended up rolling her lower lip in and setting her teeth into it. His dark gaze dropped to the little nervous motion, his lips curving rakishly in response as he leaned on the counter, moving closer to her. He was too damned smooth, pushing in on her comfort zone with an ease that was annoying, but at the same time, forced her to admit she admired it. A ton of guys thought they were good at getting under a girl’s skin.

This guy was amazing at it.

He was arrogant, but with a solid core of confidence that sent a shiver down her spine. Part of her really wanted to put him to the test.

Which wouldn’t help her pay the rent. She dug deep, trying to get a grip on her professionalism.

“You might want to see these too.” She lifted another album from beneath the counter and handed it over. “These are my awards, and the back half are rescues, before and after shots.”

The blond took it in a flash, leaving her once again staring at the dark-eyed god. Her mouth actually went dry when he opened his mouth and bit the air between them. “Maybe you should let me in on the…problem?” she said.

His grin grew into a huge smile that showed off gleaming white teeth. “Thought you’d never ask me to open my pants.”

He’d straightened up, giving her another glimpse of just how tall he was before he popped the button on his fly.

It was totally unprofessional for her to get a buzz out of his brazen attitude.

But frickin’ awesome nonetheless.

She was actually holding her breath as he worked the buttons.

One…

Two…

Oh, hell, the guy was chiseled.

But the delicate pink blossoms hit her like a bucket of ice water. “Oh, that is just wrong.”

She came around the counter, her attention fixed on his lower belly. Jewel sank to her knee to get eye level with the cherry blossoms. It
was
a sacrilege, like putting pink ribbons in the ears of a panther.

“Hmm…” The dark god made a soft sound under his breath and reached for her head. For a moment, she was caught in that second, waiting for his fingers to land on her.

“Don’t be an idiot, Ramsey.” Taz smacked the hand away. “These pictures are good. We don’t need her getting pissed off because you get touchy.”

“Looked to me like she wouldn’t mind me…touching.” There was a brazenness to him that should have pissed her off.

Really, it should.

Jewel straightened up, forcing herself to take a reality check. Ramsey was dark temptation, completely lickable, and he knew it. Yeah, she had that part of his persona pegged perfectly. The little cherry blossoms proved that she was far from the first girl to feel his magnetism. She’d better get a grip before she found herself driven to extremes, like the jilted ex-flame who had clearly lashed out at him through the tattoo.

“Pissed off your girlfriend?” she asked pointedly.

“She wasn’t really a girlfriend.”

Jewel clicked her tongue and looked back at the cherry blossoms. “By the look of that, she disagreed with you on the topic. She must have taken you to Spike Collar.”

Taz was typing into his cell phone as she spoke. “Makes sense. You surfaced right around where that tattoo parlor is on the map.”

“Just don’t go back there,” Jewel warned as she went behind the counter and pulled a blank sheet of paper in front of her.

“Why not?” the blond asked. “I’ve got half a mind to have my lawyer pay them a visit.”

Jewel didn’t look up from what she was drawing. “Won’t do you any good. They never touch a client without a release of liability signed and sealed, with video footage to back it up. Whoever was gunning for you did her homework. The gals at Spike Collar don’t like guys, and they really don’t like any males who try to charm them.” Jewel cast a look at Ramsey. “You are exactly the sort they hate. Bet they popped a bottle of champagne the second you cleared the doorway with that little gem.”

Taz made a low sound under his breath.

But Ramsey was watching her. She felt his attention tightening, focusing on the motion of her pen as she inked a design on the paper. He’d sent a shiver down her spine before, but now he was warming her insides, melting her core slowly with the absolute devotion he was giving her. She looked up, locking gazes with him.

Her insides churned.

And her toes curled.

She’d never felt so connected to another soul. It was his doing, and she realized that his arrogance was something he’d earned.

That fact slapped her across the face and sent her into a full meltdown. He was the sort who could captivate.

Which was a damned dangerous place to go.

It wasn’t like she had any personal experience with it. Still, she felt like she was on pins and needles. The sheer level of sensitivity the guy was able to elicit from her was off the scale. It was fascinating to say the least.

As well as a really bad place to go when he looked like he could afford to hire her.

She looked back at her work, forcing herself to focus on the art and get a grip on herself before he knocked her flat. Sweat popped out on her forehead, but her hands responded perfectly. Art was like a living force inside her. A place she could take refuge in as well as being a gift she might share. She let it consume her, the drawing coming to life beneath the strokes of her pen. It was a little like giving birth: first she had to let it grow and form before it was ready to breathe.

“That is smokin’ hot,” Taz said as he leaned on the counter to peer at her work.

“You’re good,” the blond said in a tone full of awe.

Ramsey reserved judgment until she’d shaded in the last few areas on her sketch. When she lifted her pen, he swept it up and studied the drawing. It was a metal dragon crawling down his abdomen toward his cock. Its front claws would be where the cherry blossoms were, and its tail would wrap around his lean hip and onto his lower back. It wasn’t a reptilian dragon. It was a steel one, a merging of metal and mythical creature.

His eyes narrowed as he studied it, seeing more than just the black lines. He was seeing the attitude she’d tried to capture and portray. His expression gave her a hint of the man inside him. She got the impression he spent a lot of time covering up that man with his don’t-give-a-rat’s-ass attitude.

But she saw it.

His attention shifted to her, their gazes locking over the edge of the paper. For a moment, she caught a flicker of understanding in his eyes. Just a moment of awareness, a few seconds when he admitted to himself that she saw him.

Really saw him.

It didn’t last long. In fact, she found herself questioning if it had really been there, when his gaze hardened and sealed her out of that place he was determined to keep private.

“You recognize me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but she felt inclined to answer anyway. “It isn’t hard to peg you for a metalhead when you’re wearing nothing but leather and have a stud bar through your nipple.”

“I’m a metal god,” he said.

“Right,” she countered, feeling a rise of heat in her cheeks. “I’m good at what I do.”

“You are,” the blond interrupted. He was studying her portfolio. “So why are you working the graveyard shift?”

“I wanted to work at the best shop in town. That left me to choose between Spike Collar and here,” Jewel said without hesitation.

“But you’re not a lesbian,” Ramsey finished for her. “Bet that was a bit of a problem with getting hired over at Spike Collar.”

“Definite ripple in the pond,” she confirmed. “Not on my side, mind you. They just don’t like straight girls. Shame really, they know how to do tats.”

“So do you.” Ramsey was thumbing through the pictures of her work. He wore that businessman expression.

“Who are you?” she gave in and asked. All three men looked up at her. “I mean, since it sounded like you were trying to impress me.”

“Impressing you will involve more than my name,” her client said. His lips curved, and his expression became sensual. He flattened his hand on the counter between them and leaned toward her. In one flat second, it felt like her breath caught in her lungs. She was hyperaware of him, fighting not to take a step back. There was a flicker of approval in his dark eyes as she managed to stand her ground.

“Count on that fact.” Her voice had turned raspy, but his arrogance was rubbing her pride raw. “I do tats. Only tats, for pay. So if you’ve got a problem understanding boundaries, the door is behind you. There’s another place a couple of blocks up that opens in a few hours.”

Taz reached over and shoved Ramsey. “I told you not to piss her off.” He shook his smartphone in the air between them. “She’s the best in the nearest three cities—checked her out.” He turned to look at her. “Your references rock. Why are you working in this dump?”

“Because my boss might be a prick, but he’s also got twenty-five years’ experience, and references to top mine. I want to learn from the best, and there are a few things you can’t learn from anyone but a master.”

Taz nodded. “True, even if some masters are egomaniacs.”

“You didn’t answer me.” Jewel aimed her inquiry at Ramsey. “Who are you?”

“Ramsey, Taz, and I’m Syon,” the blond answered. “We’re members of a band called Toxsin.”