Beautiful ink, p.1
Beautiful Ink, page 1
Beautiful Ink
An Inked Beauty Novel
Book One
By
S.L. Romines
Copyright © 2016 S.L. Romines
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Copyright © 2016 by S.L. Romines.
Beautiful Ink- An Inked Beauty Novel by S.L. Romines
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without written permission of above copyright owner of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Editor: Michelle Myers
Cover Design: Dark Water Covers
Cover Art License Adobe Photostock
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition: October 2016
Library of Congress Cataloging-In-Publication Data has been applied for Romines S.L.
Beautiful Ink – 1st Edition
ISBN-13:978-1539731948
ISBN-10:1539731944
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Acknowledgments
Inked and Pierced
Ember's Burn
Seraphine’s
Material Girl
Pop!
Chasing Lyrics
About the Author
~Dedication~
To the woman who has ever felt as though she had no voice.
To the woman who has ever suffered a broken heart.
To the woman who has ever wanted to flip life the bird with both middle fingers.
To the woman who has ever wanted to kick life in the hairy berries.
To the woman who has ever felt that she couldn’t stand up for herself.
To the woman who has ever had the urge to break free and just live.
This one’s for you!
Stay strong. Live life. Love yourself.
XOXOXO
S.L. Romines
Prologue
“Don’t go.”
A sob lodged in the back of Harlow’s throat as Slade gently cupped the side of her face with his calloused palm. She pulled in a ragged breath and fought the urge to cry. Every one of her emotions screamed out in heartbreaking fury as her fists wound tightly around the fabric of his t-shirt until her knuckles turned white.
“This is going to change everything,” she said.
Slade’s minty breath tickled her nose as he leaned his forehead against hers. Harlow opened her eyes and watched a few tears fall from beneath his dark sunglasses and down his cheeks until they disappeared beneath his beard. Seeing that broke Harlow deep down to her core.
“You son of a bitch. You’re so selfish,” she whispered through ugly sobs.
He cleared his throat and placed a finger under Harlow’s chin.
“Look at me.”
“Screw you.”
“Low, please look at me, baby,” Slade pleaded, nudging her chin up with his fingertip until their eyes met. He pulled his hand away from her long enough to remove the sunglasses from his face. He wanted to look into her big, beautiful eyes. “I have to do this. I don’t expect you to understand, but I have to. Ryker needs me to take care of this shit. It’s for the club. You know I don’t have a choice. There’s been talk about him patching me in as VP when I get back. I need to prove myself.”
“Oh, well fuck. That explains everything doesn’t it?”
A tinge of white, hot anger crawled up Harlow’s spine, winding its way up her neck until she felt herself teetering on the brink of an explosion. How could he think that this was okay? In that moment he’d made her feel like some random piece of ass being tossed to the side. How could he treat her this way? This was never supposed to happen to them.
“I’ll be back, babe.” Slade tried to reassure her. “It’s only for a couple months. Two tops, and then I’ll be back.”
As if steel had fused to her spine, Harlow quickly gathered every ounce of pride she had left and pushed herself from his embrace, folding her arms across her chest.
“Go. Get on your piece of shit bike and go fuck yourself because once you leave we’re done. You’ve obviously made your choice and, from where I’m standing, following in daddy's footsteps is more important to you than us.” The words fell from her lips like venom. Harlow glared at the only man she’d ever loved, the same man that was on the verge of choosing his club over her and she hated him for that. Harlow stood a little taller in that moment. She looked Slade in the eyes before repeating her next words. “As a matter of fact, just go ahead and consider me gone.”
Slade’s expression caught Harlow off guard. She’d seen him hurt before, even angry, but this was something completely different. It was an expression that was familiar to her because she was, at that moment, feeling the same way. She had just broken Slade Harrison’s heart.
“Harlow, please try and understand.”
“Understand what? Understand the fact that we’ve talked about this shit. This shit right here!” Harlow’s voice rose as her blood coursed through her veins. “You promised me that we were going to make a life together. You and me. Not you, me and the club, Slade! Huh. You know what? You and the Sinners can go fuck yourselves for all I give a damn because I won’t be with a man whose first priority is a bunch of beer guzzling, unfaithful, whore fucking assholes.”
“You’re not being fair, baby,” Slade replied, reaching out for Harlow. “This is my life. This is our lives. You and me. We were raised in this shit. Am I missing something here?”
“You know what, Slade? You are absolutely right. We were raised in this shit but we were never obligated to live it.” Harlow jabbed her finger at Slade as her voice continued to rise. “Do you remember how many nights your mom fucking sobbed because she had no clue where your dad was or if he was okay? Or how about all those nights he came home drunk off his ass, throwing up in every which direction, and then had the audacity to be a prick to your mother when he was the fucking asshat? Your mom on her hands and knees cleaning up after that fool made me sick. Do you remember that shit, Slade, because I do! Kate was a twisted fucking mess because your father made the club his priority.”
“That was a long time ago and you know it,” Slade replied, standing a bit taller. “He’s not like that anymore.”
“My God. You’re gonna turn out just like him, aren’t you?” Harlow looked at Slade with disgust written all over her face. She took in a deep breath before she spoke again. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was, Slade. What matters is that it happened. All of it. He tore your mother’s world apart and expected her to be there when he was done being fucking stupid.”
“And was she?” Slade asked, already knowing the answer. “Was she there, Harlow?”
“Yes, Slade, every fucking time, and that was where she was wrong, enabling him to walk all over her.” Harlow’s words shot out like a blaze. “She allowed it and he kept doing it. They were both wrong, and I refuse to let that be us. So, if you leave, we’re done.”
Several sets of footsteps walked up behind Harlow followed by a slamming door.
“You have some nerve, asshole!” Harlow cut her eyes to the right and watched as Chelle flipped out her switchblade and ran her finger down its sharp edge. “I think it’s time you get the hell on before I gut your ass like the pig we all know you are.”
Even with her best friends watching from either side of her, Harlow’s eyes never left Slade’s as he swung one leg over his bike and brought it to life. As the bike pulled out onto the street, Harlow’s insides twisted painfully and her heart shattered into a million pieces.
Pushing away from the comfort of her friends, Harlow’s feet took off and she found herself standing in the middle of the street, broken and hollow.
Chapter One
One Year Later
“You up for a night out?”
Every single time Jules asks me to go out with her we end up at some skeezy club surrounded by a bunch of drunk, moronic idiots who always seem to have a penchant for groping certain body parts that could quite possibly result in them getting their nuts stomped. This would probably be one of those nights. Let’s not forget to mention that the men she flocks to are uptight, preppy assholes that live off of granddaddy’s millions and still hanging off mama’s tit. Not my particular cup of tea. I like my men hard working. I don’t want some prissy do-gooder that doesn’t have a clue what’s it’s like to get his hands dirty.
“I’m closing tonight. Ash had some Cosplay thing down in San Diego. She skipped outta here dressed up like a cracked
Popping her gum, Jules taps her falsies on the glass countertop. “Well, you could always ask Tiny.”
She’s right. I could. However, I’m not up for heading into Loserville to pick up on trash at some club that requires a twenty dollar cover charge.
“If you keep talking you’re going to make me fuck up and give this guy a big hairy dick over his heart. Besides, Tiny and the boys took off on a club run down to Simi Valley.”
My client’s eyes widen as he shoots daggers at my mouthy friend. “Hey, lady? Ya mind? I don’t want cock and balls inked on me.”
Jules gives the guy a sideways look and smiles. “It’d be an improvement, homie.”
“I swear if you tattoo a dick on me…”
“You’re gonna what?” I sneer just inches from the man’s face, letting the needle hover over the tip of his pointy nose and watch the idiot flinch beneath my hand. “One piece of advice, babe? Respect me, respect my girls, and for the love of your male dignity and genitalia respect my damn shop and we’ll be just fine. Don’t? Well, I know where there are twenty acres of soft, upturned soil. Great place to bury a body, don’t ya think?”
My eyes snap up when I hear my client’s three friends, sitting just feet away from my workstation, cackle and point at the poor dipshit in my chair.
“Don’t be a pussy, dude,” one of them says through a roaring laugh. “Last time I checked you have a nut sack, you fucking vagina.”
I shake my head at the asshole’s remark, considering all four of the men look identical. From the close buzz cuts right down to the thick-framed eyeglasses and scrawny physiques, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all of these guys are from the naval base on the other side of town. Truth be told, there isn’t much to drool over with these four idiots.
I look down at my client and shake my head. “Your friends always like that?”
I watch his jaw clench, probably a combination of the needle and humiliation. When he doesn’t answer me, I shrug off the testosterone fest. After I finish the shading, I turn my gun off. I take a look at the gecko, satisfied with my work, and start to clean up my client’s arm. After making sure he’s all set, I show him to the full-length mirror and watch as a smile spreads across the man’s face.
“This is badass,” he says, admiring his new ink. “I was skeptical at first, but this is amazing. Thank you.”
As I give myself the proverbial pat on the back the front doors slam open, causing the entire shop to go quiet.
“We need to talk!” Chelle barrels through the front door, tossing a pizza box on the counter. “You might want to clear everyone outta here. Like now.”
I look at her with a raised brow before going back to cashing out my client’s new ink. “Why would I do that when I have two more coming in back to back in the next thirty minutes? Not gonna happen.”
Two balled up fists slam down against the glass countertop. My eyes snap up at my clearly delusional friend and I see nothing but concern in her eyes.
“It better fucking happen, Low, and if you want to keep any semblance of your sanity and heart in check you’ll take your happy ass home and lock it down.”
I’ve known Chelle since the days when we used to chase the neighborhood boys around armed with bats and Brutus, the club’s floppy-eared hound dog. We were two little girls on a mission, keeping the prepubescent assholes that used to throw rocks at us in check. It was survival of the fittest, and we made damn sure that we were higher on the food chain.
“What the hell are you even talking about?” I hand my client his change and head back over to my workstation, pulling out fresh supplies for my next appointment. I place them next to my hot pink tattoo gun. “Someone’s gonna lock your ass up in a padded room one day if you keep doing that shit.”
Before Chelle can even breathe another word, the familiar sound of pipes rumbling in front of the shop catches my attention. It’s not unusual for any of the Sinners to pull up in front of the shop and walk in, looking like a bunch of angry bruisers, or jump into one of the workstations in need of some new ink, but when I look up at the clock I realize that none of them would be back from their run so soon.
When I get to my feet and start to head to the front I’m nearly knocked on my ass when Dani flies through the door with Dozer smashed against her chest, wrapped tightly in her arms. I quickly make my way over to Dani and pull the poor pug from her arms, shaking my head at the insanity that has obviously overtaken my two friends.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” I say, looking between Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dork while settling Dozer on the floor. “Have the two of you lost your minds?”
With my back to the front of the shop, I continue to stare at the tattooed psychos and wait for an answer. I look over at Dani when her eyes shift past me and go wide.
“Oh my God! What the hell is wrong with you?”
My attention is diverted from the psycho twins when exhaust pipes rev outside the shop’s doors. This shouldn’t be unfamiliar to me, seeing as though the Sinners usually do a security check past the shop a few times a day. This sound is different, distinct, drilled into my bones. My insides have melted by the familiar rumble and my stomach has done that flippy floppy dance on numerous occasions in the past. With Dozer still next to me, I take in a deep breath and push the doors open.
My heart stops.
My breath catches.
My heart breaks all over again.
My gaze is locked on the ghost of a man that left me shattered and broken in the middle of the street one year ago. His eyes meet mine and I instantly go numb.
It can’t be him.
Anger, rage, and fury course through my veins as I look into those familiar steely eyes.
It is him.
As I open my mouth to say something, anything, the pipes rev even louder, and I watch as Slade Harrison leans back and removes his helmet. The shop doors behind me chime, and I’m slapped with a dose of déjà vu when the sound of boots and heels click-clack across the sidewalk. I don’t have to turn around to know that my girls are right behind me.
Without thinking, my feet move on their own accord, and before I realize what I’m doing, my hand flies across Slade’s beautiful face with a resounding, loud crack against his cheek. Shock plays across his features and in that moment I stand a little straighter, keeping my feet firmly planted on the ground.
My breathing is labored as shallow breaths claw their way between my lips. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the shit storm that is Slade Harrison. “Get the fuck out of here and go back to whatever hell you came from because you are not welcome here.”
As I take a deep breath and turn to walk away, a firm grip catches me around the wrist, pulling me flush against hard muscle. The intoxicating scent of worn leather slithers its way up my nose, making my traitorous body react like a whore as my nipples harden and my knees weaken.
“Miss me, Low?”
Did I miss him? What the hell kind of question is that? I just smacked the shit out of him. How does he possibly think he has the right to ask me that? For the record, I have missed him. I’ve missed him every damn day he’s been gone, but I’ve also fought very hard to push down whatever the fuck kind of feelings still web around my heart. I’ve tried to be over him. I thought I had put him behind me, far, far behind me. Well, until now that is.
With my head still in a fog and my body unable to fight against the pull he has on me, Slade’s mouth crashes against mine. I flatten my palms against his chest and realize that it’s doing me no good to try to break free from his hold. I submit. I give in to what I’ve been trying to let go of and I hate myself for it.
Asshole.
When I gain an ounce of composure I pull away. Looking up at him, I’m met by those steely blues that have sent me over the edge time and time again. I take a moment to sweep my gaze over his features and let out a shaky breath when I realize that he is even more gorgeous than the last time I laid eyes on him.
