Lost, Found, Loved (A St. Skin Novel): a bad boy new adult romance novel by London Casey & Jaxson Kidman & Karolyn James

Author:London Casey & Jaxson Kidman & Karolyn James [Casey, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-09-03T18:30:00+00:00

19

ZAYNE

I finished another tattoo.

My door had been open for hours, and there was no end in sight.

I wiped the excess ink off some guy’s shoulder and stared at the tiger looking back at me. I had spent maybe too much time on the eyes, but damn, they were really lifelike. It was a little difficult to get the overall image to flow the way I wanted with the curve of his shoulder, but it worked. It always worked. Tattooing was the one thing that never let me down.

I patched him up and pointed to the door.

He shook my hand and swore to me he’d be back for more ink soon. I warned him I was heading to Miami soon, but that he should still come back to St. Skin.

I felt like a doctor or something, the way I had been shuffling people in and out.

I sat on my chair for a few seconds to catch my breath. I cracked my knuckles, stretched my wrists, and stood up. The chair rolled back until it hit the wall.

The shop was bustling once again. I swore I’d never seen a tattoo shop as busy as St. Skin. People would call and make appointments weeks and months in advance, yet there would be dozens (if not more) people just walking in all day long. Looking around. Getting advice. Hoping to sneak in on a session and pay whatever we wanted them to pay.

There had to have been at least ten people up front.

I stood there and looked around, slowly shaking my head.

I looked over at Danielle as she ran the counter. I gave a quick thumbs-up, and she pointed to a woman standing near the front window. The woman clutched her bag tight and looked nervous as hell.

I took a step when I felt hand come down on my shoulder.

“We need to talk,” Tate’s deep boss-voice said to me.

“In case you didn’t notice, Tate, there’s people waiting.”

“Yeah. They can wait a little longer. Come with me.”

I followed Tate back to my room where he opened the door and held it open as though it was his fancy-ass office.

I entered the room and he shut the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Last time I checked, I was tattooing people.”

“How many did you do today?”

“Why?”

“Yesterday?”

I didn’t respond.

“You’re going to end up fucking something up, Zayne.”

“No I’m not. I’ve got to save up some cash, Tate.”

“Oh, Miami again?”

“This is my business.”

“No, actually it’s my business,” Tate said.

I curled my lip and looked away. I fucking hated anything that represented authority or telling me what to do.

“So? I get paid to bring business in,” I said. “I make customers happy and you’re pissed at me.” I grabbed my leather jacket. “I’ll just fucking take off then, Tate. You deal with the overflow out there.”

“Whoa, easy now,” Tate said. “Don’t be so fucking touchy.”

“Fuck you, man,” I snapped. “The other guys are booked with appointments. I’m taking the leftovers out there. I’m not doing full back pieces in two fucking hours Tate.

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