Kingdom's Reign

Chapter 3

3

Tank and his friend took their leave, saying they were coming back when Kingdom’s tattoo would be done. Sage was grateful for the break and pulled up the legal memo she was working on. Hours later, the bikers waltzed back in, giving her chin lifts by way of greeting, and sat by the wall of tattoos. Although Sage attempted to focus on the tablet poised in her lap, it was impossible not to overhear their conversation. The fact that the waiting area was tiny did nothing to impede the biker called Tank from talking loudly. While she wasn’t one to eavesdrop, curiosity got the best of her.

The nape of her neck pricked when she felt his eyes on her again. She didn’t have to look up to know that he was inspecting her. Working around men, she could spot machismo a mile away. Normally, she was immune to men’s chauvinism, but there was always ab exception to the rule. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tank jab his friend painfully in the ribs.

He grabbed his side and glared at Tank. “What in the f**k was that for?”

Ignoring him, Tank tilted his chin “Cutter, what do ya think?”

“What do I think of what?” Cutter’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You’d fuckin’ tear that b***h apart.”

“Not for me, dumbass.” Tank gave a laborious sigh. “For Kingdom.” Cutter squinted at her while Tank elaborated, “First time since Chopper’s death that Kingdom’s come up for air. He hasn’t touched a b***h; he drinks too much and picks too many fights. Something’s gotta give ’cause he’s working on my last fuckin’ nerve. Maybe she could help.”

Sage rolled her eyes. One would think they’d talk a tad lower considering they were talking about her. But no, they were completely oblivious.

Proving her point, Cutter continued, “She ain’t one of us—”

“‘Us’ ain’t doin’ it for him, but a shake-up could do the trick.” Tank titled his chin in her direction. “Somethin’ like her.”

Sage peeked up furtively to find Cutter nodding slowly as he inspected her as carefully as a forensic expert. Or a butcher, she thought snidely. Another heifer moment for me. Happy, happy, joy, joy.

“She has potential,” Cutter conceded.

Sage rolled her lips inward to prevent herself from screeching and tearing at her hair. They were beyond ridiculous. “I can hear you,” she muttered, but not loud enough to be heard over their conversation.

Tank snorted. “He’s out of her league, but we could make it happen.”

Sage’s eyes bulged at his comment. These men thought Kingdom was out of her league? Ha! Good one.

“Push him at her,” Tank ordered.

“Why fuckin’ me? I’m sick of doin’ the dirty work.”

“You’re the one with the charm,” Tank countered. “s**t, I don’t fuckin’ do nice; I’m a fuckin’ bulldozer.” He sprawled out his legs, leaned back, and crossed his arms, grinning unrepentantly. “It ain’t in my blood.”

Sage almost burst out laughing. Yup, he’d probably been spawned by a couple of over-sized pit bulls.

“I ain’t a fuckin’ matchmaker, but you got a point. Kingdom might ease up on us if he had a good f**k. He’s pretty enough to bag her, and she is hot in her own way. Though,” Tank mused, “she’s not his usual.”

“’Course you’d throw this s**t in my lap ’cause your a*s would f**k it up.”

“Brother, you’ve taken too many hits to the head if you think you’re smarter than me, but no doubt about it, girls rush to do your biddin’. Alright, enough bitchin’. Go play cupid, my man.”

With the scrape of the chair legs on the linoleum floor, Sage groaned inwardly. Cutter was taking that moron’s advice. She might as well give up all pretense that she wasn’t listening and face him straight on.

Cutter threw a punch at Tank’s shoulder and strolled toward Sage. Let’s see how he plays his hand.

“Hey there. Why don’t you show me what you got in there for me,” began Cutter with a wink and a gesture toward the book of tattoo samples.

Tank chortled, enjoying the spectacle. “She’s a sucker,” he mumbled.

“I heard that,” she called out. But he knew what she knew—she was a sucker. Helping people was what she did; when covering for Camilla at the shop, she sought to help customers find the perfect tat, a tat that held meaning for them. Sage opened Angel’s portfolio to her favorite tats. Biker dude or not, she was in her zone. As her fingers flew over the photos, she commented, “Hmm…you are pretty confident of yourself, but I’m going to expand your horizons, so promise to be a good listener.”

“My mama taught me to listen to pretty women, ’specially the teacher-lookin’ ones,” Cutter teased back.

Tank cracked up, and Sage made sure to throw him a good-sized glare.

As they reviewed different tattoos, Sage relented to Cutter’s charm. She revealed to him that yes, she was single. Not a big deal since she didn’t intend to be pimped out to a biker, even a man like Kingdom, who pushed all her buttons. There was no danger in divulging her age, which was twenty-nine. What she did not disclose was that she was a criminal defense lawyer. The last bit was easy to hide since she was dressed casually. Her killer attorney attire was sealed off with her wardrobe at home.

Footsteps sounded on the corridor’s creaky floor, and Cutter twisted toward the sound. Sage sniffed air charged with Kingdom’s high-vibrational energy and drank up the vision of a warrior, his torso bare. Breathe. Breathe. Her eyes skated frenetically over his chiseled chest; it was covered with a dusting of fine dark hair that narrowed over a six pack and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. A heavy brass buckle hung over the worn brown leather just above his crotch. She almost dared to dip her gaze lower. I won’t look. Stay professional.

Kingdom bared down on Cutter, who glanced at his aggressive stance and asked casually, “How’d it go?”

Sage’s attention was caught by the fascinating play of Kingdom’s pecs and the sharp cut of his abdomen as he shrugged and gave Cutter his leather vest to hold. As Kingdom raised his arms and stretched the sides of his t-shirt to fit it on his torso, a demon tail wrapped around motorcycle handles caught her attention. The fabric of his shirt swooped down and covered the tattoo before she could get more than a cursory look at it. Sage’s gaze chased his exposed flesh to the last centimeter until the worn cotton draped down and fully covered him, leaving her momentarily bereft.

He had the body of an ancient god, one painstakingly chiseled out of marble. Tank called him pretty, but Sage whole-heartedly disagreed. Kingdom exuded the power of a man who held dominion over the world. Nothing about him was “pretty.” Stunningly sexy, yes. Pretty, most definitely not.

“Hurt like a motherfucker,” Kingdom grumbled as he stuffed his shirt into his jeans. He shrugged on his leather vest. “If I had space left on my arms, I would’ve inked it there instead.”

“You shoulda tatted up your face.”

Sage gasped. Cutter flashed her a lopsided grin and mouthed, “Gotcha.” She slitted her eyes at him. Sly, shifty-eyed devil.

“Pretty Boy ain’t got what it takes to pull it off, huh?”

Kingdom’s eyebrows bunched together. “Better not be talkin’ about me, son,” he warned.

Unconcerned, Cutter laughed at him.

Without thinking, Sage spoke, “As a matter of fact, I am rarely impressed with facial tattoos. Or neck tattoos, for that matter.”

Kingdom’s attention swung to her. “You’ve got strong opinions, don’t you? Let me get it straight—no face or neck ink. No skulls or Grim Reaper. But”—his eyes skittered over her face—“you like pretty.”

Sage admitted ruefully, “I suppose I do have pretty strong opinions.”

Golden-brown eyes stared down on her keenly. The swivel stool creaked as Sage shifted her position under his scrutiny. Unabashed, his eyes flickered to her breasts before swinging back up to bolt into hers. Sage was ensnared in the web he wove around her, dragging her focus entirely on him with his own undiluted concentration.

Cutter interrupted their stare-a-thon. “You were cryin’ like a little b***h back there. Angel give you a big boo-boo?”

Absently, he responded, “Shut up.”

Stumbling out of her Kingdom-induced coma, Sage rummaged around for a comment and finally found praise for Angel. “He is a master.”

Kingdom’s eyes flared, and he retorted, “I’m master here. No man but me.”

A shiver ran through her, leaving behind a sheen of prickly awareness on her skin.

“You finish it or do you have to come back again?” Cutter piped up, gesturing to the wall layered with photos displaying Angel’s talent.

Kingdom finally broke his lock-hold stare on Sage and c****d his head toward Cutter, irritation etched on his face. Pulling out his wallet, he handed his credit card to Sage. “I’ll be back to finish in three weeks.”

Angel walked out, pulling off his disposable gloves. After he was done wrapping one inside of the other and tying them off, he clapped Kingdom on the shoulder. “I don’t need to explain to you the aftercare instructions, am I right, hombre?”

“Think I can handle it,” Kingdom muttered, continuing his battle of glares with Cutter. Giving up, Cutter threw his head back with a knowing laugh. Taking his credit card from Sage, he paused to sign the receipt and then turned to Angel. “You did right by him.”

The molten pain in his voice was evident in what she suspected was a rare compliment.

Angel gave him a brief smile of his own. “Appreciate it, hermano.”

“After we’re done, I’ll come back so you can take shots of the tat. It deserves to be up there.” Kingdom’s gaze flickered up toward the wall.

Angel’s face registered shock. Sage may not have understood the back and forth between Kingdom and his friend, but it didn’t take much to guess Kingdom’s reasons for returning to the shop instead of posting the pics online. She very much doubted he was glued to his social media presence.

“s**t, I’ve done mad tats for the Squad. Didn’t think the day’d come when a brother would go public for the shop.”

“Not for the shop. For Chopper. For all the fallen brothers,” Kingdom intoned, his gaze dropping to the tat on Angel’s fist.

“Yeah,” Angel commiserated. A recognizable shadow passed Angel’s face at the mention of fallen brothers. Angel, Kingdom, me. They held within themselves the shadows left by the ones they’d loved but lost. To the Grim Reaper, she grimaced in reflection, the collector of souls. Was there any wonder she hated the image as much as she did?

Kingdom gave Angel a chin lift while his eyes coasted over Sage one last time.

Tank stood up, and they left, the little bell attached to the doorknob chiming behind the door.

Once they were alone, Angel glared at Sage. She dropped her gaze to her tablet but heated under Angel’s continued stare. She had a sinking feeling that she wouldn’t be covering for Camilla in the future.

“Pardon, hermana, they’re a lot to handle. They didn’t bother you, did they?”

“Of course not; they were mostly gentlemen. The one called Tank was a little forward, but for the most part, they’re harmless.”

“Believe me, there is nothing harmless about them. Thank you, Jesus, they’re gone.” Angel sighed and silently made the sign of the cross. “They’re not men you should be around, Kingdom and his crew. If he got his hooks into someone like you, he’d chew you up and spit you out.” Angel shot her a piercing look that told her all she needed to know. There was no way in hell Angel would let Sage hang out to dry.

“Damn.” He fake shuddered. “Camilla will cut off mio cojones.”

“Seriously, Angel, I’m a grown woman, and it’s not plausible that a biker like him would be seriously interested in me. They like their creature comforts like, oh”—she tapped her chin lightly—“a harem of willing women at their disposal. Please. If he comes back, it will be for the tat, which is impressive, by the way. Not,” she insisted, “because he’s interested in me.”

Angel harrumphed and stomped toward the back of the shop. Sage could have sworn she heard him mutter, “He’s interested, alright, the pendejo.”