Chapter  

Atlanta, Georgia- Inked to the Max

Trev

4 months pregnant

S

tanding in front of my booth, I watch the people surrounding one area and wonder what the hell did I miss while I was lost in thoughts of my life with Zoie?

I’m out of my mind. That’s what they’ll tell me. I’ve gone and lost it. I can understand the thinking behind their judgements. If I were in their places, I’d feel the same way. I don’t blame them. My mother is going to shit herself. My uncle—the man who stepped up when my father died—is going to pass out. No one is going to believe me when I tell them I am set to steady go it with one female and one female alone.

One of the new people working with Deck walks in the back door along with Tracker and I not my acknowledgement. Zander. Zander Collins is his name. that’s all I know and all I care to know because that shit doesn’t involve me.

“Look Man, that’s her, isn’t it?”

I’m waiting for my next customer to choose their art when I hear that question float through the air to my ears. There are exactly four women in the main booth area when the question is tossed out. Three of the four are claimed and one of them happens to be mine. I try to follow dude’s line of sight but can’t seeing as all of the women are in the same vicinity. Deck must’ve heart them too because he’s eyeballing the two at the front reception area as much as I am. The next words out of the taller one’s mouth have me in motion seconds later.

“That ass and those hips are unforgettable. Neither is the taste of that honey, sweet pussy. I can tell you that much. I’m going in because I’ve been missing that. Need to finish what I started.”

I have no fucking idea how I reach the two before Deck but I’m in dude’s face by the time he makes his claim about tapping what’s mine.

“I'm going to have to disappoint you there, Son. You can’t touch what’s unavailable. Even if she were up for “tasting,” your grimy ass hands still wouldn’t touch that precious flesh.”

“Oh yeah. Who says? Her daddy? I’m not trying hear you, Old Man.”

Old man? This kid is joking right?

This kid is a fucking joke. I’m not in a kidding around mood. I’m never going to be when it comes to Zoie. She is my world and the center of my joy. Knowing she is carrying the future within her spurs me into possessive asshole mode.

“You don’t want to know who I truly am, Kid. The truth would fuck with your simple ass mind. All you need to know is when it comes to her I’m whomever I fucking need to be. I’m her daddy, her bodyguard, her motherfucking tooth fairy and fairy godmother if your leprechaun looking ass needs a little magic to make you fucking believe just how real this is.” What the kid doesn’t know is as I’ve been talking I’ve pulled out two different weapons. One is pointed at his gut, the other is aimed at his balls. “Now, be real smart about this or they’ll be pulling both lead and steel from your body.”

When I speak the words, he feels the pressure I put on his balls and his abdomen. Swallowing hard, his eyes dart from one side to the other. His boys don’t have a clue that their supposed leader could be dead in a matter of seconds if he gives me the wrong fucking response. What the other two idiots don’t know is Neal has one in his line of sight and Deck has the other. Marjorie, behind the counter, has her finger on the trigger of the concealed weapon beneath the counter and Yaz is currently spinning her Sais underneath her desk. We live in fucking Atlanta and most of us grew up running in the streets of this wrong side of town or somewhere similar. This isn’t a crew to fuck with regardless of the team of trained marksmen that keeps tabs on this place because of who their team lead fell in love with.

The kid does the right thing by beginning to back away from me. I don’t let up because he strikes me as the type to try to get in a blindsided sucker punch if I don’t pay attention.

Just as I thought. I don’t get a chance to complete the damn thought before he takes two steps back and tries to swing on me. Key word here is he tries to swing. With a quick twist of his wrist, I have on his knees. Guns cock the second I move, so I know I have nothing to worry about from the other two dumbasses who followed this asshole into the shop.

“I’d heed his words, young buck. No one’s in a mood to play games with you. Today, most of the people inside are trigger happy. If your particular goal of the moment is to feel some heat, then keep pushing the button you’re pressing. Otherwise ...”

Deck leaves the statement open-ended. The kid isn’t as stupid as I initially thought he was. He quickly assesses the situation then finally determines to wisely make his exit. Today, he gets to walk away with no lead lancing through his body. Let’s hope he doesn't do something that will later warrant another outcome.