Shelby

“We sure are going to miss you around here,” Serge says, helping me stuff the last of my tattoo supplies into the back of my car. “You’re gonna kick ass in Austin, though. You’re too talented for a shit hole place like this, anyway.”

“So are you,” I tell him, turning to make sure he’s actually listening. “Buying this shop helped me out in a big way, Serge, but don’t get stuck here. Use the business, hone your skill, broaden your horizons. But don’t fucking stay here forever. You’re too good for a small town like this.”

Serge grins and slams the trunk closed. “Maybe someday, I’ll be working for you again.”

“You’d better,” I tease, popping up on the tips of my toes to give him a hug.

“Now go.” Turning me by the shoulders, he pushes me toward the driver’s door of my car. “I hate goodbyes.”

I chuckle as I climb inside. Giving him a final wave, I pull out onto the road, taking one last look at my former tattoo shop in the rearview mirror, and smile. I’d loved working for myself. I was the only tattoo shop in town, and I’d been lucky to have people here who allowed me to hone my skills.

Moving to Austin, and working at a high-end shop there, will be so much better. Less responsibility, more money, and I get to live in the house Wyatt and I had bought just two weeks ago.

After we rescued Hayden, it took some time for him to let either one of us out of his sight. I understood, so I never mentioned it. Hayden loved her father instantly. I’ve never seen two people connect on such a deep level as my man and our daughter.

It hadn’t taken much convincing for me, or Hayden, to sell our home in Beckettville and move to Austin to live with Wyatt. We’d spent enough time apart. None of us wanted to miss any more time.

My phone rings just as I get to the outskirts of town. It’s Hayden.

“Hi, honey.”

“Mom, I’m going to Kevin’s house to watch a movie. Dad’s taking me, but I wanted to let you know too.”

That’s my good girl. She has taken on such shame for her own kidnapping, and the things she did to make herself more accessible to her abductors. Now she tells me where she is and who she’s with at all times. And lately, that who she’s with always seems to be Kevin.

They’ve connected somehow. I can’t tell quite yet if it’s a crush or a connection through shared trauma, but they lean heavily on each other, and Kevin’s a good kid. Despite the way they’d met and what had happened, I trust him.

“Okay, kiddo. Have fun.”

“I will.”

“And be safe!” I shout.

“Yes, Mom.”

I chuckle to myself as she disconnects. I drive the remainder of the way to my hometown, lost in my own thoughts. I pull into the clubhouse and head inside, in search of Wyatt.

“Hey, Shelby,” Judge calls from the table at the back of the room.

My eyes widen. “Hey. I thought you were at home.”

He frowns. “No, I’m right here. Why would you think that?”

“Because my daughter and your…” I pause, unsure of what to call him.

“Kevin?” he offers with a knowing smirk.

“Yes! Your Kevin and Hayden are supposed to be at your house watching a movie, but if you’re here, that means they’re there without any supervision.”

Judge throws his head back and laughs, his hard belly rising and falling at my expense. “Oh, honey,” he hoots. “Little Natalie is there too. They’re being supervised extra hard today.”

I grin back and roll my eyes. Judge had taken in Kevin and Natalie that same night. He shocked everyone, including me, on how parental he can be. He’s proving himself to be one hell of a dad.

“Hey, baby,” Wyatt says, coming at me from behind and swooping me up into his arms.

I smile and rest my head back on his shoulder. “Did you get the last of your stuff?”

I nod. “Yep. I have all my tattoo equipment in the car.”

“Oooh,” GP drawls, strolling into the room. “You gonna put some ink on your man’s virgin skin?”

Wyatt glowers at him while I laugh. “He couldn’t handle it,” I tease, patting Wyatt on the ass.

“Fuck both of you.” He narrows his eyes at GP. “Go get your shit, Shel. You get one tat. Make it a good one.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoff, landing a gentle slap on his chest.

“No,” he says, his face serious. “Come on. I’ll help you bring it in.”

“Wyatt—”

“Hurry up, woman, before I change my mind.”

Not about to argue with that, I hurry along behind him, following him to my car and watching as he opens the trunk. GP grabs a case, Wyatt grabs a case, and Judge comes out of nowhere and grabs my tools.

“What?” he asks when we all stare at him. “I want to watch.”

It takes me about forty-five minutes to set up. I sanitize everything and scrub down an area in the center of the clubhouse common room. While I work, more of the guys show up, making me feel like I’m in some sort of a fishbowl being watched from leather wearing men on all sides.

“Whatcha gonna get, asshole?” Twat Knot chuckles. “A butterfly on your ankle?”

“No, a flower on his foot,” someone else calls out.

I ignore them all, and motion for Wyatt to take a seat. “Okay, handsome. What are we doing?”

Wyatt whips his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the table. “I told you, you get one tat. Your choice of what and where. Make it count.”

Suddenly, I don’t feel so confident. I’m an artist, and a fucking good one at that. But right now, I have an audience, and all of them are rooting for me to tat something stupid on the man I love. The man I love has never wanted a tattoo on his skin before, and now, he’s letting me put my mark on him.

“She won’t do it,” Karma scoffs.

I chew on my lip, thinking about our story. About our daughter. About the struggles we’ve survived and the ones we still have yet to face. And then, I get an idea.

I pull on my gloves and get the ink ready. Slowly, I approach Wyatt and stand directly in front of him. Our eyes meet as I lower myself and place one leg on the right side of him, the other on the left.

“Jesus,” somebody mutters, but I tune them out.

My eyes are locked on Wyatt’s as I sit on his lap, his hands cupping my ass, holding me steady. “You ready?”

His nostrils flare, and butterflies erupt in my belly. Focus, Shelby.

I can feel his cock growing hard beneath me, and it takes a great amount of restraint not to roll my hips and grind myself against him. The audience around us forces me to pay attention to the task at hand.

I grab up the paper towel from the table and place the tattoo gun to Wyatt’s muscular chest. I work quickly and efficiently, dipping the gun with ink and swiping away the excess. Wyatt’s eyes never leave my face, and I’ve never felt more beautiful, or more desirable, than I do right now.

I switch colors three times, and when I’m finished, I use a cool cloth to wipe his skin. Finally, I grin and press my lips to his. “You’re finished.”

“Not quite.” Placing his hands on my thighs, he grinds his cock against me.

I laugh, handing him the small mirror. “I meant your tattoo.”

He grabs it out of my hand and I stand up, taking a few steps back to admire my work. Wyatt stares at the design, frozen.

“Do you like it?”

He finally looks up at me, his eyes filled with so much love. “You’re amazing.”

I grin, proud of the work I’d done. It’s a small tattoo, but I’d put a lot of detail and precision into making it just right.

There, over his very real, beating heart, is a red, tattered, perfectly drawn heart, filled with rips and jagged lines. Along every one of those lines is a thread—a stitch. And above that is the needle with a piece of thread that curls along, forming the words, End Game.

He stands and pulls me into a hug. “I love you, baby,” he whispers in my ear. “You are my fucking end game.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Our hug lasts a long time, and I don’t ever want it to end. But as it always happens in this clubhouse, the moment is disrupted when Twat Knot flops down into the chair Wyatt had just vacated and says, “My turn!”