Shattered (Koa #5)

7. Asher

Chapter 7

Asher

W hen I return to the shop, I find another vehicle parked—a familiar vehicle. I crawl out of the car with my hand on the roof, bracing myself. This morning’s errands took a toll on my leg, and I feel it now. It’s harder to walk than usual, and this is when I usually fall.

I cannot fall in front of that bitch. Or Bane, or anyone for that matter.

I take my time outside since there’s no one around, and I can’t see shit through the windows, so I know I’m not being watched. I take a few steps to stretch out my damaged leg. Once I’ve gathered myself, I head inside. While I want to storm in there and scare the fuck out of Sunshine, I can hear the buzz of a tattoo machine through the door, so that’s not going to happen. Instead, I open the door as quietly as possible, slipping inside almost unnoticed. Bane has a woman on his table as he tattoos her lower back. Sunshine is sitting down, watching them with her back to me.

Bane lifts his head as I enter, and he stops the machine. “Hey.”

“What are you doing?” I ask, walking over as naturally as I can manage. Sunshine turns to see me, and she scowls, but I completely ignore her as I walk past.

“Finally got the carnations.”

Once I see the piece Bane is outlining, I get it. It’s a bundle of rugged pink carnations he’s wanted to do for months, but he’s not sold anyone. The girl on his table glances up at me with her cheek resting against the table. She’s young, and her arms and legs are covered in colored flowers. The piece Bane’s doing will fit right in.

“Nice ink. Something tells me you’ll be back,” I say to the girl, noting her sheer number of tattoos.

“We’d better reserve her a parking spot,” Bane jokes.

I’ve blatantly ignored Sunshine, walking straight past her and keeping my back to her. When I finally turn around, I find her staring at me with venomous eyes. One of my binders is sitting in her lap, closed. Instead of greeting or taunting her, I lunge forward on my good leg, getting close enough to snatch the binder from her lap, scratching her knee with my force. She’s wearing some shorts and a tight shirt. I don’t see a single tattoo on her or any in the video she sent.

“Did I say you could look at my shit?” I growl.

She actually rolls her eyes, and I can feel her friend’s glare on my back.

“Watch it,” the friend says.

“It’s okay, Neela. This fucker doesn’t scare me. ”

Every time this bitch opens her mouth, I’m even more shocked. Is she trying to start shit? By now, I’ve pretty much confirmed she’s self-destructive. She needs someone to lose control on her. Based on the way her body responded last night, it makes sense. She was overwhelmed, but it was apparent she was so deep in pleasure that she couldn’t make a clear decision. I’ve never seen anyone sexed out of their mind like that.

And as much as I hate this bitch, I want that again. And I might know how.

“Don’t touch my shit. You don’t have the balls or the pain tolerance to get a tattoo.”

Just as I expected, she’s on her feet in an instant. To piss her off even more, I shove her to the side and flop down in her chair, throwing my hands behind my head and dropping the binder in my lap. It’s all a show because if she tries to stand up to me, she’ll easily knock me down based on how much pain I’m in right now. She takes the bait and yanks the binder out of my lap.

“You think I don’t have balls or pain tolerance? That’s cute,” she growls before turning around to her friend. “Neela, where’s the most painful place to get tattooed?”

Neela’s eyes flicker between us as she considers, looking a little amused. “For me, it was my ribcage.”

“I think a snatch tattoo would hurt more,” Asher says.

“If you think I’m letting you anywhere near my cunt again, you’re having a laugh.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly let me last night, but here we are.”

Her eyes are on FIRE as they blaze into mine, a clear challenge. Time stops as I wait for her next move. She opens the binder without tearing her eyes from mine, and though I keep my eyes locked on hers, I can see in my periphery what she’s opened it to—the tiger.

“I’d like this on my ribs, please,” she sneers.

I don’t doubt her stubbornness. But I think I can piss her off even more.

“I’m not booking you an appointment. You’re gonna pussy out, not show up, and you’re gonna waste my time. Now get out of my shop.”

“Then do it right fucking now. Unless you need to rest. I bet you’re tired.”

She doesn’t need to expand on what she’s talking about. It’s another blow at my leg. The bitch knows just what buttons to push.

“I’ll do your tattoo now. But don’t blame me when you can’t handle it and you go home with half a tattoo.”