The Marked Men Series Books 1–6: Rule, Jet, Rome, Nash, Rowdy, Asa. Jay Crownover

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СКАЧАТЬ my hoodie and a very tiny pair of shorts. I knew the guys in the shop were digging the view—they always did when I worked on her—but it was hard to concentrate and keep the lurkers at bay at the same time.

      Rowdy flipped me off but grinned in good humor. My friends loved Shaw, loved that she made me tone my crazy down and become an easier guy to live with and be around. It was almost a year in and while I still wasn’t the easiest person in the world to get along with, I was making real strides in at least being a more tolerable human being. “That could be the very best piece I’ve ever seen you do. Are you going to put it in your portfolio when it’s done?”

      The piece was a very intricate, very colorful Day of the Dead–inspired grim reaper. The face on the woman was beautiful and tragic and she held on to an exact replica of the heart I had initially drawn on Shaw’s palm all those months ago. Shaw had insisted on two things in the design—she wanted the sacred heart represented and she wanted it to resemble the grim reaper on my side. I never would have thought Shaw was going to get as interested in body modification as I was, but after only a month of us being an official couple she had asked me to draw her a bunch of tiny snowflakes in different colors of blue, gray, and white. When I asked her why, she said my eyes reminded her of winter and she wanted something to keep with her that reminded her of me, so she now had a snowstorm that started behind her left ear and trailed across the back of her neck to the base of her right shoulder. It was one of my favorite places on her body to trace over with my tongue, and I loved not only that she got something that reminded her of me, but that I was the one to put it on her. A couple of months after that she wanted me to draw her up a horseshoe with Remy’s name in it so she was also rocking a memorial tattoo for my brother that made me feel good every time I saw it on her inner arm when she hugged me or we held hands.

      The piece I was working on today was a hundred times bigger and more detailed than either of those. It made a statement and I had to admit I loved it, loved the design, loved that she trusted me enough to permanently alter her, and loved that I was the one who was going to see it every day when she got into bed beside me.

      I ran the paper towel I was using to wipe away excess ink and blood off her over her hip and cleaned her up. I gave her a light tap on the ass and snapped off my gloves.

      “That’s up to Shaw. If she wants it in there, I will. If not, it’s cool.” I flexed my fingers as she swung her legs around the table so I could slime tattoo goo all over her and wrap her up so she didn’t ooze blood and ink all over the place until I could get her home. The hand that had her name inked across the knuckles folded up and brushed against her cheek as I snuck a kiss. As a professional tattoo artist I knew all the mojo and all the warnings about tattooing a significant other’s name anywhere on your body, but I didn’t care. I liked looking down and seeing her name there, liked that when I held my hands next to each other our names were side by side forever on my skin. I had also had Nash ink a perfect little replica of Casper the Friendly Ghost behind my left ear so that I had something that reminded me of her in the same place she had something that reminded her of me. It was kind of cheesy but she thought it was sweet and the way she had showed her appreciation was enough to keep me smiling for days, so who gave a fuck.

      “It’s beautiful. Thanks, love.”

      “So are you.” I kissed her again as she hopped off the table, careful to keep all the good stuff covered up as she went into the bathroom to get dressed. She trailed a finger across the bald side of my head where I had it shaved. The Mohawk was back at alternating intervals and she hadn’t been lying—she never cared what my hair looked like. As long she could get her hands in it or around it, she didn’t care what style it was or what color I picked for the month.

      Rowdy shook his head and gave me a sour look. “You are one lucky bastard, Archer.”

      I laughed and started to clean my station up. “I know it.”

      Things weren’t always perfect. We were still two very different people on two very different paths but we always managed to take time to work it out. The trial against Davenport had been hard and I hated watching her have to relive it all. There was just too much influence for him to get as harsh a sentence as he deserved, but she stayed strong. When her parents had encouraged her to just drop the charges and let Davenport’s dad deal with him, she had pressed forward and done the right thing. Gabe was getting punished, just not as harshly as any of us would have liked. Her parents weren’t any kind of fan of our relationship, but once it was clear that Shaw and I were a package deal or they weren’t welcome anywhere near her, they relented slightly. Personally, I think it was guilt from the attack and their general shitty parenting that kept them paying her tuition and grudgingly accepting me in her life. I didn’t care because I was here to protect her from them. Whatever the reason, as long as they behaved it was all good, or at least good enough.

      Things with my folks were better, not perfect, but better. My mom and I had reached an understanding. We were never going to have the close relationship she shared with Remy, but we at least could talk now. I had even gone along to a couple of her therapy appointments and I had a better understanding of how she was wired. Much to my surprise we were far more alike than I had ever imagined. Shaw and I made it a point to go back home every Sunday for brunch again but now I was an active participant, and it was one of my favorite times of the week. Unfortunately, Rome was the Archer brother being difficult now. He still refused to talk to Mom and Dad and he only thawed toward Shaw when I let it be known that if he didn’t I was going to beat his ass when he came home in a couple months. Things were rocky on that front. He felt lied to and betrayed, but I had faith in him. If I could see the light, then my brother, who was already a way better man than I was, would come around eventually.

      Shaw came out of the bathroom pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail. Cora turned from the front desk to scowl at her. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me for that asshole. I’m going to miss you so much.”

      “Awww … I’m going to miss you, too, girl, but I’m never there and I’m sick and tired of having my stuff in two different places.” Shaw was moving in with me and Nash this weekend. We had put it off even though she was there five to six nights a week because I didn’t want to burden Nash. It had been my best friend who finally told her over breakfast one morning that if she agreed to do most of the cooking then she was welcome to just move in. We were both grateful because I liked our place, it was superconvenient for work, and I really didn’t want to move or ask Nash to leave. The three of us got along great and Nash was gone enough nights that we never really got on one another’s nerves. The girls were bummed she was going and I knew she was really going to miss Ayden and Cora, but they hung out enough and had declared every Thursday girls’ night, so I wasn’t worried at all about her regretting her decision.

      Cora screwed up her face, looking like an angry Tinker Bell. “I just hate the idea of moving a stranger in. You and Ayden were, like, the perfect roommates ever and after what happened to you I don’t trust some random stranger off the street to move in.”

      Shaw sat in the chair I had vacated to clean up and I hid a grin as she sneakily ran her fingers up the inside of my thigh. Nash looked up from the owl he was working on and looked back and forth between me and Rowdy. “Isn’t Jet coming back from tour soon?”

      “Yeah. So what?” Artifice had hit the big-time, booking a slot on Metalfest and had tapped Jet’s band, Enmity, to be on the opening stage for them. He had been gone for more than six months and while he was on the road, the girl he had been shacking up with had hooked up with some ex-con, so Jet was out on his ass. We all just figured he would crash with Rowdy or one of the other guys in the band.

      “You can rent the room out to him.” Nash said it like it was perfectly reasonable. “He’s cool with Ayden and he’s always on tour or whatever anyway. I bet he would be a good fit.”

      Shaw СКАЧАТЬ