The Harder He Falls: 2 (So Inked) Page 2

Oscar, his right-hand man, nodded. “Will do.”

  Quin pivoted and thumbed toward the room he’d set up as his office. Penny’s narrowed gaze tracked him and she changed direction.

  Quin studied the new installments he’d put in over the last week with a critical eye. He needed a good day or two more to have the gym exactly as he wanted it, but he couldn’t argue with how things were going. The octagon cage was set up in the back. The black chain-link fence glistened, it was so new. Unlike other fighting styles, mixed martial arts used an eight-sided ring to eliminate the tactics of cornering an opponent. In the octagon, men were only as good as their skills, reduced to what they could do with their arms, hands, legs, feet and most importantly, their brains.

  Everything about the sport called to him. He loved the rawness, the adrenaline and most of all, the competition. Or at least he had. He watched from the sidelines now and coached.

  His fighters were training and he was lobbying for bouts against other locals with plans to travel to Houston and Austin later in the year.

  But first there was the little matter of Penny to solve.

  Quin stepped into his office and held the door.

  “Something wrong?” He had a good guess what it was this time, but wasn’t about to jump into a fire voluntarily.

  “Where were you Friday? And what about this morning?” Penny tossed her hands up in the air and her blonde ponytail bobbed with the motion.

  Frustration bubbled up inside but he just shoved it aside. He couldn’t be everywhere at once. Why couldn’t she understand that?

  He closed the office door and circled the desk. How many times were they going to have this argument? He sat down in the new chair and leaned back. His muscles twinged low around his spine, reminding him of the old injury. He’d aggravated it while trying to contort himself into a pretzel to fix a leak.

  He picked up a pen from the desk and clicked the button repeatedly to give his hands something to do. “I sent you a text. It was too early to call. I might have woken up Josie. A pipe in the locker rooms busted and I had to stay late. We talked about putting work first for a little bit until the kinks are worked out.”

  Penny put her hands on her hips. “Quinton, that’s not good enough. I thought you wanted to be part of Josie’s life. I thought having you move down here with us was a good idea. Keep the family together.”

  “We are together.” He wasn’t a deadbeat dad. He’d never missed putting money aside for their daughter. Hell, he had the gym so she would never want for anything.

  Penny leaned over the edge of the desk, somehow managing to appear menacing despite her petite size. “No, Quin, we aren’t together because do you know what today is?”

  They stared at each other. Was this a trick question? He kept his mouth shut regardless. Maybe moving to Texas had been a mistake. When he’d still been in California, they’d been friends. He’d call her and her husband for advice, to laugh and talk. Now all they did was argue.

  Penny tapped the top of the desk with her nail. “It’s Saturday. Your Saturday. Josie’s at home waiting for Daddy to come and get her because she was told, by you, that you would spend today together. What am I supposed to tell her?”

  Josie had the attention span of a jellyfish. She forgot about him after a few minutes of being together. It stung his pride that his own kid would rather play with a box than him, but she was only three. He spread his hands. “I can’t be in two places at once. You’ll have to explain to her that I’m working.”

  “She’s three, Quin. She doesn’t understand that. All she knows is that Daddy never spends time with her.” Penny tapped his desk to punctuate each word.

  “I do too.” He threw the pen down. “Last time she never even said hi to me. I sat on the couch while she played with dolls. She hardly even noticed I was there.”

  What did she want him to do? Ignore the gym, lose his income and move into Penny’s garage? Yeah, he didn’t think Penny’s husband Chad would appreciate that. He liked the guy, he was good for Penny and treated Josie as if she were his own, but that went only so far.

  Penny swiped at her cheeks. “God, you don’t even get it, do you?”

  He stared past her at the cinderblock wall. He was doing everything in his power to be a good provider. He wasn’t going to let her manipulate him into letting go of the business. If he let up even a little bit this early in the game, it would run away from him.

  Penny’s gaze snared his despite his best intentions. “You can’t throw money at your daughter and expect everything to be okay.”

  He frowned. That wasn’t what he was doing. He provided for them with his own blood, sweat and tears. “Penny—”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Thank god.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Penny turned her back on them.

  One of the front desk clerks he’d just hired stepped in, glancing from Penny to him.

  “What is it?” he asked, welcoming any excuse to escape this conversation.

  The nervous young man licked his lips and stared at Quin with large eyes. “The delivery from earlier. I think there’s a problem.”

  The second order of punching bags had arrived right as the first practice session was beginning. He’d left the boxes on the back doorstep until he could get the guys together to hang them.

  He sat forward in his chair. The skin across his shoulders prickled and he got a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean, there’s a problem?”

  “I think you should look at this.”

  Quin pushed to his feet and started around the desk. The jittery kid clearly had adrenaline pumping into his system.

  Penny pivoted and glared at him. “I’m not done talking to you.”

  “Not now,” he snapped. He couldn’t take much more of her nagging. Didn’t she understand that the gym was how he would pay for Josie’s college? Or whatever his baby girl wanted to do. He was determined she’d never want for anything.

  He strode around the block of offices at the back of the gym to the double doors that led to what passed as their loading area. In reality, it was the narrow path between the back of the warehouse-turned-gym and a chain-link fence that bordered an industrial property. The clerk opened the door for him and held it.

  Quin caught a glimpse of ripped cardboard and his stomach dropped. Dread dug invisible claws into his shoulders.

  “No. No, no, no, no, no!”

  He stepped into the sweltering heat and sweat drenched his body. Remnants of the boxes littered the alley and the bags looked like beached whales, their bellies split open with sand pouring out. His skin went cold and hot in waves.

  “Fucking— Who the hell did this?” He strode down the line of boxes he’d stacked an hour ago, his skin going colder with each step. Every single one of the bags was destroyed.

  “Quin?” Penny stepped out into the sunlight, her blonde hair glinting.

  “Not now, Penny,” he growled. Thousands of dollars, ruined. Gone. He shoved his hands through his hair. How was he going to pay for this?

  She closed the distance between them, her jaw thrust out and her little fists balled up. “If not now then when, Quin? There’s always something more important going on.”

  He jabbed a finger in her direction. “Don’t fucking mess with me right now.”

  “You are a terrible father, Quinton Berkus.”

  His vision hazed red. He was not a terrible father. He might not be the best, but he was far from the worst.

  * * * * *

  Kellie scrolled through the So Inked Twitter account. Social media wasn’t really her thing, but they got a lot of attention online, especially since the fire. So she’d pulled up her big girl panties and learned the ropes. Usually Autumn manned the Twitter and Facebook accounts, but she’d yet to show up for work, besides a few days after they’d acquired the new building following the burning of the original So Inked.

  Technically the shop wasn’t open yet. Their Gran
d Re-Opening party wasn’t until Monday, but they’d been working out of the new building almost since they’d gotten the keys. Kellie had had an appointment to do a back piece, but the client had gotten sunburned earlier that week and Kellie couldn’t work on her. Autumn was supposed to be working, but she was still missing.

  As much as Kellie loved Autumn as a friend, she couldn’t keep her employed if she didn’t work. With no appointments and no one to shoot the breeze with, Kellie had a full day to work on the finishing touches around the shop, and she didn’t mind being alone. It seemed as if lately she was never by herself. It was nice for a change.

  She sighed and rolled a few feet over to where her sketchbook was laid open at the receptionist desk. Maybe she’d get lucky and have a walk-in. She could do with some cash in her pocket.

  Another geisha-samurai image stared back at her from the page she’d been working on. There was open real estate on her calf she wanted to fill in, but couldn’t decide on a pose or colors. She excelled at Asian tattoos, but working with someone else’s vision was easier at times. This was one of those times.

  In the sketch, a refined version of the traditional samurai crossed blades with a geisha. It was a lover’s portrait. A fanciful version of what she thought her grandfather and grandmother might have been like. Before his death and her Alzheimer’s.

  The new bell chimed above the door. She took a moment to add a line to further define the samurai’s brow before glancing up.

  “Hi, welcome to So Inked.” She tossed in a smile for good measure and gave her potential client a head-to-toe once-over.

  He was tall, an inch or two shy of six and a half feet, with thick brown hair and intense blue eyes. His right arm was wrapped from wrist up under his shirt sleeve in vibrant ink. She leaned forward as she recognized the style as Japanese. He wore shorts and one of the TapouT t-shirts popular with mixed martial arts enthusiasts that molded to his chest, announcing to the world that here was a god in flesh.

  She barely kept from rolling her eyes. The muscle-bound numskulls were the biggest pussies. He would probably whine and moan and complain if she actually had to tattoo him.

  “Hey.” His gaze finally landed on her, though it immediately skipped down to her cleavage. Typical.

  She leaned back on the stool that was currently serving as the front-of-house chair. “See something you like?” she drawled.

  Color bloomed on his cheeks as his eyes locked on hers. “Nice shop.”

  “Thanks.” She chuckled and twirled her pen between her fingers. There were still boxes lined up against the wall, bags of trash and clutter on the counters, but it was almost complete. “So are you interested in getting a tattoo?”

  “Maybe. I had an appointment on Friday with Kellie, but it was rescheduled. I’m Quin.”

  Oh great. He was her reschedule.

  Quin approached the desk and leaned against it. He tilted his head to peer at her sketch. “That’s cool-looking. What is it?”

  “A doodle,” she lied and flipped the book closed. “I’m Kellie.”

  He stuck his arm over the desk, leaving her no option but to shake it.

  “Did you have something in mind?”

  “Not really. I’m more of the in-the-moment kind of guy.” He flashed her a smile that had undoubtedly caused plenty of panties to drop. Too bad she hadn’t bothered with any today.

  She smiled politely in return and gestured to the monitor bolted to the corner of the desk. It allowed a customer to scroll through digital photos of each artist’s work. “Why don’t you flip through our portfolios? If you see something you like or have a question, let me know.”

  She stood and turned toward her station. With Mary’s son Sam spending less time at the shop thanks to summer school, they each had to do their own stocking and tracking inventory.

  “What are your hours?”

  She pointed to the sign hanging from the receptionist desk. “1 p.m. to 2 a.m., seven days a week, except holidays.”

  “That doesn’t leave a lot of time to yourself.”

  Hearing the frown in his voice, she glanced over her shoulder. He was standing at the monitor, studying the screen. “That’s the price of owning your own business.”

  His brows lifted and he glanced at her. “You own this place?”

  His surprise grated on her nerves. Her lack of a dick had no impact on her skill as an artist or her ability to conduct business. She slammed shut the drawer she’d just opened and turned to him. “Yes, I do.”

  He must have sensed her wrath because he held up his hands in a beseeching gesture. “Sorry, thought if you owned the place you would have other people working too. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Are you going to get a tattoo or are you going to keep wasting my time?” As if to punctuate her question, the shop phone rang. She stalked back to the receptionist desk and grabbed it. “Hello?”

  “Aye, chill chica.”

  “Hey, sorry.” Kellie turned her back on the potential client and braced a hand against the counter.

  “I’m headed in, just calling to let you know. Autumn ever show?”

  “Nope.”

  “Damn.” Mary sighed.

  Kellie picked up a pencil from the desk and rolled it between her fingers. Mary didn’t have to say what she was thinking. “I know. I thought you were taking today to be with Sam?”

  “Plans change.” Her tone of voice went from grumbling to bright. “I’ll be in soon. You busy?”

  She glanced at her browser. “Not at all.”

  Mary sighed. “See you when I get there.”

  Kellie ended the call and stared at her reflection on the plastic screen. Mary was her best friend and they barely saw each other anymore. She wanted a quiet evening watching TV with her or even just grabbing something to eat. Really she just needed her best friend. She put the phone in the cradle and turned back to the browser.

  “I want one of these.” He swiveled the monitor to face her. Three shots of different samurai tattoos were spaced out on the screen, all of them her custom work.

  If she could afford to turn him away, she would. She was grouchy and tired. Adding his happy ass to her day wouldn’t make it better. Yet she couldn’t afford to alienate a single client.

  Kellie circled the desk to stand next to him. The three pictures displayed two traditional samurais and one of her more modern variations.

  “Do you know what kind you want? Are you looking to get the traditional samurai head or the whole body?”

  “I like this guy. He’s badass.” He pointed to a warrior swathed in crimson framed by a few cherry blossoms.

  Kellie shifted from foot to foot. “That was a design I did for a guy so I can’t recreate it exactly. The sketch was lost in a fire.”

  “A fire?”

  “Yeah, our old shop burned down a month ago.” It hurt to say it still, but it was getting better.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. Is everyone okay?”

  Kellie opened and closed her mouth. “No.”

  Daniel Wade was the name of the boy who had died in their shop. Kristen Misner had passed away from severe head trauma. And Carly still hung on, living at the hospital, attached to a city of machines that did everything from breathe for her to piss. It brought home just how transient life was, and that made her think of Grandma.

  A warm weight settled on her shoulder. She blinked up at the man who somehow made her feel small. At five ten, she towered over most guys. His brow furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together.

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Anyway, I can’t do exactly that, but I can do something similar. Do you have anything in mind as far as colors, positioning or anything?”

  He looked from the monitor to her. “Nah. Why don’t you surprise me?”

  Maybe he was supposed to be here today. She needed something to distract her from her problems and he looked good enough to fit the bill. “I can probably sketch something up in about fifteen minutes and do you today if yo
u have time. My appointment canceled on me.”

  “That works for me.”

  “Great. I’ll grab the forms and you can fill those out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Chapter Two

  Tiger—As a symbol, it represents a dominant personality and power, as well as ferocity and sensuality. It holds the kingly position held by the lion in Europe. It is almost always depicted in motion. The features are often distorted or abstract because the animal is not indigenous to Japan.

  This was the person who’d wanted to buy the gym?

  Quin had known there was another offer on the table when he’d set his mind on buying it. He’d done his homework since the escalating vandalism was starting to cost him more than pocket change. He’d briefly thought the vandal might be this chick but his gut told him she wasn’t the one. Which left him back where he’d started—nowhere.

  Greg Redding. They’d gotten in a little bidding war over the gym when Quin bought it. Quin had come to Texas to work with Greg. It had been the worst mistake of his life. Leaving that hellhole had been the kick in the pants he’d needed to do what he really wanted. Start his own gym and teach his own fighters. Things were lining up, at least until the latest road bumps.

  His decision to get more ink happened to coincide with wanting to find out about the previous owner’s family. If she wasn’t against him, maybe he could pick her brain a little. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Kellie was smoking hot. He’d never seen an Asian woman as tall as her, with legs that didn’t stop, a tight body liberally enhanced with mostly Japanese tattoos and boobs worthy of a porn star.

  Quin settled into the tattoo chair, shirt draped over his lap, phone balanced on his knee, and placed his elbow on a freestanding arm support.

  Kellie hummed along to the radio as she rummaged through a drawer.

  “I’m going to shave you up a little and put the stencil on.” She turned back to face him with a disposable razor in hand. She ran a damp rag over his left arm. “I’ll get the outline done, and if at any point you want to stop and come back another day, we can do that. Just try to sit through the outline, okay?”