He gives me a cheeky grin. “We’ll need some privacy. It’s on my ass.”

Oh God. Nothing I hate more than ass work, even if the ass is as fine as I’m guessing Doctor Death’s ass must be from the way his jeans hugged every taut curve as he made his way to my chair. Doesn’t seem to matter how much the needle hurts, you put a guy alone in a room with a woman, close the door, pull down his pants, and you’re spending some time in the hall giving him a “moment.”

“Duncan actually specializes in ass work—”

“I want you, Sia. This ass is precious. I only want the best hands on it.”

Taking a deep breath, I think about Mom and Dad and their mortgage. I think about rent and car insurance and saving for the shop I want to own one day. I think about the difference between big, white, hairy asses and lean, taut, tanned ones. “Okay. I’ll take you to the back.”

I keep it cool and professional as I direct him to the private ink rooms, while inside I laugh at the irony. I know women who would sell their soul for a peek at Doctor Death’s ass and yet all I can think about is Ray and how he cared enough to spend the night holding me, but not enough to want more than a casual fling.

While I wait in the hallway for Doctor Death to undress, my cell rings. I answer when I see it is Tag, and almost immediately he launches into an apology. He doesn’t know what he was thinking bringing up the incident with Luke. He’s not thinking straight. He just wants me to be safe and happy, and when he saw me with Ray, he was worried I would get hurt. But now, he’s not so sure.

“Why?” I lower my voice. “What happened?”

“He was at the gym yesterday when I was prepping for my Sunday Baby Boot Camp class,” Tag says, his voice tight. “He said he knew something bad happened to you and he wanted to know what it was.”

I suck in a sharp breath, at once annoyed Ray would go behind my back and perversely pleased he cared enough to ask. “You didn’t—”

Tag cuts me off with an annoyed grunt. “Of course I didn’t. I told him if there was anything you wanted him to know, you’d tell him yourself. But, of course, he’s the Predator and he wouldn’t give up. He said he didn’t want to fuck things up with you by inadvertently doing something that would make you run away.”

“He said that?” I walk to the end of the hall where I can’t be overheard.

Tag’s voice softens. “Yeah. I thought you should know. Still not sure whether I think he’s the right guy for you, but none of your other boyfriends ever threatened to bounce me around the ring if I didn’t divulge your secret. Tells me he cares about you. A lot.”

Reeling, confused, I slump against the wall. “He told me last night he didn’t want to get involved.”

“That’s not the message he sent at Amanda’s. He pretty much laid claim to you and warned everyone else away. It’s a guy thing.” Tag hesitates and then he says, “If you do decide to tell him, bear in mind that you don’t tell a man like Ray that someone hurt you and never paid for his crimes and think he’s just going to give you a sympathetic pat on the head. That happens with men like Charlie and James. Ray is…well, he’s like me. And when someone I care about is hurt and justice isn’t done, it’s almost impossible to bear.”

My breath leaves me in a rush. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you to keep that secret.”

Tag groans. “Sorry, Sia. I didn’t say that because I was trying to make you feel guilty. I don’t regret the decision we made and I would do it again in a heartbeat if you asked. It’s just all coming back because of this case I’m working on. It’s driving me fucking crazy. I can’t think about anything else. Even going to the gym is an effort because it takes me away from the investigation.”

The treatment room door opens and Doctor Death pops his head out. I smile and mouth “one second,” and he gives me a wink.

“Do you want to talk about it? We can meet up this week after work.”

Expecting him to decline, I am momentarily floored when he says yes he needs to talk about it, but it can’t be with me. When I suggest Jess and he says he’ll think about it, my heart skips a beat. It must be really bad if he would consider talking to Jess.

After taking a few minutes to calm myself, I check out Doctor Death’s tat, a beautifully wrought scroll of Syndee’s name on his beautifully taut ass, and make a few suggestions for covers. When we’re done, Doctor Death makes a tat appointment with Rose, and I follow him out to grab a coffee from the snack shop, returning to the studio just as all hell breaks loose.

“This is my fucking team.” Slim bangs his fist on Rose’s desk and glares at a scowling Torment. “I thought we had an understanding. I’m grateful for the use of the space and the equipment but I do have a reputation to protect. Half the clients coming into this shop are my clients. You want to paint a damn car race on the wall, do it when we’re gone.”

“It’s my studio.” Torment’s growl echoes through the room and Christos and Duncan shudder. “I own it, and I hired Seth to paint. He’s here. He’s got his equipment. And I want it done now.”

Seated on the couch, Seth, a tall, thin redhead with a scraggly beard, swallows hard. “I…can come back another time.”

“You will NOT come back another time.” Torment folds his arms and poor Seth cringes under the ferocity of his scowl. “I hired you to do it now, and you’ll do it now.”