“You’ve got it wrong,” I whisper. “Rose is him but in female form. And she’s the one pulling the strings. He didn’t have a chance from the moment he first stepped through the door. My money is on her using him and me getting to do a new broken-heart piece on his other ass cheek next week.”

Doctor Death’s ass work is largely uneventful, although I have to step outside to “give him a moment” a few more times than with the usual ass. I keep the private room bright, the music loud, and my needle humming. There is no more talk about sleeping around nor is there any more talk about Syndee. At first I think it is because he is smitten with Rose, but while I’m applying the bandage, he mentions Ray.

“So, Rampage says you and Ray—”

“I don’t discuss my personal life with clients.” I pat the bandage a little too hard and his ass cheek tightens when he winces. Doctor Death looks back over his shoulder. “I’m hardly just a client. You’re part of Redemption. We’re family here.”

“Nosy family.”

He chuckles. “Guys like to know where they stand when there’s a beautiful woman on the premises.”

“You mean Rose?” Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I apply the last piece of tape and hope he gets the message.

He doesn’t. “I mean you, Sia. I’ve had my eye on you since Fuzz brought you to the first Redemption party. Rose and I had fun together, but we’re too much alike.”

Backing my stool away from the client chair, I shake my head. “I’m flattered but I’m with Ray.”

“Really?” He pushes himself to his side, and I look away just in case I get an unexpected visual treat.

“He ever take you out on date? In public? Have you gone to a restaurant or a movie? Or anywhere that isn’t secured with a door?”

Puzzled, I frown. “We went for a walk once.”

“Somewhere deserted and in the dark no doubt.” He snags the towel from the back of his thighs and adeptly manages to push himself to sitting while keeping decently covered.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “What are you saying?”

His face softens and he sighs. “I’m saying there’s more to Ray than he lets on.”

My hand clenches into a fist, and I back up into the door. Oh God. Have I misplaced my trust yet again? “Like what?”

“Not my place to say. He doesn’t know I know. I just…don’t want you to get hurt when he walks away.”

“Then why did you bring it up?” My voice rises in pitch. “You hardly know me.”

“I know you well enough to want to get to know you better,” he says. “And I’d be lying if I said my motives were entirely selfless. But even if I weren’t interested, I would have said something. We look after each other at Redemption.”

Pulse pounding in my ears, I shake my head. “Ray’s part of Redemption too.”

“He trains here, but he doesn’t fight here,” Doctor Death says. “He’s not part of the fight team or the staff. And he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to be one of us. But you are, and we’ll always have your back.”

“Why do I feel like I’ve suddenly inherited a club full of Tags?” I reach behind me for the door handle and turn away.

“We were always here,” Doctor Death calls out. “You just weren’t looking.”

After Doctor Death leaves, I call Jess at work. She says I shouldn’t trust him since he clearly has an ulterior motive and instead of assuming the worst, why not just put it to the side and ask Ray about it the next time I see him? I tell her she is too levelheaded and clearly doesn’t understand that artistic types thrive on emotional drama. Jess says she has enough emotional drama in her life for both of us. Tag showed up at her place last night.

We make plans to meet up for a drink after work, so she can share all the details, and for the first time since Doctor Death stepped through the door, my anxiety eases.

I spend the afternoon on two small walk-in pieces and yet another Redemption logo. But I don’t mind doing it and, in fact, I admire the loyalty the fighters have to the club. I suggest to Slim we all get Rabid Ink ass tattoos to show our loyalty to his shop. He suggests we get his name inked in our skin instead. Christos says Slim would look good on his ass. Many filthy comments ensue.

Ray walks in as I’m cleaning my station at the end of the day. He nods to Slim and Rose as they head out the door, then he sits on my chair and says he’s come to have his tat finished. I tell him I have plans with Jess. Christos and I are closing up for the night, and if he wants a tat, he needs to make an appointment with Rose. He leans over and whispers in my ear that he’s fucking the artist so he doesn’t need an appointment, and if I have a problem with that, he’d be happy to pull me over his lap and spank my ass until I’m ready to work. I tell him there seems to be a lot of talk about spanking but no real action. Ray grabs my shirt and yanks me over his lap. Then he whacks my ass so hard I gasp.

Scrambling off his lap, cheeks burning, I turn around. Far from being shocked, Christos is laughing. He tosses me the keys and heads out to his gig. I am left alone with Ray, a lungful of mortification, and a burning ass.

“I’m never going to live that down.” I gesture toward the closing door. “He’s going to tell everyone.”

Ray turns in the chair and pulls me between his legs. “I’ll make it up to you. You can ink me while you’re naked and sitting in my lap.”