Page 7 of Cuckoo (Devil’s Murder MC #7)

T he bell above the door dinged as I entered Revelations Ink. Jacey stood at the counter, talking to a customer. She was one of the best tattoo artists in the shop and in high demand. When I came here, only two people were options. If it wasn’t Diablo, I waited for Jacey.

She spotted me and smiled, letting me know she’d be right with me.

I stood to the side, letting my gaze sweep over the framed designs and wall of art.

The detail and level of artistry was jaw-dropping.

Diablo took photos of all his pieces when they were finished, but he framed the ones he loved most and added them to the walls around the shop.

It was a hell of a sales pitch, especially if you were on the fence about what you wanted or the size of the piece. When you saw the level of skill used, it didn’t take long for people to book an appointment or decide.

Me? I already knew what I envisioned, so I stood around, waiting for Jacey to finish, thinking Diablo must be off today.

“Hey, Cuckoo,” his deep voice greeted me as I spun, grinning when I saw the big fucker with his ripped jeans, close-fitting white t-shirt, and his shoulder-length dark hair. He’d grown it out since we last met, and the thick strands brushed the tops of his shoulders.

“Diablo. How the fuck are you?” I asked as we hugged, slapping each other on the back.

“Good, man. Real good.”

“And your family?”

“Gina is pregnant. We’re having a boy,” he declared, nearly puffing his chest with pride.

Damn. Diablo, or Dio as those closest to him called him, always wanted his own child.

He loved Rev and Olivia, who were Gina’s kids from a previous marriage, but he longed for a kid with his own blood.

Diablo also had an older son, one he loved and cherished like his own.

Thunder was an adult now, but he stayed close to one of the most influential men in his life.

“Congrats! I’m thrilled for you.”

“Appreciate it. Rev and Olivia are excited.”

“And Thunder? How’s he been?”

Diablo tapped his heart. “Struggling a bit. Life, brother. But he’ll figure it out. He’s smart. And he’s always right here.”

“Which means you’ve got his back,” I added.

“Yep.” He ticked his chin toward me. “You lookin’ for new ink?”

“Yeah. An angel with my mate’s name.”

He blinked. “You found your mate?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.” I couldn’t help the big, goofy grin on my face.

“Well, that’s a fucking reason to get inked, brother.”

No shit. “You gonna inflict pain on me or what?”

He laughed. “Step into my studio.”

When he said studio, he meant it. Diablo had everything you could need for crafting designs, tracing and transferring them to customers, and airbrushing with the richest, deepest colors.

He had the best coil and rotary machines and comfortable chairs.

The lighting was usually bright, but I left my shades on.

Diablo was the only tattoo artist I let freehand designs on my skin. I didn’t trust anyone else not to fuck it up. It only took one “oops.” That shit was permanent.

“Tell me about the angel you want.”

He pulled out a sketch pad and began drawing.

“Gothic but pretty. Maybe some dark shading and a crooked halo. I’ve corrupted her.”

Or I will be. Soon.

Diablo chuckled. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

I watched his hand move over the paper as he created the image, shading and adding detail in less than five minutes.

When he showed it to me, I nodded. “Her name is Katrina.” I spelled it out.

“Cursive or script font.” I didn’t have to tell him to make it legible.

Diablo was a professional. That would have been insulting.

He added Katrina’s name. “How’s this?”

Wow. “Fuck. That’s perfect.” He captured her innocence along with her beauty and wild, fierce personality without ever having a description or meeting her.

I shrugged off my cut, draped it over a nearby chair, then ripped off my shirt. Settling against the seat, I lay back as Diablo set the sketchbook in his work area. “Nearly ready. Just need to gather a few things.”

“Take your time.” My woman would be a few hours. I had plenty of time.

“Where do you want her?”

My angel? “Chest. Left side, close to my heart. There’s lots of ink, but you can place her above Poseidon.”

“Cool. Like she’s flying above the god of the sea.”

“Exactly.”

Technically, I had both Poseidon and Neptune inked on my skin.

Poseidon stood over the sea, holding up his hands and calling forth a storm on my chest. On my left arm, a closeup of Neptune’s face with beard, tentacles, and cloudy, haunting eyes was struck through by a bolt of lightning that cut across my bicep.

Sharks and other sea creatures floated in the ocean on my right arm.

A beautiful siren opened her mouth in a seductive song.

All the ink was colorful, but my favorite one before this angel was Neptune. Well, other than the crow.

I relaxed as Diablo began to work, letting my thoughts drift to Katrina as the needle pressed into my skin. I could forget about the pain. That was easy. My childhood had been an excellent teacher.

But that wasn’t where my thoughts drifted as I closed my eyes. I slowly receded into the past, forgetting that the man who held the needle had mystical powers when he connected with blood. Diablo had already seen parts of my childhood, but he never saw Katrina.

Not until now.

She was only five years old when she entered the foster home I had the misfortune of being assigned to six months earlier.

Whenever a new kid was dropped off, they arrived with a duffle bag of possessions that never held much value.

The other kids who coveted nice clothes, jewelry, and new toys would confiscate or steal anything that did.

Katrina had come with a shiny suitcase, and every child in that home envied her pretty pink coat, clean clothes, the golden heart-shaped charm on her necklace, and the meat on her bones that proved she was loved and cared for.

I knew in an instant she needed me. Being three years older, bigger, and much smarter, I was wise in ways she’d never experienced.

So when I shoved my way through the boys lining up to steal from her, daring any of them to touch the little angel with brown pigtails and big, fearful eyes, she never hesitated when I held out my hand.

That little girl’s chin wobbled right before she held up her suitcase. No words. No pleading. Not a single tear fell.

But oh, I could feel the sorrow in the depth of her eyes because I saw it in the mirror of her soul. And right then, I knew I would kill anyone who tried to hurt her. I’d drag them into hell before I let a single scratch mar her porcelain skin.

She blinked up at me, so doll-like with her innocence, so pure and broken and sad.

My heart nearly punched a hole through my chest. For the first time since I set foot in this hellhole, I felt something stir in my chest. Emotion, but much more.

A tingling sensation that ran the length of my body.

The urge to shelter her nearly overwhelmed me.

I made a silent vow to protect her as I wrapped my hand around her suitcase and then took her empty palm in mine. She gasped as I clenched her hand and led her away from the others. I took her to my room upstairs, where the bullies couldn’t reach her.

She was so tiny. Her little arms were no bigger than twigs. I knew just the place to hide her. When the monsters hunted in the night, they wouldn’t find the little angel hidden by shadows. I’d make sure of that.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I brought her in and closed the door, setting her suitcase on the floor by my dresser.

“Katrina,” she whispered.

“Who’s that?” Tommy asked, reading a comic book he stole from a kid at school. He was a thief and a liar, but he didn’t hit girls, so I let him bunk with me.

“My friend,” I growled. “You don’t touch her.”

“I know. Geez.”

“If I’m not around, you protect her. Okay?”

He snorted. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll give you my afternoon snack every day.”

That made him perk up. “Deal.”

Katrina sniffled, and I knew she wanted to cry.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Tommy won’t hurt you either,” I assured her.

The sacrificed snacks were worth it.

“But the others?”

“I won’t let them.”

She nodded. “What is your name?”

“Rain.”

She blinked. “You smell like a summer storm.”

Tommy hooted.

I lifted my middle finger and flipped him off. “Shut up.” Looking at Katrina, I smiled. “I’m going to set up your bed.”

Her head tilted to the side before she glanced at the room. The space allowed bunk beds, two dressers, a lamp, and a closet. Nothing else. She noticed.

The little angel was smart.

I turned to Tommy. “Give me your extra blanket.”

“The fuck?”

I smacked him. “Don’t cuss in front of her. She’s little.”

“I’m not little,” she fired back.

All three of us knew she lied.

Tommy grinned. “She’ll be alright.” He pulled a blanket off his bed and tossed it to Rain. “I get hot anyway.”

“That’s why you don’t need two of them.”

I opened the closet and cleared out some of the junk, picking it up and placing it on the shelf above the clothing rod.

We didn’t have much, so there was plenty of room inside.

With the floor clear, I spread the blanket around, making a little den for her to snuggle in like a little bunny.

I was the only one with two pillows, and I gave that up for her, too, placing it on one side and her suitcase at the other end.

“There. You’re all set.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t want to take off my coat.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want except sleep in there, so I know you’re safe.”

She seemed to think it over and nodded her agreement. I watched her lay down and settle, pulling part of the blanket around her and pushing her back against the wall. It made me sad that she already understood that danger existed and that she had to protect herself like that.

“How old are you?” I asked as I sank to my knees.

“Five,” she whispered.

“I’m eight and a half.”

“I don’t like the dark,” she confessed. “Monsters hide in closets.”

“No.” I shook my head firmly, wishing I could spare her the truth. “They come out and hunt at night. You’re safest in the closet. They won’t find you there.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Her little shoulders lost some of their tension. “Okay.”

“For this to work, I need to close the closet door most of the way. I’ll leave it cracked,” I assured her, seeing her eyes round with fright. “It’s to keep the monsters out.”

Her chin wobbled again like it did when she first arrived, and I reached out, patting her on top of the head because I heard that was how you comfort someone. It worked.

Katrina closed her eyes. Her little hand rose to her face, and the two fingers closest to her thumb slipped into her mouth.

I didn’t judge her. We all wanted to feel loved and safe. It just wasn’t possible in this house.

Tommy was asleep by the time I stood, barricaded a chair against the door handle to our room, and turned off the light. I slid beneath the blanket on the bottom bunk and hoped Katrina would spend her first night in hell without nightmares.

“Fuck, Cuckoo,” Diablo swore, pulling me back into the present. “I didn’t mean to see. Shit.”

“Katrina,” I replied. “You saw how we met.”

“Yeah, man. I felt your bond with her. It was strong from the start.”

“It still is.”

He swiped over my chest, wiping away the blood. “I’m done.”

I guess we both got lost in my memory of the past.

“Take a look, brother. It’s bitchin’.”

He cracked me up when he used words like that. I stood up and faced a full-length mirror on the wall. He was right. “It’s fucking bitchin’,” I agreed with a laugh.

“I’ll say. It’s give me a chub.”

I lifted my hand and flipped off Rael as he walked toward me. “Don’t start your shit.”

“Aw, bad day, honey?”

I shook my head, unable to hold back laughter. “Actually, we need to talk.”

His grin faded a little. “You good?”

“My girl needs help.”

“Then let’s talk about it over food. I’m fucking starving.”

“What about Nylah and the kids?”

“I’ll be able to eat again when I’m home,” he assured me.

“Then we eat.” I turned to Diablo. “This is fucking fantastic. What do I owe you?”

“A soul to reap.”

He was serious. I never paid for ink with money.

“Done,” I agreed. “I’ll let you know when I find the right one.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

No one wanted to be indebted to a Reaper. I’d make good on that promise.

I skipped my shirt and shrugged on my cut, following Rael outdoors. “I need caffeine for this conversation.”

“Then get your ass on your fucking bike, man. Let’s move.”

In the bright afternoon sunshine, it was freaky as fuck to see him straddling his motorcycle, wearing a black shirt, jeans, his Graven Bastards MC cut, black leather gloves, and face paint. Rael liked to wear black and white skull-themed makeup. Every day. All day.

Halloween was year fucking round with this crazy fucker.

I loved it.

It certainly complimented my costumes.