Page 36

Diesel

There’s a rush of adrenaline that brings every fiber inside me to life as Samantha climbs onto the bike behind me. Her arms wrap around my waist, her body presses close against my back. It’s heaven, as close to heaven as a man like me will ever get. When we take off down the quiet streets, the doubts and worries about the coming war fade away. With her touch, I feel invincible.

There’s only one thing this feeling can mean.

Despite all the doubts, all the worries, all the threats consuming my life — this is love.

Something I never thought I’d find again has come rushing back into my chest.

The cool night air whips past us as we ride, the city a blur of streetlights and shadows. Samantha's warmth against me grounds me, reminds me of what really matters: us.

The neon signs and streetlights blur as we cruise through the deserted streets. Finally, I slow the bike in front of a small, unassuming storefront. The tattoo parlor's sign is dark. During normal hours, it’d declare the place to be ‘Ink Inc.’ — a name that I definitely don’t care for — but, despite my dislike of the name, I know this place like the back of my hand. Just as I know there’s a ‘For Sale’ sign that’s barely visible in the corner of one window.

I dismount and approach the door, fishing a small tool from my pocket. The lock gives way easily under my practiced touch. The only things that protest are the hinges as I push the door open and glance back at Samantha. She hesitates for a moment, surprise flickering across her face, before following me inside.

It’s home inside; I breathe in the familiar scent of ink and antiseptic, smile at the shimmer of the lights on the steel and chrome of all the tools, and run my fingers across them, feeling grounded. Whole. Ready.

"I have a tradition," I say. "Whenever something big happens in my life, something truly big, I mark it. Permanently."

Her eyes widen slightly as understanding dawns on her. "A tattoo?"

I nod. "With everything we're facing, I've been thinking a lot. About life, about us, about what matters." I take her hand and marvel at how small it is in mine. How delicate. Yet despite all that, these hands are ones that reached into my chest and brought my heart back to life.

“What matters?”

"You. Meeting you. Finding someone who actually sees past all my bullshit. Someone who makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I can finally move on from my past. I didn’t have that until you."

The words pour out of me, raw and honest, in a way I've never allowed myself to be before. Samantha's eyes widen and her lips part in surprise. I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that would normally make me want to run. But with Samantha, it feels right.

"Diesel, I..." she trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"You've brought me back to life, Samantha. Until I met you, the only thing keeping me going were my friends, my club, but even then, I was still slowly killing myself. Dying inside from this fucking grief that I knew would one day consume me. But you changed that. And that's worth remembering. That’s worth marking on my skin, so I never forget this feeling."

The air between us shifts, charged with an intensity that takes my breath away. Samantha's eyes shine in the dim light of the parlor, filled with an emotion I am certain I know the name to — it’s the same one that hums in my heart every time I look at her.

She steps closer and places her free hand right over my heart.

"I see you, Diesel," she whispers. "The real you. And I..." she pauses, swallowing hard. "I love you, too. I truly love you."

My lips find hers. Every part of who I am disappears into that kiss, that moment. We’ve said those words before, but every damn time, it feels as good as the first time. When we break, eyes that hold my future look up at me. A smile curves across her lips.

“So, you’re getting a tattoo? Of what?”

I grin back at her. "Well, I was thinking of getting the Club Sin logo," I say, watching her reaction closely. "Or maybe that billboard they had out front — you know, the one that said tonight’s act and had ads for Big Billy's Pawn Shop and Lil' Louie's Check Cashing? But I'd put your name in big letters. After all, you've got top billing in my heart."

Samantha's eyes go wide. For a moment, I think I might have gone too far, but then she bursts out laughing.

"There's no way I'm letting you put the logo from a cut-rate strip club on your body. Especially not if you ever want to have sex with em again," she says.

"What, you don't think it'd be romantic?" I pull her closer. "Nothing says 'true love' like a neon sign for a strip club advertising lap dances and happy endings from the ‘Sinful Samantha’, right?"

She shakes her head and swats at my chest.

"You're impossible. Seriously, though, what were you really thinking of getting?"

"Hey, Club Sin isn't a cut-rate strip club. I mean, sure, the owner's a murderous asshole and they sell drugs out of it, but they also hired the most beautiful stripper-slash-waitress I've ever seen."

"Nice try," she says. "But I will literally attack you if you try to put that logo on your body and say it's because of us."

"Is that a promise?" I murmur. I brush my lips against her ear, inhale her scent. "Because I gotta say, the idea of you attacking me is pretty tempting."

She shivers slightly at my touch. Her lip quivers, but then she shakes her head and a firm light comes into her eyes. “You almost had me. But I’m not really going to attack you, Diesel. Of course, you know that, don’t you?”

“Maybe. But I hope I’m wrong.”

Samantha places her hands on her hips and juts her chin upward, that glow in her eyes growing so song she could outshine a lighthouse.

“I don’t need to attack you, though. I’ve got an offer for you I know you can’t refuse.”

“Oh?”

“My body.”

“Your body?” My eyebrows rise. “Are you offering to fuck me if I don’t get this tattoo?”

It’s a solid gambit, and a good one. Even though we’ll probably fuck later, the chance to fuck her right now is pretty fucking tempting.

“Not exactly. It’s something better.”

“What could be better than fucking you right now?”

“Here? In a crappy tattoo parlor? Many things.”

“It’s not such a crappy tattoo parlor,” I say, even though it is. There’s a reason it’s for sale.

“Oh, come on ‘Ink Inc.’?” She says. “What kind of a name is that?”

“One that I’ll change once I buy the place,” I say.

“Excuse me?”

“I have plans. Even have a business proposal written up — Claire and Alessia helped me with it — and I turned in one to the club for a loan. Also applied to a bank for a loan, too. I’m going to buy this place, change it around, make it into somewhere where you’ll be proud to have a guy you hardly know inject ink into your body. But that’s beside the fucking point. We’re talking about your body. Explain.”

“Fine. Here it is: if you give up your terrible tattoo idea, then you can give me a tattoo, too.”

A second, maybe two — maybe fifty — passes while I stare at her, stunned. I didn’t think there was an offer that could top fucking her, but this sure as fuck comes close.

“I can give you a tattoo?”

“Yes. You can give me a tattoo.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am. And all you have to do is not permanently ink the logo of a gross strip club in Idaho on your body. So, Diesel, which means more to you: Club Sin or the chance to permanently mark my body as yours?”