Page 37

Diesel

“You’re sure about this?"

I can’t believe it. Even when she rolls her eyes at me and nods, I still can’t.

“Did I stutter?” She says.

“You know what a tattoo is, right?”

“Yes. I’ve had them before. They come on those little sheets of paper, you wet them, hold them to your arm for a while, and suddenly, you’ve got a cute duck on your arm, right?” She winks. “Yes, I know what tattoos are, and yes, I know what I’m offering.”

“All that because you don’t want me to have a strip club logo on my body?”

“That you have no problem with saying that, and can do so with a straight face, makes me both really glad I’m making this offer, but also really scared to let you ink me.”

That snaps me out of it. It’s one thing to question her offer — even though I’m both shocked and proud as hell that she’d give me this opportunity — but that she’d ever feel any fucking doubt about my intentions with her is something that cuts through all the fog, all the shock, all the bullshit, and brings me right down to reality with all the force of a fucking shotgun blast hitting my chest.

“Don’t,” I say, all doubt, all hesitation, all fucking humor gone from my voice. “When it comes to you and me, I would never do anything to hurt you. And that includes giving you a bad tattoo. I’d die before I let either of those things happen.”

“I know,” she says, and she gives me a kiss that both stills and starts my heart. “Just like I also know that, with as crazy as my life feels right now, and how dangerous everything is, the thing that makes me feel steady is you. I love you, Diesel, and without you, I don’t even know where I’d be right now. Or if I’d even be alive.” After a pause and another kiss, she says, “And that’s why I want you to tattoo me.”

I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her waist as I rest my forehead against hers. The warmth of her body against mine steadies me, anchors me in a way I haven't felt in years.

"Samantha. I'm glad I found you, too. Hell, I don't know how much longer I would've kept going on my own." The words tumble out before I can stop them, a confession I didn't even know I needed to make. "When Moretti's guys had me, there was a part of me — a small part — that hoped they'd just end it. At least if I died saving Hunter, my life might've meant something." I feel her tense in my arms, but I can't stop now. The dam has broken, and everything I've been holding back comes flooding out. "But you... you've become more important to me than I ever expected. Every time I touch you, every time I kiss you, I feel Brandy's grip on my heart loosening. For so long, I thought I'd never be able to move on, but with you, I feel something different. Something stronger." I take a deep breath, surprised by my honesty. "I never thought I'd get to this point, where someone could reach me the way you have. It scares the shit out of me, but it feels right."

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you, and I’m so glad I met you.”

Another kiss; a moment that stretches on so long in just a second.

Then she breaks our kiss and looks up at me, a smile brighter than the sun in her eyes.

"I've just thought of the perfect tattoo," she says, her voice brimming with excitement.

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity and a hint of apprehension mixing in my gut. Before I can say a word, she's already grabbed a nearby sketchpad and pen.

"Hey, hold on a second. As the tattoo artist, I should probably be the one drawing. I want to make sure you get the best quality—"

But Samantha's already hunched over the pad, her pen moving swiftly across the paper. She's clearly on a mission, and my protests fall on deaf ears. I watch as she makes a few quick marks before turning the pad towards me with a flourish.

I take the sketchpad, my eyes falling to the page. For a moment, I'm confused. It's just a series of numbers, arranged in a familiar pattern.

"That's... today's date?" I say, my brow furrowing. "Why? Don't you want something more exciting?" I frown. There has to be more to her tattoo than just this. “We could do anything. I could even do the logo for that baseball team that you and your dad loved.”

Samantha's smile softens, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. "I want that as my tattoo because that's the day that I became absolutely certain that you were the man I truly love.” She pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. "And that when this is all over, I want to be your — what's that term they use? — oh, yeah, I want to be your ol' lady."

“Oh, fuck.”

“That comes later,” she says. “And I like your Boise Buffalo idea. I’d like their logo on my ankle, too, please.”

On the ankle? Typical rookie spot for someone unwilling to commit to tattoo. But, for her, I’ll overlook it. “And where do you want the other tattoo?” I say.

“Where it belongs — over my heart.”

“That’s… that’s the perfect spot for it.” I pause, cough, try to swallow the emotions that claw their way up my throat — hope and love that makes it hard to speak. “Sit down, get comfortable, and I will—” Suddenly, my words fail me.

Samantha seizes on the silence and sits down upon the chair, eyes alight and smile on her face that burns with how bright it is, and then she removes her shirt.

“Are you OK, Diesel?” She says.

I nod, because it’s all I can do; this stunning woman, sitting shirtless on my tattooing chair, wants to be my ol’ lady and wants to spend her life with me. How the fuck did I get so damn lucky?

“You look a little flustered. Do you need to take a second to get yourself together? I don’t want you tattooing me when you have shaky hands.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’m not buying it. But, you know what? I know just the thing that’ll calm your nerves.” Slowly, she reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, and I forget about nerves and even tattoos. “Why don’t you give me a kiss?”