Page 17 of Lovely Venom

“Here.” I toss them. “Drive slow.”

“I’m fine, dosser,” he says and strides out the door with no qualms about ditching me.

I’m ready to chase after him when heat tingles under my skin. A need I can’t name. I want something that hurts more than this empty feeling.

My gaze shifts to Dirk’s wall of sketches. There are raven’s wings, bloody roses, blades, skulls, and crosses. All the usual dark ink artwork.

Then one sketch catches me. Tucked between a clock and a mermaid.

A green cobra.

But the back is twisted to show off gorgeous, intricate scales.

Time stands still for me. I’m frozen for I don’t know how long. The suit getting his kid’s name fixed is off the table and out the door.

Dirk eyes me through a puff of cigarette smoke. “Quinlan,” he drawls. “Haven’t seen your smug face since Griffin’s ink.”

He got his kids’ names Alexander and Lucien tattooed on his chest.

“Been busy,” I say.

He motions to the wall. “You like that Kingston?”

“Kingston designed that tat?” I point to the snake.

“Sure did. It’s a one-off. Expensive as fuck.” He fills his ink bottles.

With Jett buzzing away over Blade, who I think has a semi, I stride to Dirk. “Can you make the back of the snake a braid?” I lean in. “Like golden blonde?”

Dirk smiles and goes into his cart. “Got bit hard, didyou?”

“Feels like it.” I roll my eyes.

“It’s not the bite that kills you,” Dirk says all gruff. “It’s the venom.”

Venom...The perpetual sting in my veins has a name.

“Can you do this in one night?” I ask.

“If you got the cash, I got the time.”

I take off my suit jacket and open my dress shirt. Glancing at all my other ink in the mirror, I realize I’ve ignored the real estate over my left pec.

My heart.

Dirk looks me over like he’s trying to figure out what the fuck happened to me. Then he nods. “Upper arm?”

“No,” I say. “Left pec.”

“Right over the ticker. It will bleed like a mother.”

I toss my shirt on the bench and flex my muscles. Scars that replaced my innocence will soon outpace tats. “Blood stopped making me flinch when I was six.”

“Another tough Quinlan.” Dirk’s gloves snap on.

I don’t even wince when the needle hits.

I think about her. Her hands holding that gun, the shape of her face watching her mark, the grin on her lovely face, thinking she was taking down a notorious drug dealer. She was on the edge of disappearing forever. Now I’m carving her memory into my skin.