Page 7 of Mimic

I smiled as I took her hand. “Thanks. Do you know what you want?”

“I do. It’s not super elaborate, just a property of tattoo.”

“Property of?”

“Yeah.” Kytten gave me her back, and the patch on the leather cut she wore said‘Property of Cash.’

I knew what it meant. I’d seen Haizley, Gunner’s old lady, in her cut. But Kytten’s cut said Cash, not Mimic. If Kytten was Cash’s old lady, why was Mimic acting like her man?

“Rosebud, I’m gonna run over to Trudy’s; do you want anything?”

Rosebud? This is Mimic’s sister?I looked between the two of them. They didn’t look anything like each other. I mean, I didn’t know what color Kytten’s hair really was, but the height difference alone was staggering.

“No thanks, but tell Trudy I said hi!”

“Wait, I thought you were supposed to stay here until I was done?” I asked Mimic. Had he lied to me? “What happened to‘watching over me’?”

“Rose is here if anything happens. I’ll be five minutes.”

My mouth hung open as I stared between the two of them.

“Thorne, go.” Kytten pushed Mimic out the door and then closed and locked it behind him.

“Thorne?”

Kytten looked over her shoulder at the door before turning back to me. “That’s his name. I can’t get used to calling him Mimic, just like he can’t seem to call me Kytten.” The tiny little woman smiled, and her face lit up the room. “Besides, I don’t want my brother here while I get this done.”

She undid her jeans and pushed them down. She had a pair of compression shorts on under her pants, but when I looked at her legs, I saw the scars.

“Think you can tattoo over some of these?”

I stared at her legs until she moved over to the chair and sat down.

“You can ask,” she said.

Chapter Three

Indie

My eyes lifted to hers. I didn’t know what to ask. “It’s none of my business.” I sat on my stool. “Do you mind if I touch them? I want to see how the skin feels, then I’ll know what we can do.”

“Sure.”

My fingertips trailed over the scars on the leg she wanted me to ink. “The scars are pretty small; the skin should hold the ink.”

“Great.”

Kytten wanted me to freehand her tattoo, so I grabbed my gun and got to work. About fifteen minutes into the tattoo, the door pinged, and Kytten tensed. I laid my hand on her leg and said, “It’s probably Mimic.”

“I know,” she answered quietly as Mimic stepped around the divider. His eyes went to his sister’s legs. His hand crushed the coffee cup he held, and coffee spilled on the floor.

“I didn’t want you to see,” Kytten whispered.

I watched Mimic for his reaction. He hadn’t said a word, just stared at her legs. His nostrils flared, and his breathing picked up. I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the other side of the divider, not stopping until we were outside.

“Hey,” I said, trying to get him to look at me. He stared over my shoulder, ignoring my attempts to get his attention.

“Mimic!” I pushed at his chest, and he snapped back from wherever he’d gone. “You can’t be like that. I don’t know what happened to make her do—”