Chapter 4

Lincoln

I drop my keys on the entry table and close the front door behind me, then head straight to the kitchen to grab a beer and go in search of Aaron. I don't have to look far; finding him in the living room with his leg propped up on the coffee table, ice wrapped around his knee.

"What the fuck happened to you?" I snap.

"Turned awkwardly at work and twisted my knee. Pretty sure I heard a pop."

I grimace. "Shit, that doesn't sound good."

"Nope. Hurts like a bitch."

I hold up my beer. "You want me to get you one?"

"Nah. Thanks. I took some painkillers, so I probably shouldn't drink."

I nod, then drop to the opposite end of the couch. "Are they gonna be able to manage without you for a while?"

"Yeah. I have the place running like a well-oiled machine. I can take a couple of days off." I take a drink and drop my head against the back of the couch, blowing out a long breath. "You had the interviews today, right?" I nod without lifting my head. "How'd they go?"

"Yeah, good … I guess. I offered the female candidate the job."

He looks at me closely. "You don't sound convinced."

"Because I'm not." I exhale a long breath.

He sits forward, wincing. "Then why'd you give her the job?"

"Her artistic talent is phenomenal." I take another drink.

Aaron adjusts the ice pack. "What's the problem, then?"

"She's never held a tattoo gun."

"Shit!"

"Yeah." I fidget with the label on the bottle. "I needed someone to walk in and start tattooing from day one, which isn't gonna happen with this chick."

"What about the other applicant?"

I shake my head. "I don't know what it was about her that made me offer her the job." I look at my long-time friend. "Her design skills are top-notch. Her eye for detail and color … man … fucking remarkable. But there was another guy who was pretty good and could have walked straight into the job. He just didn't seem to have that … passion that Sophie had."

"I hear ya. Sometimes passion for the job outweighs the other stuff. Do you think she'll pick it up quickly?"

"I do. Ken and I spoke about it after she left and after some convincing, he's happy to train her. I told her we wouldn't pay her for the training and she was happy to accept."

He raises a brow. "That says a lot."

"It says everything." I finish my beer. "Anyway, I'm heading out for a fight. You need anything before I go?"

"Nah, I'm good. I'll probably go to bed soon. Hopefully, I can sleep off the pain." He readjusts the ice pack again. "Be careful, hey."

I stand. "I'm always careful."

He barks out a laugh. "Bullshit."

I toss my empty bottle in the trash and head for the door. "Night."

"Night."

* * *

I climb to my feet and rub my jaw; sweat rolls in rivulets down my torso. I flick my damp hair out of my eyes and raise my hands, protecting my face. He lunges and I dance out of the way, then duck to jab him in the ribs, knocking him off balance. Before he can regain his footing, I kick out at his obliques, then follow up with a round kick to his head as he staggers, and he drops to the mat like a stone.

Blood trickles from his nose as the referee squats next to him and rubs his hand across his lifeless back. He swipes his arms across his body and euphoria sweeps through me.

I don't come here to lose.

I don't put my body through the rigors of kickboxing to be the loser.

My opponent talked a big game tonight, but he didn't have the stamina to support his smack talk, something I never do. It's a waste of energy. I'd rather let my body do the talking in the ring.

His coach climbs into the ring to tend to him while the referee holds up my arm and announces me as the winner to a roaring crowd. When I climb out, Ken hands over my water bottle and pats me on the back. "You looked great up there, Linc."

"Thanks. Felt good. I thought this guy was supposed to be a challenge." I smirk.

He shrugs, looking at the guy laid flat out. "What can I say? You're on fire." He chuckles as we make our way to the locker room. Once I'm changed into my street clothes, we head out. "You wanna grab a drink?"

I adjust the bag on my shoulder. "Nah, I need to go home and work on the books for the studio."

He shakes his head. "Man, I don't miss those days."

The organizer, Mike, approaches us. "Congrats, Linc. You want the money deposited into the usual account?"

"Thanks. Yeah, always the same account."

He nods and chews his thumbnail. "I was calculating. You've won almost a million since you started fighting ten years ago."

My eyes almost bulge out of my sockets. I hadn't been keeping track. "That's impressive."

"You could have bought yourself a fancy home close to the bay for that," Ken says as he slaps my back.

I shake my head. "Nah. This is more important than buying a fancy house." Ken knows how important this money is to me and how much it helps the people who need it more than I do. It's the only reason I fight, even if I started fighting as a release when I was an angry teen.

* * *

It's been a shit day.

April seventh is always a shit day, but my mood has been darker than usual. Ken normally ignores my moods, but even he had enough and called me out on my shit; something he hasn't done since I first started working for him. I kicked my ass, reeled in my emotions, and concentrated on my art after apologizing profusely to my mentor and long-time friend.

Six o'clock sharp, the bell over the door rings and when I glance up, Sophie's standing in the doorway, looking as stunning as I remember. When she sees me, her face lights with a smile, weirdly smoothing out a jagged piece of my heart. I groan under my breath because that smile is going to be hazardous for my sanity. I climb to my feet to greet her as Ken waltzes past me, straight for her with a wide grin and open arms. I swear, the guy is an enormous teddy bear.

"Hey, doll. Congrats on the job. I saw your work and can't wait to see it permanently marked on someone's skin. I may even let you ink me." He winks and wraps his tattoo-covered arms around her, taking her by surprise.

Surprise gone, she smiles and raises her arms to return his embrace. "Thank you. I'm so excited to work with you guys." She points behind him toward my office. "I saw your work on the wall in Lincoln's office. You're crazy talented."

The old guy blushes at her compliment. Something I've never seen him do. I step closer to them and her attention finally falls back on me. Her eyes widen and she steps forward, raising her hand to my chin as her brows dip low over those gorgeous eyes of hers that are now filled with concern. "What happened to you?"

Her fingers make gentle contact and I suck in a breath at the electricity that sparks from that simple touch. She tilts my chin toward the light and I'm sure it looks bad. The guy got in a decent hit before I laid him flat. I shrug. "I was in a fight last night."

She snatches her hand away like she's been struck by lightning and her eyes narrow with suspicion. "Oh."

When people discover I fight, they make assumptions about me and I rarely care to correct them. It's not my business what people think of me. But for some reason, I don't want her to think I spend my time brawling in pubs and bars. "It was a planned fight … in a ring … with a referee." I rush to add.

One side of Ken's mouth tips up as he raises a single bushy brow.

Her shoulders drop and the suspicion that colored her features a moment ago slides away. "What sort of fighting do you do?"

"Kickboxing. Usually, once a month. Maybe twice, if I'm lucky to have my name drawn out of the pool."

She huffs. "Lucky?"

"Yeah, lucky." I fold my arms across my chest and her eyes drop to my forearms. She scans the artwork with appreciation and I flex my muscle because the tiger's eye looks fucking awesome when I do that.

Sophie gasps and glances up at Ken. "You did this?" He nods with pride. "It's incredible."

"You should see Linc's back. Some of my best work." She looks at me as if she wants me to turn around and expose my back. Maybe if she shows me hers, I'll show her mine.

I snap out of my salacious thoughts. "We'd better sign the paperwork so you can head home. I have a client coming at seven."

She tucks her long, brown hair behind her ear and that vision of my hand tangled in it hits me right between the eyes. "Yeah, sure. I don't want to hold you up."

I hold out my hand toward my office and she leads the way. My eyes drop to the curve of that sweet ass of hers and I bite my bottom lip.

She's too fucking young for you. Stop looking at her ass.

She takes her seat opposite my desk and I pull out the folder I prepared earlier today with everything I need. I explain everything and she completes her details—even showing me her birth certificate—and signs her name on the dotted line with an artistic flourish.

"We're closed Sunday and Monday. Open 'til seven Tuesday and Wednesday and 'til ten Thursday through Saturday nights, unless I have a fight or a late booking. We open at ten every day." She nods, biting her bottom lip. "I don't have a receptionist after six. We turn on the answering machine and catch up on any calls in the morning. So, I'll need you here Tuesday through to Saturday, nine forty-five 'til six." She nods again, but she's a little more relaxed. Maybe she didn't like the idea of the late evenings. "Some nights you may need to stay later, but we'll sort that out as we go. Any questions?"

She looks conflicted, but shakes her head. "When can I start?"

"As soon as possible. How much notice do you need to give your current employer?"

"I gave my notice this morning. Marina's thrilled that I've landed the job of my dreams and said they'd manage if I needed to start right away."

For the first time today, a grin touches my lips and my shoulders drop an inch or two. "Great. How about Tuesday?"

Her smile is genuine except for the red paint on her lips. "Tuesday's perfect. Thank you so much for this opportunity. I promise you won't regret it." She stands and holds her hand out across my desk, so I stand, too.

"I hope not." I engulf her small hand with my much larger one and that same spark of energy bursts up my arm and spreads across my chest.

Creases form between her brows. "You keep saying that. Why did you offer me the job if you're not convinced?" She pulls her hand away and I want to reach across and take it again.

I consider my answer and watch her squirm a little as she waits. "I need someone who could take a station and tattoo from day one. I have bookings backed up for months. But I couldn't ignore your talent and enthusiasm for the job. We need to get you up to speed fast. Do you think you're up for the challenge?"

She nods enthusiastically and tucks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, pushing her tits out. "Absolutely. I know I can do this."

I nod. "See you Tuesday. Don't be late." She frowns, but turns on her heel. "Oh, and Sophie." I wait until she turns back to face me. "Welcome to the team."

Creases form at the corners of her eyes. "Thank you. You'll never know how much this opportunity means to me."

She drops her head and leaves my office and I fall into my chair, pushing my hair out of my face. This job seems to mean a lot to her and if I can work with her to reach her potential, she'll be a kick-ass tattoo artist.