Zep cackled. “And stop getting under your skin? Nah.” Something rattled, and then, Zeppelin’s chair was rolling across the floor. “Whatcha got in mind?”
“Can you draw up something that represents a doctor and a mechanic in one tattoo?” Ezra asked.
“You two kill me with your love for him,” Zep muttered teasingly. “But yeah.” I looked up to see him grabbing his tablet and pencil. “We’re gonna be here until after closing. So, one of you should order some food.”
“Already done,” Ezra told him. “Spencer is bringing lasagna. He wants to see me get tattooed for the first time.”
Zeppelin looked at me. “I’ve got closing,” he told me. “You can go, if you want.”
I stood, then paused, suddenly feeling eyes on me. Slowly, I turned my head toward the large windows that looked out over the street and the small park just across the road. And there X was, unashamedly staring at me. Wearing black sweats and a hoodie open to reveal his bruised, inked skin, he wasn’t even attempting to hide from me any longer.
“Shane?” Logan asked.
I ignored him and headed for the door, pushing out onto the street. X still didn’t move. He just continued tracking every move I made like a predator stalking its prey. Only he had no idea I was the true predator in this scenario. He was just too cocky and self-assured to see the danger he was in.
“You and I are about to have a fucking problem,” I warned him.
His grin was manic, and when he slipped his hands from his pockets, I saw they were taped up and bloody, like he’d just gotten out of a fight.
“I like problems,” he mused. “You thought you were getting rid of me so easily, Shane? You ignored my text message.”
I arched a brow at him. “Stalking can get you arrested.”
He cocked his head to the side the slightest bit. “But you’re not going to call the cops, are you, Shane?” he asked.
I took another step closer. “No, I’m not,” I coolly answered. “But if you don’t drop whatever plans you’ve got, you’ll wish I had.”
Instead of scaring him off like I’d hoped to do, he just looked positively fucking gleeful.
Chapter 5
Xan
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me,” I taunted, solely because I couldn’t help but push Shane’s buttons. Shane was always cool, calm, and collected. Never stepped out of the carefully drawn box he’d placed himself in. Never lashed out. Never let his temper get the best of him.
Yet I had him on edge. I was slowly erasing the lines he’d drawn around himself and leading him out of his comfort zone, leading him out of where he was safe. Sure, was I a bit of a fool to push him? Fuck yeah, I was, but I just couldn’t goddamn help myself. Not when he looked so fucking hot when he was getting angry with me.
He stayed silent, not rising to the bait, but there was a gleam in his eyes that told me I was treading on very thin ice. And like the fearless son of a bitch I was, I skated across that mother fucker just to see if I could find the weak spot that would send me crashing into the freezing cold water.
“You’re telling me you really don’t want a taste?” I asked, taking a step forward to erase the remaining distance between us. I cocked my head to the side, studying him much in the same way he was studying me. “Ex-military. Ex-Special Ops, at that,” I mused. His jaw tightened. “Kept yourself locked down tight. Stayed in line. Never strayed. Took out people whose families and governments would put a target on your head if they only knew who you were. But it all ended when you got in a car accident and fucked up your back. Multiple surgeries later, and here you are. A mere tattoo artist pretending to be a fucking civilian when we both know you can never truly take the cold-blooded killer out of you.”
“How the fuck do you know any of that?” he growled, his mask slipping, and there he was. The hitman I’d wanted to catch a glimpse of. And fuck, what a beautiful monster he was.
“I have friends in low places, too, Ghost,” I said, emphasizing his call sign. “There’s nothing I can’t find out. I’ve been stalking you for weeks now. You haven’t noticed?”
His nostrils flared, anger burning in his gaze. There it was again. Fuck, he was beautiful when he was pissed. Looked like he wanted to filet me open and see what my insides looked like. And the sadistic part of me wanted to let him just so I could feel him inside of me.
“You could die for knowing this,” he rumbled, keeping his voice low. “Do you know that, X?”
I nodded. “Death has never scared me,” I confessed. “So bring your best, Ghost.”
He smirked then, like he suddenly held all the cards. My smile dropped, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what he suddenly knew.
“You might not fear death, X, but can you survive losing your little toy?” I gritted my teeth, knowing he was referring to Preston, and that was crossing a fucking line. I didn’t give a fuck that I was obsessed with Shane and started this whole thing. Preston was off fucking limits. “Looked like you and the handsome man who came to see you after your tattoo was complete were awfully cozy. How would you feel about him disappearing? Might teach you a lesson to keep your fucking eyeballs to yourself.”
My hand latched around his throat faster than either of us could blink, but while I was an underground fighter, he was a trained soldier who knew only to go for the kill. He knocked my hand aside, latched his long fingers around my wrist, spun me around, and slammed me face first against the massive oak tree to the left of us. His forearm pressed to the back of my neck, pinning me in place.
“Do not ever think you can get one up on me,” he hissed in my ear. “I’ll slit your fucking throat before you can even fucking blink.”