Guns n' Boys Book 1 Part 2 (40 page)

Joe smiled at the tattooed man and shook his
hand. “What can I get you?”

Stitch never took his eyes off the stranger,
now even more set on getting his attention. The newcomer had large,
expressive eyes the color of a cloudless summer sky and a heavy
brow line over a firm, straight nose and pale, wide lips. It was a
handsome face, yet it somehow made Stitch think of a malevolent
spirit, which could be due to the piercings on his face. There were
two balls on either side of his nose between the eyes, a small ring
with a purple ball in his septum, and then a piercing in his left
brow, and a round metal hoop circling the mid-point of his bottom
lip. In contrast to the moderate size of those were thick spirals
plugged into the flesh of the man’s earlobes, stretching them over
their normal capacity.

“A beer would be nice,” said the stranger
with a grin. “Listen, I’m new in town. Do you think it needs its
own tattoo studio?”

A drop of sweat trailed down Stitch’s spine
and into the back of his pants like an invisible hand.

“Get the man a beer, Prospect.” Stitch waved
a hand at Joe, never taking his eyes off the hot, tattooed flesh.
There were so many designs on the stranger’s skin that Stitch
wasn’t sure which ones to focus on. “You should ask someone who’s
actually inked, not baby boy Joe.”

“Oh yeah?” The stranger’s blue eyes were on
him immediately, but they soon trailed lower, and Stitch felt heat
rise in his chest under the skull and fire tattoos the guy was
looking at. “And I suppose that would be you?”

“Yeah, I know a lot of guys who’d like to
visit a good ink pusher. And I suppose that would be you?” Stitch
smirked and couldn’t help but flex his stomach muscles.

The guy gave him a crooked smile, still
looking down at Stitch’s chest, but then raised his gaze and
offered his hand. “I’m Zak.”

“Stitch.” He shook Zak’s hand with a smile,
making sure not to hold it too long. Joe put a beer on the counter,
and Captain passed Stitch a glass of rum that smelled like catnip
for pirates.

“Oh, I know a tattoo Stitch needs to cover
up!” Captain chuckled. Stitch frowned, knowing exactly what his
friend meant and imagining ways in which he could scalp Captain’s
black, furry head for mentioning the unmentionable.

Zak raised his brows and gathered the bottle
in his hand, tapping it with a whole array of heavy signets.
“Confess.”

Stitch had some rum and poked Captain’s ribs
so hard the guy yelped. “Okay, okay. Prospect, out,” he ordered
Joe, and the guy walked to the other side of the bar to bother
other customers. Stitch got up from the stool and stole a second of
breaking into Zak’s personal space before circling the bar and
gesturing for Zak to follow. It was good to have free access, it
made him almost feel as if he were the sole owner of the whole
place. “I got divorced today, you see. So I need to get rid of a
love crime.”

“Sounds interesting.” Zak marched behind him,
and Stitch noticed that the handsome newcomer was even a bit taller
than him. As soon as they disappeared behind the counter, the man
leaned in, flooding Stitch with the smell of a musky, fresh
cologne. “Is it on your dick?”

Stitch snorted and winked at Captain. “Nah,
almost.” Stitch opened the big skull buckle on his belt and went on
to unzip his jeans. He was trying not to get too excited and not
being alone with the guy was helping him keep his cool. This was
probably as close as his dick would come to Zak anyway.

“So, what do you want to get?” asked Zak,
loud enough for Stitch to hear his voice through the noise.

“I haven’t thought it through yet.” Stitch
pulled his pants down low enough to expose the ink on the inner
side of his hip, next to his pubes. He took out his cell phone and
turned the screen on to illuminate the tat for Zak, who
unceremoniously scooted down. It brought him face to face with
Stitch’s crotch, and made Stitch’s heart stop, even if for a brief
moment.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Captain started laughing so hard that Stitch
reached over the counter to smack the side of his head. “Shut
it!”

“Sorry, man. It just looked like--”

“I know what it looked like,” Stitch growled
and looked down to Zak. “Good. I’ll make an appointment then,” he
tried to talk without slurring and pulled up his pants.

Zak got to his feet, unfazed by the mocking
and produced a card, which he passed to Stitch. “Have a look at my
portfolio first.”

“I will. But anything will be better than
that fucking name on there. I’d rather have Captain’s face inked.”
Stitch pointed at his friend with a scowl. A massive one eyed
bastard with an eye patch, black beard, and a mess of hair. Yep,
he’d still prefer that broken-nosed mug to Crystal’s name. Stitch
buckled up his belt and walked out from behind the counter.

“A picture of devotion,” chuckled Zak,
following him. “Are you somehow associated with this bar?”

“Pop quiz. What’s this place called?” Stitch
plopped his ass back on the stool and took the glass of rum in
hand.

Zak blinked. “Valhalla.”

Stitch turned around in the seat, to present
the back of his cut. He was always proud to show it off. It had
their patch with ‘Hounds of Valhalla’ over a dog's head sticking
out of the triangular Valknut symbol. A hound with more teeth than
any animal should have in their jaw. “You could say we’re all…
shareholders.” He took another sip of rum and clinked with
Captain’s glass.

Zak crooked his head. “In that case, I guess
my fate is in both of your hands, gentlemen,” he said with a
widening grin. “Could I leave my leaflets, and a poster? I run the
studio in my home.”

“Sure.” Stitch patted the counter. “Do I get
a divorce discount?”

Zak chuckled and bit his lip, watching him
with small wrinkles of humor appearing in the corners of his eyes.
“If you promise to be my poster boy, I can do you for free.”