Haleigh's Ink Read online

  Haleigh’s Ink

  Jennifer Kacey

  Members Only, Book Two

  “Ink.”

  A three-letter word that meant different things to many people. Pictures and words that might stand as a reminder of love, loss, rebellion, or camaraderie. For Haleigh Grace, it meant freedom.

  Walking through the doors of the tattoo parlor, Inkfluence, marked the start of taking her life back. Making it what she wanted it to be. No one was going to tell her she couldn’t. Not ever again.

  Little did she know that behind those doors stood Kyle Muse. He’d been her best friend, who had walked away years ago without a backwards glance. The one man she fantasized would someday be her knight in shining armor. The one she’d saved herself for.

  But he has a knight of his own. Tall, dark and dangerously sexy Scott Preston. The owner of the very shop Haleigh has an appointment with at midnight.

  Feelings long buried rise to the surface and the three find themselves bound by more than just ink…

  A Romantica® ménage BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Haleigh’s Ink

  Jennifer Kacey

  Dedication

  Kels—you are the sister I was lucky enough to find and can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are brave, smart, capable and have a heart overflowing with love and joy for so many. We were destined to be family.

  Mama Leah—I miss you…and thank you for your daughter.

  Acknowledgements

  A special thanks to Syneca Featherstone for making Haleigh and her sexy ink come alive on this vulnerable, strong and stunning cover.

  To Nina Bo Bina for taking me, and loving me, and pushing me to make this book exactly what it was always supposed to be. To the first of many!!

  For all of the women touched by cancer and especially those who are lucky enough to find your new normal after living with the big C. You are beautiful. Your scars tell a tale of violent struggles and battles won. You are sexy, and amazing, and I am blessed to have been touched by so many survivors in my life.

  So let me repeat it one more time to make sure all of you hear me.

  You are beautiful.

  And this one’s for each of you.

  Chapter One

  A cold blast of air assaulted Haleigh Grace as she opened the door to Inkfluence. She stepped over the threshold, tripping a door chime, signaling her arrival. The scent of bleach tickled her nose and she locked her knees, trying to keep from bolting.

  “I can do this. I can do this,” she mumbled to herself, taking in her surroundings. The open space was clean and she let out a sigh of relief. Fleeing reeked of being a coward, but she would have done just that if the place hadn’t been kept up.

  On one side, tattoo stations lined the wall. In one of them a dark-skinned tattoo artist hunched over a lightly tanned man. She glimpsed the client’s face in the mirror mounted to the wall behind him. He appeared to be asleep. Sure didn’t match what she expected since a dragon was taking shape across his shoulder. Cursing, maybe thrashing around a bit was more what she imagined.

  A shiver raced up her spine, making the top of her head tingle. What will it be like?

  A bucket of fresh adrenaline dumped into her system. She would find out soon enough. “I can do this. I can do this.”

  “Hey,” the lone artist cut into her Xanax monologue. The high-pitched whir of his tattoo gun quieted. He swiveled toward her, unfolding himself and standing to stretch. He grabbed a towel draped across the table and wiped the guy’s shoulder. The cloth came away smeared with black ink.

  He had captivating blue eyes, dark hair that reminded her of a porcupine and a warm smile framed by a short goatee. He was tall—not at all what she had pictured. Well, other than the tattoos that started at his wrists, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

  “Are you Haleigh?” he asked as he sank onto the stool again.

  She swallowed, trying to keep her voice from squeaking. “Yes. Are you Scott?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m Oscar. The boss’ll be out in a minute for you. Feel free to check the place out.”

  “Thanks.”

  He adjusted ear buds she hadn’t noticed earlier and hunched over his customer.

  The stations would have reminded her of the beauty salon, if not for the skulls airbrushed on the black exterior of each table. She wouldn’t look at the salon quite the same next time. Both places made money modifying their clients’ appearances—one was obviously more permanent about it.

  Fear skated up her legs but she shook it off, reminding herself this was nothing compared to what she’d already been through.

  Two closed doors flanked the open space behind a counter at the rear of the shop. It reminded her of Alice in Wonderland, and she was left speculating on exactly what or who was behind each.

  She headed to the right, past a nest of couches. They formed an open square with a large bronze and wrought-iron coffee table in the center. Magazines littered the top. Inked Today / Pierced Tomorrow. Around the World in Eighty Tattoos. Tattoo Weekly.

  She rehearsed what she was going to say again. Everything was going to go smoothly and she would leave promptly after making her next appointment.

  The artwork on the walls drew her. Her fingers itched to pull out her camera but it was in the trunk of her car, where she normally hid it. Her mother thought her hobby…unappealing, so she kept it out of sight. Like everything else important to her.

  The thought of her mother deflated her. Haleigh straightened her backbone, determined not to let her or anyone else ruin this for her.

  She glanced out the front windows. Springtime in Kansas meant it was still seventy-five degrees at almost midnight. The A/C blew across her face and dual fans circulated the cool air. Chill bumps spread across her arms but sweat dotted along her spine.

  She focused on the pictures in front of her and clasped her fingers to keep the shakes to a minimum.

  Every piece of artwork on the wall meant something. To Haleigh, all of them meant freedom.

  She smoothed her light-blue silk blouse, tugged at the skirt hugging her thighs. She was overdressed but first impressions meant a lot.

  Especially now.

  A clock struck midnight at the front of the shop, announcing “the boss” was officially late.

  The chimes echoed above the rock music coming from speakers in the ceiling and she had the fleeting image of Cinderella running from the ball. But she hadn’t believed in fairy tales and happy endings for more than six years. Tonight, though, she was taking her life back.

  She waited several more minutes, but it seemed like an hour. Amazing how nerves could alter the perception of time. She needed to get started before she chickened out. Assuming Scott bothered to make an appearance—

  The door on the left behind the counter swung open and one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen stepped through. He shook his head, obviously exasperated.

  He was taller than six feet, though she was still too far away to tell by how much. His hair was short but very dark and his shirt stretched across his wide shoulders. He ensnared her simply by glancing up, and she went wet between her legs purely by the man looking at her.

  He maneuvered around the counter and made his way across the floor to where she stood frozen and mute.

  He didn’t really walk though.

  He stalked her, his eyes never leaving her body, and her teeth chattered though she suddenly wasn’t cold anymore.

  “Haleigh?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a once-over that made her blood race beneath her skin.

  She cleared her throat, trying to smile, and extended her hand because it was the polite thing to do. It was like sticking her arm in the cage of a poisonous snake. “Yes. Scott?�
� she managed as he clasped her palm. The back of his hand was surprisingly tattoo-free. She couldn’t see ink on him anywhere, which seemed odd.

  He took another step toward her, firmly planting himself in her personal bubble. He dwarfed her in size…and no doubt experience.

  “In the flesh,” he answered, caressing her wrist with his thumb.

  She yanked her arm away as if she’d been electrocuted and a cocky smirk lifted his full lips. The breath she’d been holding whooshed out along with a tiny sigh she tried to cover with a cough.

  He broke eye contact right before she hyperventilated. He nodded toward the wall. “See anything you like?”

  “Yes,” she answered while staring at his profile. His presence seemed to delete her rehearsed speech, replacing it with a blank page and a blinking cursor. She opened her mouth a couple times, glancing at the photographs, and finally blurted out, “Not exactly what I want.”

  He took several steps away, stopping in front of a large frame illustrating dainty tattoos. He motioned her over. “I can do a nice heart for you, a four-leaf clover or a cherry maybe.” He snickered at some private joke and then muttered, “I’ve heard they’re all the rage lately with girls like you.”

  Haleigh skidded to a halt and glared.

  “Excuse me?” she asked, barely resisting the urge to curl her fingers into a fist. Anxiety mutated to pissed-off real quick. She ground her teeth, waiting for clarification on exactly what type of girl she was.

  “A society type. A good girl wanting a walk on the wild side. Something tiny you can hide, that won’t hurt too badly, but you can whisper about to your girlfriends when you go to the club.”

  She had to concentrate to be polite. “You know nothing about me.”

  “Don’t take offense, sweetheart.” He held up his palms as if to hold off her impending attack but she could tell he wasn’t offering an apology. “I’ve been doing this for years and I can’t imagine you came in here hoping for a skull and crossbones across the back of your neck, or a geisha girl up your rib cage. So if one of these isn’t what you’re looking for, maybe I can draw what you’d like on the fly…and shrink it down.” He added the last part under his breath as he walked toward a notepad sitting on the counter.

  “I’m here to get my nipples pierced,” she replied abruptly before he offered any more snide suggestions. She tried to keep the annoyance from her tone but he was really pushing her buttons. To her complete surprise…she liked it.

  He stopped with his hand in midair over the paper. “You want your nipples pierced.” He repeated it as if trying it on for size and her cheeks warmed as he stared unabashedly at her small chest.

  Her breasts grew heavy and her skin warmed, which she attributed to her rising temper. It looked like he had to reboot his brain and she smirked at rendering him speechless. She got the distinct feeling it didn’t happen too often.

  Score one for her. “You do offer that variety of service, do you not? It says so on the sign out front.”

  Scott was actually struck stupid.

  Wonder if this is what it’s like taking a two-by-four to the back of the head?

  He could count on no hands how often that had happened in the last few years. The women who normally came in were covered in tattoos and piercings. They were normally crude, loud and spoke their minds whether people listened to them or not. He liked a woman who could cuss him under the table, and he didn’t want them any other way.

  This woman screamed innocence and his dick stood up and took notice even though he was barking up the wrong damn tree. He had no intention of tapping her inner submissive, no matter how bad he wanted to.

  Being a beer-and-pizza guy, he didn’t normally do classy. But he got off on being the bad boy. Corrupting them had been the sole purpose of his life when he was younger.

  At thirty-four he was past all the petty shit. Well…maybe not all of it. He hadn’t had this much fun in months, and he couldn’t seem to reign himself in even though it was bad for business.

  Goading her about the tiny tats had been awesome. Her being pissed off and not telling him where to shove his opinion made him want to laugh and push a little further. He’d had a rough evening and verbally sparring with a gorgeous girl he’d more than likely never see again suited his mood.

  The nipple bombshell she’d lobbed his way was odd since every question she’d asked him on the phone earlier covered tattoos from a color photograph. He specialized in photo realism in color and black-and-white.

  He gazed at her and she stiffened. She huffed at the grin he flashed her, which made him chuckle.

  He shrugged, trying not to imagine twisting her around and hiking up her skirt to see what kind of panties she wore. Maybe it would send her running for the hills, which should be fine with him.

  Life was complicated enough without lusting after a prima donna. He’d had enough bad experiences growing up being snubbed by girls like her. He didn’t really need a repeat.

  “Sixty-five-dollar nonrefundable fee to pierce them and that includes the jewelry. If you flake or not, once you sign the consent form your moolah belongs to me.”

  “I won’t…flake out,” she answered. He studied her, struck again with how delicate she appeared. She was no taller than five-four in heels and still she glared at him as if she would lay him flat given half a chance.

  “Sure you won’t,” he replied just to see her nostrils flare.

  He watched her mouth. She licked her bottom lip and he had no clue what he was saying and had to concentrate on which part of his speech came next. The sooner he got rid of this chick, the better. He had more important things to do than convince his dick to calm the fuck down. He needed the blood rushing below the equator diverted back to his head so he could talk instead of grunt at her.

  And the quicker he finished, the more time he’d have at The Library later with Kyle.

  “You need to wash them every day in the shower starting three days from today and rotate the rings gently when they’re wet.” As if he needed images of her naked, handling her own tits, burned into his brain. “You can’t swim for four weeks, and for all that is holy, don’t go in the lake unless you want your tits to turn green and fall off.”

  Her jaw flexed. “What gauge is it?”

  “It’s a fourteen-gauge piercing and I’m surprised you knew to ask the gauge instead of the needle size like most wannabes who walk in the door. Maybe you’ll get one done but you’ll bolt before I can do the other.” He glanced behind him at Oscar just to have somewhere to look instead of her porcelain skin. Keeping his eyes away for any length of time proved to be difficult. “You’ll need to clean your nipples with an antibacterial soap. The baby wash shit is fine so it doesn’t sting. The biggest mistake people make is changing the rings too early.” He caught himself staring at the expensive blouse thing she wore, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. As if that would keep him from picturing her perky ta-tas naked and hard beneath his palms.

  “Do you have a female associate who could do them?”

  “Nope. Sure don’t. It’s me or nada, sweet cheeks.” He flashed a charming smile her direction and ran his hand over his good days’ worth of stubble.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess. Can I have a minute to decide?”

  “Sure, honey, take all you need.” He saluted then walked toward the counter.

  “My name isn’t ‘honey’,” she called to the back of his head.

  He couldn’t help himself. He turned and winked at her. “Okay, sweetie, let me know what you decide.”

  Kudos to her for walking through the door but she’d never go through with it.

  He’d seen it time and time again.

  They wanted something kinky but as soon as they got close they couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

  * * * * *

  Of all the nerve.

  She gave him her back, pacing close to the drawings and photographs again. She couldn’t see a single one of them through the
red haze clouding her vision. She had raised her voice at him, wanting to smack him…a stranger she’d never met before. Her parents would be appalled.

  She should have been mortified at her show of emotion and might have been if the tingling in her fingers and lips would stop so she could concentrate. Sophisticated men, that’s who she was supposed to be attracted to. But none of them made her feel as alive as Scott had in what? Ten minutes? She wished he weren’t handsome and so sure of himself. Maybe she’d feel more comfortable if his name were Tiny and he resembled a three-hundred-pound Polynesian woman covered in tattoos from head to toe. Who was she kidding? Even then she’d still be freaking out.

  Of all the places she’d thought she could go to be herself, it was a shop like this. A place where people specifically went to alter themselves, creating the ideal persona they ached to achieve. After the last six years of struggling to survive another day, she finally came to the realization she was more than those days and weeks and months of heartache. Living under that cloud of pain and sorrow? She was the only one who could step out from beneath and find another path.

  Tired of hiding her scars behind respectable clothes and elegant hair, she was ready to live again.

  Darn this man for making her doubt herself. This was her body and her decision and screw Mr. Hotness-and-I-Know-It behind the counter, and what he imagined he knew about her. She should care less.

  She grabbed her money out of her purse, whipping around, fully prepared to stride over, plunk her cash on the counter and demand the same service he gave anyone else.

  She took one self-righteous step and froze.

  Kyle Muse, one of her best friends from high school, whom she’d lost touch with when she went away to college, was talking with the local president of the Jerks Anonymous Club. They were in a heated discussion but she wasn’t close enough to hear anything specific. It was rude to stare but she couldn’t help herself.