“This is amazing.” I walk past the black leather hydraulic client chairs, trailing my fingers over the gray granite counters, and heavy-duty workstations, the best money can buy. He has everything I could ever have imagined in a tattoo studio. Bright lights, high-quality furnishings, antique mirrors, and tons of space for all our equipment.

“It’s not quite finished.” Torment leans against the reception desk. “I’ve commissioned murals for the walls and I’m trying to decide whether to go bohemian or exotic with the decor. I’d like to offer it to you and your coworkers rent-free until your studio is operational. You can help with the decorating, iron out the kinks, and I’ll be able to test out its viability as a business in the gym.”

Stunned speechless for a moment, I can only stare. “But…you would have no problems filling those chairs. Any tattoo artist I know would die to work in a studio like this.”

Torment gives an irritated grunt. “Not looking for dead tattoo artists. Looking for live ones. Especially one who I can trust and who does good work. You fit the bill and if your friends trained under the same master artist, then I have no problem offering them the other chairs. I’ll buy the supplies, and I have a team to manage the business side of things. You want to advertise or market, you let them know what you need. You keep what you earn minus ten percent to cover expenses.”

So tempting. But I can’t. Not while Ray is here. I can’t deal with seeing him every day, knowing I could have lived my fantasy, even just for a night, if not for what happened in my past. And what if we bump into each other? What would we say?

My gaze flicks to Tag. He doesn’t like me coming to Redemption. He’ll make a lot of noise, put his foot down, rant about how it isn’t safe for me to come out here, and for once I’ll be happy that he does. I wait, but he doesn’t speak.

“Tag?”

“Up to you,” he says with a shrug. “As long as you aren’t here at night and you stay away from—”

“Won’t work.” Torment folds his arms, cutting Tag off. “I need the studio open when the gym is busy, and that is mostly at night. I can make sure there is always someone available to walk Sia to and from her car, or I can arrange for transportation. My limo is usually available.”

Hmmm. I don’t know many tattoo artists who travel to and from work in a chauffeured limo. Might ruin my hard-core reputation. “I can drive, but I don’t know…”

Torment scowls. “What are you afraid of, Sia? I’m offering you a chair, a steady supply of clients, the best equipment money can buy, and chairs for any of the coworkers you want to bring on board.”

My cheeks heat. “It’s just…”

“Are you afraid of Redemption?”

“No, of course not.” I look up and catch a glint in Torment’s eye and the slightest quirk of his lips. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows.

“Every fighter who steps into the cage feels fear,” Torment says. “The good ones use that fear. They control it, channel it, master it. They are the fighters who rise to the top. The ones who let fear control them never succeed. You know them right away because they have their backs to the cage, so worried about protecting themselves, they aren’t even trying to win. What kind of fighter are you?”

“I’m not a fighter.”

“We are all fighters. But sometimes we have to look hard at ourselves to find where our fighter is hiding.”

I know exactly where my fighter is hiding—in the past. And maybe it’s time to find her. Yes, it will hurt when I see him. And I’ll wish that night with Luke never happened or that it didn’t affect me the way it did. But I’ll have my Redemption and Rabid Ink friends around me, and an awesome studio to work in, and money to help out Mom and Dad.

“So it’s settled then.” Torment shakes my hand before I speak. “Good to have you on board. I’ll expect you to start tomorrow.” And whoosh, he is gone. Discussion over.

“Um…I didn’t say yes.” I glare at the closing door. “Jess, did you hear me say yes? Or did you hear Tag say yes? Did anyone say yes?”

Lips pressed together, I yank open the door and shout, “YES.”

“That’s Torment,” Tag says, coming up behind me. “Looks like you got a new studio. To be honest, although I don’t like you coming to Ghost Town, you’ll be safer here than you were in the Lower Haight ’cause I’ll make sure everyone knows to keep an eye out for you. Just make sure you stay away from Ray.”

“No problem.” And I mean it.

Chapter 8

It was what it was, and that’s all that it was

“Ohmigod. Ohmigod. I think I’m in heaven.” First thing Monday morning, Rose plasters herself against the glass door to our new studio and stares out at the man candy on display. Torment has gathered the key members of his team in the hallway for a pep talk, and Rose is now physically unable to peel herself off the door.

“It’s Redemption, not heaven,” I say.

“It’s heaven with you wearing that little black skirt and those fuck-me boots.” Christos gives me a wink as he takes in my attire. “We’ll have fighters lined up into the parking lot once they get a look at you.”

I heave a sigh, but secretly I’m pleased. I love these boots. Soft, supple black leather, all straps and laces, with a stiletto heel. They set me back a month in savings last year, but every time I wear them, I feel like nothing can hold me back. And I needed a little confidence boost today.