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I wiped awaythe excess orange ink, revealing the design in its glory. "What do you think?" I asked, holding a mirror as my client twisted her face to catch a glimpse.

"Damn, this is sick!"

"Let me finish the outline," I stated, picking up my other tattoo gun, already loaded with black ink. The machine buzzed quietly, and "Saturday Love" played softly in the background. I inked the last few details onto my client's skin, moving my fingers carefully to create perfection.

A motorcycle revving its engine outside was working my nerves, but I pushed it aside, concentrating on the task at hand. However, when I heard it again, my senses went on high alert. I paused to peer out the window. Across the street, a figure straddling a bike piqued my curiosity.

I admired my work. "Done," I proudly announced. The design reflected a story my client wanted to tell, and this work reminded me why I'd chosen this path in life.

The sudden roar of the motorcycle engine interrupted my calm, raising the hair on my arms and waking something dormant from its slumber. Like it or not, the MC world had left a mark on me, and there was no way to escape it completely.

My client examined the tattoo in the mirror. "And another one, you did that!" she approved.

"I'm glad you like it. This is why I show up every day. Let me guess, a spirit animal?"

"Nah, my boyfriend's last name is Fox."

"Okay, I love that. The things we do for love," I joked, keeping my tone light.

"Honey, I'm claiming that man." My client laughed.

"If that doesn't impress him, I don't know what will," I replied.

After more revving, I moved toward the window. "Go ahead and get dressed."

As my client dressed and gathered her things, I turned my attention back to the mysterious biker. I was torn between wanting to confront them, but the voice of caution was telling me it was a bad idea.

I looked at my client. "Don't forget to clean it and keep it moisturized, and don't hesitate to drop by if you need it touched up."

"I sure will. Thanks again, Makari." My customer grinned and headed out the door, leaving me to my sanctuary.

As the door chimed, I turned the deadbolt and switched the 'OPEN' sign to 'CLOSED'. I looked through the binds again, but this time, the figure was under the streetlight. I made out the Red Scorpions patch clearly. It was like he wanted me to see it. I turned away from the window to gather my things, but my mind was racing. Instead, I took a deep breath and attempted to clean up and disinfect my tools.

Whoever was lurking outside reminded me of the dangers that haunted me, the ones I attempted to leave behind when I left the MC world. My instincts and pride were at war with each other, one urging me to ignore the situation and the other telling me to confront it. Still, I knew being nosy was one of my greatestflaws, and I knew I wouldn't rest until I figured out who was outside my shop and why.

However, when I opened the door, he was standing right there. Seeing him up close and personal brought back some bittersweet memories.

"Shit, Jahlil, what are you doing here?"

"Makari London, long time no see," he greeted in a nonchalant tone.

Our complicated history flooded me as an unspoken reminder of what was lost. I stood my ground as Jahlil moved around me and entered my space. I caught a whiff of his cologne, the one that sometimes lingered on my pillows.

"Why are you here?" I repeated.

He spread his arms wide. "What? Just paying a visit to an old friend."

"We aren't friends. You lost that right a long time ago," I retorted, crossing my arms defensively.

He threw his hands up, conceding. "After everything, you can't convince me there's nothing salvageable between us."

I laughed harshly. "You can't salvage broken promises and bad blood." Still, before the words left my mouth, I felt that old tug, the pull that had always drawn me to Jahlil.

"Look, I'm not here to fight."

"I don't believe that for one minute," I snapped sarcastically, trying to hide my vulnerability.

"It's about Malakai."

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