Page 1 of Broken

Chapter One

Garrett

The worst kind of client to walk into a tattoo shop is a drunk as fuck one.

I’ve finished tracing a stencil for my next client when I hear the shouting coming from the shop front. It’s not the normal banter from my employees either. Grabbing my shit, I go see what the hell is going on.

The guy stepping up to my receptionist is six feet and three hundred pounds. He’s red faced and spitting while he’s yelling.

We have a strict policy about tattooing anyone visibly inebriated. It is a firm ‘get the fuck out.’ I don’t run that kind of shop.

Lucky pulls the bat out from beneath the reception desk. If it has gotten to the point she is reaching for a weapon, then I’ve missed the lead up to her going batshit. She’s tiny, but I’d put my money on her against this drunken asshole in a heartbeat.

Every single employee in the shop is primed and ready to jump in. Shane, my apprentice, is holding a book of designs next to a customer. The woman is wide-eyed and frozen. Her two giggling friends on the sofa are silent too.

I went in back to avoid listening to them. Shane, and Sumner, our newest artist, got the pleasure of dealing with them.

I am lucky to have Sumner. He’s an experienced and well-known artist who recently moved to the US from Ireland. I knew him from industry conventions. He came here looking for work. I’d jumped all over it, gave him the job within five minutes of walking through the door.

Phoenix, my best friend and business partner, is standing at his station. To anyone who doesn’t know him, he looks nonplussed. Truth is, he’ll be first across the room if this asshole tries to lay a finger on Lucky.

They broke up a year ago and did the unthinkable. Remained friends. Lucky is the best employee we’ve ever had on the desk. I was pissed when they hooked up. Things are fine, for now. They double date if they’re seeing someone. It’s fucking weird.

The asshole hasn’t noticed Lucky getting the bat yet and thunders toward her, knocking a glass bowl off the counter. It shatters when it hits the floor. Breaking shit in my shop is not okay.

Phoenix moves and Shane drops the book. I’m about to wade in when Lucky flicks a smirk at me. It’s bad for business to insultor assault customers. I don’t give a shit about our reputation when my staff are protecting themselves.

Over the years, Phoenix and I have thrown punches and kicked plenty of assholes out. It never did any damage. Our reputation is that good.

I nod and her grin grows as she swings the bat. Phoenix is halfway across the shop but pulls to a stop. Pretty sure he flinches as hard as I do when she makes contact.

“Oh fuck,” Shane says.

The guy howls and falls to his knees, grabbing his crotch.

“Shit, Lucky,” Phoenix winces, taking another few steps closer. “Was that necessary?”

“If you’re gonna do it, do it right,” she replies, resting the bat against her shoulder like some kind of demented Harley Quinn. She gives her ex a cheeky look.

Phoenix is a good-looking fucker, with wavy black hair spilling over his forehead and bright green eyes. With those, his muscular, lean frame, and friendly and flirty nature, he has women falling all over him.

He doesn’t screw around. He isn’t the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. A rare breed of guy who loves being in love. Which is why I’m wary of his relationship with Lucky. Even if she swears they’ll never be a couple again.

“Okay, I guess you’re not wrong there,” Phoenix says with a laugh.

“Feck me, Lucky,” Sumner is standing in the hallway leading to the bathrooms. He has one hand protectively cupping his own dick.

“You fucking bitch!” The drunk guy shrieks.

He is in no position to continue his rant. In fact, I’m pretty sure his testicles are somewhere up near his ribcage.

“Someone call the cops,” he cries. “That is assault.”

“Oh my God. Should we call 911?”

I turn my gaze to the blonde on the sofa. She catches me looking and sinks back on the seat, moving closer to her friend. No one is going to help the guy, nor will we call the police. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. I’m not in the mood to deal with this shit.

“I got it, G,” Shane tells me, as he steps around the coffee table and gives the women a wink. “Be right back.”

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