Page 1 of Warrior

1SAINT

The tattoo machinequiets in my hand, and I give my client one last wipe. They stand and go to the mirror, twisting to look at the portrait on their upper arm. It’s black-and-gray realism, with gleaming jewels in the frame around the woman.

This piece has been a work in progress for months, and now it’s done.

The sense of accomplishment fills me, and I rise from the stool when my client’s face breaks out into a huge smile.

“Let me snap some pictures,” I say, adjusting my lighting, “and then we’ll get it wrapped up. You’re already familiar with my aftercare instructions.”

“Yep.”

The guy is covered in tattoos. He started coming almost a year ago, and we’ve kind of bounced around his body since then. A mermaid on his thigh, a compass. He works on a fishing boat that comes into port here in Sterling Falls. Sometimes he brings me fish, which has been a fun little barter.

“What are you doing with that?” He points.

I glance over at the sweatshirt slung over the edge of the couch, and my brow furrows.

“Someone left it here yesterday,” I say slowly. “I didn’t notice it.”

My office girl only comes in to confirm schedules and balance the accounts. She would’ve been the one to spot it, but she’s taking some personal time. It’s fine by me—I opened this shop by myself and still regularly handle most of the day-to-day shit.

“I…” He turns to face me. “You don’t want anything to do with them.”

“You’ve lost me, man.”

“The Cyclopes.”

My body tenses. It’s one of those fight-or-flight reactions, I think, but instead, I freeze. I look again at the sweatshirt, the stitched logo on the breast, and then back to my client.

He’s a big guy, but right now his eyes are wide.

“Can you go into a little more detail?” I ask. “I mean…”

“They tried to get a foothold in Emerald Cove and failed,” he says. “But it was brutal. They made a strong press, and it was bloody for a while. The police had their hands full, not that the other gangs were willing to cooperate. One of those we’ll-deal-with-it things. But my buddy’s cousin is familiar with Emerald Cove. Grew up there. He said the Cyclopes were not to be fucked with.”

“Why?”

Reese and I had a conversation about them. How he was brought in on a lower level, doing some shit for them as a way to survive. And then Reese came here… We know they’re in West Falls already. The roadblocks they set up without police interference, obviously.

“Their main method of intimidation is to take an eye.” He scratches at his wrist. “Just one, not enough to kill you, but it sends a message to everyone else.”

Jesus.

“Nobody else wears their shit, man. You had a Cyclops in your shop.”

And it’s Kade’s sweatshirt.

My stomach drops, but I manage to keep a straight face. I go over and snatch up the sweatshirt, shoving it into the bin.

“He’s not going to come back,” I say. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“You see that eye with the snake and you fucking walk the other way, dude.” He holds out his hand. “Just trying to… I don’t know. Keep you aware? You seem like a straight-up guy.”

“I am.” I shake his hand.

After he pays for the last session, with a promise to return in a few months, I sit behind the desk and blow out a breath.

It doesn’t seem real. Or right.

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