Page 91 of Savage King
“Thank you.”
She leaves, and I sigh in happiness, then turn back and look at the empty space. I can already picture what it’ll be like in here, and I can’t wait.
It’s early evening by the time I check my phone. I’ve missed a couple texts from Mateo.
Mateo: Let me know if you need anything, Savage.
Mateo: Are you still at the studio? I won’t be home until late.
I bite my lip and tap out a response.
Me: Hey! Just finished with Cliff and MaryBeth. Don’t worry about being late, I’ll see you when you get home. We can have ice cream.
Was that weird? Do Mafia kings have ice cream on a random evening?
I shrug and glance to the front door and see that Bobby—missing one ear—and Lucky are still standing guard. Bobby told me he lost his ear after the incident in the restaurant because of his own fault, but I think it’s because of me, and that makes me feel horrible.
Admittedly, I’m still a little keyed up after what happened. I’m pissed that someone thought they could put their hands on me. And, as always, I’m anxious to find my sister.
I don’t want to go home and sit in an empty penthouse, and after talking about tattoo stuff all day, I really want some fresh ink.
So, I call Archie.
He’s been my tattoo artist since I moved to Vegas. We used to work together until he moved to a new location not too far from here, and we always stayed in touch. He’s an excellent artist.
Okay, and there were a few times that we hooked up, but it was just sex. An itch to scratch. And it was more than a year ago.
The phone rings twice before he answers.
“Hey, Lettie. You okay?”
I grin. Archie’s a good one. “I’m great, thanks. Hey, I want a new piece, and I know it’s last minute, but I want it now.”
He chuckles. “Typical of you.”
“I know. I’m spontaneous.”
“Well, lucky for you I have time this evening. How far away are you?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Come on over, I’ll get ready. Where do you want it?”
“My back. I can sketch it out real quick. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”
He hangs up, and I walk over to my guards. “I need to go to High Roller Tattoo. I have an appointment.”
“You bet,” Bobby says. I lock up the studio and walk through Carson’s resort, each of the guys flanking me as we make our way to the private parking lot we use. “I’ll let the boss know.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“We always notify him of our movements,” Bobby adds, and I nod, listening as he talks to Mateo. “Boss. We’re taking Miss Violet to a place called High Roller Tattoo for an appointment. I didn’t ask, sir. Of course.”
He passes the phone to me, and I grin. “Hey, nosy man.”
“I miss you. I haven’t seen you all day.”
