prologue

The sound of my tattoo machine is usually my favorite thing in the world. It means I am in control. It means rent is paid.

It doesn’t mean my life is about to explode.

All I did was draw an intricate geometric crest on a regular client’s shoulder and post the photo online. I didn’t know the design belonged to a dangerous criminal group. I didn’t know my watermark on that photo would put a target on my back.

When bullets shatter my studio window, I realize my quiet life is officially over.

Then Jaxson Vance shows up—a six-foot-two mechanic with oil on his hands, money in his pocket, and an attitude that rubs me entirely the wrong way. He pulls me into his world to keep me alive.

I tell myself this is temporary. I tell myself I can handle the danger and keep my distance from him.

I am dead wrong.