Chapter One Climbing out of my cherry-red 1967 Shelby Cobra GT500, I locked the doors and ran my hand down the hood as I headed toward another day of work. She was beautiful: all soft black leather interior, a deep rumble under the hood when you’d start her up, and a purr when she idled: pure panty-melting power all wrapped up in one muscle car. In case it wasn’t obvious, I was in love with my baby. Throwing one last look over my shoulder, I stepped in through the back door of my store and relief settled through me. It was good to be here. It was my haven. My happy place. It was home. I owned a small tattoo parlor right in the middle of town. I’d received a small inheritance after my dad died just a year before I opened Needle’s Kiss. After tying up all the loose ends and paying funeral costs, I was left with enough in the bank that I only needed a small loan to set up the shop just the way I dreamed. I always wanted to do something with my hands; great things could be created with just a set of hands. That was my life’s plan, to create masterpieces, maybe not the conventional type, but I most definitely did what I loved. The smell of antiseptic wafted through the air as I walked through the shop flicking