“Don’t tattoo shops usually go for something more badass?” Bel said. “Like Devil’s Ink?”
“Or Cerberus’ Tattoos?”
“That’s a perfect name,” Bel laughed. “If I found a shop named that, I’d be legally required to get something.”
“Tramp stamp paw prints?” Olivia held the door open with a wink, and Bel wanted to grab her hand and force her to pinky swear to remain this friendly. She missed this. The teasing. The trust. Working every day with someone you loved enough to sacrifice it all for.
“No, not a tramp stamp,” Bel stuck out her chest. “My boobs.”
“Even better.”
“Hey, can I help you?” A kid with an eel tattoo hugging the edge of his face popped up from behind the reception desk.
“I’m Detective Isobel Emerson, and this is my partner, Olivia Gold.” Bel flashed her badge. “Do you own Thing-A-Ma Bob’s?”
“Yup, this is my shop. I’m Bob… if that wasn’t obvious,” the kid said. “I take it you’re not here to get inked.”
“No, we have questions about these tattoos.” Bel placed the photos of the mermaid scales on the counter. “Have you ever seen these?”
“Oh wow!” Bob’s demeanor changed, and he seized the photo, yanking it to his face. “That’s hot.”
Olivia cleared her throat.
“Not the girl,” Bob clarified. “The work. That’s some skill there.”
“Is that something you could do?” Bel asked?
“Me?” Bob almost choked on his haste. “I do blackwork, not color… and no, definitely not.” He put the photograph down and slid a binder to the detectives. “My portfolio.”
Bel opened it, and within two pages, she understood what the artist meant. Even his best pieces couldn’t hold a candle to the intricate scales. “Do any other artists work here?”
“Nope, just me. I do okay.” He shrugged. “I know what I offer. I ain’t gonna win no reality shows, but I get a lot of college students on a budget in here. You’ll be amazed at how much I can make running a flash sale.”
“Flash sale?” Olivia asked.
“Yeah, like this.” Bob flipped through the binder until he found a page filled with small and overly cute Halloween images. “Halloween is the most lucrative time for flash sales, but I run different themes throughout the year. Basically, I post thesepre-drawn designs for people to choose from. No alterations. No color. No size changes. They get exactly what I draw, and they aren’t exclusive. Normally, I only tattoo a design once, but for flash sales, anyone can get anything they like, no matter who’s already picked that design. It’s why I can charge only $60 for a piece. They’re quick. They’re fun. They’re easy, and I make a living. That, though.” He smashed his finger against the mermaid scales. “That I could never do.”
“Gotcha.” Bel nodded, needing no further convincing of Bob’s skill. This man’s entire business was built on cheap mediocrity. He didn’t have the discipline required to sink flawless mermaids in the most dangerous part of the lake.
“I can do cute Halloween tattoos for both of you, though.” He flashed the women a salesman’s smile. “Come back, and I’ll give you the Bajka’s Finest discount.”
“Thanks,” Bel laughed. “We’ll keep that in mind.” She would not keep that in mind. “Do you know anyone in the area who could tattoo these scales?”
“Probably Neptune’s Ink,” he answered. “It’s the best shop in the area, and everyone who’s anyone goes there. If anyone knows about these tattoos, it would be a Neptune artist.”
“Hey,have you ever heard of Neptune’s Ink?” Bel grabbed Eamon’s office chair and rolled it away from his desk. He pinched his eyebrows at her as she forced him to abandon his work, but she smoothed their curves with her fingers before climbing into his lap.
“No, why?” He laughed at how she curled against him like a mischievous cat.
“It’s a tattoo shop,” she said. It had been too late to drive to Neptune’s Ink after driving out to Thing-A-Ma Bob’s, so, promising to start early the next morning, Bel and Olivia had completed paperwork before calling it a night. “Apparently, it’s the place to go in this area. You know so much about tattoos, I figured you might recognize the name. Or maybe the artist you partner with knows them?”
“I haven’t heard of them.” Eamon wrapped her in a deliciously suffocating hug, the tension bleeding from his muscles in a way that told her he needed her in his arms more than she needed this moment of intimacy. It had become their custom when she worked late for Eamon to keep Cerberus at his house since he spent most of his days working from his massive home office, and while Bel worked ungodly long hours, it seemed her immortal was determined to work even more. She’d found him glued to his laptop, but a hardworking man didn’t faze her. Someone had to pay for Cerberus’ grass-fed beef. He’d gotten used to the millionaire lifestyle, and she couldn’t afford the cuts of meat Eamon had hooked him on.
“Want me to call my artist?” he asked as his hand slid up her leg.
“Can you?”
“In a minute.” He tugged her closer, kissing her until she pushed him away to catch her breath. “Fine,” he grumbled playfully against her breathless mouth. “I’ll call him.”
