I’m racing to the front of the shop, oblivious to anything other than Clarissa. When I get there, Clancy and Liam are standing close to Clarissa and her father, not saying anything. Knight is behind them, his hands flexing into fists, and I know that’s a dangerous sign. The tension in King Ink is heavier than it’s ever been, even when Clarissa stood down Mackie. Even with the music playing, the charged silence in the shop raises the hair on the back of my neck.
What the fuck does this man think he’s doing?
Clarissa is in front of the counter, and her father has her by the upper arm, trying to pull her out of the shop. His knuckles are pale around her bicep, and she’s wincing and trying to pull back, but he’s not letting go. Her face is blotched red, eyes streaming. The pain I see in her fills me with a dangerous fury.
“Margaret Ellison told me she saw you here, looking like you worked here, but I didn’t believe her.” Her father snaps at her. She cringes as he stands over her and yells in her face. “I thought, how could my baby girl debase herself by working in a tattoo parlor?” He spits the wordstattoo parlorout like they were poison, and I want to punch him for it. “Surely Margaret was making up a story.”
“Let go of my arm.” Her voice scrapes out raw, but he doesn’t move and he doesn’t release her.
I cross the floor and place my hands on the desk and lean forward. “Take your hand off her. Now.”
He turns and his eyes go to my throat ink first, then my knuckle letters, then up to my face. His mouth turns into an insulting smile, and he glares at me.
“This is a family matter. It doesn’t concern you.”
“You’re in my shop putting your hands on one of my people. This concerns me. Let go of her now, or you will have a problem. I will not warn you again,” I say, my voice low and steady. If this man were anyone other than Clarissa’s father, he’d already be out the door and on the sidewalk, with a black eye and probably a broken nose.
His fingers open. Clarissa pulls free and rushes behind the counter, standing behind me. I glance back at her and push down my rage when I see bruises already forming on her arm.
He straightens his jacket. Smooths the lapel. Looks around King Ink—the flash wall, the neon, the machines, the ink on every arm in the room—and his mouth thins to a line.
“I have spent a lifetime building something in this community. I serve my community.” His voice is level and pious as fuck. “The Hayes name means something in Jefferson. And my daughter has chosen to surround herself with… people and a lifestyle that are beneath who she was raised to be.”
He turns back to Clarissa. Looks past me, past the crew, like we’re dog shit.
“I am ashamed. You are tarnishing everything your mother and I built for you.”
Clarissa’s chin comes up. Tears run down her face, but she doesn’t touch them. Doesn’t blink.
“These are good men.” Her voice shakes onmenand steadies on the rest. “This shop is a real business. I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done here.”
He reaches for her arm again.
I step between them. “What did I say?”
He freezes and drops his hand.
“If you think you’re going to force her to do anything, you’re going to have to go through me and my team.”
Clarissa’s father’s eyes move from me to my men behind me, and his face drains of color. I watch as he realizes he doesn’t have whatever control he’s used to having over people.
He points past my shoulder at Clarissa. “As long as you work here, you’re not living under my roof,” he spits out, then turns and storms out the door.
I look at my crew and nod at them, but they’re still slow to go back to their stations.
“Clarissa. Hey. You’re safe here,” I say quietly. I reach for her, but stop. I don’t know what I can do other than let her know she’s safe. “What can I do?”
Clarissa leans forward and grips the counter, breathing in jagged gulps of air, her body heaving.
“I’m going to call Margot,” she finally says, taking a deep breath. Her voice is uneven, but she’s shaking out her arms and coming up from the hell her father just put her through. “I’ll stay with her tonight.”
“Take whatever time you need. We’ll cover for you. But please, let me know you’re okay. Anything you need, just call me, okay? No matter what time of day or night.”
I want to kill her motherfucking father.
Waylon is alreadyat Uncle Joe’s when I get there. Flannel, jeans, beard going gray at the jaw. He doesn’t come down from King Mountain for nothing. He’s got a beer in front of him and one sweating at my spot.
I drink half the beer before I can talk. My hands haven’t stopped shaking.
