INKED 8: A Tattoo Shop Reverse Harem

"It's my fault," Carl says. "I've been off with her because of what's been going on. We've all been distracted. Maybe she's taken that as rejection.”

"Storming in there isn't going to make any of this better," Dex says.

"But I can't sit here and worry about what might be happening. I can't stand thinking about her with another man, not even just talking and having a drink with him. Forget about the rest," I say.

"Fuck," Carl says, slapping his hand against the reception desk so hard that the vase containing the funky flowers that Kyla bought wobbles. "We need to get down there. I don't care if she's mad. She's our girl, and we need to protect her."

"Except she's not our girl," I say. "We're eight men, and she's just one woman. We can't share her like she's a sweatshirt we all like to wear every so often."

"This isn't a discussion for now. We need to get moving." I’m already in motion, not caring if the rest don’t agree.

"My truck's out back," Carl says. "Let's go."

It takes us a few minutes to close the shop. While we're dropping the shutters, Kole arrives back from the local takeaway with a box of burgers, but all of us have lost our appetites. We jump into Carl's truck while we fill Kole in, and then drive in silence, weaving through the streets until we pull up outside the club. None of us is dressed for this kind of establishment, a thought that only crosses my mind when I see everyone waiting outside in smarter attire. Carl, in particular, is wearing torn jeans, which definitely won’t fly. "You'll have to stay here," I tell him. "The jeans…they won't let you in, but can you give me your jacket?"

We switch my hoodie for Carl's smarter black collared jacket, and I guess all we can do is hope for the best.

The doorman knows me, but even so, he's never seen me dressed this casually. There's a moment where he hesitates, but I distract him by clapping him on the upper arm and saying, “Good to see you.” He blinks, then nods, but I don't release my held breath until Dex, Kole and I are through the doors into the club beyond.

"You bought her to this place?" Dex yells over the pounding music.

"This fucking game was your idea," I shout back as I scan the dancefloor for Kyla's glossy chestnut hair and her pretty smiling face. Where's my girl? Where is she?

"Fuck," Dex growls.

"What, do you see her?"

"Over there," Kole says.

I follow the direction of my twin's index finger, finding Kyla at the bar, crowded in by two men. The guy who got a tattoo is sitting on a barstool. The other has his arm around Kyla, his fingers playing with her hair. I can tell by the way she's holding her eyes wide and the stiffness of her body that she's uncomfortable. This guy is doing exactly what I thought he would do. He's found someone to fuck Kyla so he can watch again.

"Shit," Dex says. I know this is probably tough for him because Daimon's kink is his kink too. But he'd never be this way with Kyla. He'd never wheel out a stranger for her to be with. He was gentle in his proposition, not forceful.

What's happening to Kyla right now is coercion. We begin to cross the dancefloor, getting buffeted all the way by drunk dancing people who are more concerned about having a good time than making room for us. We're only around fifteen feet away when I watch the guy slide his hand up Kyla's top, and her flinch and try to move it down.

And that's it.

I shove the last people out of the way, a red mist descending over my vision. I hear my twin shout and feel the rumble of their thudding feet behind me.

"Get your sleazy hands off her," Kole shouts. "Do you hear me?"

He's the first to get close enough to shove the guy away, but I'm not far behind. Kyla's eyes are wide with surprise and fear. She brings her hands across her chest like she's trying to protect herself from what's going on.

The guy, who's big and meaty, recovers from the surprise attack and spins, his hands already balled into fists. Daimon slides off his stool and begins to back away, holding his hands up with palms facing forward. "Listen, she told me she's single. She agreed to come on a date with me. I didn't know she was with someone."

"I'm not," Kyla shouts. "But I agreed to come out with you, not to fuck someone else. This isn't what I signed up for."

"You knew the deal," Daimon laughs, shaking his head, and I want to knock it off his shoulders. No one makes my girl feel stupid. No one.