lingerie model for the biggest fetish store in Los Angeles.
Or had been at one time. Blake hadn’t seen any new pictures of the stunning natural blonde with the big hazel eyes for nearly two years. Not that he was a glutton for punishment, who checked the Damned Naughty Lingerie website on a weekly basis…
God, what was he doing here? Obsessing over Erin’s picture on a website or writing her letters was one thing. But tracking her down in person with the intention of forcing her to take a trip up to the San Bernardino Mountains with him was certifiably insane.
Exactly. So get out of here. Now.
Before this woman ruins your life a second time.
“I don’t know, man. She’s not slum material,” Rafe said, his tone revealing his obvious appreciation for Erin “Angel” Perry. “It’s hard to believe this girl can’t get modeling work anymore. I checked out the site this morning. I’ve never seen real tits like that. No wonder you’re still hung up on—”
Blake silenced Rafe with a look. No one talked about Erin that way, even his best friend. It didn’t matter that she’d betrayed him and broken his heart back when he was a stupid kid. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone treating her like a piece of meat, even if he were planning to do nearly the same thing himself.
But then, he’d earned the right to teach Erin a thing or two about payback.
“Listen, Blake.” Rafe sobered, his features settling into a serious expression. “I know you’re a big boy and can take care of yourself, but this has bad idea written all over it.”
“Exactly, so get lost already,” Blake said. “Before you get too drunk to drive yourself back to the hotel.”
It was twenty minutes until The Elbow Room closed for the night. He had to get rid of Rafe before then.
Rafe sighed. “Well, if you ask me, you shouldn’t be wasting your time or your money on shit from the past. The future’s golden, brother.”
“I didn’t ask you. For your opinion or your company.” In fact, he’d done his best to ditch his friend, but the other man had insisted on accompanying him to L.A.
“Easy, killer.” Rafe lifted his arms at his sides. “All I’m saying is that we could be in Miami getting pussy right now instead of wasting time in smog city.” His Cuban accent colored the city’s name so it sounded like some exotic mecca. Which it was, in a way. At least for the two of them.
After three years as stars on the reality show Vegas Ink , they had quit the entertainment biz to go national with a string of tattoo parlors. The Vegas Ink locations in Reno and Vegas would stay open and be joined by new locations in Memphis, New Orleans, and Miami. Blake and Rafe were going to cash in on their celebrity status and cement their reputations as the best of the best, the people to trust when you were looking for more than your average ink, when you wanted certifiable body art .
“You’ve got a matching tattoo with the chick, Blake, and she managed to cash in on it. That doesn’t mean she’s got a piece of you.” Rafe barreled on, despite the warning look Blake shot in his direction. “You were young. You made a mistake and got burned. Who cares if—”
“I care.” Blake took another swig of his own drink, the warm, sickeningly sweet Coke as foul as his mood.
If he hadn’t already been determined to go through with his plan, what he’d observed tonight would have done the job. He’d only stepped into the bar for a few minutes, but it had been enough to see everything he needed to see.
Erin still had the tattoo he’d given her the night before his eighteenth birthday, peeking out from beneath her sleeveless white shirt. Not that it came as any surprise. She’d used the tat to make a name for herself and clearly hadn’t been impressed by Blake’s letters asking her to have the piece modified. After all, his work had been as responsible for her nickname as her angelic good looks.
The five-inch figure on her shoulder was the
Or had been at one time. Blake hadn’t seen any new pictures of the stunning natural blonde with the big hazel eyes for nearly two years. Not that he was a glutton for punishment, who checked the Damned Naughty Lingerie website on a weekly basis…
God, what was he doing here? Obsessing over Erin’s picture on a website or writing her letters was one thing. But tracking her down in person with the intention of forcing her to take a trip up to the San Bernardino Mountains with him was certifiably insane.
Exactly. So get out of here. Now.
Before this woman ruins your life a second time.
“I don’t know, man. She’s not slum material,” Rafe said, his tone revealing his obvious appreciation for Erin “Angel” Perry. “It’s hard to believe this girl can’t get modeling work anymore. I checked out the site this morning. I’ve never seen real tits like that. No wonder you’re still hung up on—”
Blake silenced Rafe with a look. No one talked about Erin that way, even his best friend. It didn’t matter that she’d betrayed him and broken his heart back when he was a stupid kid. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone treating her like a piece of meat, even if he were planning to do nearly the same thing himself.
But then, he’d earned the right to teach Erin a thing or two about payback.
“Listen, Blake.” Rafe sobered, his features settling into a serious expression. “I know you’re a big boy and can take care of yourself, but this has bad idea written all over it.”
“Exactly, so get lost already,” Blake said. “Before you get too drunk to drive yourself back to the hotel.”
It was twenty minutes until The Elbow Room closed for the night. He had to get rid of Rafe before then.
Rafe sighed. “Well, if you ask me, you shouldn’t be wasting your time or your money on shit from the past. The future’s golden, brother.”
“I didn’t ask you. For your opinion or your company.” In fact, he’d done his best to ditch his friend, but the other man had insisted on accompanying him to L.A.
“Easy, killer.” Rafe lifted his arms at his sides. “All I’m saying is that we could be in Miami getting pussy right now instead of wasting time in smog city.” His Cuban accent colored the city’s name so it sounded like some exotic mecca. Which it was, in a way. At least for the two of them.
After three years as stars on the reality show Vegas Ink , they had quit the entertainment biz to go national with a string of tattoo parlors. The Vegas Ink locations in Reno and Vegas would stay open and be joined by new locations in Memphis, New Orleans, and Miami. Blake and Rafe were going to cash in on their celebrity status and cement their reputations as the best of the best, the people to trust when you were looking for more than your average ink, when you wanted certifiable body art .
“You’ve got a matching tattoo with the chick, Blake, and she managed to cash in on it. That doesn’t mean she’s got a piece of you.” Rafe barreled on, despite the warning look Blake shot in his direction. “You were young. You made a mistake and got burned. Who cares if—”
“I care.” Blake took another swig of his own drink, the warm, sickeningly sweet Coke as foul as his mood.
If he hadn’t already been determined to go through with his plan, what he’d observed tonight would have done the job. He’d only stepped into the bar for a few minutes, but it had been enough to see everything he needed to see.
Erin still had the tattoo he’d given her the night before his eighteenth birthday, peeking out from beneath her sleeveless white shirt. Not that it came as any surprise. She’d used the tat to make a name for herself and clearly hadn’t been impressed by Blake’s letters asking her to have the piece modified. After all, his work had been as responsible for her nickname as her angelic good looks.
The five-inch figure on her shoulder was the
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