Ink Wars

Ink Wars Heather Dahlgren Contents Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Epilogue About the Author Also by Heather Dahlgren Heather Dahlgren Copyright © 2023 Heather Dahlgren ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Prologue Corbin “Corbin, final tattoo here. You ready?” J.R. asks. Getting my apprenticeship with J.R. Watson has been one of the most thrilling and humbling things that has happened in my career of becoming a tattoo artist. He’s one of the most talented, versatile, and popular artists there is. He’s not easy to work with. He pushes you to your breaking point and then pushes even more. Everything he has taught me, from building a tattoo machine to keeping a sterile environment to working with the most demanding clients, will stay with me. Today is my last day here. I will be licensed to tattoo on my own after I pass the state requirements and after working with J.R. that won’t be a problem. It’s been an honor to work with him, learn from him, to grow as an artist because of him. Leaving this shop and his experienced voice shouting at me will be something I miss. “J.R. it’s stunning. Thank you so much.” I turn toward the voice that I will not miss. Leah Collymore. J.R.’s other apprentice and a colorful thorn in my side. She’s not without talent but her need to be the center of attention, an overachiever, and always number one is infuriating. When I got this apprenticeship, I had to prove my worth. I had to show my skill, my art, and my versatility. But Leah — no she just came in with her tits hanging out and got it. Nothing has changed. Her tits are always on full display and every damn guy that works here or comes in for a tattoo wants her attention. She loves every minute of it. Her loud laughter, endless flirting, and overconfidence take over this damn shop. J.R. eats it up and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s fucking her. But he’s completely devoted to his wife, who loves Leah just as much. Today is her last day too and while I continue to sterilize the rooms, Princess Leah is getting showered with gifts and goodbye hugs that last much too long. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a guy and I’m not fucking blind. She’s gorgeous. A real-life pinup model. Her black hair is always up, perfectly styled with a bandana headband to match her outfit. Her brown eyes are always shining huge with dark, long lashes and even darker makeup. Those plump lips are always painted bright red or pink. And then there are the colorful tattoos she has dancing down her left arm. A complete bright, colorful sleeve. And that damn Swallow bird she has on her right clavicle. It’s all fucking alluring and sexy as hell. She’s a walking wet dream and she knows it. The way she shakes her ass and bites her lip, batting her eyes. It’s distracting and unprofessional. But she should enjoy her last day here with the attention and gifts and long touches because tomorrow real life begins. And princesses don’t thrive out of their kingdom. Leah “Damn girl, this is the best tattoo I’ve ever gotten,” Daniel, my client says, looking in the mirror. A brilliantly colorful Phoenix spanning shoulder to shoulder on his back. It came out exactly how I wanted and I’m very proud. “Thanks, Daniel. You’re my last client here,” I say, cleaning up. He turns around and looks at me with wide eyes. “Don’t say that shit. Where the hell are you going?” I smile as I get up to grab the ointment and rub it on the fresh tattoo. “I’m working on trying to open my own shop, but until then, I’ll be working with a few friends around the city.” As I pull off my gloves, he grabs a piece of my sketch pad paper and a pencil. “I’m leaving you my number. When you get your shop up and running, text me. I’ll be waiting for my next tattoo.” Pride fills me as he hands me his number. It’s not like being out and a guy is giving you his number. This is totally different. This is because he loves my work so much that he only wants me to tattoo him now. It’s a high. A feeling unlike any other. I’ve busted my ass to get where I am. Being a woman among all these hard-headed, horny, cocky men is not easy. I’ve had to work harder, prove more, and fight longer. J.R. Watson is the first artist who took me seriously. It wasn’t easy but after weeks of turning up, showing him my artwork, my ability, and my determination, he gave me a shot. One neither of us regrets. I’ve learned so much from him and I think I even taught him a thing or two about realizing a woman is every bit as talented, if not more so than a man. J.R. has truly shaped me to be able to handle this industry. He taught me simple things like sanitation right down to working with people who don’t want you around. Corbin Stoll would be that person. This asshole thinks he’s