Wicked Education Inked Chasers 1: Inked Chasers Trilogy (Chasers spinoff), #1

By Tanya Sands

Elementary schoolteacher, Nayla Vitale, decides to check out a local tattoo shop. Rumor has it, her favorite metal band are only tattooed at Wicked Ink. Once she meets the owner, Mateo, she becomes more interested in him, putting the band second. When she and Mateo begin dating, something comes up that could stand to ruin their budding relationship. Jaded tattoo artist, Mateo Alvarez, was burned by a woman he loved deeply. He's unable to put the poison of her memory in the past…until he meets Nayla. She didn't seem the type to be in to tattoos. He realizes he's mistaken when he introduces her to friends of his from a popular heavy metal band. Despite the reason they were brought together, something toxic from his past could very well end things for them. *Warning this book is for 18+ and contains MF, MFM and MMF scenes* **Make sure you check out Zana King's Iron Fist Trilogy. Her trilogy is connected to mine**

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tanya Sands
• Release date: Oct 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9798224996063

Tanya Sands

Tanya Sands is the pseudonym of a stay-at-home mom who, having written but not published short stories for years, finally took the leap and published her passion. When she’s not writing she’s raising her 2 young boys and 3 furbabies while her husband supports them all by driving all over the country as a long haul truck driver. She is the youngest of 6 and a proud vet of the US Air Force.

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The Inked Chasers

Book One

by

Tanya Sands

Wicked Education

The Inked Chasers Series, Book 1

Tanya Sands

Copyright © 2016 Tanya Sands

All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

The following story contains strong and explicit sexual and other intense situations. The following story is intended for adult audiences only. Parental discretion is advised.

Cover design by Hardline Images

Tattoo image – wishes to remain anonymous

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"Okay, Sonny, before I get started, you’re absolutely sure you want to do this?"

Mateo looked at the man reclining in the chair next to him. They’d known each other for years, but it never seemed to amaze him how big the other man was. If they hadn’t been friends—well, friendly acquaintances actually—he’d think twice about pissing the man off. Not that he couldn’t handle himself, but damn, this dude was big. The stencil transferred on the pectoral muscle, Sonny nodded his head after looking down at the placement.

Yeah, man, do it, the deep voice commanded impatiently.

Sonny, I’m tellin’ ya, if you or your crew come after me when this is all said and done, I won’t ink any of you up again. Got me?

With a glower and a nod of his head, the larger man agreed. Mateo mentally shook his head and began to work the outline of the dog bone shaped dog tag. In the center would be the name ‘Marlow’ and right above would be the words ‘She was a good bitch’. All he could think was shit like this only happened to him. He got the strangest people coming in to get inked up.

The buzzing that echoed through the shop soothed him. Though he wasn’t the canvas of tattoos a lot of others in the profession were, he had some. Mainly to commemorate something major that had happened in his life. For instance, he had a buddy enlist in the Marines. Tragically, he died in combat and since the mother knew they had been so close, Mateo was given the man’s remaining dog tag to have tattooed on him. He’d lost a couple of others to gang related instances and had them memorialized, but his friend's dog tags would always be the one that tugged at his heart the most.

Time flew by and he didn’t really have to think, just do what he did best—ink. When he was finished, he wiped blood and excess ink then reluctantly handed over a handheld mirror to the large man. Of all the reactions he expected, the one he got stunned him. Here was this giant of a man wiping his eyes and sniffling. What the fuck? Is he crying? Mateo shot Xandra, the shop piercer, a quick smile when she came forward and shoved a tissue at Sonny.

Get the fuck outta here, X, he waved her off brusquely.

No shame here, Sonny. Just wipe your eyes, man.

How ‘bout I wipe them on your tits, girly? I’m fine.

Try it, big guy, and you’ll be singing soprano and pissing through a tube.

Mateo winced. Xandra Daniels, or X as she preferred, may be tiny but she was a force to be reckoned with. She was his employee yet her intensity scared even him at times. She had bigger balls on her than most men he knew. But then again, he’d heard stories of Sonny’s ruthlessness. Thankfully, the verbal battles between these two were always in fun and just as entertaining.

Looking over at Cooper Devlin and Reed Giles—the other two tattoo artists in the shop, who stood in the doorway of Mateo’s station—he watched as a stun gun was palmed just in case. With only a shake of his head, they took the nonverbal instruction to stand down, but the tenseness in both of them was immense. Their concerned expressions never wavered, though.

Yo, Sonny, does it look okay? He made sure he wasn’t within striking distance.

Dude, Mateo, this shit is badass. Now my Marlow will be with me all the time.

A meaty paw of a hand came out and clapped Mateo on the back. Stumbling, he caught himself on the back of the chair and grinned. One good hit and Sonny really could have done some damage. He looked at his work one last time before he covered it, knowing the plastic wrap would come off soon after the crew left the shop. For such a strange request, Mateo had to admit it came out really well. The fluid lines of the words and the shading he did on the dog tag—not the military kind, but ones for actual dogs—made it actually look like he had a metal tag on his chest. Perfect. The relief that washed through Mateo was obviously shared by X and the guys. They left his station and went back to whatever they were doing.

I got some probies that will be coming your way to get some work done. Club requirements, okay? Normal stuff, got it?

You got it. And tell Darla I’m sorry about Marlow. I’ll miss seeing that dog sit outside while you got your work done. Damn good dog, she was.

They shook hands after Sonny paid and the shop emptied quickly when the four other guys left with the big man. The motorcycle club that Sonny was president of was a group of the meanest sons-of-bitches he’d ever met, but they were good guys too. Despite their rough exteriors, they did a lot for the community. Toy drives, animal adoption drives, helping out families in need. Hell, they had the remains of a devastating house fire demolished and paid to have a house rebuilt in its place.

Checking his schedule, he saw that his buddies from Iron Fist, a really popular heavy metal band, had called and wanted to schedule some time to get some work done. It will be good to see the guys again. Whenever they came in for his crew to ink them up, it certainly made for some interesting times. Luckily, most of the time things were pretty tame, but during their last visit there was a bit of a riot with a group of women outside wanting to get in to have their pictures taken with the guys. The band members were a rowdy group, but always had some great ideas for ink.

He shot an email to Bodhi Laurence, the drummer, to let him know when they’d like to come so it’d give him time to close the shop to the public. A quick response came back saying they’d appreciate it. Nothing else. Weird, normally he’d get some ribbing or smart-ass kind of comment. He’d have to give Bodhi a call and find out what’s going on with him. In the meantime, he would have to clear some time in the next month or so, he guessed. He knew the guys were up in the Seattle area, having just come off tour. Knowing them, though, it would be some kind of working vacation.

The thought of his good friends coming back into town brought back a shit ton of memories—like the wild parties they used to throw. Those kinds of parties were a thing of the past, though. Mateo had his shop to focus on and the guys did their best to get their name out in the music world. For Iron Fist, Mateo was proud to have had a small part of their success by connecting them to a friend who knew someone who knew their producer. The tip paid off and his friends were now loved worldwide. It had been a while since the guys had come home, so Mateo was stoked to see them soon. Grown or not, the possibility of having a party like they used to certainly excited him. Through all the good times they’d had, the guys were not only friends, but clients as well. In fact, his was the only shop who they trusted to tattoo them.

Tattooing hadn’t really been in Mateo’s line of sight when he was younger. However, he did have a knack for duplicating anything he could get his hands on with just a simple pencil and paper. Just to brag, he’d hand draw anything anyone would dare him to. But the best part was when an idea, his or someone else’s, would literally pour out of him. Almost like it was coming to life.

He thought he had a future in maybe graphics, but the computer aspect bored him. Then his parents offered to send him to art school, but Mateo couldn’t see himself going main stream like that. What got him thinking of tattooing was losing a couple of friends from gang violence right before he graduated from school. He’d been smart enough to stay out of the gangs his friends had gotten into. Hell, he was too scared of what his father and abuelita, grandmother, would do to him if he joined one. Two friends were shot down and it affected him so much that he allowed a friend to talk him into a tattoo to remind him that gangs aren’t worth losing a life over.

When he walked into the shop, a new world opened up to him. The atmosphere was perfect for him, with the music, the people and all the amazing artwork. As he watched his friend get his tattoo first, then with the sight of others coming out with completed tattoos, the colors and designs called to him. He asked for a piece of paper from one of the guys working at the shop and a pencil. On the spot, he drew something that came to his mind and set it on the table. He had forgotten all about it when his name was called to get his own work done. When his tattoo was completed, he went looking for the paper and it was gone. Kind of pissed off, he turned to leave when the owner of the shop stopped him.

That drawing you did? Man, it was sick. I wanted to check with you and see what you wanted for payment? I’d like one of my guys to set me up with that on my calf tomorrow. You got some talent going on there.

From that moment he knew. That was what he wanted to do. Take a vision or an idea and make it come to life on someone's skin. He ended up working for that shop as their premier artist for quite a while after his apprenticeship. When he turned twenty-four, he bought into the shop as a partner, worked his ass off and soon after bought it out completely. Since he loved the name, the original owner was pleased when he kept it. Now at thirty-five, the business thrived and he still loved it. Couldn’t picture himself doing anything else. And his very first customers as the new owner? You got it the guys of Iron Fist.

Nayla Vitale was with her last student, making sure the little girl had all her papers to bring home to show her parents her progress. She truly loved her job at Imperial Elementary. This was her fourth year as a teacher and every year she said the same thing. This was her favorite class. She loved kids so much and wanted some of her own someday, but she hadn't found the right man yet. She didn't just want kids, she wanted a family.

She had always wanted to work with kids. With an older brother and younger sister, she was overlooked a lot, except when it came to babysitting in the neighborhood they lived in. Since Tommy was too busy and Tamara was too young, Nayla was the likely choice. And she was so responsible. Since she didn’t date and was always studying, as opposed to the other girls who only wanted to go out and party, she never lacked for jobs with kids. It also made it a no brainer for her to become a teacher.

Leaving the school, she headed home, music playing loudly on the radio. Her classic Lincoln Continental, eating up the miles on the way to her house. She loved this car as it had been her uncle’s before he left for Vietnam. She remembered all the stories her dad used to tell her about him. Sadly, she never got to meet him because he never returned, having been killed like so many other young men during the Vietnam War. Her dad had kept the car for sentimental reasons and when Nayla turned twenty-one, gifted it to her. Since it had been stored in a garage for the entire time, only minor work was needed. It looked like it came off the showroom floor.

The intro to one of her favorite songs started and she squealed. Her favorite heavy metal band, Iron Fist, blared out of the speakers. Thumping the steering wheel, she growled the lyrics along with the band. She got a lot of strange looks from people when she drove around. She looked like a schoolteacher, acted like a schoolteacher and even dressed like a schoolteacher. It must be a shock when they hear the lyrics and riffs coming from her stereo system. But there was just something in their music that called to her. She’d do anything to meet them. She’d read every article about them and kept up on their tour dates, having only been lucky enough to see them live once. The only piece of information that kept rattling around in her head was a rumor. When they got tattooed, they used a shop there in San Diego.

On her way home, she drove past the exact shop that Iron Fist supposedly used. Wicked Ink. Oh yes, she would be making sure she kept an eye out on her rides. On impulse she turned around and headed back toward the shop. Maybe a quick peek inside couldn’t hurt. As she approached the door, two very attractive guys stood outside speaking low. They looked at her with what she thought was a mixture of curiosity and interest. One even opened the door and held it so she could walk through. She smiled hesitantly, feeling their eyes on her as she passed through the doorway.

Walking inside, she looked around and her eyes widened. Some rough looking men were in one corner talking low. On the other side of the room, a girl with colorful dreads was sitting with a young guy holding some kind of penis model. She could have sworn she heard something about choosing his penis piercing. As she came further into the room, she noticed what she assumed were piercings on the fake penis. Unable to control the gasp that slipped by her, the woman looked up at Nayla and smiled apologetically.

Hey, sugar, need any help?

Leaving her customer to peruse the fake penis, the woman got up and headed her way. Nayla turned her head and saw a young Hispanic man behind the counter on the phone. Her face flushed as they just stared at her. When the woman drew closer, Nayla could see the piercings above and below her lips and was trying not to stare at the large holes in the woman’s ears—they looked like they were about the size of a dime, possibly larger.

Uh, no, I’m okay.

There were tons of tattoo drawings hanging on the walls and some photographs too. Trying to act like she was just looking around, she headed for the framed photos. The ones that made her hold back a gasp were of Iron Fist posing with a very handsome Hispanic man. They she recognized of course. The other man she did not, but her power of deduction told her that quite possibly, he was the owner of the shop. The more she looked around, the more she noticed how no one had said a word since her entry. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, she wanted to bolt.

Turning to leave, she bumped into a hard body. She would have stumbled and fallen backwards, but strong hands caught her. Oh my god, he sure is tall. Well she really wasn’t taller than many, and she guessed she shouldn’t count the kids in the school since they were still growing. And it wasn’t just his height that she noticed immediately. When she lost her balance she had latched onto very muscled arms. Literally, her nails were dug into the tanned arms dusted with hair.

Staring down at her were the darkest, most intoxicating eyes she’d ever seen. She stood there, not able to say a word. Seriously, not one single intelligent thought came to her mind. The only thing in her head appealed to her inner kitten. His hard body pressed against hers made her want to purr and press closer. It was the man in the photo with Iron Fist. He must have slipped in after she did.

"Whoa there. You okay, chica?" That voice. Holy cow. So deep and it smoothed over her like whiskey over ice.

Dude, what did you do to her? Is she hurt?

What if she’s deaf?

Shut the hell up. All of you, the man with the gorgeous eyes barked at them.

Several voices all started talking at once and she closed her eyes just for a moment. She was about to open them again when she was shook gently. All she wanted was to have the man holding her talk to her some more. She wanted to shout, Get the man a dictionary, so he had something long to read her. Since her gaze was now directed at where his t-shirt met his neck, the finger raising her chin should have startled her. But it didn't.

"Chica…hey, up here, gorgeous."

Slowly, she lifted her eyes and looked into his again. Nayla had to really steel herself not to drift again. Damn it, woman, get a grip. He’s just a man. And he called you gorgeous. The slight smile on his face had her almost gasp.

"Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I was, uh, just possibly interested in a tattoo and I pass by here every day so thought I’d check you out. I mean, your shop out."

The chuckles from all of the men had her flushing again, she could feel it. Setting her best teacher look of disappointment on her face, or hoped she did, she glanced at each man one by one. The other men clammed up quickly enough, but the man holding her merely gave her a bigger smile. She reluctantly pushed his hands off her and stepped back. Hands on her hips, she stood there fighting her body’s urge to just succumb to his voice, his smirky smile.

"You are wanting some ink?" His eyebrows rose.

Y-yeah.

"Well, chica. You just let me know what you want and where. I can certainly take real good care of you." Did he really mean it like that or are my ears just wishful hearing?

"Well, uh, not right now. I just wanted to see if you could show me some of your work. Maybe you have a portfolio?"

I sure do. Hold on. He turned to the other men in the room. Tator, Junior, come here let the lady see your legs. Pushy, you too.

She was curious about the names, but didn’t want to say anything for fear of what she would hear. She just got the feeling that she would probably be mortified at how they acquired them. He'd tugged her to the couch along one wall and had her sit. One by one, Tator, Junior and Pushy did as instructed. She didn’t know who was who, but it didn’t really matter. The colorful work on each man’s leg was done so beautifully that if transferred to canvas it could compete with traditional artwork.

Yes, those are, uh, very nice, but not what I’d be looking for. Why couldn’t she stop her stuttering?

"Well, chica, I wouldn’t expect you to be looking for those. Can you give me some kind of idea what you would be looking for?" Damn, he had her blushing again with his suggestive tone.

As he spoke, her mind started playing tricks on her. She mentally visualized a Mae West-esque kind of woman sidle up to her. She could almost picture the smirk from Mae as she spoke.

Girl, that man is eyein’ you up. Do not ignore that knocking. Opportunity will think you’re slapping her in the face and if you’re not careful, she’ll bitch slap you and never come ‘round again.

As much as she would love to have the self-confidence to do so, she just couldn’t. Here she was dressed in a plain dress and flats, her hair up in a ponytail. What could he possibly see in that? Well, it was kind of a moot point since she was only here because of Iron Fist. Rising to her feet rather quickly, she started backing toward the door.

I, uh, will think about it. Thanks so much for showing me your tattoos, guys.

She almost tripped leaving the shop and just about speed walked it to her car. Behind the wheel, she turned over the engine, the purring soothing her, but yet mocking her. Almost as if it challenged her to go back. Pointedly, she ignored the imaginary challenge and headed home.

Without thinking Mateo rushed to the door to follow her. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go after her or what he would say and do if he caught up with her. But by the time Mateo got outside she was gone. Damn it, that was a woman I would’ve liked to get to know better. Turning, he saw everyone looking at him with smirks on their faces. A bit irritated, he crossed the floor to his office.

Don’t you knuckleheads have anything to do?

He had to admit the woman intrigued him. He’d not been able to see much of her figure, but got the feeling she was a bit on the curvy side, which really interested him. He liked a fuller figure on a woman. It was just a personal preference. But it was her long blonde hair that got him. The lightest shade of pink he’d ever seen. Strawberry blond is what he thought it was called. Shit, he didn’t care what it was called, all he knew was it tempted him to wrap a fist around it and pull her to him.

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Mateo went thru the rest of his week with that little chica on his mind. Though she wasn’t little per se, when he'd held her even briefly, she had felt it. He took pride in keeping his body in the best shape he could. Even as a kid he’d been conscious of being