He grimaces and glances over at me.
“What?”
“Sean and I have plans.”
“With who?”
“This girl we’re seeing—”
“One fucking girl?”
“We treat her well.”
“You really get off on that shit?”
His jaw ticks, and I know we’ll never see eye to eye on this. He’s a different animal when it comes to women. For me, they’re an escape, a short-term refuge. For him, I’m not sure what they are. But I get the impression for the moment, they are toys, and that’s not the way I raised him to think.
“Do your thing, brother, but mark my words, you’ll probably regret it one day. What’s going on with Tyler?”
“Jarhead’s driving in tonight to hang. We’re lucky he’s stationed so close.”
“Yeah, we are, but I don’t need a babysitter while you go get pussy.”
He smirks. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m meeting Eddie at a bar downtown. We’re going to check on the price tag.”
“New clubhouse?”
“Something like that.”
He shakes his head. “All work, no play. You’re fucking boring. Maybe it’s time for you to find a Helen of your own.”
We exchange a long glance. “No Helen exists for me.”
He shrugs. “If you say so. So, what’s next?”
“We buy Boardwalk and Park Place and any other property Roman hasn’t already staked a claim on. It’s time to invest in some real estate.”
“We’re really doing this,” Dom spouts with uncontained enthusiasm, briefly letting his mask slip. Over the last few years, he’s adapted an air about him that’s both intimidating and secretive, albeit necessary for our purpose.
“We are doing this,” I agree, satisfaction swelling in my chest. “Just make sure you, Tyler, and Sean are free by midnight.”
“What are we doing at midnight?”
The buzz of the tattoo gun starts up again as Tyler fists off his shirt and takes a seat in the chair next to Sean. Dom walks over to where I sit, his arm slathered in light ointment, the dark inked feathers lined with smudges of blood through the clear wrapping. He, along with Sean and Tyler, requested extra heavy on the ink. A twitch of a smile graces his lips as he glances down at his arm with evident pride. “You can keep the silk ties, brother, this I can fucking work with.” He smirks, his eyes rolling over my new suit. “It’s a shame you can’t partake—”
“Tobias, you’re up, man,” Jimmy, the shop owner says, waving me over to the waiting table he’s just sanitized. Dom follows me as I shrug off my suit jacket and loosen my tie.
“Isn’t ink frowned upon at the country club?” Dom asks as I untuck my shirt and begin to unbutton it. Jimmy hangs the sketch in front of the two of us beneath a desk lamp, and I survey it carefully before nodding in approval and answering Dom.
“Only if they can see it. And I fucking hate golf.”
He carefully studies the raven, wings outstretched, his lit expression dimming noticeably as he scrutinizes the distinctly different tattoo. To any other Raven, it would be misconstrued as pecking order—an indication of my position in the hierarchy—but Dom’s too fucking smart, and he knows ego has nothing to do with it. I hoped I could get this part of it past him until we were all done getting marked.
Dreading the inevitable, I curse under my breath as Sean and Tyler sense the shift in the air and stop their chatter, turning their attention to the two of us as Dom starts to bristle with anger. “Don’t start,” I snap at Dom in warning as he begins to pace in front of me.