Heathens Ink Box Set Read online

  Heathens Ink

  By K.M.Neuhold

  Author’s Foreword

  If you’re brand new to Heathens Ink, I want to thank you for taking this chance on my beautifully scarred men. And if you’ve been a long-time reader who’s here for the bonus content, a huge thank you to you too, because without your love and support, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

  As most of you know, I started my writing career in MF romance and as much as I enjoyed certain aspects of it, I found myself feeling unable to write stories the way I wanted to. I found myself feeling creatively unfulfilled and uninspired as a majority of strictly MF readers begged for asshole alpha males over and over while all I wanted to write were sweet, broken men in need of a saving of their own.

  Then, I found MM romance and I knew right away I’d found what I was missing all along in MF romance. But, it wasn’t going to be as easy as simply switching over to writing MM romance. I was one semester away from graduating from college with a mountain of student debt and the realization that my degree wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I had already been living paycheck to paycheck and with student loan payments on top of that, I didn’t see any possible way I’d be able to keep paying for editors, cover design, etc. So, I set about writing what I thought would likely be the last book I’d get the chance to publish, at least for the foreseeable future.

  I sat down at the keyboard and I bled my heart and soul into Rescue Me, figuring if this was the last Happily Ever After I’d ever get to write, I’d better make it a memorable one. I spent my last bit of royalties I’d squirreled away from my MF books on an editor and two stock photos, planning to make my own cover because I didn’t even have enough to pay a designer, and then I set Madden and Thane loose into the world.

  Then, something happened I didn’t expect….

  You loved them, you were buying them, and you were asking for more. In a matter of weeks I went from assuming my writing career was over, to excitedly planning the rest of the Heathens Ink series.

  About a year and a half later, I was able to quit the day job I took right after college and focus on bringing you more Happily Ever Afters as my full-time job. Every word I write now is because you were willing to take a chance on a book by a MF author with a sub-par cover. My words are for you every single day, and that’s the only way I know how to thank you for making all of my dreams come true.

  As you read through this book, you’ll notice Unraveled is missing. In order to make things a little tidier, I separated things into two series— Heathens Ink which focuses only on the artists who work at the shop and Inked which is going to focus on all those fantastic side characters and friends of the men who work at Heathens Ink. Unraveled is still available separately and will later be included in an Inked box set with bonus content for each of those stories as well. You’ll also find Kyle, Cas, Beau, Finn, Ace, Jake (Clay’s ex), Alex, and who knows who else getting their own books in the Inked series, so stay tuned for all of those!

  Please enjoy the bonus content I’ve put together for all your favorite Heathens Ink men.

  Love,

  K.M.Neuhold

  Rescue Me

  A Heathens Ink Novel

  By K.M.Neuhold

  SynopsiS

  I’ll save you as many times as I have to, even if it means saving you from yourself

  My heart pounds erratically as the crowd swells around us, panic thick in the air. This can’t be how I die, not here, not tonight. Through the throng of bodies, I can see him...Thane. Of all the ways I thought tonight would end, this wasn’t even on my list. Pain lances through me and I can tell by the look in his eyes that whatever just happened, it’s bad. My hand reaches for my leg and I find it sticky and wet with my own blood.

  Whatever happens, I know Thane will save me.

  Screams, and blood, and tragedy haunt my dreams. I'm alive and I owe it all to the gorgeous former marine who refused to leave me for dead. But how can I start a new relationship when I'm not even sure who I am anymore?

  Copyright

  Rescue Me© 2017 by K.M.Neuhold

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book and Cover design by Inked Design

  Cover Image by

  Chapter 1

  Thane

  The thumping bass echoes in my chest as I scan the dance floor, drink in hand. I can’t think of a better way to unwind after a long week than finding a gorgeous man to warm my bed. It’s been...damn I can’t even remember how long it’s been since I last had the company of anyone other than my right hand. And, the guys here tonight are all kinds of mouthwatering. It’s like a buffet of sexy. How about a little beefcake with a side of twink? Don’t mind if I do.

  I turn my gaze to the bar and my attention snags on a man. I’d like to say he’s just like any other man, but something about him immediately draws me in. He leans over the bar and says something to the bartender that causes him to throw his head back and laugh. My eyes travel over my man’s — and he will be my man — tight, round ass and lithe frame. I mentally catalogue the tattoos on both his arms and wonder if he has any more hidden under his clothes.

  The bartender slides a drink across the bar and then pulls a pen out of his back pocket and jots something—no doubt his phone number—down on a napkin before pushing that across the bar top as well. Oh, hell no, this one’s mine.

  I gulp down what’s left of the beer in my glass and make my way up to the bar, sidling up beside the man who will be screaming my name later tonight.

  “Let me get that for you,” I offer, handing the bartender a ten-dollar bill before the other man can. My man turns his head and looks me up and down. My breath catches as I take in his emerald eyes and dimpled smile. There is no way I’m leaving the club tonight without him.

  “Thanks. Madden,” he offers his name and an extended hand.

  “Thane,” I provide mine in return and take his hand, noticing the firm warmth of his grip. I linger on the handshake for a few extra seconds, openly allowing my eyes to roam over his body. Madden does the same to me, and I’m happy to let him look. He seems to be pleased with what he sees because after a few beats he tilts his head toward some booths off to the side of the bar. I’m happy to follow.

  “So, Thane,” he says my name like it’s rich chocolate on his tongue, “what do you do for a living?”

  I grin, preparing myself for the response I know I’m about to receive. Telling a man what I do never fails to hit swoon factor ten.

  “I’m a fireman.”

  “Be still my beating heart,” he jokes, fanning himself dramatically.

  “So, your place or mine?”

  “Pump the breaks, stud. I’m not that easy. If you play your cards right we can talk location later.” Madden winks at me and sips his drink. His gentle rebuff only gets me hotter for him. It’s nice to have a guy who doesn’t take much convincing, but it’s so much more fun when they make you work for it.

  “Fair enough. What do you do, Madden?”

  “Tattoo artist,” he says. “You’ve got some decent ink.” He reaches out and traces the tribal tat on my left bicep with his index finger.

  “Thanks. I’m in the market for more. Where do you work?”

  “Heathens Ink. It’s not far from here.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his business card, and hands it to me. Then he notices the Semper Fi tattoo on my right bicep and grins. “Wow, a fireman and a marine. Boys must bend right over to grab their ankles at the snap of your fingers.”

  “I don't hear the word ‘no’ a lot,” I confirm with a laugh.

  “Now I almost feel like I shouldn't let you take me home, just so there's a little balance in the universe.”

  “Oh, come on now, that would be cruel.”

  “You're right, that'd be a punishment to both of us. I should warn you, if you're looking for a guy to bend-over I'm not him. I'd be happy to flip you for it though.” His voice ends on a low, seductive note that has every nerve ending in my body on fire. Where has this man been my whole life?

  “Now you're talking my language.” The thought of taking turns topping has my insides turning to lava. I don’t mind bottoming, but usually I prefer to top. Madden’s hard body pressed close to me in the booth, his green eyes boring into mine. I think I could be persuaded to do just about anything for him and beg for more.

  “Alright, we’re playing a game,” Madden announces decisively, waving down the waitress a few feet from our table and orders another drink. “Never have I ever. You start.”

  “Never have I ever kissed a man.”

  Madden rolls his eyes at the softball of a first round and we both take a drink.

  “Never have I ever punched a shark,” Madden declares.

  I snort a laugh as Madden takes another drink.

  “You have not punched a shark,” I argue.

  “It was an inflatable pool toy, but I’m pretty sure that still counts.”

  “Never have I ever had a five-person orgy in a public bathroom,” I challenge.

  When Madden drinks again I slam my drink down in mock outrage.

  “C
ome on, I know that one’s not true.”

  “Prove it,” he challenges with a wink. “Never have I ever, kissed a fireman.”

  This time he doesn’t drink, and the invitation is clear in his green eyes.

  Without conscious thought or decision, I find myself leaning in, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Madden meets me halfway, undeniably as eager as I am to explore the attraction between us.

  His warm, soft lips mold to mine, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine. I groan in desperation, grabbing the back of his head, deepening the kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and apples and man. He whimpers into my mouth, tangling his tongue with mine.

  I pull back a fraction of an inch, Madden’s ragged breath bathing my face and short-circuiting my senses.

  “God you taste good,” I murmur, nipping at his full bottom lip then soothing it with a lick.

  “I could say something so dirty right now, but it would be too easy.”

  I bite back a moan at the mental image he’s put in my mind.

  “Come home with me.”

  Madden nods ‘yes’ and I do a mental fist pump. I pull him back for one more taste, unable to get enough of his intoxicating flavor.

  The heart stopping sound of a terrified scream pierces the din of the club. My heart stutters for a second before my training kicks in. Where other’s minds fog in panic, mine has been trained to become sharper. Madden’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as I stand and attempt to assess where the scream came from. And then a loud pop rings out. The sound of a gunshot.

  Like a stereo suddenly cranked up to its highest volume, everyone in the club explodes into chaos. Screams echo over the pounding bass of whatever techno song is still blaring through the speakers. More shots ring out, but it’s impossible to tell from what direction. I reach for Madden’s hand to get him to safety. Once I know he’s out of danger I can come back and help whoever else needs it. But the man beside me is my first priority.

  People are shoving and panicking, like rats in a trash compactor, frantic to escape with their lives. My hand on Madden’s wrist, I pull him in the direction of the exit as the crowd rages around us like the ocean in a storm. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve heard the gun go off, but I’m positive the sound is getting closer to us. Someone shoves hard into Madden, and my grasp on his arm is wretched away.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, turning to seek out Madden in the mob. I spot him, but it’s impossible for me to get to him, the entire crowd pushing forward, and Madden ten feet back from me.

  And then another shot penetrates the sound of hysteria, and to my horror Madden goes down. Two more shots in quick succession and my heart is in my throat as I forgo ceremony and start shoving people out of my way to get to him.

  My eyes land on Madden who’s in a bloody heap on the floor, being trampled with no regard. I throw myself over him to protect him from the stampede.

  “Madden, talk to me.” I try to assess his injuries, but in the dark of the club— with nothing but strobing lights—it’s impossible to tell where he’s bleeding from. As afraid as I am to move him, I’m more afraid to leave him where he is. So, I ease him over my shoulder, eliciting a pained gasp from him. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

  Pushing my way through the crowd is even more difficult now that I have an injured man over my back. I’ve never been more grateful for my marine training.

  When the cool night air hits my face I breathe a momentary sigh of relief. At least now I can check Madden’s injuries without being trampled.

  The faint sound of sirens in the distance puts me even more at ease. Help is on the way.

  I guide Madden gently to the ground. His breathing is irregular and he’s starting to shiver. Fuck, he’s going into shock. I notice that his left pant leg is soaked through with blood and his foot is twisted at an odd angle. Please don’t let a bullet have grazed his femoral artery.

  “Stay with me, sweetheart. Help’s almost here.” I put pressure on his leg in attempt to suppress the bleeding until paramedics can arrive.

  People all around us are frantically looking for their friends, terrified of who might have ended up on the wrong end of the gunman.

  As fire engines and ambulances barrel into the parking lot some people start to cry out in relief.

  “Thane, is that you?” The voice of Hayden, one of my closest friends at work, comes from a few feet away. I look up and try to let him know with my gaze that he needs to get help over here immediately. This wasn’t exactly the way I had planned on letting everyone at work know I’m gay, but at this particular moment that’s the least of my worries. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m not, but Madden needs immediate attention. I think his femoral artery may have been severed. He’s gone into shock.”

  Hayden nods, a grave expression on his face as he flags down a paramedic and they rush over with a gurney.

  “His name is Madden,” I tell them as they strap an oxygen mask over his face and carefully load him onto the gurney. “Can I ride with him?”

  The paramedic looks at me skeptically. I know it’s against the rules unless you’re family, but I can’t leave Madden’s side until I’m sure he’s okay. Even then I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk away.

  “He’s one of us,” Hayden tells the paramedic in an authoritative tone. The paramedic nods and allows me to follow as they load him into the ambulance.

  I reach for Madden’s hand as soon as we’re in and stay as out of the way as possible as the EMT appraises his injuries and begins his attempt to stabilize him.

  “Patient has what appears to be three gunshot wounds, one to the left femoral, possibly severing the artery, one to the abdomen with excessive bleeding as well. And the third to the right forearm. He’s going to need a transfusion,” the EMT radio’s in.

  “I’m O negative, universal donor, I’ll give blood,” I volunteer without hesitation.

  He eyes me warily.

  “Sorry man, it’s against the law for homosexuals to donate blood.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” How did I not know that? “Do you know how many people may need blood transfusions coming from the club? What if there isn’t enough?”

  The EMT shrugs and gives me a sympathetic look.

  “Rules are rules. We’re going to do everything we can for your boyfriend.”

  I nod, not correcting the ‘boyfriend’ part. Even if I am a fireman, it’s unlikely they’ll let me stay with Madden if they find out I’ve known him an hour.

  I’m not a religious man, but I send a prayer out to the universe anyway. Hoping like hell there’s someone or something out there with the power to keep Madden alive.

  The hospital is a mad house. Doctors and nurses are scrambling to tend to all the shooting victims being brought in. The second we were through the doors I was told to stay in the waiting room as Madden was rushed through a set of doors marked ‘no admittance beyond this point’.

  I pace the waiting area like a caged lion, muscles coiled ready to pounce on the first medical professional I spot to demand answers. It’s been four fucking hours. Madden has to be okay, right? How would I even know? I’m no one. They won’t tell me if he’s resting peacefully, in critical condition, or...I can’t even bare to think the other possibility.

  A young, male nurse appears at the triage desk and I’m on him like white on rice.

  “I need to know the status of a patient,” I demand. He looks rather affronted at my brisk tone and then purses his lips.

  “What’s your relation to the patient?”

  “He’s my...husband,” I blurt out the lie and then realize I’m going to be totally fucked if he asks any follow up questions, like Madden’s last name.

  The nurse eyes me up, clearly suspicious.

  “Name of patient?” he asks after several tense seconds.

  “Madden. He was brought in from the night club shooting.”

  “Last name?” He asks.

  Fuck.

  “Okay, here’s the thing…”

  “I want to help you, but rules are rules,” The nurse says, giving me a sympathetic look. I swear to god, if one more person says ‘rules are rules’...