Inked Fighter: Complete Collection (MMA MC New Adult Romance) by E. E. Griffin Read Free Book Online

okay?”
    “Should be fine,” I said, regretting my words. What if Regan was home? I cringed, thinking of all the embarrassing things she could do.
    “Where do you live?” he asked, getting his cell phone out again. I told him, all the while not believing I would give my address to a total stranger. My mind alternated between thinking he was crazy to be interested in me and thinking he was serial-killer crazy. Then I thought maybe there was a third option in which he wasn’t crazy at all. I decided to stick with that one.
    “I’m home most days because I work out of my house. Just give me a call when you want to come over. I’ll keep my dog from eating you.”
    He chuckled again. “Sounds good. I’ll call you soon, Claire Parker.”

Chapter Six: Damien
    I should have left her alone. She didn’t need to get mixed up in my mess.
    Her curvaceous body made me want to bite my knuckles. When she took off that baggy sweatshirt she always wore, I swear it was instant boner. I had to force myself not to stare at her amazing breasts.
    It wasn’t just the plumpness of her flesh. Even with that dark humor, there was a gentleness in her that made me want to get closer. My life was in desperate need of gentleness. It made me feel slightly more human.
    I turned off the highway into the parking lot of the clubhouse and shut off my motor. Inside, the lights were off. No one was there. I shuffled downstairs and unlocked the door to my bedroom.
    I grabbed a sketchpad and sat on my bed. My hand buzzed across the page. Delicate curves of flower petals surrounded the fierce strength of a dragon, much like Claire. Every line reminded me of her. No matter how much I knew I should stay away, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to give her something. If all I could give her was a drawing, that would be enough. For now.
    I always had the ability to draw, almost freakishly well. I’d even won a scholarship to an art school. After Mom left, I started getting in trouble around the neighborhood. It hurt that she left me. I’d been really close to my mom. My dad was a bystander in our house. He stayed out late and slept until noon. Half the time he didn’t come home.
    My mom. I remembered her so well. When I was a kid, she took me to soccer games and cheered for me from the sidelines. She paid for my uniforms from her meager cleaning wages. I always knew I meant something to her.
    When she left, I felt like maybe I hadn’t meant anything to her. Maybe it was all a lie. Then I thought, maybe she was dead.  I was sixteen, but even then, I needed someone to care. Dad never seemed to care. He just wanted what he wanted. He drank, gambled, and was into all kinds of freaky shit.
    Being left with him influenced me. I started to steal and vandalize. The stupid thing was, I got caught doing graffiti art on an already painted-up wall. My painting was improving the quality of the neighborhood, I thought. It didn’t matter. I got arrested and lost my scholarship.
    It was then that my drawing ability really got me into trouble. When I lost my scholarship, my dad asked me to do some drawings for him. At first, it was simple stuff. He’d have me copy a signature. I knew what I was doing. I mean, everyone knows what forgery is, even teenagers. Then it got more complicated.
    He had me draw templates for foreign currencies. I was able to do it. I’m like some kind of savant that way. They were used in a big forgery ring. Millions of dollars were exchanged for the forged Mexican and Canadian bills. Of course, I didn’t see a dime of it. If anyone found out I’d made those templates, I’d go to prison for twenty-five years.
    I moved out of my dad’s house five years ago when I started tattooing and practicing martial arts. Tattooing gave me direction. Judo and kickboxing gave me discipline — discipline I severely needed. I learned self-control, meditation, and how to take care of my body.
    I tried to stay away from the youthful overconsumption of the