The Irish Tattooist

CHAPTER 1

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HALF THE STORY SAYS IT'S IN GLASGOW AND I KNOW THAT'S IN SCOTLAND, FOR FUCKS SAKE. I'm just too lazy to change it to Galway, like it was meant to be. So please, if you do see it- don't comment on it. I'll just delete your comment anyway.

Rutherglen was cold. After living in hot countries like Spain and Italy for a few years you learn to love the heat, revel in it even.

This temperature was just plain stupid. I pulled my leather gloves tighter on my hands, swinging my keys around on the other as I walked down the street. It was dimly lit, probably because it was 7pm and the town was winding down, but none of what I saw was what I was looking for.

22 years later, and I had finally decided it was time.

The cobblestones moved as I stepped on them, and I checked the piece of paper in my hand.

Hugh Redmond. Rutherglen, Galway.

Matt, my private investigator, had sent me the name and details to me a few days ago, apologizing because that was all he could find. I didn't mind, at least he had given me a name. A name to a face that I had wondered about all these years. And then, after a day and 12 hours on the plane, I was here in the cold, cold town of Rutherglen.

Would he know who I am? Would he want to know me? Shaking my head I sighed. There was no use in questioning myself now, I was here already. Turning down another street, I stopped and peered down the road.

A cluster of motorbikes were parked in front of a rowdy looking pub, laughter and jeering sounding all the way down to me.

Fuck. If anyone could help me, it would probably be the people in that pub. But, considering I was :

Foreign

A Newcomer

Foreign

They probably wouldn't talk to me. But, it never hurt to try. Unless I remember that one time where Bianca and I tried to bike off a diving board.

Straightening my back, I walked into the pub; aptly named 'Loud and Proud', and let my eyes run across the men who immediately stilled.

"You're at the wrong place lass" An older man yelled from the back, an extremely young girl on his lap. I raised an eyebrow, looking for someone who wasn't deciding if I was a piece of meat or not. People watched me for a second more before turning back to the women or beers, an older lady raising an eyebrow at me as I brushed by. "Go back to your play pen, little girl" She scowled. My brows furrowed and I shook my head. Judging by the tattoos of children's footprints on her neck, she was the one that needed to be home looking after her kids instead of letting her ass hang out from her shorts.

The answer to my woes was a hot piece of hell behind the bar, the kind of man that made you think of steamy nights and lust filled days. If I was here for any other reason, I would be riding that horse like I was a world champion jockey.

Clearing my throat- and my mind- I leaned over the bar and gestured for him to come over. Good lord, he was even better looking up close. Unruly, mahogany hair, bright eyes and a slow, seductive smile, I nearly drooled. But I'm a grown woman so I only objectified him.

"You new here girl?" He rumbled, drying a glass in his hands. Deciding to get straight to the point I showed him the paper. "Do you know this man?"

His features closed down, the sound of a gate closing heard in the distance. "Why do you want to know?" His brogue sharpened, those sultry notes hardening.