Inked

by Drew Elyse

There was a heavy weight in the room, all of us itching to find this guy, but only the faintest leads to do it with. The sad truth was, our best chance was if he tried to get close again, and our preparations were enough to catch him in the act without letting him getting too close to Jess.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jess

  I had my phone in my hand, turning it over and over in what I knew was a nervous tic.

  How did I know? Because I was nervous as fuck. It really didn’t require much self-awareness to establish that one.

  Today, I was going to be alone for the first time.

  It’d been six days since the attack. For the first three, Park didn’t leave my side. We’d watched movies, set up the second bedroom for me when Sketch brought over a bed, and avoided talking about the huge, looming elephant in the room. The last two, I’d had babysitters. Jean and Carson had come by, then Ember spent the day with me while her man, Jager, installed a crazy security system that no one would listen when I said was way too much. They also would not even give an evasive answer about who was paying for it. That question was ignored point blank, just as the ones about the bed Sketch delivered were.

  Despite my anxiety about it, staying by myself had actually been my idea. With the security system in place—which included a panic button of all the ridiculous things—I felt it was time that I deal with my shit and face being by myself again. My injuries were healing, not fast enough for my taste, but enough that I didn’t need help getting around anymore. What weren’t healing were the marks that he left beneath the surface, and they wouldn’t if I let everyone keep mollycoddling me. I’d always valued my alone time, thrived on it even at times. I wouldn’t let that be taken from me.

  Sure, for this first afternoon, and probably the next several times, I would be a mess. But eventually, it would get easier.

  It had to.

  “You’re sure about this?” Parker asked.

  I turned from the spot I’d taken up in the kitchen, mindlessly watching a pot of coffee brew, to see him ready to head out. Coffee had always been my friend, but with the nightmares meant I was functioning with almost no sleep. Despite that, I was determined to stay awake during the days and force myself to sleep at night like a normal person. To accomplish that, I was dependent on the stuff.

  I wasn’t sure about this. Not at all. What if I freaked out? Or worse, what if something actually did happen? He was still out there, and no one knew who he even was.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I said anyway. “If it’s too much, I’ll call someone.” That, at least, was true.

  He nodded, not looking reassured. His eyes moved out the window, then he got closer to it.

  “He’s out there again.”

  My stomach tightened, but not with panic. “He” meant Braden. While I knew the Disciples were doing patrols every so often, it seemed he had taken to camping out in his car when he wasn’t working to keep an eye on things. Park, in turn, had taken to letting me know that. He hadn’t said anything more, but I knew he was still convinced that I should talk to Braden, to get some answers if nothing else.

  I didn’t know what to make of Braden being there, just like I hadn’t known what to do with it the four other times Park mentioned it. Right then, I loathed to admit, it was comforting to know that I had more than just random patrols and the security system. If something did happen, I had a cop right downstairs.

  Even if I wasn’t sure I wanted him there.

  “He can stay out there,” I replied, sounding for all the world like I couldn’t care less.

  Park didn’t have to say a thing for me to sense his disbelief.

  Jerk.

  Half an hour later, I was alone. And fine. Totally fine.

  Except that I was shaking. Not a little. My whole body shook with the force of it.

  For what was probably the first time in my life, the coffee I’d poured myself was sitting, untouched on the table. It was probably for the best. Caffeine might not be good for the shaking.

  I really needed to think about something else, but the only other thing my mind seemed capable of conjuring up was the one thing I absolutely did not need to be thinking about right now. Hence the shaking in the first place.

  The TV was on. I could hear the noise of it, though I had no idea what was on. It didn’t matter. It was only on to dull out the tiny, natural noises in an apartment building—footsteps from above, other doors opening and closing—that sent me into a panic every few seconds. Since Park had left twenty-five minutes before, I’d checked the locks—not just on the door, but every window as well—and the security system five times. I was already itching to go for six, even as I repeated again and again that nothing would have changed.

  My phone, gripped tight between my hands like it was my sanity that I could hold by sheer force of will, buzzed and made me jump. Taking a breath, I checked it to see a text from Park, checking in as soon as he’d gotten to the shop.

  Had my worry been that obvious? I thought I’d managed to mask it pretty well. Though maybe that just spoke to how freaked out I really was. Even trying hard to cover the signs, I couldn’t conceal it all.

  I replied, letting him know that I was just fine, and dropped my phone onto the coffee table by rote. However, as soon as I wasn’t holding it, I could no longer ignore the violent trembling in my hands.

  It’d been a long time since I had an anxiety attack. When I was younger, they were pretty common. Usually once a week I’d be in the midst of an episode just like this. Miraculously, they’d all but disappeared when I moved away and cut ties with my mother. Funny how that works. I still remembered how it felt well enough to know I was right back there, though.

  For a long time, I didn’t know what was happening when I’d end up like this, huddled anywhere I could be alone, shaking, unable to focus or talk or do anything but feel like everything was crushing down on me. It wasn’t the sort of panic attack people usually talk about with being unable to breathe or anything, it was more like going completely catatonic with a fear I couldn’t rationalize or control.

  And there I was again.

  I hated him even more for that.

  Needing to steady my hands, I went for my phone again. Maybe I could even do something stupid on it to try and distract myself. Sometimes they worked—games like sudoku and shit that took enough thinking to engage, but not enough to be too difficult in my current state—though I wasn’t sure it ever had when I was this deep into an episode. I didn’t have high hopes.

  Then, I noticed the card still facedown on the table where I’d hurriedly replaced it days ago.

  Park said he was outside. Why? He wasn’t a part of my case as far as I knew. I’d gotten a call from Andrews to check in, and he’d given me his partner’s information. Braden hadn’t been mentioned.

  I knew what I was doing as I gingerly shifted forward—having finally learned after a few days how to baby my ribs—and snatched up the card. It was a distraction. My mind had latched onto something else, and I was running with it. I didn’t let myself even question the decision as I opened a new message and entered in the handwritten number from the bottom.

  Me: Why are you out there?

  It was maybe too direct, but I wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Hell, he’d come right up to the door and tried to see me my first day here. The two had to be about equal.

  For whatever reason—maybe because he was literally right downstairs in his car and what the hell else did he have to do—I anticipated an immediate reply. After waiting, in all honesty, no more than thirty seconds but felt like years, I started turning my phone over and over in my hands again. For whatever reason, that was my nervous tic for the day.

  When my phone finally did buzz, it startled me so much that I dropped it onto my lap before getting it together enough to grab it and read what he’d said.

  Braden: I want to be sure you’re safe.

  Well, if that wasn’t a cop out, I didn’t know what was.

  I contemplat
ed shutting this down. There’d been enough games already and I was far from the sort of place to play anymore. The mature thing would have been to say thank you, to express my appreciation that after what had happened to me, he was probably out there using the time that he wasn’t on shift to watch out for me. Then, I could just let the conversation die and move on.

  And yet, I found myself typing out another text and hitting send before I could stop myself.

  Me: Why?

  His next reply came faster, though with a long enough pause that I figured he was choosing his response with far more care than I did.

  Braden: You really have to ask that?

  Oh, so that was how he wanted to do this?

  Fine.

  Let it never be said that I was the type to back down.

  Me: Not usually what you do for a one-night stand.

  Passive aggressive wasn’t the most used tool in my toolbox. Outward aggression usually got pulled out first. That didn’t mean it wasn’t one I was unwilling to resort to.

  The next reply came much faster.

  Braden: We both know it was more than that.

  Me: Funny, I don’t know that.

  Braden: Jack told you why I disappeared.

  Me: He didn’t tell me why you came back and didn’t seek me out until this shit happened.

  I didn’t get a response.

  Nothing.

  Not right away, not after a minute passed, then two.

  I was just settling into the knowledge that I’d hit the nail on the head and he had no choice but to retreat or own up to it when there was knocking on the door, making me jump.

  Without delay, it was followed by Braden’s voice, “Jess, open the door.”

  I had to admit I hadn’t seen that coming. He hadn’t been back up to try to talk to me since that first day. I’d honestly thought that if he still wanted to, he’d have tried again. Texting had felt safe because it was more remote.

  Petty as it was, I didn’t go open the door and face him. I didn’t invite him in to talk. I didn’t even take the coward’s way out and try to pretend I wasn’t there—not that it would work.

  I looked down to my phone again and sent another message. One that even I knew as I sent it was like taunting a predator. And yet, I wasn’t afraid. Not of him. He might have the power to wound my pride, but he wasn’t going to hurt me.

  So I went for it, caution be damned.

  Me: What if I don’t want to?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Braden

  I could actually feel my blood pressure rise reading her text.

  It’d been the same when she’d said we’d had a one-night stand. Maybe, technically, it was true. We’d had one night of sex, but that was never all it was supposed to be. She knew that. I’d told her that. And Jack had explained why I’d had to take off, the basics at least.

  I’d anticipated her possibly being pissed at me. I was prepared to have to earn it. Hell, I hadn’t even been surprised when she didn’t let me in the first time and took her time using my number.

  She could throw whatever she wanted at me except that, anything but saying it hadn’t meant shit.

  Now, she was playing games with me. Maybe she was even right to do that. Texting didn’t mean she was ready for me to come barreling into her space, but after all the time that I’d had to let pass not being able to act, I couldn’t sit down in my car any longer. If she left me out in the hall, so be it. If she said she wasn’t ready to let me in, I’d respect that.

  Playing games was something else.

  The little minx was pushing my buttons and getting my cock hard all at once.

  “Just open the door,” I responded, refusing to go back to texting her. “You can keep me in the fucking hall, I don’t care. Just open it so I can see you.”

  She hesitated at that, I could tell from how long it took before the next alert on my phone. It’d been longer than she needed to type her reply.

  Jess: What if I don’t want to see you?

  I let the irritation of that bury the sting that accompanied it down deep.

  “Fine, then I’ll talk through the door.” It didn’t fucking matter that I was in a hallway raising my voice to be sure she heard me. Let someone come out and complain. What were they going to do? Call the cops on me? The worst that could happen is one of the guys got to come out and bear witness to the mess I’d made for myself.

  I waited for a minute, giving her the chance to decide to open up and let me see her, or to shoot off another message—probably telling me to fuck off. When I got nothing, I pushed on.

  “I’m sorry,” I started. That was really the long and short of all of it, after all. “I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you who I really was and spent all that time keeping a distance because of it. I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself anymore. That day, I was told it was going to go on longer, possibly months, and I couldn’t stand the idea of you giving up on me and moving on, so I broke. I did what I’d been telling myself for months that I wanted and went after you with all that between us, and I’m sorry for that, too. I’m sorry that an asshole that was in control of that whole situation decided he wanted to make a move after all, and I had no choice but to disappear the next day.” I hated talking about all of this in code, both the parts she would understand and the parts I wasn’t able to tell her, and through a goddamn door no less. “I’m sorry that I was gone long enough for you to question that I wanted to come right back to you as soon as I could. And I’m so fucking sorry that I wasn’t there to keep you safe.”

  I stopped, choking on the frustration and helplessness I’d been feeling for days. The guilt had started to eat at me, wondering if I should have gone right to her rather than waiting for the next day. If I’d gone after her as soon as I finished my meeting with the captain ending my undercover work, I might have been with her still that evening. That fucker may not have gotten in her apartment in the first place. Or I could have been there too when she got there and would have been able to subdue him.

  “You can’t know how fucking sorry I am for all of it.”

  I dropped my head against the door, hating it for being in the way right now.

  Then, like a fucking miracle, it opened.

  My goddess was right there. It was the first time I’d seen her without all the fuss of her usual style. It was just her, no makeup, comfortable clothes, hair lying flat, and she was incredible. Even the bruising marring her pale skin couldn’t take away from that. I studied everything, every mark that motherfucker had left on her was cataloged in my brain. He would pay for them, every bruise, every cut, the brace on her wrist, and anything else I couldn’t see. I’d make sure he paid for them all.

  “Jess,” I started, but she lifted her good hand.

  “You’re really good with words.” Her tone was bland, but my gut tightened at the inherent accusation there. “You were good with them that night, too.”

  “I wanted to tell you everything,” I tried to explain.

  She shook her head. “I don’t care about your work. It sucked that it made things complicated, and, yeah, I was pissed when you just ghosted on me the next day. But when I found out why, I let that go. I don’t know much about it, but obviously what you were doing was important and dangerous. I get that.”

  She didn’t fault me for lying to her about who I was while undercover or disappearing. Fuck, it was more than I’d dared to actually hope for. I was about to speak, to thank her for being more understanding than I deserved, when she kept going.

  “And I don’t blame you for what happened to me. You didn’t do that. I can be a bitch sometimes, but I wouldn’t put that on you.”

  She was killing me.

  “Je—”

  “But all your apologies don’t change the fact that you didn’t want to come right back to me. I know it and you know it. Maybe that’s the only lie in all that, but it doesn’t make it excusable.”

  “What are you talking about?”
/>   She rolled her eyes. “One thing to know about me: I don’t do bullshit. I can excuse the bullshit you fed me when you had no choice, but not what you’re still shoveling now.”

  I had the contrasting sensations of wanting to grovel and getting seriously pissed that she thought I was lying about this. “I went crazy for two fucking months because I couldn’t contact you for my safety and yours. I was stuck in a cabin with nothing to do but sit around and think about how sweet it had been to have you, to worry about what you had to be thinking. All I wanted was the all clear to hightail it back here and get back to you.”

  “Bull. Shit.”

  Fuck me, but my goddess was damn close to making my head or my dick explode. Probably both with how damn good she looked pissed off and making me teeter on the edge of sanity. She was like a force of nature when she was pissed, and it was amazing to watch. Even better knowing that whatever damage the fucker that hurt her did, it wasn’t enough to rob her of this. She was still the blazing fire I knew her to be, and that was a gift even if it was testing my patience.

  “It is not.”

  “It is, and I know it,” she snapped, her smaller body angling toward mine, getting in my face, making me want to kiss the shit out of her.

  “Yeah? How’s that?”

  “Because I saw you! That day…” She vaguely waved with her good hand to encompass her face and injured arm, leaving no question what day she meant. “I saw you outside the station. Already back in Hoffman and back to work, and you damn sure hadn’t been by to see me. So, I say again: bull. shit.”

  My stomach dropped, my anger fizzled out. Of course that would look bad, like I’d rolled back into town ready to get on with life without her involved in that. She couldn’t have known seeing me then that I’d just gotten in. For all she could tell, I could have been back for weeks just managing not to cross her path.

  Shit.