Under His Ink

by Maya Hughes

  “You’re coming to the exhibition tonight?”

  “Yes, Rachel invited me.”

  “She invited you, or you invited yourself along?”

  His jaw ticked, and I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. He was trying to take over her life. Had her up at all hours. Staying out and sometimes not coming home.

  “The jury is still out on you. Rachel seems happy. Relaxed, so you get a pass for now, but don’t think I’m not looking out for her. And this isn’t the usual protective-roommate bullshit. I will castrate you in your sleep if you fuck her over.” I advanced on him, ready to get to the bottom of what the hell was going on. His eyes got wide, and he stepped back up until his back bumped against the counter.

  The door flew open behind me, and Rachel came tumbling into the room. She always knew how to make an entrance. I kept my laugh inside, only to make sure Killian didn’t get any ideas about me being soft. Rachel’s arms were full of a huge box and a bouquet of flowers. Killian stepped around me.

  “Thanks,” Rachel said, panting. Sweat beaded her forehead as usual when she came up those stairs. Killian grabbed the box and planted a kiss on Rachel. She got that dreamy look in her eyes that told me I needed to back off him a little bit, if only to let Rachel live a little.

  “Those for me?” I asked, plucking the peony bouquet out of Rachel’s hands. She had something about peonies that was beyond me. They were definitely pretty.

  “Yeah, shit, you weren’t supposed to be here. They were supposed to be a surprise.” Rachel huffed, blowing some of her hair out of her face. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and squeeze her. I figured she was the closest thing I’d have to a kid sister. I resisted the urge to ruffle her hair in front of her new boy toy.

  “I’ll just have to pretend to be surprised. I’m heading down to the gallery. I’ll see you there, and make sure you wear the shoes.” I opened the door as an unseasonably warm gust of wind wound its way up the stairwell, my brave front threatening to falter as the cold, hard fact that I was going to be standing in a roomful of people criticizing my work in less than an hour came back to me.

  “I’m not wearing those things out. I’ll kill myself.” Rachel’s eyes were wide, and her voice went up an octave. I knew if I didn’t force her to wear them out, she never would. Now was her chance, and I was forcing her to take it. Killian looked like he could keep her from breaking her ankles.

  “The deal was you wore them out within two months of getting them, and your time is almost up. If you don’t wear them tonight, they’re mine. Plus I think Killian here will have no trouble making sure you don’t topple over. Just hold on tight to him.” And his asshole facade seemed to slip a bit as soon as Rachel appeared. Maybe I’d misjudged him. Maybe…

  I slammed the door and made my way to the gallery. The last-minute preparations were happening as the bar and DJ set up. This wasn’t a stuffy normal gallery opening, which made sense. Why the hell would I have been there if this was for normal art?

  The new gallery space was a transformed industrial loft with brushed concrete floors and stellar lighting. My fingers switched back and forth between numb and tingling, then tingling numbness as I stood in front of the huge prints mounted on the walls. My prints. Of my tattoos. I wandered through the space as the gallery owner put the last touches on each display. The lighting from above seemed to make each of the prints come alive. There were five people showcasing their work, and I was the only one having their first show.

  I had no idea how Ivan had wrangled a spot at this show at the last minute and in the brand-new gallery and exhibition space, but I’d have been insane to pass up the chance. That didn’t mean my stomach wasn’t trying to revolt the entire time I stood there, pretending I didn’t want to run screaming from the room.

  People filtered in, grabbing glasses of wine and wandering through the space. I chewed on my nail as I watched them move from print to print. Every time someone stepped in front of one of mine, I held my breath. I needed a drink. This exhibiting-artist stuff was totally different than sitting in my studio with my tattoo gun and my sketches.

  Among the visitors, I saw Rachel tucked under the arm of her new boyfriend or whatever the hell he was. I glanced down at her feet.

  “Damn it. I was hoping you’d chicken out and I’d get those shoes.” I gave Rachel a big hug even though I’d only seen her a little while ago. It was nice to see a friendly face. With her arms wrapped around me, I relaxed a little bit.

  “I’d have fought you to the death for these things.” She kicked up her heel, practically beaming with pride and showing off the bright red sole underneath.

  “You’re scrappy. It would have been quite a fight.” I couldn’t hold back my grin. “So, what do you think?” I opened my arms wide and showcased the photos behind me. My photos. Gulp.

  “It’s all amazing, as usual. I still can’t believe how big some of these pieces are. And that you did the photography for them too.” Rachel gushed over the pictures. I couldn’t hold back a smile. It was so wide it hurt my cheeks. I loved my roommate, and I didn’t care if she was lying through her teeth.

  “What about you?” I crossed my arms over my chest, turning to Killian

  “I think you’re an amazing artist. Tattoos or not, these are remarkable. If I ever got one, you’d be my first choice.” Killian glanced at the rest of the pictures of my work dotted around the space.

  I couldn’t help it. I smiled at him. Maybe I’d give him a head start if he screwed anything up with Rachel before I kicked his ass.

  “Thanks,” I said, my cheeks heating.

  One minute I was standing there, breathing a sigh of relief that I might not be making a fool of myself, and the next I was lifted off my feet and wrapped up in a melee of limbs. What the fuck?

  The guys from the shop and some of my other tattoo buddies barreled through the group of people next to us, being as rowdy as ever. I knew art shows weren’t their thing, but that they’d come down here—whether it was for free booze or not—meant a lot to me.

  I swatted and punched them, knocking them out of the way. Such assholes, but lovable ones. My smile got even wider as they each gave me a hug, practically passing me around the circle.

  “Look at the boss lady, showing off her fancy shit!” Max said, his gauges an excellent backdrop to the tattoos behind him.

  “Will you paint me like one of your French girls, Dahl?” Ty batted his eyelashes at me. I was a second from punching him and pushed against his chest, trying to get him to drop me.

  My feet touched the ground, and a shadow loomed over us, and a hand shot out and grabbed Ty by the throat and held him up in the air. My heart thundered as my gaze snapped up to Ivan standing over us like a harbinger of death with him squeezing the life out of Ty second by second.

  Roars of “what the fuck?” and “stop it” rolled through the group, but Ivan wasn’t letting go.

  I grabbed on to his arm, trying to get him to drop Ty. This was the type of thing that kept me up at night. The kind of thing that seemed like it was destined to happen. He was a lit fuse. It was like a switch had been flipped, and that guy I thought I knew, the one who brought me dumplings and massaged my hands and could give me goose bumps with a stare, was gone and replaced with a psycho ready to snap someone’s neck at the drop of a hat.

  “Ivan, stop.” I pulled on his arm with all my might. My fingers dug into his thick muscled forearms as I screamed up at him. The other guys were all looking at me like I was crazy right along with him, Axel’s hand dragging down Ivan’s shirt. They recognized my ink on his skin. Knew I must have known him somehow. A wheeze came from Ty’s lips. He wouldn’t even look at me. Other people were taking in the scene. And then I got in his face.

  “Ivan, put him down now,” I yelled so loud that everyone who wasn’t already gawking at the scene turned to stare. The throbbing music was still pounding in the background. Ivan’s eyes left Ty’s face and finally met mine. The rage burning there ebbed away, and he wa
s staring at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. Like he just remembered where he was.

  “Put him down.” I tugged on his arm again with all my strength. Ivan released his grip on Ty’s neck, and he dropped to the floor in a heap, coughing and sputtering. My brain was mush and my body shook. I didn’t know what the hell to do first.

  Ty lay on the floor, gasping for air. Ivan stood in front of me slowly coming out of killer-machine mode, and everyone in the place stared at all of us. So much for my big art debut. One that Ivan had arranged for me. All those warm, fuzzy feelings turned into shaking that made me want to throw up. I should have known it would all blow up in my face.

  “I’m sorry.” Ivan glanced down at his hands like he didn’t even know what happened.

  “You need to leave.” I clenched my teeth so tightly my jaw ached. The fight-or-flight response made my limbs buzz as every eye in the place stayed glued to us.

  Ivan nodded and stepped back. People jumped out of his path as he left the building like there was a dangerous animal, but it wasn’t this place. It was him. The crowd parted to let him pass as he turned and rushed out.

  I stared after him. How had this night gone so wrong so quickly? Ivan, that’s how. I shook my head and turned to check on Ty.

  “Are you okay?” I crouched beside him as he pushed himself up off the floor.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice raspy as he rubbed his neck. There were already dark marks there. I glanced toward the doorway, but Ivan was long gone. Warring emotions raced through me. Fear. Rage. And one I didn’t even want to feel after what he’d done. Worry. What the hell made him freak out like that? Maybe I’d been lulled into a false sense of security about what it meant to be around him. About who he was now.

  “I honestly don’t know, Ty. Are you okay?” I put my hand on his shoulder and checked him over.

  “I’m fine, other than the near decapitation from a maniac. Who the hell was that? Don’t think we didn’t recognize his tats.” He shot me a look, and guilt twisted in my stomach. I’d put more than myself at risk with my late-night client.

  “No one. No one you need to worry about.”

  I glanced up and saw the worried looks on Rachel and Killian’s faces. Keep it together. I plastered on a fake smile, trying my best to keep her from freaking out. Her and me. Everyone else who stood there staring at us.

  “Who’s ready for a drink? Because I sure as fuck am.” One surefire way to get their mind off what just went down was to get everyone drunk. I gathered the guys and headed to the bar.

  Rachel caught my arm. Killian trailed behind her, trying to keep an I’m-not-listening-though-I’m-close-enough-to-be-listening distance.

  “Dahlia, what the hell was that?” Rachel asked with my elbow still in her grip. I took a deep breath and turned to face her.

  “It’s nothing. Everything is fine; let’s enjoy the night.” My smile was even wider, so wide my cheeks hurt. It was this or run out of the gallery crying. I shook off Rachel’s arm. “I’m going to get some shots. We need to celebrate. It’s not every day we get you out of the apartment in shoes that look that fucking hot. Right, Killian?” I said, hoping he’d take his cue. And I rushed off with the guys, climbing behind the bar, pushing the bartenders out of the way to dole out the drinks before she could get in another word.

  I took a couple of my own, trying to gin up the courage to figure out what happened next. Could there be any excuse for what happened tonight? For him freaking the hell out and attacking my friends? No, it seemed he wasn’t so hell-bent on leaving his old life behind. He hadn’t changed. Those pictures his uncle had shown me were meant to lay it out clear as day who he really was and what his uncle was capable of. It had done both, and I’d been deceiving myself to think any differently. We were doomed before we even started.

  17

  Ivan

  The phone buzzed beside me. I snatched it up and checked the message.

  Alexei: Elena’s plane landed

  Me: When will we get to see her?

  Alexei: I don’t know. It’s the only message I’ve gotten from her so far.

  I released a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. I’d been holding it for almost seven years. She was finally here. Now I just needed to make sure she was safe.

  I clenched my fists. I couldn’t even keep Dahlia safe.

  Alexei: How did Dahlia’s art thing go?

  I raked my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots. Something had taken me over at the gallery. After getting that report from Luca and seeing all those guys piled on top of her, I lost it. The compulsion to stop any and all threats that came anywhere near her had been so powerful, I lost all control.

  Sergei’s guys weren’t stupid or sloppy enough to do something in public. I don’t know what I’d been thinking. No, I did. Ty, the one who worked in the shop. The one I’d seen with Sergei’s guys, right there in her face with his hands on her. I’d known in the back of my mind that she wasn’t in danger, but five guys crowded around her had me on edge. The way she’d looked into my eyes.… I had to close my eyes against the surging pain radiating inside me.

  I’d been doing my best to show her the man I could be. That I wasn’t that stupid boy she’d met ten years ago or the man who’d earned his bratva tattoos one bloody encounter after another. I was trying to show her I could be the man she needed me to be. In one look she’d cracked apart the picture I’d been painting for her for weeks.

  It was equal parts fear and anger. The anger wasn’t anything new. But the fear lanced straight through my heart, more painful than anything I’d experienced before. No bullet wound compared to seeing her in front of me, begging me to let her friend go. Everyone else saw the anger, but I saw what was beneath it. She thought I might end up killing her friend, and she’d been right. For a split second before I caught myself, I’d seen the flash in front of my eyes. Of what I was capable of doing. And I knew she saw it too.

  I’d imploded her big night. Ruined it because I couldn’t tell her what was going on. That I was having her shop watched and I’d seen the pictures of those guys going inside. There was no danger at the gallery, but there sure as hell was just outside her doorstep.

  After the report Luca gave me, I was on high alert. One wrong move and I was ready to burn everything down. Elena had safely landed. That had been the only thing holding me back. I’d do whatever it took to keep Dahlia safe.

  The pounding on my door was a welcome distraction from the anger and sadness that coursed through me. Dahlia. No other visitors were allowed, except Alexei. I hadn’t expected her to show up, but I’d briefed security that she was to be let up if she ever came here. I barely cracked the door open before Dahlia shoved her way inside. Her fury rolled off her in waves.

  “What the hell was that, Ivan? You could’ve killed Ty.” She rounded on me, flinging her bag on the ground like she was ready to lunge for me.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

  My words didn’t have much of an effect. If anything, she looked even more pissed off. “Overreacted? That was more than a fucking overreaction, Ivan. That was insanity!” Her voice boomed off the walls.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say. Nothing I can say will make it right.” This was who I was. The side of myself I had hoped to hide from her. I’d hoped she would never have to see it. And in a second, I snapped. I saw him in those pictures talking to Sergei’s guys, and I lost it.

  The man she saw in the gallery was everything I’d been trying to hide from her. I’d been trying to get her to remember the eighteen-year-old me and how everything fit together perfectly back then, not the raw and jagged edges that made up who I was.

  “Why? Tell me! What happened to no more secrets?”

  “I had my reasons.” She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “Not good ones, but it was instinct and I overreacted.”

  “Did your uncle find out about me? Has someone been near my shop?”

&n
bsp; The way she switched gears caught me completely off guard. I said nothing as I stared at her and she stood in front of me with her fists balled, looking ready to pounce at any second. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t want to scare her either.

  “You need to tell me the truth, Ivan. If there’s someone watching my shop or threatening it, I need to know. I have people who work there. Clients coming in and out. I need to know if any of us are in danger.” She stood toe to toe with me, not afraid. At least there was that. At least I hadn’t made her afraid of me in that moment. Just seriously fucking angry.

  “I’m taking care of it.” I was. I’d make sure Luca had ten guys on that block if that’s what it took.

  “Taking care of it?” Her body practically vibrated with anger, and she was glorious. I knew a smile from me would amp her up even more, but seeing her ready to take me on made me want to kiss her. Made me want to soak up that anger and turn the fiery passion into another kind. One that would let me show her how good we could be together all night long.

  “I have a friend making sure everyone is safe.”

  “Is this a friend who’s in the same line of work as your uncle?” She spat, her face twisted in disgust.

  “Yes. When you live in my world, you have to play by my rules. This will be handled.”

  She threw her hands up in frustration and tried to storm past me. I caught her elbow and spun her around. If looks could kill… She was ready to tear me a new one, and I was suddenly relieved that we had finished my tattoo already. There would have surely been an outline of a dick incorporated into the design if it hadn’t.

  “I didn’t mean to ruin your show.” The sadness hung heavy in my heart. The show had been my gift to her. A chance for the world to see her artistry on display. To appreciate all she’d accomplished. I’d never want to ruin something so precious.