by Ophelia Bell
He plants his feet in front of me, crosses his arms over a pair of tattooed pecs bigger than my tits, and strokes his braided goatee, grinning at me like he just struck gold. He’s oblivious to Sam, whose path he just blocked.
“Hey, Alex,” I say, my stomach churning. I’ve only been here a few hours and haven’t even had a chance to hook up with Vic and Mako, who’ve been on a tour of the local Mayan ruins all afternoon. I’m not prepared to talk to people who aren’t part of my immediate circle of friends; I was hoping to be able to put that off until tomorrow.
“Today’s your lucky day, hot stuff. I heard you were coming solo this year, so I’m prepared to make it a weekend you’ll never forget. Come out with me later. I’ll show you a good time, get this convention started off right.”
“I’m busy, Alex. If you don’t mind, I was just about to head in.” I pick up my bag and drop the sunscreen back into it, then grab Sam’s phone from his lounger and drop it in too so we can make a quick getaway. Sam’s still a few yards away, glaring at Alex’s back. When I try to push past, Alex grabs my arm.
“Hey, baby. I know you’re short a man this year. Everyone knows. You need a shield to protect you from all the wolves out there who don’t have your best interests at heart. You’re way too fine to let just anyone put their paws on you. I’m here to tell you I’m that man.”
My eyes bug out at his rude reminder of my loss. I open my mouth to argue, but have no idea what to say. Fuck him for even mentioning it, for one thing, but seriously?
“Hey, asshole,” Sam says, tapping Alex on the shoulder.
Alex turns, his lips already twisted into a sneer. “Who the fuck are you? I’m busy here.” When he sees Sam, he stands up a little straighter. Alex is the kind of egomaniac who spends more time in the gym than he does on improving his craft, but he’s still a head shorter than Sam.
“I’m Sam Santos.” Sam crosses his arms and stares Alex down.
“That supposed to mean something to me? Am I supposed to be afraid of some young punk who just walked out of the water acting like he belongs here? Do you even know who I am?” Alex points his thumb at his own heavily inked chest.
“You’re Alex Augustine. Your shop is in Toledo and you’ve been tattooing for the last decade, yet somehow you’ve never done a single stroke of original art in your life. You still rely on Ed Hardy flash to pay your bills, and you’re probably hoping that if you can catch the eye of a woman like Toni, you can leech off her name recognition to fund your juice addiction.”
Alex sputters and smirks, but the color rising to his tan face betrays the fact that Sam figured out which buttons to push. He glances back at me. “You know this fucker, Toni?”
“Yeah, Alex. It looks like you were wrong. I’m not actually short a man, am I? Come on, Sam. Let’s go.”
7
Sam
I give this Alex fucker the stink eye as I move past him and fall into step beside Toni. After a few moments, she whispers, “Put your arm around me.”
I dart a glance back at Alex, who’s giving me a rancid look, then oblige, shifting closer to Toni and curling an arm around her back. The lack of pretext makes the contact all the more intimate, and due to our height difference, my hand lands at her ribcage just beneath her breast.
There is literally nothing but a thin cord of nylon keeping me from touching her breast right now. Fuck me.
It took half an hour in the water for me to cool down, so I really can’t deal with another hard-on, but I’m not about to let that asshole think he can just push her around.
I force myself to shift focus to the real danger she needs protecting from, which cools me off in an instant and makes me squeeze her a little tighter at the same time. Being in the same city as a man with a vendetta against her dad is not ideal, but as long as we stick to the resort, hopefully no one will be the wiser.
We make it through the lush landscaping surrounding what has to be one of the biggest hotel pools in existence. She’s quiet, but seems more at ease than when we started this trip despite the brief confrontation. When we get into the elevator, she pulls away to push the button for our floor and it’s all I can do not to reach for her and pull her back against me.
“Thanks for that,” she says.
“It was nothing. I’m more than happy to shield you from toxic assholes, but I know you can hold your own.” I grin and am rewarded with a husky laugh that threatens to destroy my self-control.
“I appreciate the confidence. And I can, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
“Seemed like you knew him. Is there history I should know about? Professionally speaking, I mean.”
“Not really. I only know him from conventions. I should be flattered—it means the world outside Tendrils hasn’t forgotten about me completely.”
“How could anyone forget you?” I ask, a hint of indignation creeping into my voice. “You had a cover feature on the hottest magazine in the industry. And a photo spread in another even hotter mainstream rag. You have one of the most popular online channels of any artist. I’ve been watching the analytics ever since you gave me access to our social media accounts. You may not be bringing in a ton of new fans, but people still re-watch everything so views are going up.”
“But do they remember me for being a kickass tattooist, or for the hyper-sexualized photo-shoot that I did for their favorite magazine? I guarantee the majority of readers didn’t pick up that issue of Maxim to learn about my skills. They wanted to see my tits.”
“Okay, now I’m insulted. I own that copy. I keep it in a protective sleeve in a box so it stays pristine. And you can be damn sure I devoured every word of your interview.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “And you didn’t think about my tits once when you were paging through?”
I clear my throat and smirk. “Well, I was fourteen at the time. Tits were one item on a very short list of things I thought about.”
She snorts and shakes her head. “God, you’re precious, Sam.”
Just like that, the intimate, familiar vibe between us shifts, and I mentally kick myself for mentioning my age. She was already a national tattoo celebrity when she was my age, and I was a pubescent kid with hero worship. I really need to figure out how to abolish that image from her mind.
Maybe stop drawing attention to it, jackass.
We’re silent for the rest of the ride, and I walk her to her door with the promise to be back in half an hour to pick her up for dinner. Part of me loves how it feels like I’m taking her on a date, but mostly I just feel like I’m back to being her apprentice again, bending over backwards to make sure she’s taken care of and proving myself worthy of being seen as a pro someday.
My room is next door, and I walk in and heave a sigh as I head straight into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Insecurity is not part of my vocabulary, except when it comes to Toni. I’ve got to let go of it if I’m going to be able to carry on a conversation with her over dinner. I have ideas to share about the shop, and I hope she’ll be open to them, but I need to reclaim a bit of confidence.
When I step beneath the hot water, I close my eyes. I’m immediately reminded of the crash of the saltwater when I ran into the surf earlier to try to rid myself of an inconvenient hard-on, and everything that led up to it. It was the first time I’ve ever had my hands on her, so naturally it overwhelmed my senses. The memory is still so fresh my palms tingle and my cock springs back to attention as if it was only faking sleep all this time.
I heave another sigh and grab the soap, lather up my crotch, then take myself in hand and stroke from root to tip. Jerking off to thoughts of her is so familiar I have an extensive collection of fantasies I usually flip through until the right one hits, but today I don’t need any of them. The memory of her skin beneath my hands is more than enough for me to climax within minutes.
More relaxed, I finish washing and then climb out and dry off, wrap the towel around my waist, and swipe a hand over the bathroom mirror to prep for shaving.
I glance around, looking for my phone, then utter a curse when I remember Toni stashed it in her bag to make a quick getaway from that Alex asshole. I’d intended to check in with Mason before we left for dinner, but I guess it’ll have to wait a bit.
A split-second later I hear a knock on my door. I answer and find Toni standing on the other side, gorgeous as hell in a strapless red and black bustier, a clingy satin skirt, and spike-heeled boots. I blink, gawking at the transformation for a moment before I realize she’s holding my phone up in front of her.
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to steal this. I think you got a call.”
“No worries. Wanna come in? I’ll be ready in five minutes.” I take the phone, then step aside and gesture for her to enter.
Her gaze slides down my body, and the heat that blooms in her eyes melts away every last vestige of insecurity I had earlier. She slow blinks, inhaling through her nose, and then crosses into my room, walking straight over to the window. I catch a slight flush in her cheeks as she passes and feel a surge of victory. That’s not the look of a woman who’s oblivious to my masculinity. Hell yes.
Heading back into the bathroom, I tap the phone’s screen and see a text message from Mason.
“Hope you made it to Mexico. Good news. My sources tell me GD is not in residence, so VA is short an attack dog. Will update if that changes.”
Fuck yes. Vicente Amador’s lieutenant, Gustavo Delgado, isn’t even in Cancún, and since he’s the one who typically does all of Amador’s dirty work, we have nothing to worry about.
I text back a quick message of thanks.
“Did you tell her?” Mason texts back, and I know he’s referring to the secret I threatened to share.
“Still on the fence. Maybe I won’t have to now.”
“Just don’t. It’s Elena’s business, not yours.”
Fuck. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it easier to keep a secret from her.
“You win. I’ll keep it to myself.”
He sends back a thumbs-up emoji, then a moment later he sends a shamrock emoji, which I assume means he’s wishing me luck. Whether it’s with Toni or the convention in general, I don’t know, but I’ll accept it either way.
I finish up in the bathroom, and when I wander back into the room to get dressed, Toni’s out on the balcony, leaning on the railing and gazing out across the water. I entertain a brief fantasy that involves slipping up behind her and just holding her in my arms while we watch the darkening sky shift from pink to purple to deep, dark blue.
I would never insinuate myself into her life the way Asshole Alex attempted to, but her loneliness is so clear it makes me ache to take it away. Over the past three years, she’s thrown herself into work so hard it was easy to forget what she lost. I was in the same boat for much of that time too, though, so it was never lost on me what she was going through.
But outside the safe bubble of Tendrils, it’s clear she’s still hurting, and despite her facade of relaxation earlier, it’s especially apparent now.
I dart my eyes away quickly when she turns, pretending to dig through my suitcase, even though what I want to wear is right on top.
“I need to ask you something important,” she says.
“Shoot,” I say, grabbing my boxers and dropping my towel without thinking. I have my underwear pulled up when I realize she hasn’t said anything, and I glance up to find her staring at me, open-mouthed.
“You have no shame, do you?”
“I—” I laugh. “I wasn’t even thinking. Youngest brother,” I say, jabbing a thumb at myself. “I had exactly zero privacy growing up, so I learned not to be weird about getting dressed in mixed company. Sorry. What’d you want to ask?”
I grab my jeans and look up at her. She’s still staring at my torso.
“I can do this in the bathroom if it makes you uncomfortable,” I offer, glancing over my shoulder at the open bathroom door.
“No. I mean, I have brothers too, so it’s nothing I haven’t seen. Just don’t mind me . . .” She waves dismissively, then takes a deep breath. “What I need to know is why the hell Mason’s texting you about Gustavo Delgado.”
I freeze with my jeans half-buttoned. “You saw his text.”
“And I’m sorry. I really wasn’t snooping, but your phone buzzed and I thought it was mine, so it took a second to figure out what I was looking at. Why exactly is your brother keeping tabs on that son of a bitch? More importantly, why should you care?”
I busy myself slipping a clean, black Tendrils Tattoo T-shirt over my head, taking the moment to rack my brain for a plausible response that isn’t a blatant lie. When I meet her eyes again, I say, “The asshole has it out for our family, and since he works for Amador, whose compound is within about an hour’s drive of this resort, my brothers just wanted me to remain aware of the risk of running into him. But it sounds like he’s not in Cancún at the moment, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
She doesn’t need to know that Mason made a deal with Delgado to protect our family. He wouldn’t explain the details, just that they had an “understanding” that kept Delgado from harming any of us.
Her nostrils flare and she paces back out the slider, then turns, leaning against the railing. “How do you even know where the fucking compound is, Sam? This is like next-level shit. Flores-level shit. Are you mixed up in his business too?”
“Jesus, no!” I round the bed and stop at the threshold to the balcony, spreading my hands in front of me. “Mason’s a consultant for the DEA. He has connections. Since I was planning to take a trip here, he wanted me to be informed. I agreed because I knew I’d be here with you, and didn’t want to worry about you getting tangled up in something if Delgado decided he needed to come for me to get back at Mad and Mason.” That’s maybe stretching the truth a bit more than I should, but I don’t want her worrying.
Her jaw flexes and she blinks rapidly, then tilts her chin up and turns away. She twists one hand around her opposite wrist so hard it has to hurt, then I realize she’s worrying at the fresh tattoo I saw there.
What I’m seeing now is definitely not worry—it’s something else entirely. “Toni, talk to me.”
She shakes her head and avoids my gaze, so I take a step closer and reach out, gripping her forearms to stop her agitated rubbing. She’s going to destroy the design if she fucks with it like that.
“That murdering bastard is the reason I’m here alone this year,” she grits. Her voice trembles, but there’s a bite of rage at the edges of her words. “I really didn’t need to know that he fucking lives in Cancún now. Fuck!”
She wraps her arms tighter around herself and finally meets my eyes. Hers are red-rimmed with tears threatening to spill over and she’s panting a little, as if on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Toni. It’s going to be okay.” I slip my arms around her shoulders and pull her into me just as a sob breaks free. Her arms go limp between us at first, but when I pull her tighter, she curls them around my waist and clings hard as her emotions rip forth.
My throat tightens with empathy. It hasn’t been all that long since I felt almost the exact things she’s feeling now—rage and grief over a loss that shook the very foundation of my life.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I tell her again when her crying eases. “And you aren’t here alone. Not unless you really want to be. I’m here, and Vic and Mako are too. You need any of us, you know we’ll drop everything and come running. Night or day. Promise me you’ll tell me if you need me, okay?”
She nods against my chest, and my shirt clings to my skin where her tears have soaked through. Then she heaves a deep breath and looks up at me. Her skin is splotchy and her eyes are black voids where her makeup has smeared, but fuck me if she isn’t still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
My dick starts to rouse, so I preemptively pull away to avoid an even more inappropriate boner than I had before, then step into the bathroom to grab
a wad of tissues that I bring back to her. I urge her down into the armchair in the corner and park my ass on the footstool facing her while I wait for her to pull herself together, my hands resting on her knees.
After a moment, she sighs and offers a weak smile. “Thank you. I’m glad you came.”
“You want to change dinner plans and get room service? I’m game.”
“But you made reservations.”
I shrug. “They’re for four. Vic and Mako can have the table to themselves.”
“Aw, I wanted to see them. Give me five minutes, okay?” She stands and brushes past me with a gentle squeeze of my shoulder before she leaves the room.
I take a moment to check myself in the mirror. I’m all good aside from the noticeable wet spot on the front of my shirt, which I leave alone. It’ll dry before too long, and besides, she left behind a faint trace of her scent, which I’d rather hold onto for a little while. I put on my shoes and head out behind Toni, half of me hoping she’ll change her mind and decide we should hole up in one of our rooms to eat instead.
When she emerges from her room, it takes an effort to see any evidence of her tears.
“Nice job. You look gorgeous.”
“Don’t be fooled. Makeup is a magical thing, and I’ve gotten really good at using it over the past few years.”
8
Toni
Hopefully that’s the first and last time I break down in front of Sam, but he’s earned points for how quickly he came to my rescue. God, could he be any more perfect? Of course it isn’t just the emotional availability that I’m talking about, either. I did not need to see the man naked to know he’s got pretty much everything going for him, but if there was any doubt in my mind, it’s gone now.
