Beneath This Ink

by Meghan March

  Yeah, it would’ve made me a prick, but at least it would’ve been simple.

  Because lying here, holding a sleeping Vanessa, listening to her breathe, was anything but simple. This shit was getting downright complicated. Because there was no way I was ready to let her go.

  When I was sixteen, she’d been the most perfect, unattainable girl I’d ever seen. And despite my current position, she was still just as perfect and just as unattainable.

  Maybe if we both turned our backs on this town and started over somewhere new… but that wasn’t about to happen.

  A soft groan broke through my thoughts and the silence of the morning.

  Vanessa’s body jerked against the arm I had wrapped beneath her breasts. Loosening it, I propped myself up to look down at her face. Her features were tight and twisted. It was a look I’d seen way too many times before on the faces of my buddies. Hell, they’d probably seen it on my face more times than I’d like to admit. Nightmare.

  There was no question in my mind what she was dreaming about. She didn’t need to re-live that shit. I tightened my arm around her, giving her a slight shake.

  “Baby, wake up.”

  I’d expected her to stay in the dream for at least another moment or two. I certainly didn’t expect her to shoot straight up in bed, trying to knock my arm aside and scramble away from me.

  “Whoa, honey. Calm down. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

  Her lungs heaved, and I worried for a moment whether she’d hyperventilate. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay. No one can hurt you here.”

  Instead of continuing to struggle, she turned and buried her face in my neck. I wrapped both arms around her and stroked her wild mane of hair. Hot tears spilled onto my bare chest.

  For several minutes, I just held her. I let myself get comfortable being her rock, her protection from all the bad things in the world.

  The thought was sobering. Because in Vanessa Frost’s world, I also qualified as a bad thing.

  I pulled her away from my chest and met her vivid blue eyes, shining with the remains of her tears.

  This was where a better man would make sure she was okay and then take her home and let her get on with her life. Without him.

  And I still wasn’t a better man.

  She stared up at me, looking lost and scared. Last night, she’d wanted sex to feel alive. That wasn’t a tough concept to grasp. I couldn’t say how many times I’d hopped off a chopper or rolled back into base after a mission where the bullets had flown too fucking close for comfort and found oblivion by burying myself in a willing woman’s pussy. Might’ve gotten me busted down in rank if we’d ever been found out, but the need was too strong to deny, regardless of the consequences.

  And right now, Vanessa’s wide blue eyes were too tempting. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—that would win me another hour with her, but she beat me to it. Except she didn’t speak, just reached up, dug her fingers into my hair, and yanked my head down.

  Her lips collided with mine. She was a woman on a mission, and I wasn’t stopping her. The kiss went on for long minutes, until I let my elbows collapse, and we fell back onto the bed, Vanessa sprawled over my chest.

  Untangling her hands from my hair and pulling her lips away from mine, she propped herself up. Gone were the shining eyes, and so was the expression I expected to see.

  Instead, she looked horrified. The lightning fast change from aggressor to… whatever this was… practically gave me whiplash.

  She shoved away from me and scrambled off the bed.

  “What the hell am I doing?” she asked the empty room, her back toward me. She ran both hands through her hair and repeated, “What the hell am I doing?”

  While I knew the question was rhetorical, it didn’t stop me from answering. “Taking something you want.”

  She spun. Dressed in only one of my T-shirts, her long legs were mostly bare. I couldn’t help but remember how they’d been entwined with mine while we’d slept—and how right that had felt.

  “Like what I want matters.” She scanned the room, most likely for the sweatpants I’d offered her when we’d finally made it to bed early this morning.

  “Why shouldn’t it matter?” I asked.

  “It just doesn’t.” Spotting the sweatpants on the edge of the tall bureau, she snatched them up and jammed one leg and then the other into them. “I need to call a cab. I have to call my father too.”

  That last bit gave me pause. “You didn’t call him last night? Before I got to the hospital?” I’d just assumed she had. Hadn’t even thought to ask.

  “No. I was a little… preoccupied.”

  “Shit. He’s going to raise hell. The police. Your car…”

  “I know. Which is why I need go. He’s going to be furious I didn’t call him last night so he could make sure my name stayed out of the paper.”

  “Might not be too late.” I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and found Hennessy’s contact. It rang twice before he answered.

  “The fuck you want, Leahy? You know what time it is?”

  “You already turn your report in?”

  “Yeah, after you made it pretty fucking clear I wasn’t needed at the hospital any more.”

  “Shit.”

  “What’s your deal?”

  “Is there any way to keep her name out of the press?” I asked, not needing to elaborate on whose name I meant.

  “I sure ain’t changing my report to keep her name out of it. Then I wouldn’t be doing my damn job. And I know you’re not asking me to do that.”

  A dead man couldn’t miss the sarcasm in my tone. “Of course not. I’d never dream of asking you to look the other way.”

  “But I doubt anyone’s seen the report yet. I’ll call my lieutenant and ask him to see what he can do to keep it quiet. Given your girl’s name, I imagine that request will go all the way up to the Superintendent, and he’ll be happy to comply. At least as far as I know, he ain’t no fool.”

  I didn’t argue his ‘your girl’ comment, even though I knew I should. “Thanks, man.”

  “You owe me.”

  “Always seem to.”

  I hung up. “Hennessy is going to try to keep your name out of it. No guarantees, but it’s the best I can do.”

  Her eyes assessing, she asked, “Why are you on such close terms with the cop?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Surprised that I actually cooperate with law enforcement?” I stepped closer to her. “It’s not like I’ve spent my entire life on the wrong side of the law. Hell, I was a damn good soldier.”

  “I know. I remember when you shipped out after graduation. Your dad was proud, but your mom was terrified.”

  The mention of Joy and Andre hit me in the gut like it always did. The sick feeling dissipated faster than normal when I processed the fact she remembered something like that. “Can’t believe you actually paid attention to anything that had to do with me back then. I was beneath your notice.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, her face flushed pink. “I don’t know why you’d say that.”

  I lowered myself to the bed and sat with my arms braced behind me. “Because it’s true.”

  Her little huff had my cock jumping in my boxers. Her eyes dropped to my lap, and I knew she hadn’t missed it. A grin spread across my face. She was turning out to be more perfect than I could’ve ever guessed.

  Her attention lifted, and her expression was serious. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have noticed you just as much as you noticed me?”

  My grin faded.

  No. That had never occurred to me. Ever.

  “Are you shitting me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. I’m not. But I don’t have time to discuss this right now. I really do need to get home.”

  Still gobsmacked from the little bomb she’d dropped, I shoved off the bed and grabbed my jeans from the floor. Pulling them on, I jerked my head toward the door.

  “Then let’s go. But we�
��re continuing this conversation later.”

  I was unsuccessful at making it into the house unnoticed.

  “What the hell are you wearing? Where the fuck have you been? I just got a call from the goddamn superintendent of police telling me you got carjacked last night!”

  My father’s roar echoed off the sixteen foot ceilings of the kitchen. And his outburst explained why he was waiting in the breakfast nook. He never ate at that table. He was lying in wait because I always used this door to come and go from the garage.

  I looked down at the giant gray man’s sweats and the T-shirt that read ARMY across the chest.

  I wasn’t a proficient liar on my best day, and the last twenty-four hours certainly didn’t qualify as good. I decided to go with part of the truth. Besides, he’d probably already heard some of it.

  “There was a boy who tried to stop the carjacker, and he was shot. I went to the hospital to get checked out, and I sat with his mother most of the night. My dress was ruined, and someone was nice enough to find me some clothes.”

  My vagueness was rewarded because he stood and paced the kitchen. “Your car?”

  “The police have it. For evidence.”

  “And you’re okay?”

  I cringed when his question about my well-being came after his question about my car. I tried to ignore it as I stared at the Italian marble floor.

  “Just some cuts and scrapes and bruises.”

  “I suppose that should’ve been the first question I asked when you came in the door. I apologize.”

  I’d shed more tears in the last dozen or so hours than I had in years, but once again they swelled in my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks.

  At my sniffle, my father studied my face. “You need to take more care. I already lost your mother. I’m not willing to lose you, too.”

  Then he did something that shocked me—he wiped the tears away like he never had when I was a child. Or a teenager. Or a woman. I honestly had no idea what the hell had brought about this sentimental side of him.

  He stepped away and cleared his throat. “I’m late for a meeting. And you’re going to be late for work.”

  “I’m calling in today. I’m going back down to the hospital to sit with Ms. Vincent.” At his confused look, I added, “The mother of the boy who stepped between a carjacker with a gun and me.”

  “That seems unnecessary. We’ll pay for the boy’s treatment. That should be enough.”

  I dug in my heels. “Yes, we’re paying for his treatment. Every penny. And no, that’s not enough. He could still die because of me.”

  My father glanced down at his watch. “Fine. Do what you need to do. I have to go.” Without any further discussion, he turned and walked out the door I’d just entered.

  I supposed I should be happy he hadn’t questioned me further. But I was too tired and wrung out to care.

  Before I’d left the house, I’d put a note for my father on the desk in his office. It was the one spot he was guaranteed to visit when he came home. It seemed even at nine o’clock this morning I’d known that I wouldn’t be returning to the house tonight. Normally, I wouldn’t bother informing him, but after his strange attack of fatherly concern, I’d decided to allay any potential worries.

  So the fact that my loaner Mercedes was now parked in the alley behind Voodoo Ink shouldn’t be as big of a surprise. But for some strange reason it was. My sweaty hands clenched the steering wheel as I asked myself why I was here. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t even know if I’d be welcome.

  Whatever Con and I were doing, it wasn’t defined beyond the boundaries we’d set early on. I was supposed to give him a shot. That didn’t mean I had the green light to show up at his place of work and barge in. Oh wait, I’ve already done that.

  This is a mistake. I should go home. But by now my father would almost certainly have found my note. I was somewhat surprised that my phone hadn’t lit up with calls from him demanding to know where I was. But I supposed he was letting me be. Adhering to my stipulations.

  I should be happy about that. But something about it bothered me all the same. One night after my narrow escape from a carjacking and he wasn’t concerned that I was out and about.

  I shook it off. I was thirty years old, and my thoughts were ridiculous.

  Moving on.

  I uncurled my grip from the steering wheel and pushed aside any lingering doubts. I was here. And as much as I shouldn’t want to, I wanted to see Con. It had nothing to do with a deed and everything to do with needing the strength and protection he’d offered me last night.

  Pushing open the back door of Voodoo, I straightened my shoulders—and the lines of my navy jersey wrap dress. My low-heeled gold sandals clicked on the black and white checkered linoleum floor as I made my way to the front counter. I felt odd coming in the back way. Like I was special somehow—when in reality I was probably only a few steps above a trespasser.

  I wondered if I’d find Simon’s Charlie sitting there, but it was the same woman I’d seen before. Delilah. Tonight her dress was black with silver moustaches printed all over it.

  Her eyes widened when she saw me. If I’d come through the front door, it would’ve been like déjà vu.

  She didn’t wait for me to speak.

  “Con, visitor.”

  “I’m busy,” he called from the direction of his room.

  “You might want to get unbusy—” she started, but I lifted a hand.

  “It’s okay. I can wait.”

  But the buzzing had already quieted, and he rolled backward out the door of his room. This time, it was Con’s eyes widening.

  He stood with a quick, “I’ll be right back,” to whomever was in the room, and came toward me.

  He jerked his head toward the break room, and I preceded him inside.

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve called first.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Well, that wasn’t exactly an effusive welcome.

  “I…I don’t know,” I replied. Because honestly, I didn’t.

  “So why are you here then?” His welcome wasn’t getting any warmer.

  “I don’t know,” I said again, before stopping and starting over. “No. That’s not true. I know why I’m here, but I’m not sure what I’m actually doing here.”

  Con frowned and crossed his arms. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know.” My words came out louder and an octave higher than I’d planned. “None of this makes any sense. I shouldn’t be here. But there’s nowhere else I wanted to be.”

  His frown slipped away, and his expression turned unreadable. I expected a response. I wasn’t sure what response. But I expected more than the silence I got.

  I could’ve stamped my foot, but that would’ve been too humiliating. Instead, I asked, “Don’t you have anything to say?” I rubbed my hand down my face. Maybe I was just overwrought. The last twenty-or-so hours had been too much. Maybe I was going to succumb to honest-to-God Southern belle vapors.

  Now wouldn’t that be embarrassing.

  “You good with waiting?” he asked.

  That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say?

  “I wasn’t exactly expecting you to drop everything.”

  “You drive here?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a loaner. No one would know it’s mine.”

  “Another flashy Benz?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “You care if it gets stolen?”

  “Not particularly.” That was the least of my worries tonight.

  “Then go upstairs. I think you know the way. I’ll be up when I get there.”

  “That’s it. That’s all you’re going to say?”

  He gestured with his latex-clad hands. “I’ll have more to say when I get there.”

  I huffed out an expletive, and a smile ghosted over Con’s features. “Got a feeling I’ll have a wildcat on my hands if you’re this worked up already.”

  I didn’t deign to reply. I s
pun on my heel and grabbed the handle of the first door to the right and yanked it open. Con’s laughter followed me up the stairs even after I slammed it behind me.

  Men.

  I might’ve expected a wildcat, but what I found when I finally made it up to my place an hour and a half later was closer to a kitten.

  Curled up in the center of my bed, Vanessa was dead to the world.

  I shook my head at the turn of phrase. After last night, it was too real a possibility—one too narrowly avoided—to consider.

  The whisper of her even breathing was the only sound from inside my apartment. Outside, the noises of the city faded away, because my only focus was on her. I’d walked up the stairs expecting to fuck her senseless, but now all I wanted to do was sit and watch her sleep.

  And yeah, I knew that was fucking creepy.

  The entire rest of my session, one where I’d finished a portrait of a man’s dead wife on his arm, I’d thought about her words.

  None of this makes any sense. I shouldn’t be here. But there’s nowhere else I wanted to be.

  What the hell did that mean for us?

  When she’d stepped back into my life, I’d seized the moment. I’d carpe’d the fucking diem. I’d gone after the opportunity that had slipped away from me and put the mystery to rest. And now? I wasn’t sure where to go next.

  My life didn’t allow for complications. I wasn’t going to drag her down into the darkness where I’d spent the last few years.

  A darkness that was growing.

  Because now I wanted to track down the fucker who’d pulled a gun on my woman and shot at her. What was one more to add to my prospective body count? Hennessy could read me all too well, because when he’d stopped in here today to give me an update on Trey, he’d asked what my plans were. The update, while appreciated, was one I didn’t really need because I’d already been to the hospital and gotten one myself just as soon as I’d dropped Vanessa off a couple blocks from home. I’d continued to call the hospital on the hour to see if there was any change in his condition. And Hennessy’s question about my plans? I’d punted on that one. Said the right things. Hell, I might’ve even said, I’ll let the law handle that one. I’m sure Hennessy knew I was full of shit.