Beneath This Ink

by Meghan March

  “I think they call that a God complex.”

  “Call it whatever you want, but I’d do it again. All of those people had already chosen to leave a portion of their estates to the foundation. I did nothing more than ensure that gift was received at a time when it would be the most beneficial,” Archer said.

  Tears welled in my eyes, but in my shock, they didn’t fall. I heaved in breath after breath, but still felt like my lungs had been completely robbed of oxygen. My stomach revolted and bile rose in my throat.

  Oh. My. God.

  I was going to hyperventilate.

  I fought to listen over the harsh sounds of my own breathing.

  “So,” Archer continued. “Name your price. And if it’s Vanessa you want, I think we can make that happen. After all, that’s the whole damn reason I let you on the board to begin with. Your motives were obvious. Your execution has been… less than impressive. I’d expected a man like you could dissuade her from wanting to run this place and find a happy existence at home as your wife.”

  My heart twisted and clenched. That’s why Archer has been so supportive in allowing him on the board? To get me out of the way? Which meant… he’d never wanted me to run the foundation to begin with.

  I let the realization sink in. I don’t know him at all.

  He’d arranged for people to be murdered to benefit the foundation. My stomach roiled, my late lunch churning and rising. I turned to run for the bathroom, but Lucas’s words froze me mid-step.

  “I don’t think Vanessa is going to be taking directions from you when you’re behind bars. And what’s more, she’s in love with someone else. A man whose parents I’m pretty sure you had killed. She’ll never forgive you for that.”

  I gagged as vomit rose. I bolted from the hallway and ran around the corner, slamming through the bathroom door and banging open a stall. I dropped to my knees and heaved until I had nothing left.

  I didn’t even hear the sound of the bathroom door opening or recognize the presence of another person until my hair was lifted off the back of my neck. I jerked my head out of the toilet to see Lucas Titan holding out a piece of paper towel.

  “You’re lucky Archer didn’t hear you,” he said.

  Stomach still twisting into knots, tears streaming down my face, I took the paper towel with a shaky hand and tried to stifle my sobs.

  I found myself ensconced in Lucas’s Aston Martin, and I didn’t know what to do. What to think. What to feel… beyond betrayal, outrage, and utter disbelief.

  “What now? Is Archer packing his bags? Is he going to run for the border?”

  Lucas shook his head as he changed lanes. “No. He told me to do whatever I felt I must, and that I should know that if I breathed a word of what I knew, the entire foundation would crumble, and I’d be hurting thousands of people.”

  “You’d be hurting thousands of people? He’s the one who did this.” The sick bastard, I added silently. In the space of a few moments, he’d gone from mentor to monster.

  Lucas glanced over at me. “I hate to say it, but your uncle is severely disturbed. He needs help. And he needs to be stopped. So what we do from here on out is up to you.”

  “Me?”

  “This is your heritage, your legacy. Ergo, your decision.”

  The burden was a heavy one, but I would find the strength to bear it. Testing Titan, I asked, “And if I said I wanted you to keep it quiet?”

  His jaw tightened. “I’d think you were a heartless bitch who deserved a cell alongside your doting uncle. But I wouldn’t put you there.”

  That worked. “Good. Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. Because there’s no way I can let this stand.” I took a deep breath and asked the question I was terrified to confirm. “Did Archer have Con’s parents killed?”

  Titan’s attention stayed on the road as he replied, “It fits the M.O. and the timeline. They left almost ten million in a bequest. Archer needed a particularly big bump that year to stay on the list. And there was one other donor who was also murdered during a home invasion. About two years before Con’s parents. Cases were damn near identical. Both unsolved. Similar evidence.” His eyes shifted to me for a beat. “So yeah, I think he did.”

  “How do you know all that? The evidence? The other case?”

  “I called in a favor today from a mutual friend of ours: Detective Hennessy.”

  Does everyone know that man?

  “What did you tell him? Does he know?”

  Lucas shook his head. “He knows not to ask questions. But he’ll put together the similarities. He just won’t have the means to figure out who the money man was behind the trigger.”

  I was still processing everything I’d learned. It was absolute insanity. Even if Hennessy did put it together, what Lucas had figured out was so crazy, there was no way logic could get you to that answer. It was the work of a madman.

  “Archer has to pay for what he did.” And when he paid, so would I. Because Con would walk away—no, run away—from me. And the foundation would be no more. My fingernails cut into my palms as I balled my hands into rigid fists. I was going to lose everything just when I thought I could have it all.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “I have to tell him.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Lucas agreed.

  Somehow, at this moment, Titan’s company and support weren’t completely unwelcome. “You’re not as big of an asshole as I thought you were, you know that?”

  He smiled. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter when he said, “No matter what happens, my offer is still good.”

  My brow furrowed as I looked at him. “What offer?”

  “This one: If Con can’t get over this… I’ll be here. Waiting.”

  I turned my head to stare out the window, shocked to see we were pulling up in front of Voodoo.

  I grabbed the door handle, steeling myself for what I was about to do. I hesitated for a moment, needing to make sure Titan was clear on one thing first. “If Con can’t get over this… I’m pretty sure you’d be waiting a lifetime. Because I don’t think I’ll be able to get over him.”

  “You love him?”

  “You’re smart, Titan. I’m pretty sure you can answer that question for yourself.”

  My nerves were jumping as I pushed through the door to Voodoo. The female tattoo artist, Delilah, shook her head when she saw me. “He’s not here.”

  “Where’s he at?”

  “The gym.”

  My heart fell. How could I tell him in front of his boys? I couldn’t. But I also couldn’t put this off.

  Titan was still parked at the curb, so I climbed back inside the Aston and gave him directions to the gym.

  “You sure about this?” he asked as he pulled into the back parking lot.

  I saw Con’s Harley and decided that I was absolutely not sure about this. The apprehension thrumming through my veins was kicking up my nerves to new heights.

  I got out of the car anyway.

  I knocked on the door and waited.

  Reggie opened it. “Ms. Frost, didn’t know we were expecting you.”

  “Impromptu visit,” I said, attempting a smile. Reggie gave me a strange look—which led me to believe that my attempt had failed. He held open the door, and I stepped inside.

  I knew the way to the gym and didn’t wait for Reggie to lead. I stepped into the open space and saw Con with another man. They were in the ring and appeared to be demonstrating for the boys. Or maybe it had started as a demonstration and turned into a full-on boxing match.

  I waited, my heart hammering harder with every strike either man landed, until one of the boys whacked an old school boxing bell with a mallet.

  Con and the man separated. They were about the same height, same build, with same hair color, although the other man’s was buzzed short. And then there were the tattoos. The resemblance was… uncanny. They could’ve been brothers. I froze. Are they brothers? Con had never mentioned a sibling, but he’d also never said he didn’

t have one.

  But if they were brothers, why would Joy and Andre Leahy have adopted only Con?

  Con saw me and grinned.

  The knots in my stomach twisted even tighter, and my guilt at what I had to tell him multiplied.

  “What’re you doing here, babe? Should’ve called first.”

  I stalled, wanting to see him smile for just a few moments longer before I ripped his heart out.

  He slipped between the ropes and hopped out of the ring.

  “You look like you’ve been cloned.” I nodded toward the other man, who’d turned to talk to the boys.

  “That’s Lord,” he said.

  “And he is…?”

  “The manager of Chains. Helps out here sometimes too.”

  “And?”

  Con stripped off his boxing gloves and lifted my chin. “And I think you’ve figured out what else.”

  My eyes widened at his confirmation. I wasn’t sure how many more surprises I could handle today.

  “You have a brother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I didn’t know this because?”

  “We don’t really tell people. But I was going to introduce you on the Fourth. He was one of the buddies who was coming over.”

  “Oh.” I stumbled backward until I felt the bench behind me and sat

  “Whoa, princess. You don’t look so good. I guess I should’ve told you—”

  “It’s not that. I have to tell you something.” Lord walked up just as I finished speaking.

  “So this is the famous Vanessa Frost, in the flesh? I can see why Con wouldn’t let me meet you until he had you locked down. He was afraid you’d leave his ass for me.”

  At any other time, I would’ve found the words funny and even charming, but right then I couldn’t process them. Con had sobered.

  “Lord, take over with the boys. I need to talk to Vanessa.”

  Lord’s joking demeanor evaporated. He was like a chameleon, taking on Con’s same expression. I couldn’t handle it.

  “Whatever you need, man.”

  Con reached down and wrapped a hand around my upper arm, helping me to my feet. “Let’s get you some air.”

  I followed him down the back hall and out into the parking lot—where Lucas Titan was waiting, leaning against his car.

  Con stilled mid-stride. “What the fuck?” He looked to me and then to Lucas. “What. The. Fuck?” he growled again.

  Lucas didn’t flinch at Con’s tone. But I did.

  “I gave her a ride. She wasn’t really in a condition to drive, Leahy. You might want to hear her out.”

  I wanted to put a muzzle on Lucas. I wanted to find a corner, curl up into the fetal position, and not think about everything I’d learned today. I felt like my entire life—my sanity—was unraveling. Only Con’s strength held me up.

  I didn’t know how to tell him. I should’ve fought Lucas when he’d taken me to Voodoo. I should never have given him directions to get here. I should’ve come up with a plan first. Should’ve come up with the right words to explain. Maybe if I’d given myself more time, I could’ve found words that would soften the blow.

  Except there weren’t any.

  So I just laid it out baldly. “I think I know who killed your parents.”

  Con dropped his hold on my arm, and then immediately snatched it back up again and turned me to face him.

  It was like looking at a stranger. “Who?” he bit out. “And how?”

  I sank my teeth into my lip until I tasted the coppery tang of blood. “I don’t know who pulled the trigger, but I’m pretty sure I know who ordered it.”

  He shook me, as if trying to rattle the information out of me quicker.

  “Who, goddammit?”

  His chest was rising and falling, his anger building and ready to burst like a thunderhead.

  “Archer,” I whispered. “We think it was Archer.” I gestured to Lucas, taking the coward’s way out. “Tell him what you found.”

  Con dropped my arm like I was diseased and turned on Lucas. My knees gave way and when Lucas lunged to grab me, Con blocked him, letting me fall to the pavement.

  The back door of the warehouse flew open, and Lord stalked out.

  Con barked, “Take her inside.”

  Lord scooped me up, and I fought against his hold.

  “Calm down. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but Con looks like he’s about to fucking detonate. You’re better off outside the blast radius.”

  “No. I have to—”

  Lord stopped trying to convince me, and his hold became unmovable. “Don’t matter what you want.”

  The last thing I saw before the door slammed shut was Con pacing, hands jammed into his hair, as Lucas talked.

  When the back door opened and footsteps echoed in the hallway, I expected to see Con in the doorway to the kitchen. But it was Lucas.

  “Where is he?” I asked, shooting to my feet, my chair toppling over behind me.

  “Gone.”

  I looked to Lord, who was leaning against the wall and rubbing a hand over his face. “He say where?”

  Lucas’s attention was on me when he answered, “I think it’s safe to say he went after Archer. That’s where I’d go if I’d just learned who was responsible for killing my folks.”

  My stomach sank to my toes.

  Lord turned and punched the wall. “That’s what you just told him? Who killed Joy and Andre? Fuck.”

  What would Con do? What he’d sworn that night at the lake house? Vigilante justice? An eye for an eye?

  Jesus help us all.

  “We have to stop him,” I whispered.

  Lord’s gaze snapped to mine, and I realized that his eyes were lighter blue than Con’s. And they showed that he was pissed.

  “This is all your fault,” he told me. “He never should’ve gotten involved with you. Told him it wasn’t worth the risk.”

  So Lord seemed to know who Archer was. At least that was one thing I didn’t have to explain. But I did have to explain something else: “It’s not Archer I’m worried about protecting. It’s Con. If he… kills him… then he’s going to go to prison. I can’t let that happen.”

  Lord’s anger cooled a few degrees. “Then we stop him. I’ll go to Chains. You go to Archer.”

  “Chains?”

  “He’s going to get the gun,” Lord replied matter-of-factly.

  “What gun?”

  “One that someone pawned. He was supposed to turn it back over to Hennessy. The casing matched the murder scene.”

  “And if he uses it to kill Archer…”

  “Then you’re right; he’s definitely going to prison.”

  I wanted to sink back into the chair, but instead I strode toward Lucas. “Let’s go.”

  I spun the lock on the safe until it clicked and threw the handle. The door swung open. Reaching inside, I pulled out the gun. The one someone had used to killed Joy and Andre.

  My phone buzzed, and I ignored it. It was either Lord or Vanessa, neither of whom I wanted to talk to right about now. I was mapping out my plan for the evening.

  Archer Bennett was going to confess all. And then I’d decide what to do with him.

  A deadly calm had settled over me. A killing calm. One I hadn’t felt since my last mission in Afghanistan.

  I grabbed a box of .38 special ammo off the shelf and slid a round into each chamber of the revolver. I’d only need one bullet, but I’d be a shit soldier if I went out with an almost empty gun.

  I was back on my bike and roaring toward the foundation when I felt my phone vibrate over and over. A beat up 1970s Mercedes was still parked in the small lot. I only had one guess as to whose car it was.

  Con’s bike was already in the parking lot when the Aston Martin screeched to a halt beside it.

  Oh my God. What the hell were we going to walk in to? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. If we went inside and saw Archer with a bullet hole anywhere in his body, I’d never be able to look at Con the same way again. Never.

  Lord and Lucas might think Con’s actions were perfectly understandable, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t change everything.

  Archer was sick. Quite possibly insane. But I couldn’t let Con kill him. Not because Archer deserved to live, but because it wasn’t up to Con to end his life.

  I didn’t want his blood on Con’s hands. And I really didn’t want to face the moral dilemma of what you were supposed to do when your boyfriend killed your great uncle because your great uncle arranged to have your boyfriend’s parents murdered before he was your boyfriend.

  I’d thought Archer’s approval was all I needed for Con and I to be together, but now Archer was going to be the reason Con and I were torn apart—but for a whole different reason.

  I hurried into the building, Lucas on my heels.

  “You need to stay back, Vanessa. This isn’t going to be—”

  The sound of raised voices cut off his words, and I ran toward them.

  “Vanessa!” Lucas yelled.

  I slammed to a stop when I hit the threshold of Archer’s office. He was on his knees, and Con was standing over him. The barrel of the shiny, black revolver in Con’s hand was pressed against Archer’s temple.

  If you’d expected Archer to be begging for mercy, you would’ve bet wrong.

  He was irate.

  And every insult that came out of his mouth was pushing Con closer to the edge. For a brief moment I wondered if this was the equivalent of suicide by cop. I wondered if Archer wanted Con to kill him.

  If that was true, it was the coward’s way out.

  “Don’t. Don’t do it. Please, Con. Don’t.” I was the only one in the room begging, it seemed.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” Con’s words were calm and even—completely at odds with the fact that he was holding a gun to a man’s head.

  He was someone else entirely right now. Con the soldier. Con the avenger. And I didn’t know him at all.

  I had to try to talk him down; no one else was attempting to. “You shouldn’t be here either. But you are. So I am. Let’s both leave now, and we’ll figure this out. We’ll call your buddy Hennessy, and we’ll let him handle it.”

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