Where Good Girls Go to Die (The Good Girls Series Book 1)

by Holly Renee

  I needed to step in. I should have stepped in, but I also wanted to know Livy’s reaction. I desperately wanted to know what was going on in that head of hers.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” Livy spoke through gritted teeth, looking hot as hell. “The only thing that the two of us have in common is that he broke both of our hearts. Now get the fuck out of here before I break something else.”

  Madison hesitated only a second before she turned on her heel and marched out the door, the chime echoing throughout the building. Livy pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, and I knew she was trying to control herself. Trying to hide everything she was feeling in that moment.

  She shook her hands out then her eyes met mine. She held my stare for a moment, giving away too much of herself, but not nearly enough. I wanted nothing more than to run to her and hold her against me. I wanted to tell her that she was nothing like Madison, that they didn’t have a damn thing in common. There were so many things I wanted to tell her. So many things that were on the tip of my tongue, but I had a client lying in my chair, gloves on my hands, and a fiancée that I seemed to keep forgetting about when I was around her.

  So instead of doing everything I wanted to, I reached for the control on the wall turning up the radio, then I went back to work trying to numb out everything that was running through my mind.

  By the time I came up for air, it was dark outside and there was no one around. I rang my client up since Livy wasn’t at her desk then shook his hand. He was a quiet guy. We barely spoke a handful of words during his session, but he was beyond happy with my work and that was all that mattered.

  The door chimed as he walked out, and I wondered where in the hell everyone was. Staci’s laugh rang out through the shop and I followed the sound into Brandon’s workspace.

  As soon as I saw them, rage filled me.

  I had no right to feel that way.

  It was insanity that I did, but it didn’t change anything.

  It rushed through my veins.

  It took over every rational thought.

  Livy was lying back in Brandon’s chair, her shirt rolled up to the bottom of her breasts, her stomach completely on display.

  I loved seeing the smooth skin of her stomach. It reminded me of times when we had gone swimming together, of the times I had her body under my touch, but then memories of her dancing half naked in front of my friends ran through my mind and seeing Brandon’s hands on her now took every good memory I had and ruined them.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Livy looked up at me, confused. I didn’t blame her. I was confused myself.

  “I’m about to give Livy her first tattoo,” Brandon said without looking up at me.

  Staci was swiveling in a chair next to Livy, and she had a grin on her face that was often there. It was full of mischief.

  “It’s not happening.”

  Brandon’s hands stopped pressing the transfer paper against Livy’s skin, and he finally turned to look at me.

  “I’m sorry. What?” Livy sat up, crumbling the design that rested against her body, making me smile.

  I looked at her. Only at her. “If you want a tattoo, then I’ll do it. Otherwise, it’s not happening.” I knew that I sounded like a maniac. Hell, I felt like one, but there was no way that I was allowing Brandon to ink her body. Not for her first time. Maybe not ever.

  Just the thought of his hands running over her skin as he marked her for life was driving me insane.

  Livy looked to Brandon for help maybe or advice. Either way, it pissed me off even more.

  “Brandon?”

  He didn’t turn to look at her though. He was staring at me, watching me with his gaze that could see straight through me.

  “It’s cool, Liv,” he said. “Let Parker do your first tattoo. Maybe he’ll even do that drawing that you really wanted. You know the one, Parker? The heart with all the butterflies.”

  That motherfucker.

  He knew what that drawing meant to me. He knew why I had always refused to tattoo it on anyone.

  It reminded me of Livy. I think subconsciously, I drew it for her.

  “Parker James,” Livy stood, pulling down her shirt. “You piss me the fuck off.”

  She stormed out of the room, knocking into my chest on her way out the door. Brandon and Staci both tried to stifle their laugh so I flipped them the bird before I walked out, following her.

  “You piss me off too, Livy.”

  She stopped in her tracks, her hand resting on the desk, and her chest heaving in anger.

  “What the hell did I do to piss you off?” She turned toward me.

  “You knew that I’d be mad if you let Brandon tattoo you. Is that why you did it? To get under my skin?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why would I want under your skin, Parker?”

  “I don’t know.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “But you promised me that I would be the first person to ever tattoo you.”

  It was a stupid thing to say. Did she promise me that? Yes. Was that a long ass time ago? Yes again.

  “Are you kidding me? That was over four years ago. Four fucking years.” She held up four fingers for emphasis. “And you promised me way more than that, buddy. I guess it’s my turn to start breaking some promises.”

  Her words hit their mark, exactly where she intended for them to, and I felt it burn in my chest.

  She pulled her bag from underneath her desk then looked up at me again. “I’m going home for the night.”

  “Okay,” I said hesitantly.

  “I wasn’t asking for permission.” She gave me an evil look, and I wanted to close the few steps that were separating us. I wanted to kiss the attitude right out of her. I wanted to apologize for everything I had ever done to her with the touch of my lips, and I wanted to punish her for still making me want her with the force of my tongue and the nip of my teeth.

  But instead, I let her walk out, and I had no clue what I was thinking.

  P A R K E R

  Four years and five and a half months earlier

  I hated the smell of nursing homes. As soon as the smell hit me, it made me feel depressed and lonely, but my hand was resting in Livy’s as we walked toward my grandfather’s room.

  “Hey, Papa,” I called out as soon as we walked in the door.

  It smelled different in his room. The scent of tobacco and leather filled the air, and it reminded me of all the time I had spent with this man.

  “Well I’ll be damned if it isn’t my Livy.” He was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, and he looked happy.

  “Hey, Papa.” She waved, but he wasn’t having any of that.

  “Girl, get your ass over here and give me some love.”

  She giggled as she made her way to him, and he pulled her into his arms. His grip was a lot weaker than it used to be, but I could see him cling to her with everything he had.

  She sat down in the chair next to him, and he gripped her hand in his.

  “How are you, Livy?”

  “I’m really good.” She smiled at him. “How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m living the dream.” He lifted his free hand in the air and motioned around the room. “I have all this, plus some good-looking nurses who take care of me, and I’m the reigning champion of bingo.”

  She laughed at his antics, and he smiled at her, a broad smile that could never be faked. That was the thing about Papa. He was always genuine, and he always made everyone happier just by being around him.

  “Ummm… Hi, Papa.” I waved at him from his bed, and Papa rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, hi, Parker.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’re my favorite grandson in the world.”

  “He’s my only grandson,” Papa mock-whispered to Livy.

  “Don’t get jealous, boy. You know I love you, but it’s not every day that I get to see my Livy. Plus, she’s much prettier than you to look at.” Papa winked at
her, and I groaned. “Don’t groan at me. I saw you holding her hand when you walked in. What’s going on there?”

  Livy started to pull her hand from Papa’s, but Papa’s grip held firm. I saw him give her hand a squeeze for reassurance as they waited for me to reply.

  “Papa.” I ran my hand over my face. “We’re hanging out.” My eyes met hers.

  “What the hell does that mean? You two always hang out.”

  “Well now we’re hanging out without Mason around.” I looked at my grandfather trying to get him to read between the lines.

  “Oh, so you like my Livy.” Papa wagged his eyebrows at me, and Livy snorted out a laugh.

  “Yes, Papa. I like her.” My voice was soft, and Livy looked up at me with a soft smile on her face.

  I more than liked her.

  “It’s about damn time.” Papa stood from his chair pulling Livy with him. “Well come on, lovebirds. Bingo starts in five minutes.”

  I followed them down the hall. He stopped every few feet to introduce Livy to anyone he saw, bragging on how beautiful she was, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

  We spent the next few hours playing bingo with Papa, him winning every time, and laughter filling the air.

  “I’m sorry I had to beat you Livy,” he whispered in her ear, “but I couldn’t let George think I was getting soft.”

  “It’s okay, Papa. I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”

  He winked at her before turning back to his bingo board. It was so easy to see how much he loved Livy, and it made me wonder if everyone could see through me so easily.

  I pulled her into me and kissed her softly against her lips.

  “Thank you,” I said against her neck.

  “For what?” she said breathlessly.

  “For being you.”

  L I V

  Present

  Broken hearts aren’t the worst thing in the world. Having a broken heart and getting a reminder of how broken it was daily? That fucking sucked.

  I thought I could handle it. I didn’t think I would be so affected after all this time, but every day when his phone rang, I held my breath to see if he would say I love you before hanging up.

  As much as it hurt me, I needed to get closer to him. I needed some sort of connection. I knew how bad of an idea that was. I didn’t need someone to tell me how idiotic I was being. I had already told myself. But a broken heart was the worst listener in the world, and all that bitch could see was him. She didn’t care about anything else. It is easy to swallow down the lies when your heart is hungry.

  It had been three days since the incident with Brandon. I was so pissed off when he refused to allow Brandon to tattoo me. He acted like he was my father. He acted like he had some right to tell me what to do.

  But as pissed as I was, the thought that kept running through my brain on repeat was that he cared. That little bloom of, I don’t know, hope maybe? Poison? Either way, it weaseled its way into my chest and sank its teeth into me. I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

  I knew that it shouldn’t have mattered if he cared, but no matter how much I tried to lie to myself, it did.

  Parker had just finished tattooing a portrait of a man’s daughter on his arm. It was beautiful, life-like, and so damn impressive. I knew from our past that he was talented. I had spent many hours sitting around watching him draw. But what he did now? It was beyond anything that I could imagine.

  I looked at the clock. Four fifty-six. Fuck. My fingers tapped against the desk, and I tried to keep my foot from bouncing against my chair.

  Parker walked out from his workspace. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, and it was unfair how damn hot he was. The crisp white of his shirt seemed to make the colors of his tattoos pop even more than normal, and his eyes. God. His eyes.

  “Is my next appointment here yet?” He leaned against my desk, his arms crossed below him.

  “Yep.” I avoided his eyes.

  He turned his head to look out in the waiting room then looked back at me.

  “Are they in the bathroom?” he asked curiously.

  “Nope.”

  “Okay,” he said hesitantly. “Want to clue me in?” He chuckled softly.

  I set his drawing down in front of him. The one I loved. The one he refused to tattoo on anyone.

  He looked down at the drawing, stared at it for a moment before his gaze returned to mine. He didn’t say anything. He just watched me. He watched me in a way that I knew he saw too much. He always had.

  “I’ll make you a deal.” I put my face on my fist, leaning in for dramatic affect. “I’ll let you do my first tattoo if you do this.” I pointed down at the drawing that lay between us.

  He continued to stare at me, but his gaze dropped from my eyes to my lips. My breath caught in my throat, and it seemed to snap him out of it.

  “Deal.” He stood to his full height and held the drawing in his hand.

  “Really?” I squeaked. I had expected him to put up at least a bit of a fight after the things Brandon and Staci had told me about the drawing.

  “Yes, really. Now come on.” He started walking toward his workspace, and I hopped out of my chair to follow him.

  I climbed into his chair while he started pulling things out of drawers and setting everything up. I didn’t know what half the crap was, but I trusted him. By the time he rolled his stool up next to me with black gloves covering his hands, the only thought that was crossing my mind was that he was about to touch me.

  “Where are we doing it?” He held a stencil in his hand. The drawing ready to transfer to my skin.

  “I was thinking over my ribs.” I pointed to the right side of my body.

  “Bold choice. You know they are one of the most painful spots, right?”

  “I can handle it.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Okay.” He grinned. “But I don’t want to hear any bitching.”

  I smacked him on his arm, and he laughed softly before he started rolling up my shirt. The muscles of my stomach tightened under his touch. He leaned my chair back until I was completely stretched out in front of him. He finished rolling my shirt up and tucked it precariously under my bra.

  Chill bumps covered my skin as he cleaned it with his damp paper towel. When his fingers pressed the stencil against my skin, I held my breath and tried not to squirm under his touch.

  “Do you want to make sure it’s right?” he asked as he leaned back to look at the stencil. He examined it from several different angles, making sure it was perfect.

  “No. I trust you.” I didn’t think about the words until after I said them, but I couldn’t take them back. I watched Parker swallow down my words, the movement of his throat mesmerizing.

  “You ready?”

  I looked up at him, his gun in his hand, and my heart in my throat. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

  Then the pain started. I tried to hold as still as I possibly could, but there were moments when Parker would push down on my hip to keep me in place. He wiped the ink from my skin, rubbed some sort of salve over the work he had already done, and then he continued working. He looked so serious as he concentrated on his gun against my skin. His brow was furrowed, and he constantly pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. I wanted his lips against mine, I wanted his teeth against my body, and I felt like I was about to lose my mind.

  “Are you okay?” He ran his paper towel over my skin again, collecting the excess ink.

  “Yeah. Why?” I ran my hand through my hair.

  “Your stomach is trembling.” He was watching me, waiting for my response.

  “Oh.” I tightened my stomach muscles. I hadn’t even realized it was happening.

  “Why don’t we take a break?” He pulled his gloves off. “I’ve got the outline finished.”

  “Can I look at it?” I leaned over trying to see my ribs, but Parker caught my chin in his hand, stopping me.

  “Not happening.” We stared at each other, my face in his hand, my pulse rac
ing. His eyes seemed glazed over as he looked at me, and when his thumb ran over my bottom lip softly, I knew we were in dangerous territory.

  “Parker.” His name was a whisper on my lips, the taste of memories and pain and the desire for something I knew was wrong for me. Something that was wrong for both of us.

  He pulled his thumb away from me, leaving a trail of fire and want behind. “I’m going to go get some fresh air.” He stood from his stool, the legs hitting the wall, before taking a deep breath and walking out.

  I stood from my chair, careful not to touch my new tattoo, and I went to Staci’s room. She was lying back in her chair with a piece of paper over her face, and I couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or not.

  I pushed on her foot, and she slowly sat up, blinking.

  “Were you napping?” I sat down on her stool.

  “Me? Nope. Never. I would never nap at work.” She was grinning a shit-eating grin, and I came to realize that was her normal look.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Holy shit.” She sat up further in her chair.

  “What?” I looked around the room, confused.

  “He did it.” She pointed down at my tattoo. “He really fucking did it.”

  I was worried that maybe he had tattooed something crazy on me instead of doing the drawing I asked for, but I still avoided looking down at it. Well, because he told me to.

  “What did he do?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Motherfucker.” She stood up and paced in her small space.

  “What’s wrong?” I started to look down at the tattoo because you know, that shit is for life.

  “He actually tattooed that drawing on you.” She pointed to my ribs again. “Do you know how many people he’s said no to?”

  I shook my head, but she wasn’t finished.

  “Me either because it’s more than I could count. I thought this was a sure thing. That asshole. Now I’m out a hundred dollars.”

  “Umm, Staci. You’re confusing the hell out of me.”

  “That tattoo. I made a bet with Brandon that Parker wouldn’t do it.” She narrowed her eyes on me. “Brandon must know something that I don’t know. Spill it.”