Missing Ink

by E J Frost

  It certainly does.

  “Napa, I’m so sorry I’ve involved you—”

  He cuts me off with a rough, “Don’t apologize. We offered protection and we offered for a reason. This is the brotherhood, Mac. This is what I meant when I said we will always stand shoulder to shoulder and you will never need to say thank you or I’m sorry.”

  He did say that during the party. Was it only two nights ago? With everything that’s happened today, it feels longer. “I appreciate it.”

  “Text me the address. Cinder and I will head over.”

  “Head over?” I ask, not quite following.

  “This is an Oidhri problem now. Taco might just be a prospect, but he’s our prospect and we protect our own. Cinder and I’ll sit down with you and figure out how to deal with these assholes. Time to put them out of business.”

  I look at Logan, who is listening to the conversation intently.

  “Funny you should say that,” I tell Napa. “See you soon.”

  *****

  With the two bikers, Max, and Manny, Logan’s office feels a little crowded. Emily’s taken her laptop and disappeared, but Bren’s curled up beside me on the couch. She’s still wearing Logan’s bathrobe, because she’s having trouble staying warm even though the house is balmy. Underneath the terrycloth, she’s wearing her soft, black pants and my Black Sabbath concert T-shirt. I’d intended to save the shirt as a reward until after I’d given her the permanent collar and claimed her holes a third time. Seeing her look so small and lost after she woke up from her nap made me bust it out early. Her grin made it worthwhile.

  While Max walks the bikers through all his surveillance of Mad Bob and the skinheads, I cuddle Bren to my side and speak softly to her. “How are you feeling now, sweetheart?”

  “Warmer, Sir. I don’t remember getting cold like this after fights when I was with the East C girls. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”

  “You haven’t fought since your hip was crushed, right?” At her nod, I continue. “That was a decade ago, girl. Your body isn’t geared to violence anymore. Sparring’s not the same. I should know. There’s a world of difference between a boxing match and a firefight. Battle hits you right in the adrenal gland. Think of it like a scene. You used up a hell of a lot of calories and chemicals during the fight just like you do in a good scene. Your body’s depleted. It’s going to take a while to build back up to where you feel normal again.”

  She lets out a little huff. “Only I would get post-fight sub drop.”

  “Could be a lot worse, sweetheart. Your body could be trying to heal a broken arm and a concussion as well.”

  “I feel terrible about that, Sir. There I was thinking he was eating his way through the East Village and instead he was getting beat up.”

  I squeeze her shoulders. “I feel the same way. I apologized to Napa for getting them tangled up in this. You want to know what he said?”

  Bren nods.

  “He said this is the brotherhood.”

  She looks impressed.

  “This is the brotherhood I’ve been looking for, girl.”

  “I can see why, Sir. If you do join up, I want one of the Ladies’ Auxiliary shirts.”

  “You have a Black Sabbath concert shirt, girl. That’s all the shirt you’ll ever need.”

  “The Oidhri T-shirts are so much cooler.”

  “That’s a clothespin on the tongue, you cretin.”

  She laughs for the first time in hours.

  I smile at the sound and kiss her temple. “If I haven’t said it in the last fifteen minutes, I’m proud of you, girl.”

  “Why? I’m a shaking wreck. A jab, two kicks, and an elbow, and I’m such a mess you’d have thought I was in an all-day cage match. Not a lot to be proud of here, Sir.”

  I gather her dreads in my hand and gently pull her head back until she has to meet my eyes.

  “I. Am. Proud. Of. You. Girl,” I say.

  Her face relaxes despite my hold on her hair. “They were good kicks.”

  “I’m sure they were. That’s not why I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for keeping your head when confronted with three men you knew intended to hurt you. I’m proud of you for being strong and trained enough to fight them off. I’m proud of you for coming to me and letting me take care of you when it was over. And I’m extremely proud that through all of it, you kept thinking of other people. Me. Emily. Your employees and clients. Even Taco. Given everything you’ve been through, Bren, you could have come out uncaring and self-centered. I can’t tell you how impressed I am that you didn’t.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  When I let her head drop forward, she rests it on my shoulder.

  After exhaustively reviewing everything we know about Mad Bob and the Fairskin Knights, Napa goes out into the hall to make a phone call while Cinder pulls one of the guest chairs in front of us and drops into it, his riding leathers creaking.

  “While I like both blowing up the guy’s plumbing and sealing his shop in a concrete coffin,” Cinder says with a grin. “I think Napa’s going to want to deal with this a different way. He’s trying to get a line into the Knights to talk with their grand poo-bah or imperial wizard or whatever the fuck he calls himself. He wants them out of it. Then we’re going to confront these three clowns who thought they could fuck up our prospect directly. Sounds like you did a number on them.” He nods to Bren. “Good start, but that’s not enough. They broke Taco’s bones, so I’m going to break theirs.”

  “I was trying to avoid anything that would result in jail time,” I say.

  “Appreciate that but I’m sergeant at arms and this is what I do.”

  I rub my chin for a minute. There’s a difference between defending yourself, as Bren did today, and beating a man in a bar fight, which I’ve done a few times, and the premeditated decision to break someone’s bones, which is what Cinder’s proposing. I’m much more comfortable at the defense/bar fight end of the spectrum when it comes to civilians.

  But those three men made the decision to hunt down Taco and Brenna and break their bones, even if they didn’t succeed in Bren’s case. That edges them out of the cotton cloud I tend to wrap civilians in and into the realm of combatants.

  “I’m on board with that, but I’d like to keep those three out of it.” I nod to Logan, Manny, and Max who are still huddled around one of the computers on Logan’s desk. “I’m concerned about Logan’s PI license.”

  Cinder nods. “This is Oidhri business now. Better kept between brothers.”

  “I’d considered using the camera they planted at the shop to lure Mad Bob and his buddies into an ambush,” I tell him. “There’s no way for them to know we’re on to it.”

  Cinder nods again and I can see plans forming behind his eyes.

  “I think it’s time for a nightcap and then I’m going to put my little slugger to bed. Do you and Napa need a place to stay tonight?”

  Cinder waves me off. “We’re good.”

  Of course, before I can get my girl to bed, we have to deal with Theo, because both the law and its representative are an ass.

  He shows up as we’re all sitting in the great room with whisky for me and Bren, a sippy cup of Baileys for Emily, and beers for everyone else. When the doorbell rings, Logan checks the security feed on his phone and groans.

  “He could have called first.” Logan looks at Napa and Cinder. “This guy’s a NYPD detective. If you need to make yourselves scarce, Emmy will let you into the playrooms downstairs and we’ll give you a shout when the coast is clear.”

  Napa and Cinder both shake their heads. Surprisingly, it’s Max who stands up and says, “I’ll take you up on that, Lo.”

  Emily scrambles off the floor cushion she’s curled up on and takes Max down into the playroom. I shoot Manny a glance. “Anything I should know about there?”

  Manny shakes his head. “We’re just trying to keep Max off the NYPD’s radar. Logan may like this guy, but I think he’s an asshole. The less
he knows about LMM, the better.”

  Beside me, Brenna sighs.

  I wait to see if she’ll defend Theo. When she doesn’t, I wrap my arm a little more tightly around her shoulders.

  I swear that’s the first thing Theo’s eyes fix on when he follows Logan back into the room.

  “You look good for someone who put a guy in the hospital today,” Theo says to Bren.

  “If you’re going down that road,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “You’d better Mirandize her. Otherwise, Bren’s not answering a single one of your questions.”

  Theo shoots me a look that contains a disconcerting level of loathing. “I’m here as a friend.”

  Despite that, he sits down on the far end of the sectional and takes out his phone and notepad.

  Bren’s eyes flick to the notepad then back up to meet Theo’s. “This doesn’t feel all that friendly, Master Theo.”

  “It is for now. If you want to make this official, we can go down to the station. For now, let’s call it follow up on your theft report. Tell me what happened.”

  “I’m not sure it has anything to do with the theft,” Bren says.

  Her tone is cool. So much cooler than I feel. I’m trying to separate my lingering jealousy at the man from the rankling of him exerting authority in this situation. But it’s all getting lost in a growing, red haze.

  “The man you made the report against, Robert Iggleston? He’s at Mount Sinai recovering from surgery on a ruptured testicle. He and a friend of his, Damon Waites.” Theo checks the name on his notepad and nods. “Presented together saying they’d been attacked. Waites had outpatient surgery to repair his ear. He was released with instructions on treating his concussion.”

  I glance at Cinder, since I’m not at all happy about having Mad Bob at the same hospital as Taco, even though it’s a big place and I expect the bikers left a guard or two with their prospect. Cinder meets my eyes and tips his chin. He’s already on top of it somehow.

  I glance back at Bren, who is grinning an absolutely demented grin at Theo. In that grin, I see the girl who carried a Brooklyn Smasher, survived street fights and an ambush by a rival gang. I bet that’s the same grin she gave Mad Bob and his pack of assholes when she was kicking the shit out of them.

  “Have they made any report against Brenna?” Logan asks. He’s got his own notepad out and is scribbling away.

  “Not yet,” Theo says. “Bren, are they going to?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Logan and I chorus.

  Theo blows out a frustrated breath. “I’m trying to get ahead of this. I really am here as a friend.”

  Bren crosses her arms and legs, closing herself off from him. That’s some body language.

  “Same way you were my friend when you gave my juvie record to the management committee?” she asks.

  Theo rubs a hand over his face. To hide, I think, any spots of color rising on his cheeks. “Whatever I did during your application, I don’t see how it’s relevant now.”

  “It’s relevant to whether you’re really here as my friend or as Detective D’Andrea, Detective D’Andrea,” Bren responds.

  “I’m here as your friend. As someone you’ve trusted with your body and well-being many, many times.” His eyes flick to mine and I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me, the ass. “If you distrusted me so much, why d’you scene with me for the last six months?”

  “I only realized where the committee must have gotten my record when you pulled your badge at Rick’s party in August,” Brenna says. “It seemed a little late to get pissy about it. But I don’t think we are friends outside of a scene, and I don’t think you’re here as a friend now since you haven’t even asked how I am.”

  Theo flips his notepad closed. “How are you?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Logan growls.

  “Are you her fucking attorney?”

  Theo rises to his feet, towering over everyone who remains seated.

  “I’m the friend she came to,” Logan responds, unperturbed. “Whose house she feels safe in. She didn’t call you and neither did I. You’re not part of this equation anymore, Theo.”

  “Thought you had a healthy respect for police powers, Logan,” Theo snarls. “You want to ride back with me on an obstruction charge?”

  “No more than you want me making a complaint about abuse of power.” Logan taps his pen on his notepad. “Stop throwing your badge at me every time I do something you don’t like. I shared LMM’s investigation regarding recovering the Missing Ink designs with you, but if, and I’m saying if , this has escalated to physical violence then you being here as Brenna’s friend is counterproductive. Anything she says will be used not in a theft investigation but an assault and battery investigation against her. Mac’s right. She’s not answering your questions unless you Mirandize her, in which case I’ll be calling Franco to represent her, and she won’t be answering your questions until she’s had a chance to speak to her attorney.”

  I restrain myself from giving him a round of applause. Logan’s learned some things since we were in the Navy together, and I’m going to have to play catch up if I want to protect my girl half as well as he just did.

  “You’re throwing away my help,” Theo snaps, picking his notebook and phone off the table and stuffing them back in his pockets.

  “I didn’t ask for your help. Neither did Bren,” Logan responds, rising and starting toward the door.

  Theo casts an angry glare at Bren, and at me, before he follows Logan out.

  I wait until I heard the front door open and close before I rub my hand over Bren’s shoulder. “Ruptured his testicle, huh? That’s the last time I’m sparring naked with you.”

  Chuckles all around the room diffuse the lingering tension.

  Behind us, Logan returns to the room, opens the basement door, and calls down to Emily and Max. Emily patters up the stairs and into the room in a flurry of dark curls and throws herself into her daddy’s arms. He picks her up and carries her over to where Theo was sitting. Sinking down onto the sectional, he arranges his babygirl on his lap and buries his face in her hair.

  “I think I burned a bridge there,” he murmurs.

  “No, sir,” Bren says, reaching out and putting her bruised hand on his arm. “You did the right thing. You’re a hundred percent right about an a-and-b case. With my record? There’s only one way it would go.”

  “Given your kickboxing training, you could even be charged with assault with a deadly,” Napa says. Both he and Cinder were absolutely silent during the exchange with Theo and I realize it’s not because they lacked opinions. “If he tries to question you again, lawyer up.”

  Brenna nods and lays her head on my shoulder.

  “Ready for bed?” I ask her gently.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  It’s fairly early and we haven’t had a real dinner, but we ate lunch very late and I suspect Bren’s so drained by the day she just wants to put it behind her.

  “I think we’re going to say goodnight,” I tell the assembled group. There are nods all around.

  “Mac, any chance you’d come with us to the hospital tomorrow to see Taco?” Cinder asks, catching my eye as I help Bren up off the couch. There’s much more in his gaze than a “get well soon” visit to the kid.

  “Sure. You want to come by for breakfast around nine?” I resist the impulse to look at Logan before I extend the invitation. I’m trying to treat this as my house, even though it’s still a little unsettling.

  The bikers nod and that breaks up the gathering. Manny and Max both clap me on the shoulder before they leave.

  Once we’re upstairs, Bren sags onto the edge of the guest bed, letting Logan’s bathrobe fall off her shoulders but not undressing. I kneel by her feet and draw off the cute, fuzzy socks she borrowed from Emily. When she doesn’t move, I rub her toes gently.

  “Run out of steam, sweetheart?” I ask.

  “I have, Sir. I felt like I’d chugged a dozen energy drinks while I was stan
ding up to Theo but now I feel like he rang my bell.”

  “Do you need the bathroom before bed?”

  She nods and shakes herself a little. “I’m okay, Sir.”

  “I know you are, girl. You’re more than okay. But this is where you let your Sir help.” I stand and put my arm around her. She leans heavily on me as we walk to the bathroom.

  Bren’s always done her business in the bathroom, which I know includes cleaning herself out for my daily anal, very privately. Having lived in the confined quarters of ships and barracks for most of my life, privacy isn’t something I’m overly concerned with and there’s something pleasantly domestic about standing side by side at the sink with Bren while we brush our teeth. When she glances at the toilet and then at me, though, I clear out. There’s being domestic and there’s watching my woman pee. There’s not much fun in that outside a scene.

  When she joins me in the bedroom, she’s carrying her clothes folded over her arm. She hands me the concert T-shirt.

  “I appreciate you letting me wear it today, but I know it’s sacred, Sir. I probably shouldn’t sleep in it.”

  I take it from her with a kiss and fold it into a drawer. Pulling out a pair of my briefs and a plain T-shirt, I gesture to her to hold her arms up so I can dress her.

  “Sir, I— rule whatever it is. Seven, I think. I’m sorry, I haven’t memorized the numbers yet.”

  Good subbie that she is, she’s offering me her ass before bed.

  “Hold your arms up, girl.” When she does, I drop the T-shirt over her head and lean in to kiss her forehead. “Consider the offer made. I’m not up for that right now. I want to cuddle with my snuggleslut and put this day behind us.”

  She droops and nods gratefully. When I hold out the briefs, she steps into them before climbing under the covers. I follow her into the bed. My head hasn’t even hit the pillow before she’s curling into me, tucking her face into my neck, stretching her arm across my chest to trace little circles on my shoulder.

  “Thank you for everything today, Sir,” she whispers, her voice thin and soft. “For being there for me. Before those guys jumped me, I was thinking about you and how much trust you’ve shown me. It means a lot.”