Fifteen
By ten in the morning Grace had purchased her new phone and was ready to confront Evan about Sara and the smoothie. If only she could find him. She walked into her third tattoo parlor of the day—a converted barbershop studio—hoping it would be her last stop. Deadly Ink, the sign read. Promising.
A bell dinged her arrival and a dark-haired woman behind the counter lifted her head. An array of tattoos marked her light brown skin. Famous faces and tribal lines peeked from behind her leather bustier and led up her skin, hitting the edge of her razor sharp bob at her neck. Short bangs finished an inch from her arched eyebrows, and thick black eyeliner lifted at the corners like bat’s wings. Wow. Very gothic chic.
Grace gave the woman her best smile. “Hello.”
“I think you’re in the wrong place,” she replied in a smoky voice. “We don’t do temporary here. Maybe visit the grocery store, get a cereal box and take a look inside for a sticker, or something.”
Shocked, Grace involuntarily checked her appearance and smoothed her hair, still in a practical ponytail. She wore jeans and a simple blouse under her navy blue coat. Nothing flash, but still, nicely presented. After getting over the affront, Grace pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin.
“Maybe I want something permanent.”
“You want a tattoo.” Her eyes lowered over Grace. “Have you had one before? Do you know how much it hurts?”
What was that supposed to mean? “Do I look like a woman who doesn’t know pain?”
“You look like a Disney princess in a winter coat.”
“Well then, no to all the above. I’ve never had a tattoo. No, I don’t know how much it hurts because I’ve never had one, and no… I’m not a Disney princess. I’m a doctor. But that’s irrelevant. Is this how you treat all your new clients? Surely you started with a first tattoo once upon a time, didn’t you? I mean, you weren’t born with them, right? They’re magnificent by the way. Truly great artistry. Did you design them yourself?”
When faced with a naysayer, Grace always found it better to be overly kind.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking, or being genuine.”
“Why would I lie? I’ve just met you.”
The woman’s gaze softened. “Sorry. I’ve had a bad start to the morning. The boss is late and I have to cover for him. Did you want to come through and pick some art?” She lifted the hatch on the counter, making room for Grace to step through to the studio. “We’re understaffed today, but we can book you in for another day.”
When she did, she had a better chance to inspect the artwork on the walls and recognized a familiar style. Simple black lines with a splash of color. She narrowed in on the signature and grinned, whirling back to face the woman triumphant. “Actually, you were right the first time. I’m not here for a tattoo, but looking for someone who might work here. His name is Evan Lazarus.”
The woman leaned on the leather client chair and folded her arms. “What’s he done now?”
Grace breathed a sigh of relief. “So I’m in the right place?”
“Yeah, but like I said, he’s not in, and I can’t give his number out.”
Grace turned walked the room, idly picking up items to inspect. Bottles of ink. Needles. Antiseptic wipes. Metal trays and tables. It wasn’t too different from a surgery.
“So…” the woman said, waiting. “Do you want ink done, or what.”
“I…”
The bell dinged behind Grace.
“Josie, you didn’t put the sign out—Doc. What are you doing… I mean, hi?”
Grace’s heart skipped a beat. “Evan.”
It was cold outside, yet he wore a thin, long-sleeved shirt and well-worn jeans with threaded knees. They were old clothes, but they clung to his muscles like an embrace. His unkempt hair curled over his ears in a boyish way that, when added to his shy smile, made him devastatingly handsome. Bright green eyes widened as he caught her staring, and his broad chest lifted as though he held his breath.
She didn’t know why she ever thought him psychopathic.
They continued to stare at each other until Josie snorted.
“Oh,” she laughed. “I see what’s going on here. I’m heading out back.”
Josie disappeared through a back door, closing it behind her, leaving Evan and Grace alone.
“I’m sorry for turning up unannounced,” Grace started the same time as Evan blurted, “I’m sorry about turning up at your place last night.”
Heat flushed Grace’s cheeks, and his ears turned pink.
So it was him last night. Somehow, the thought made her pulse race, instead of being satisfied she’d solved the puzzle, and she wasn’t sure why. Danger. Excitement. Wariness. A little bit of fear. And maybe he left the smoothie, too.
“I was just about to come looking for you,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I found your purse.” He held up her stolen purse.
Grace hadn’t even noticed it in his hands that’s how much she’d been taken with his clothes. Or more accurately, what was under said clothes. Wow. Yep. Those arms, those thick thighs… the way his golden skin pulled tight over each dip and groove was like an anatomy book she had at home. It was all making her lose her train of thought, but she managed to mumble, “Thank you.”
“The ID is missing, but the money’s all there.”
Grace checked, and he was right. Fifty-five dollars, all there.
Evan ran his hand up and over his head, combing through his hair as though suddenly aware it hadn’t been brushed. “Grace. I…”
He was going to speak about being Envy, she knew it, and the minute he did, alarm flashed in her mind. She couldn’t. Couldn’t deal with that part of him just yet. Images of his scan opened in her memory. There was so much more than what appeared on the surface of this man, and maybe she wanted to know everything, but she had to work out how she felt about it first. He was a crime-fighter, and a violent one at that. One thing on her list at a time.
“I’d like to know Sara’s last name please,” she raised her voice, made it forceful.
Evan glanced over Grace’s shoulder to the back door. “Um. Sure. Let’s take a walk.”
“A walk?”
“Yes. You know”—an incorrigible grin—“like… putting one foot in front of the other.
“I know what a walk is, Evan. I meant, where to?”
“Wherever our feet take us.”
“You mean, like no plan?”
He cocked his head, assessing her. “Don’t you ever just head out and see where you end up?”
“No. That’s ridiculous. My father always used to say, ‘A wise man does not lose his way.’ I think we should plan, simply because I have things to do and can’t spend the day frolicking around.” When she set her mind to something, nothing stood in her way; not the housework, not her favorite TV program, and certainly not a cocky handsome man.
“Frolicking?”
“Yes. Frolicking.”
“Doc.” His eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, voice deepening. “When I decide to frolic with you, you’ll know it.”
Her stomach tripped. She liked it when he called her Doc. She liked the thought of him frolicking with her. Under the sheets. In a hidden alcove. Cozying up in front of a fire… She didn’t know whose fire, but it sounded nice.
“Do you know the second part of that proverb?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t know it was a proverb.”
“The second part is, A brave man does not fear.”
“Oh.”
“Good. So, nothing to be afraid of. Not when you’re with me. We can get lost together, enjoy ourselves and still make it home in time for dinner. Let’s go.”
Call her crazy, but that sounded like a really good idea. Maybe other plans could wait.
He poked his head through the back door to let Josie know he was leaving. An exasperated sigh filtered back, but Evan ignored it.
When the door to the street opened, Grace p
ulled her coat in tight. “You don’t want to bring a coat?”
“Nah. I run hotter than most people, plus the sun’s coming out soon. Come on. This way.”
They were on the outskirts of the Quadrant, and walked a minute or two toward the center, passing other stores on the way. Most were run by small business owners, like Evan, until they got to the fashion district where expensive designer businesses reigned supreme. They continued in silence and kept walking.
Nervous anticipation coated the air. Grace supposed he would speak first, considering he asked her to walk, but he didn’t. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and chewed his bottom lip, darting a glance her way every so often.
“Grace. I want to talk about—”
“Sara.”
He paused. “Okay. Fine. We can talk about her first. Let’s go down this way.” He gestured to the right when they hit the end of the street. Some buildings were taller there and shadowed the sun, keeping any heat from hitting Grace.
She turned with him. “I tried to look up her name in the hospital system, but there were too many Saras.”
“She won’t be in there.”
“Why not?”
“My sister made sure traces of her identity were wiped.”
Grace frowned. Pieces of the puzzle she didn’t want to acknowledge pushed at the edges of her mind. His sister must be super talented with computers. “Why?”
“She knew our secret.”
His secret. Just like that, the elephant in the room came crashing her way. He did more than crash, he sang and danced a jig. She took a deep breath and focused on his revelation.
“Your secret.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, watching. “Yes.”
“Who you are after dark?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Okay. Wait.” Something horrifying occurred to her. “Does that mean…” She couldn’t finish her sentence because the last person who knew their secret had their identity wiped from the face of the planet. Would she be wiped too?
“No, Doc. I’d never let that happen,” he said, as if reading her mind. “No one’s going to touch a hair on your head.”
“Okay, but…” Would it be that easy? And what about Sara’s missing data? “But, surely someone would have noticed Sara’s missing files.”
“She probably replaced her name with something generic.”
“Like a Jane Doe?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
They were almost at the entrance of the Quadrant’s central parkland. Evan was right. The clouds had split apart, and the sun shone through to the trees, giving every leaf and flower gilt edges. It was beautiful.
Evan walked toward the gates, but Grace stayed, so he turned back. “Are you hungry? A street vendor in there makes the best Pierogi.”
“Evan. I have to go.”
Disappointment flashed in his eyes. “Is it because of… turning up at your place?”
She took a deep breath. “Look. Can I be frank with you?”
“You can. But I’d much rather you be Doc, or Grace. I like both.” He smirked. “A lot.”
That did weird things in Grace’s belly. “Making sure I got home was nice. Considerate. I get it. It’s your job to keep people safe. But then breaking into the building to leave a smoothie at my door the next day is a little stalkerish. Maybe over the top.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “What?”
“I kinda like you too, Evan, but I just don’t have time for”—she waved between them—“whatever this is.”
“You kinda like me?” He stepped toward her. “Kinda wasn’t the message I got last night when you told me to kiss you. Be honest. It was me turning up as... well, you know who. I’ve scared you off, haven’t I?”
“I don’t know what to think about that, yet. I’m not scared… I, um…” How could she put this delicately. “I know you save people. I know it’s hard. I saw the bruises all over your body, Evan. I know it’s a lifestyle choice that puts you in the line of fire. You jump in front of danger willingly.”
“Those bruises weren’t from my night job.” He looked down at his feet with a self-deprecating sigh. “It won’t happen again.”
“Well, whatever it was, I see the effects of violence every day at the hospital. I know how real it is. I’m not scared. It’s just the opposite of everything I stand for. You hurt people to get them to do the right thing. I heal people. Plus, not respecting my personal space—the smoothie at my doorstep. I… Look, if you won’t share any more details about Sara, I should go.”
“Wait. I didn’t leave a smoothie.” He shook his head. “I can’t change the rest of me, but that I didn’t do.”
“You didn’t?”
If he didn’t leave it, and the kids down the hall didn’t leave it… then who did?
His frown deepened. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I found a smoothie at the foot of my door when I opened it this morning.”
“And?”
“And there was a note that said, Sorry about last night. E. I brought it into the kitchen where it spilled all over my hands, and so I poured it down the sink. It’s just a smoothie, Evan. It didn’t even smell that nice.”
“It definitely wasn’t me. Keep talking.” He gently touched the small of her back and guided her back toward the park. “We need dumplings to talk this out and I’m hungry.”
She had a bad feeling churning, but being led by his steady, strong hand felt good. A tingle burned into her spine, sending pleasant shivers through her body as they strolled into the park, under the dappled shade. Warm sun rays hit her face every few moments.
“What did it smell like?” he asked. “You said it smelled funny. Did you taste it?”
“No, it completely spilled. It was just… off-smelling. Why?” It was an odd question.
“It could’ve been poisoned.”
“The milk probably went off.” Although, it was cold and freshly made, but who would want to poison her?
“Don’t take this lightly. Sara’s alive. It’s been confirmed.”
She gasped. “How did you prove it?”
“After I left yours, I went out patrolling and that’s when I found your purse. Got the prints lifted and tested.” His expression twisted into something ugly. “It was her.”
“This is … wow. I can’t believe it. Where has she been all this time? Maybe she’s been hiding because she’s feeling bad for her part in all those deaths. With the right prompting, she might confess. We have to talk to her and find out what happened that day.”
“Aren’t you listening to me? She knows where you live. She’s bad news, Doc. Evil. Rotten to the core. The only thing she feels bad about is being caught by us last night. The last time she messed with my family, she manipulated them into believing she was Wyatt’s perfect bride, but it was all lies. I saw it, but no one believed me and it tore my family apart. Don’t underestimate her. My bet is that the smoothie was poisoned. You can identify her from the bombing, she’ll want you dead.”
A cold feeling settled in the pit of Grace’s stomach. “She did say something like that before she attacked me.”
In fact, her exact word was, Die!
Grace rubbed her hands up and down her arms, wishing the coat was thicker.
“I’m not leaving you alone.” Evan’s fury laced voice shattered the peaceful outdoor atmosphere. Grace was sure even the birds stopped chirping. “I’m sorry. You can call me stalker Joe, or whatever you want, but you’re not leaving my sight until we catch her.”
“And get her to confess.”
“To make her pay.”
There was something dark lurking beneath his eyes.
“Evan.”
He lifted his burning gaze to hers.
“We’ll get her to confess,” she prompted. “I don’t know how you do what you do, but you don’t get a nickname like Deadly for nothing. I know what you’re capable of. I saw you strangle her in the street and… don’t. Plea
se don’t. You can’t kill her. You can’t. We’ll find her, then report her to the police. That will be punishment enough. That will be justice.”
She said the words out loud to convince herself even though her heart wanted to follow Evan’s path. Sara killed her parents. What justice was there in the world if murderers were allowed to go free, yet was Sara truly free? There was more to the story, and Grace knew never to jump to conclusions when sometimes, conclusions ended in death.
From the way Evan considered her, Grace knew he churned her words over in his mind. She hoped she’d put enough nerve in them to sound authentic.
“Just because we can kill,” he said, “doesn’t mean we do. I admit I got carried away with Sara, but you don’t know what she’s done to our family. The pain she’s caused. Putting her down would do the world a favor.”
“I can’t believe you said that! You don’t know what she’s done? She murdered both my parents. They’re gone. Never coming back.”
Tears burned her eyes, and she looked away, using every reserve in her body to keep the words “Just kill her” from tumbling out of her mouth. But, it wouldn’t honor her parents’ death. They wanted her to be a doctor, and to save lives. They were proud of that. So was she.
She was better than this.
“I’m also a doctor, Evan. I have an oath to uphold. No matter who she is or what she’s done, I can’t willingly condone her death.”
“Your oath is to treat people if hurt. Not to stop a murderer from receiving justice. She’s a murderer, Grace. Like you said, you of all people know that.”
“Justice is to turn her over to the police. We need her testimony.”
“Sometimes the system doesn’t work.”
Maybe, just maybe though, a dark thought whispered, maybe you don’t have to know about it. Maybe he can end Sara, end your suffering, and you can pretend you won’t have a stain on your heart. You can pretend that saving the lives of other people make up for the fact that you allowed another to die. But as the thoughts formed, she rejected them. Sloth was a sin, too. For too long she’d been healing people, she couldn’t turn her back now, else she may as well have died in that explosion because what kind of world would she be living in if she became the thing she despised?
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