LIAM: Brothers Ink Tattoo (Brothers Ink Tattoo Series Book 3)

by Nicole James

  Music blasted from one of their stations and it covered the sound as she popped the register open. She frowned. They’d only been open maybe an hour, but the register was stuffed full of money—way more than they could have possibly taken in this morning, especially with only two artists. Was all of this flowing in from the cons Vano was running?

  My God.

  She thumbed through a stack of hundreds. There had to be over two thousand just in hundred dollar bills.

  “What are you doing?”

  She nearly jumped out of her skin, turning to see Vano standing behind her.

  “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “What are you doing, Velvet?” He grabbed her arm, yanking her from the register.

  “I was just going to break a five for the vending machine.” She tugged on her arm, but his grip was tight and twisting. “Vano, stop. You’re hurting me.”

  He backhanded her across the face. “You stealin’ from me?” He shook her violently. “Huh? Huh?”

  The tattoo machines cut off, and the men looked over.

  Vano’s eyes cut to them, and he released her with a shove.

  She stumbled backward, her hand coming to her burning face. “I swear I wasn’t stealing.”

  He shook a finger in her face. “You better not, either. I keep a close count.”

  “What’s with all the money, Vano?” she snapped.

  “None of your business.” He slammed the drawer shut. “I need you to run down to the post office and bring the mail from the PO box.” He held the key out to her. “And be quick about it. You hear me?”

  “Do it yourself!”

  He grabbed her arm again, yanked her close, and growled low in her face. “You want more of the same?”

  Her eyes went past him to Cooter and Finn, who sat stock still, watching, but apparently unsure whether to intervene. In the end neither had the guts.

  Vano twisted to look and snapped, “Get back to work! This doesn’t concern you. This is family business.”

  The machines immediately clicked back on and the furtive glances of the wide-eyed teens in the chair watched them.

  “When are you planning to pay me? You’ve obviously got the money.”

  “Go do the errand! I’ll give you your pay when you get back.”

  Violet yanked her arm free, eager to leave the shop, even if it was to run his damn errand. She grabbed the key from him and fled. Out on the street, she touched her hand to her aching face once more, wondering if it would leave a mark. It just proved that she had to get out of town as soon as possible.

  ***

  Vano stood at the register, his hands on the counter, watching Velvet leave. He’d lost his temper, and he hadn’t meant to. When he’d seen her thumbing through the stacks of money, he’d panicked. One of Skin’s dealers had dropped it off, and he hadn’t had time to take it to the safe, so he’d stuffed it in the register. Skin should know better than to have them dropping drug money off during business hours. What a bunch of idiots he was mixed up with.

  “Problem?”

  He spun to see Skin leaning against the wall of the hallway, his arms folded and a smirk on his face.

  “No,” Vano snapped. “Everything’s fine.”

  Skin strolled up to Vano and got right in his face. He towered over him by at least four inches. He growled softly so the others couldn’t hear, “She’s been snooping around. You better pray she doesn’t find out what the fuck her dear old brother’s been up to. It’d be trouble for all of us. And you go treatin’ her like that, she’s gonna want to take off. Besides, I told you already, she’s gonna be mine. What’s mine, no one touches.”

  “She’s not going anywhere. She’s going to keep doing the deposits, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut, and everybody stays happy and healthy.”

  Leaning down, Skin hissed, “You better pray that’s what happens. ‘Cause she causes us trouble, I don’t care how hot she is, I’ll get rid of her permanently. We understand each other? You clear on that?”

  “Crystal.”

  Skin jerked his chin to the back. “Got another kilo to cut up. I’ll be back tonight after closing.”

  Vano watched him saunter to the backdoor, wishing again he’d never hooked up with these assholes in prison.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Velvet walked the four blocks from the shop to the Post Office. Cool air hit her as she opened the glass door. A few people stood at the service counter to the right as she turned down the hallway where rows and rows of metal PO boxes lined the wall. There were so many, they went down and around the corner. She took out the key Vano had given her and searched for box 1492. It was the second row from the bottom down at the end. She cursed as she squatted down to open it, mumbling, “You couldn’t get a box on the top row, could you, Vano? No, that would be too convenient.”

  Inserting the key, she opened the door and grabbed the stack of envelopes. When she did, she was shoved up against the wall from behind and her arm was twisted painfully behind her.

  “You’re under arrest for federal mail fraud,” a deep male voice barked in her ear.

  Out of the corner of her eye, several men in blue windbreakers materialized—from where she had no clue. She tried to twist around, but they kept her face smashed against the metal boxes as someone frisked her. She was sure she’d have an imprint of box 1488 pressed into her cheek. They didn’t let her move until they had her hands cuffed. Then someone quickly read her the Miranda warning. She was pulled around and found herself face to face with a good-looking man in his thirties, dressed in a dark suit and tie. He was clean cut and had a swarthy Mediterranean look about him, but what stood out most was the FBI badge he flashed in front of her face.

  “Bag up the mail,” he ordered one of the other agents standing around her, all in blue windbreakers with FBI in large yellow lettering. Two of them grabbed her upper arms and hustled her down a back hall.

  They moved out a rear entrance to several waiting black SUVs. She was put in the back seat of one. The man in the suit climbed in the front seat with the driver while two of the men in windbreakers climbed in on either side of her.

  They didn’t take her to the police station as she’d expected. They drove her just down the street to the Federal Building. She was brought in a side entrance and taken up an elevator to the third floor. When the doors opened, her eyes landed on the big FBI seal on the wall. It was intimidating as hell, and she was scared to death.

  They manhandled her down a hallway, through a large office and into a small room with a table, two chairs, and no window.

  One agent un-cuffed her hands from behind her back and cuffed one wrist to the metal arm on the chair while the other stood guard in the doorway. When she was secured, they left without a word.

  “Don’t I get a phone call?” Velvet called out as the door closed. She glanced around. There was a camera up in the corner aimed at her. She couldn’t help sticking her tongue out at it.

  She sat there, fear coiling in her stomach, and she thought she was going to be sick.

  She didn’t even have money for an attorney. Would Vano get her out of this? Who else could she call?

  She was left alone for a good long time, long enough for her mind to go over every stupid decision she’d made that had put her here. She should have left town when Ryan Kelly handed her that check. She should have told Liam everything right from the beginning. She should have never agreed to come to Grand Junction with Vano in the first place. Hell, she should have never met him for breakfast that day in LA.

  She huffed out a laugh and shook her head. It wouldn’t have mattered. He’d already gotten to Aaron and taken all her money. At that point, there was no way he was leaving LA without her. He’d already set his plan in motion to get her back in the family fold.

  She’d been so stupid.

  The door opened, and the FBI agent in the dark suit walked in with a file folder tucked under his arm. He set a Styrofoam cup of coffee in front of
her along with a handful of little packets of cream and sugar and a stir straw.

  “I’m Special Agent Sanders.” He sat in the chair across from her, tossed the folder down, and nodded to the steaming cup. “I didn’t know how you took it.”

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching for it eagerly.

  “I can be civil. This doesn’t have to be unpleasant for you.”

  Her brows rose. “I’m cuffed to a chair and charged with… What was it you called it? Federal mail fraud? It’s a lot unpleasant.”

  He fought a smile. “It’s not you we want, Ms. Jones. I know you’re just a pawn in this game. We want the mastermind behind this little con.”

  Velvet took a slow sip of her coffee. The gypsy code ran deep inside her, ingrained since she was old enough to understand. You never gave up family, and you never talked to the police. She wondered just how much Sanders knew. Was he already aware of Vano? Did he know he was her brother?

  When she remained silent, sipping her coffee, her eyes darting across the fake wood grain of the table as she tried to out-think this man, he leaned forward, elbows on the table, not giving her time.

  “Look, this can go one of two ways for you. You tell us everything you know and help us nail the people we’re really after, and we work a deal where you do no jail time, or you continue the silent treatment and we book you.”

  When she still stayed quiet, he studied her long and hard until she began to squirm.

  “Ms. Jones, do you know the penalty for Federal Mail Fraud?”

  She shook her head.

  “Twenty years in prison. For each offense.”

  Her eyes slid closed. Oh my God.

  “That’s a long time to spend in a cell.”

  “I’m innocent.”

  “You were the one with the key to the PO box—a box we know at least a dozen people mailed payments to, and that’s only the ones who weren’t too ashamed to admit they’d been conned. You think, if this goes public, victims won’t be coming out of the woodwork?”

  She thought about the phone calls she’d overheard at the shop. Those men had bragged about the amount of people they were conning and how easy it was. Agent Sanders was right; there would be hundreds more.

  “Ms. Jones, my advice to you is to be concerned only about yourself. All the victims say it was a man on the phone, not a woman. Whoever you’re protecting is not worth doing hard time in prison for. I’m prepared to offer you immunity if you cooperate.”

  “Immunity? From all charges?”

  “Yes, if you help us catch the perpetrators. But you’ll have to tell us everything you know, and you’ll have to work with us to obtain evidence.”

  She dropped her head. She did not want to go to prison, not for something she didn’t do. Was she as guilty because she’d known and hadn’t reported it? Maybe, but perhaps this was a way for her to do the right thing.

  “Ms. Jones?” he pressed.

  She blew out a slow breath. “My brother is involved.”

  Agent Sanders visibly relaxed.

  She pinned him with her eyes. “I want it in writing—your deal.”

  He nodded and opened the file folder. He slid it across to her, pulled a pen from inside his jacket and held it out. “Read it. It’s all there.”

  She looked from the document to him. “I can’t.”

  He huffed out a breath. “So you’re not going to cooperate? You’d rather rot in prison? Fine.” He started to shove his chair back.

  “Wait. I meant I can’t read it.”

  He frowned. “Why not? You wear glasses or something?”

  “No. I can’t read!” she snapped, all the tension of the moment getting to her. A tear slid down her cheek. As much trouble as she was in, she was still almost as ashamed to admit that fact as she was to be involved in all this.

  Agent Sanders ran a hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. Shit.” His eyes shifted to the side and he tapped the pen on the desk. “Okay, look, I can get the DA in here to explain it to you, or I can let you call your lawyer.”

  “DA?”

  “District Attorney.”

  “Oh.”

  “If you call a lawyer… Well, once they’re involved, these deals always go sideways.” He tapped his finger on the paperwork. “This is a fair deal, Ms. Jones. You cooperate, you go scot-free. We almost never make deals like this. I’m talking no jail time, no probation, and no record of any kind. That’s unheard of. I went to bat for you, because I’ve been watching you and—”

  “Watching me?”

  “We’ve had the shop under surveillance for weeks now.”

  So they already knew everything? “Then why don’t you arrest Vano and his creepy friends?”

  “Because I need solid evidence to nail them, and you’re going to get it for me.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re the only one who can. And you’re going to do it, because you’re a good person. Do you know they took money from the elderly? Almost all of them on social security, barely making ends meet. These guys have no morals, no scruples, but you do, don’t you, Ms. Jones? I’ve investigated your background. You’ve, for the most part, had nothing to do with your family since you became an adult. You’ve got no criminal record, hell not even a parking ticket. Why would you take the fall for this? You shouldn’t have to, not when you can help me put the ones responsible behind bars. And that’s what you’re going to do, aren’t you?”

  She looked down, letting out a deep surrendering sigh, but still the words stuck in her throat. Could she actually do it?

  “You know, Ms. Jones, I know about your gypsy family.”

  She snapped her head up.

  “I know about the years your brother did in prison. I know your father was wanted in four states before he died. I know your mother wrote bad checks in multiple states.” He studied her a moment. “You were brought up in that family. You weren’t given a choice. You’re brother’s been running cons with your father since you were in grade school.”

  “I was never in grade school.”

  He took in a slow breath. “I suppose you weren’t. I know how gypsy families are. I know it’s the men who run things. I know you probably didn’t have much to do with any of this. The bruise on the side of your face proves that. Your father died when you were young, and your brother’s been running the show since the day he turned eighteen. Yes, I know your story, Veleena.”

  At the use of her real name, her eyes narrowed. She supposed it shouldn’t surprise her; he’d thoroughly checked her out.

  “You’ve had no one to save you since you were a child, you’ve had to save yourself. Well, now you’re going to save yourself again, Ms. Jones. And I don’t want you to feel one moment of guilt for doing it.”

  He was right. It was up to her. “All right. Tell me what I have to do.”

  He smiled. “You’re making the right decision.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’m going to release you. We’ve made copies of all of the mail in the box, recorded the serial numbers of the bills. I’m giving it back to you, and you’re going to take it to the shop just like normal. We’re going to be watching for it to pop up in the next bank deposit, which I’m assuming will be dropped off as usual by you.”

  He knew it all. Obviously he hadn’t lied about having the shop and her under surveillance.

  “I’m going to give you some tiny cameras and audio surveillance equipment to plant around the shop. You need to get me something, some kind of useful information or evidence. Understand?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll give you forty-eight hours to bring me something. Meet me at the Sunrise Diner at 3:00 PM day after tomorrow.”

  “What if I can’t get anything?”

  “You will. I have faith in you, Ms. Jones.”

  Velvet never thought she’d be responsible for sending her brother back to prison, but it looked like she was going to have to do it. What choice did she have?

&nb
sp; “One more thing. You try to leave town, I’ll know.”

  She supposed that meant they’d have eyes on her. Normally, that would make her uncomfortable, but considering how dangerous Vano and his accomplices could be, maybe having agents watching her was a good thing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Liam sat in his truck, slumped down in his seat, a hat shading his eyes from the sunrise when Pam pulled into the shelter’s parking lot. He heard the engine cut off and her car door open and shut, and still he didn’t move.

  Her knuckles rapped on his window. Finally, he straightened, dragged the hat from his face, and rolled down the window.

  “You look like hell,” she stated.

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  “You’re here early. What time did you roll out of bed?”

  “Who says I’ve been to bed?”

  Her chin lifted, and she frowned. “Since when are you the type to stay out all night? You been drinking?”

  “Not in hours. I’m sober.”

  “Um hmm. Come on in. I’ll make coffee.”

  She was such a mother hen, but right now, that was what he needed. He knew he could go out to the farm and get the same thing from Ava or Mrs. Larsen even, and he probably would eventually, but right now he needed to let what happened with Velvet filter through someone who had more distance, someone who he knew would tell him straight and not just take his side. He needed to know if he was wrong.

  The truck creaked and rocked as he climbed out and slammed the door.

  The keys jingled as Pam unlocked the glass door and let them both in, locking up behind them. The place wouldn’t open for almost an hour.

  She dumped her purse on the counter, and Liam trailed her down the hall to the small break room. She grabbed the glass carafe from the coffee maker and stepped to the sink.

  Liam leaned his hip against the edge of the counter and crossed his arms, watching the water slowly fill the pot.

  “So? Spill. What’s going on with you?”

  His bloodshot, tired eyes met hers, and he sucked in a deep slow breath, then shook his head and looked away. “Everything’s gone to shit. I don’t even know where to start.”