Inked

by Drew Elyse

  “So you kept doing them as you got older?”

  “Not by choice. I must have told my mother I wanted to quit at least once a week from the time I was old enough to realize that this wasn’t a mandatory part of life that everyone did. She didn’t care. She was feeding and clothing me, I could get up there and win.”

  What a piece of work. “And if you didn’t win?”

  Jess shook her head. “I always won. Winning was the only option.”

  “Or what?” I pressed, my teeth grinding.

  “Or she’d get creative.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jess

  This really wasn’t a good first date conversation, but there wasn’t much else to say about my family or my life before I came here. I hadn’t decided that I would just go out to dinner with Braden, I’d decided to give him a chance. That meant letting him in.

  “Jess, I’m expanding on ‘creative’ in a lot of fucked up ways right now,” he warned.

  “She didn’t beat me or anything,” I assured him. After all, bruises wouldn’t be good for pageants. “Sometimes it was something simple like going to bed without dinner. Sometimes it was having to clean and polish every trophy and tiara before I could eat. Sometimes she’d lock me in my room until I agreed to compete. She’d had the lights rewired so the switch was in the hallway and I couldn’t control them.”

  Braden’s hold on my injured wrist tightened. It didn’t hurt, not with the brace, but it drew my attention to him. “I’m sorry,” he said low. He was pissed was what he was. It was all over his face.

  “It was a long time ago. Eventually, I learned it was easier to just do what she wanted. I hated them, but I was good. Winning wasn’t hard. Sometimes I wished it was. Maybe if winning hadn’t been so easy, she’d have backed off. If I wasn’t always bringing home crowns, maybe she’d have preferred I didn’t compete and embarrass her.” I shrugged. I’d never know what went on in my mother’s mind. There was no point in dwelling on that anymore.

  “Mostly, I think I hated that it wasn’t this terrible world for everyone,” I went on. “There were girls there that loved it. Girls whose parents were just supporting them in something they wanted to be doing. There were girls actually looking at it as an opportunity to get scholarships and shit. But it was girls that had moms like mine, even if they actually did want to compete, that won. Moms that were more drill sergeant than mother. That cared more about perfect hair and makeup than letting a little girl get a nap, that cared more about talent performances and dress fittings than studying. Moms that passed around weird, black-market diet pills and shit between themselves to get us down to their ideal weights.”

  He looked close to losing it when he asked, “When did it stop?”

  I grinned. Maybe it shouldn’t be a good memory, but it was to me. It set me on the path to where I was now. “I wasn’t the only person in that life that didn’t want to be there. One girl I competed with a lot, Beverly, and her twin brother, Cade, hated the whole thing. He used to rail against it. Beverly, she just seemed to follow him. Maybe it was because she didn’t have it in her to go against her parents, but he did. She was quiet, beyond shy, but he was just the opposite. Even after we left, she always deferred to him, like she depended on him to make decisions for her.

  “We cooked up this ridiculous idea when they turned eighteen. We ran off right after a competition when she and I each had cash prizes still in our hands. Cade drove us to a tattoo parlor that wasn’t the best, but they’d turned a blind eye to the fact that I wasn’t old enough for a fee. I came home two days later with a belly button piercing and this.” I held out my right arm, indicating a red rose tattoo on the inside of my bicep. “Carson cleaned it up for me since because it was pretty rough, but I loved it. There was no way I could compete and win.

  “My mother was furious. She’s railed against body art my whole life, about how it just made people look like lowlifes, how no woman who got that kind of stuff could ever hope to have a decent husband. The usual close-minded shit that you hear. She told me I’d destroyed my future. And she kicked me out.”

  “She kicked you out at seventeen?”

  Apparently, Braden wasn’t yet seeing that for the boon it was.

  “I knew she would,” I assured him. “Beverly and Cade had already secured an apartment for themselves, so I was prepared to move in with them. The last time I saw her was that day, while she ranted and raved about how I would never amount to anything, how I was my deadbeat father’s daughter despite how hard she worked. She kept at it the entire time I packed my stuff, right up until I shut the front door behind me.”

  He looked astonished and…proud. “You just left?”

  I shrugged. “I knew staying there wasn’t worth it anymore. It wasn’t easy. I had to get shitty jobs to help with my portion of the rent on a terrible apartment the three of us shared. I didn’t even have a diploma yet. Though I got my GED about two months later, which helped. But it didn’t matter if it was hard, I was free.”

  I couldn’t quite figure out what was going on in his head as he stared at me, his face somehow both soft and still pissed. Then, he nodded down to my plate. “Your food’s getting cold.”

  Taking the cue, I grabbed my fork and got back to work on my Bolognese. We ate in silence for a couple minutes before he seemed to let go of the anger and asked, “How did you end up here, working at Sailor’s Grave?”

  I finished my bite, then explained, “It didn’t take me long to get tired of waitressing and retail jobs. I had no idea what I actually wanted to do, so I fell back on what I knew. I took modeling jobs, and they were kind of a godsend. I was making way more, and I used that money to get more tattoos. Which was how I fell into modeling for things like car magazines and alternative clothing stores, even music videos and stuff. Nothing huge, but it kept me in work, and let me sort of explore my own style as I wanted.

  “I met Carson working as a promo girl for a clothing line at a tattoo convention. I actually kind of abandoned the job I was supposed to be doing because I knew he was there and I had to try to get a piece from him. He agreed to tattoo me once I was done and we talked a lot. Sailor’s Grave had never had a receptionist before. It was just whatever artist wasn’t busy handled the phone and anyone that showed up. But somehow, before I knew what happened, he offered me the job. And I never looked back.”

  “He became your new family,” Braden guessed.

  “They all did.” If I’d doubted that before, I couldn’t now with the way they’d all rallied around me.

  “Good. You deserve that.”

  We stayed away from anything else quite so heavy, but I still noticed a change in the way Braden looked at me when I spoke, like he understood me better. Like everything I had told him was somehow making sense of a puzzle he’d been staring at with no hope of solving.

  Thinking back on the things I’d accused him of, it wasn’t surprising. My attacks had all been built on my own issues. Knowing about my mother, he could connect the dots. I wondered if he’d been trying to guess at all of that since he walked away that day.

  If I was honest, there was still a part of me that was wary. Deciding to give this a shot didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t a naturally trusting person. Deep down, I was still prepared for the fact that he could cut and run anytime, but I was trying to believe that he wouldn’t, which was more than I’d ever given someone.

  The drive back was quiet. Braden held my left hand, managing it well even with the brace, over the center console. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I was in distress. Namely certain parts of my body had very strong opinions on what should happen when in close quarters with Braden, and being in a moving vehicle wasn’t proving to be an exception to that. I was close to suggesting that unless his place was somewhere past Park’s, we should change routes.

  It didn’t help that while this was kind of a first date, I knew damn well that he was the best sex I’d ever had. I’d had to live with that fact for entirel
y too long, not knowing if I’d get another chance to experience it. Now that the opportunity was seemingly before me, I wanted to—literally—jump on it.

  The tension only grew as we made the final turn. There was no denying we were headed back to Park’s, and it was now or never.

  “I…”

  What? Want you to take me back to your place and fuck me senseless?

  I mean, points for honesty, but even I had more tact than that. Most of the time, anyway. Right then, I just had raging hormones and zero clue how to say that without just blurting it out.

  “Not tonight,” Braden said in that amazing, low voice of his.

  “What?”

  He gave a slight squeeze to my hand as we pulled into the building lot. “I’m feeling it, too, so much that it’s driving me crazy not to just take you back to my place right now. But not tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  He parked, then turned his whole body in his seat to look at me. “Because this is part of showing you that what’s between us was never just about sex. I have work in the morning, you’re still getting used to me. Tonight, we go to bed by ourselves. Tomorrow, I’m hoping you’ll be up to talk to me after work. Friday, I’m picking you up again, but the date will be at my place and you’ll be spending the night.”

  “Seems presumptuous of you.” I wished it didn’t come out so breathy, it might have been believable then.

  He grinned, and it was the sort of smile a predator would give cornered prey. “Goddess, if I put my hand up that sexy fucking dress right now, you’d be wet and we both know it.”

  I couldn’t help but squirm, feeling how right he was. I bit my lip against the desire to challenge him on it, just to see what would happen. His eyes fell there, his tongue coming out to lick his own lips in a way that made me want to do the same.

  Then, in a flash, he was out of the car.

  I blinked, a fury rising in me that he just up and left like that instead of suffering like I was until my door was yanked open.

  In the space of heartbeats, he pulled me from the car, lifted me, and set me on the hood. Then he was spreading my legs, forcing my skirt to ride up in the process, stepping between them, and taking my mouth with his.

  It was just like that night. Consuming. Raw. Vital. It could go on forever and I would still beg for it to never stop. His lips and tongue didn’t lead or coax, they took. He kissed me like he needed it, and it only fed the same feeling in me. Nothing mattered, not that we were out in the open, not that my ribs ached a bit, not any of the doubts that infected my mind about us.

  I chased his lips on instinct when he pulled back, cursing under his breath. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t come back for more, either. I opened my eyes, seeing his face was the picture of feral hunger.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he swore.

  Trying a moment to calm the heat racing through my blood, I noticed the smears of red on his mouth. My lipstick. It had to be smudged on me, too. My hand came up as if I could do anything about it then.

  “Yeah, I’m going to enjoy all the ways we can mess up those pretty lips.”

  “If you actually expect me to go inside, you need to stop talking.” His voice did me in enough, adding on the things he was saying was just cruel.

  He gave me a carnal smile that wasn’t much better for calming down. “Friday, Goddess.”

  “Friday,” I agreed.

  “Let’s get you inside.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Braden

  They say you’re supposed to call a doctor if you have an erection for more than four hours. I swear, after that kiss from Jess, my cock was hard all goddamn night.

  It was only the fact that I’d gotten a taste of her again, that I’d gotten to spend the evening with her and have her actually open up to me, that kept me from being surly as shit the next two days.

  On Thursday, I’d called her after my shift. Even though we were clearly working things out, I still felt anxious placing the call, worried she’d change her mind and not speak to me. When her voice like pure sex came down the line, I couldn’t have been more relieved.

  We talked for over an hour. Mostly about my day, what Jack was like as a partner, how she was getting stir crazy being in the apartment. I promised to help her out with that feeling the next night, but I was also worried. At some point, she was going to have to go back to work. She was healing fine, but I hated the idea of her being back there, right in front of all those windows, when we were still no closer to catching the fucker that hurt her.

  When I let her go with the promise to be there at the same time the next evening, I decided it was time to check in with Sketch.

  I’d gotten the updates from the official investigation. That being a whole lot of nothing. Whoever the asshole was, he was smoke. Everyone with official access to the building and her apartment by extension had solid alibis. They’d tried canvassing the building. No one they spoke to saw anything suspicious, though it was hard to say when they only had the power to ask some basic questions. Her apartment had been searched again, but no new leads came of it. And even my own hours of sitting outside Park’s place had been worthless outside of hopefully helping Jess feel at ease.

  “Tell me you’ve got something for me,” I said when I got ahold of Sketch.

  “Jager’s been at it non-stop,” he insisted. “It’s become his personal mission to find the asshole. It’s just taking time to weed out all the people with a legitimate reason to end up on the cameras frequently.”

  I wasn’t pissed at them, couldn’t be with all they were doing for her, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t fucking pissed. There had to be a way to find him.

  “She’s going to want to get back to work,” I vented, knowing he’d get it.

  He snorted. “She’s been on my case more each day to do it. I’ve been putting her off with bullshit she can do remotely, but I’m running out of ideas. The problem with having Jess on staff is she works way too fucking hard. There was hardly a damn thing extra to do even when she lost days to recover.”

  Because she valued that job, Sailor’s Grave, and everyone connected to it above anything. It had never been a stretch to guess at that, but now I knew how true it was. When it came down to it, that shop was her home.

  The thought of home made the thought come to me. “You have extra hands to be a tail tomorrow night?”

  “You think it’ll help us get a lead?”

  “It might.”

  “Then I’m all ears.”

  It was the same deal when I showed at Park’s apartment the next night. I wasn’t quite so early since I’d had a shift that day, then gone back to make sure my place was all good to go for her. Still, Jess was delayed a minute.

  After he let me in, Park went into the kitchen, then came back holding out a bottle of ibuprofen to me. “Make sure she takes those. Her last dose was two hours ago. She doesn’t think she needs it, but she still gets sore without.”

  I already felt another shoe incident coming on, but this time I damn well wasn’t losing. I had plans for her. I’d known already that those would have to be less vigorous than I might want—we’d have time for that once she was fully healed. What I wouldn’t have is her in pain from them.

  I pushed the bottle back at him. “I have plenty. Maybe I’ll get the upper hand if she thinks she won’t have to fight about that.”

  “You can hope,” he said, returning the bottle to its spot on the counter.

  “Sorry, I didn’t have a bag,” Jess announced as she came bustling into the room. She had on a white dress with small black polka dots that cut low between her breasts. There were tights on her legs again, but no heels this time. I wondered if she’d been sore the other night from wearing them. “The girls brought all my stuff over in suitcases and stuff. And the only purse I had is so tiny it barely fits a wallet and phone. I had to commandeer this.” She slung a dark brown leather satchel on her shoulder before looking past me. “Thanks, Park.” />
  He didn’t verbally reply, but I was too focused on taking the bag from Jess to see if he gave her something. Putting it on my shoulder, I asked, “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Christ, her voice went breathy on that one word, her eyes hot enough to burn right through me. We had to get the fuck out of there.

  I grabbed her hand and led her out as she called goodbye to Park. She didn’t release me and go for the railing on the stairs. Instead, her grip tightened, using me for support as we went down. I held her steady, fucking loving that she gave me that trust. I knew that even with her confessing about her past the other night, there was still a long way to go to make her confident she could have complete faith in me, but every little bit was progress that I’d be glad for.

  As I led her to my car, I noticed the black four-door still parked along the street that held Stone. He was going to tail us. There were other Disciples that’d cross our path along the way to be sure, as well as someone coming to circle around here once we left to watch if anyone came out of hiding and took off once they knew Jess wasn’t around anymore.

  Once we were on the road, I noticed Jess check the rearview mirror a couple times. I didn’t want to ask if it was nerves that made her do it, or if she’d spotted Stone, so I got her to talk about her day instead.

  “Same thing as every other day recently. I’m out of things to do for work, I’m banned from online shopping before I take a nosedive into credit card debt, and I’m quickly running out of shows that sound interesting. I don’t do idle,” she groused.

  I wanted to comfort her with promises that it’d be over soon, but I couldn’t. We had no clue when we’d get our hands on the guy, and I couldn’t easily condone her going back to work until he was caught. I acknowledged that it was probably going to happen—especially if Jess continued to fight for it—but that didn’t mean I’d be a voice of support in her corner.