by Stacy Gail
As cameras flashed, she turned in her seat to lean close to him. “You’re my universe.”
He pressed his lips to her ear. “You’re my missing piece.”
“So it seems our two artists decided on a theme all on their own, and it’s not exactly hard to figure it out.” Payne glanced back at the designs, then at Tag and Ivy before shooting a grin at the room full of people. “They both swear they didn’t coordinate this, and I believe them. I also believe that considering how things have wound up between these two, it’s not surprising they both individually chose the theme of love for their designs. From a professional standpoint I’m thrilled, because on average the House inks around a thousand love-themed tats per month, so we can never have too many of this kind of design. From a personal standpoint, since I’ve gotten to know these two, I couldn’t be happier for them. So let’s give our two lovebird artists a round of applause for their efforts this past month, as well as help them celebrate their happiness together.”
“Jesus,” she heard Tag mutter while applause went up and more flashes dazzled them.
Smiling and hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt, Ivy once again leaned back to his ear. “Let me guess. You’re wishing you still had your anonymity, aren’t you?”
“It was nice while it lasted, but nah.” His hand settled at her nape as he kissed her temple. “I had a choice, tiger. And that choice was stick to the shadows, or stand beside you. I have no regrets. Not a fucking one.”
How did she get so lucky to have such a man in her life? How?
“Next week we’ll reveal the results for this final challenge, so be sure to look for our invitation to join us,” Payne went on after everyone had gotten a good long look at both the designs and their creators. “But I’ve got to admit, I don’t really care about the actual winner or loser on this one. As far as I’m concerned, the House was the ultimate winner here. Not only did we get eight amazing tattoo designs from two of the greatest urban artists this world will ever know, but Tag and Ivy managed to find each other. Let me tell you, life doesn’t get much better than that. So, with that, let’s go ahead and open the floor for a few questions.”
Scout, quietly working her way through the crowd, handed a microphone to a woman near the rear. “Now that this challenge is behind the two of you, what’s up next for Ivy and Tag?”
Tag nodded toward her. “Ladies first, tiger.”
Would it be wrong to blow him a kiss in front of everyone? She chuckled at just how crazy love had made her before she leaned toward the tabletop microphone. “Currently I’m learning how to tattoo, and my tutor is none other than Payne himself.”
“Ivy is a brilliant student, as I knew she would be,” Payne acknowledged with a grin. “Usually tattooists come to the House knowing how to sling ink, but on rare occasions I’ll find an artist so incredibly gifted and with such a unique style, I badger them until they let me teach them how to tattoo. I did this with Angel Taylor-Santiago, an award-winning tattooist here at the House, so I think I have a pretty good eye when it comes to spotting tattooist talent in the making. Once Ivy’s ready for the world, I’m hoping to add her to the roster we have here at House Of Payne. In the meantime, though, I know Ivy is dedicated to her work at Clawsome as well as all the freelance work she does around the city.”
Tag leaned forward toward his own mic. “Ivy and I chose the Museum of Modern Art to be the permanent home for Ivy, Invictus,” he said in his great, deep voice, his hand still resting gently on her neck so that his fingers could play in the fall of her hair. He did that often, as if he loved the feel of her hair while still assuring himself that she was within touching distance, and she loved every bit of it. “I was hoping I could talk Ivy into taking a quick trip to the Big Apple with me this weekend to see to the project’s installation, as well as enjoy the city. And who knows? Maybe something will pop up unexpectedly while we happen to be there. With me, you never know when a new project is going to surface.”
Ivy’s breath caught. She knew Tag was creating scale models of his next creation—a mural of a happy, ragamuffin child playing in the dirt while an attentive parent watched over them, and a screaming child clutching a smartphone and wearing the best clothes and sneakers, while a parent stood apart, oblivious and distracted by their own phone. He hadn’t told her what his plan was for it, only its title—Give Them What They Need.
He also hadn’t told her that he wanted her to go to New York with him.
Yay!
“I’ve got a question that involves the two of you, though my question is mainly for Ivy.” Jonah Buckwald stood and took the microphone in hand when Ivy had the impression that Scout had been on her way to give it to someone else. “I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know you throughout this past month, and as you know I’ve done quite a bit of research on your personal history,” he went on, looking Ivy straight in the eye while he bent down and grabbed up a newspaper from the seat he’d vacated. “I’ve also had the occasion to do my research on Tag, once he unveiled himself to the world thanks to the connection of your gem tag that he, shall we say, borrowed from you.”
“It was my little brother Teo who borrowed my gem tag from me, trying to impress Tag with his so-called art skills.” It took a lot for Ivy to keep a polite smile in place, when all she really wanted to do was scowl at Jonah for bringing this crap up again. “That was my brother, always trying to be a big shot, but I’m glad he was that way. If he hadn’t been like that—and if Tag hadn’t kept that part of Teo alive to honor him—Tag and I wouldn’t have met. In a strange way, Teo brought Tag and me together.”
Scout reached for the mic. “If that was your question…”
“I still have a question.” Jonah cleared his throat and lofted the newspaper. “I wrote an article for the Tribune’s Arts segment that will be coming out in this evening’s edition, but I thought I’d give you a look at it to get your opinion on what the police believe—that your dear little brother, Matteo Gemelli, was targeted by the ultra-violent gang known as the Yard Kings, and that this gang finally caught up to that frightened fourteen-year-old boy while he was at your uncle’s auto paint shop.”
“Fuck.” Tag sat up straight in his seat and glared pure death at the older man. “Fuck.”
Alarmed by his response, Ivy tried to defuse the sudden tension in the room. “All I know is what the police told me—that they suspected it was gang-related, and since the Yard Kings were big in Back of the Yards back then, this doesn’t surprise me. Beyond that, it’s still an open case, and I still live in that neighborhood, Mr. Buckwald. Therefore, I won’t discuss anything about that horrible event until the people who are responsible for murdering my family are safely behind bars.”
“I understand that, my dear. I just wanted to know if you were aware that you’re sitting right next to a member of the Yard Kings, the gang suspected of murdering your family. Any comment on that?”
The world wobbled around her. Ivy could actually feel the blood draining out of her head to pool somewhere around her feet.
You’re sitting right next to…
No.
She was sitting right next to Tag.
A member of the Yard Kings.
No!
Tag abruptly stood up, his expression lethal as he stared at Jonah Buckwald. “You want a war? Fine. You got it, motherfucker.” With that, he walked off the dais.
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right, after that asshole Buckwald did his best to throw a grenade your way.” Scout’s voice came through the Bluetooth attached to Ivy’s ear. “No two ways about it—that was one helluva way to end a press conference.”
“No kidding.” Stopping at a red light, Ivy checked her phone to see if any of her texts to Tag had been answered. Unshed tears burned her eyes when she saw nothing but an empty screen staring back at her. “Then again, it seems like there’s always something blowing up at the House.”
“That’s what you get when you have an asylum full of creat
ive types and a promo demon like Payne, who’s also a creative type. Man, talk about being doubly cursed. So, yeah—in the grand scheme of things, today was just like any other day at House Of Payne.”
“It certainly wasn’t just like any other day for me.” As she spoke, Ivy glanced at the SUV’s dash, trying to familiarize herself with it. She had driven in with Tag, but he’d taken off right after he’d left the presser, leaving his keys up at the reception desk for her. That had scared her all the way to the bone, a feeling she hadn’t had since she’d been informed her family was dead and she was alone in the world.
She could handle a lot of things, heaven knew. But knowing he’d simply bounced without a backward glance was a killer.
He just walked off…
Her hands gripped the wheel until the leather creaked.
…and left me.
Her stomach knotted and her lungs shrank to the size of raisins.
How could he leave me, just like that?
“Ivy?”
“Yeah, Scout, sorry.” The light turned green, and Ivy focused on Tag’s building coming into view. “I was just thinking about that Buckwald jerk. Payne warned me he was a shark that could bite a person in half without losing his smile. Guess this is what he meant.”
“Tag mouthed off to him right from the start, so he did kind of put a target on his back.”
“Tag was just calling it like he saw it. That doesn’t make it okay for that bastard Buckwald to smear his good name,” Ivy said heatedly. “Unlike so many other young men from Back of the Yards, Tag made it through clean, Scout. He was never in any gang, much less the most violent, murder-for-fun Yard Kings.”
“I did a check of Tag’s background once we decided to put him under contract, and I never dug anything up. As far as I’m concerned, Jonah Buckwald should be frigging sued for defamation of character.”
“My feelings exactly.” Ivy’s answer was distracted as she parked the SUV in Tag’s usual spot in his building’s parking garage, the anxiety ballooning in her chest until it was hard to breathe. If Tag wasn’t up in his apartment… “Listen, I’m here, so I’d better go upstairs and see what’s what.” And she was having a full-blown panic attack, so social niceties weren’t high on her to-do list.
“Okay, hon. Call me if you need anything. FYI, I make kickass margaritas and I’m a pro when it comes to listening, you got that?”
It was official. She loved Scout. “Yeah, babe, thanks. Talk to you soon.”
The panic churning inside didn’t get any better as she rode the elevator up to Tag’s penthouse, certain she’d find the place as quiet as a tomb. That was why she almost thought she’d gotten off at the wrong floor when she stepped out into the brilliantly lit entry hall and heard voices emanating from deep within the apartment.
Thank goodness, she thought, sagging against the wall in relief as she recognized Tag’s deep, if angry, baritone. Thank goodness he hadn’t left because of all the crap he’d had to deal with the moment he shed his anonymity—anonymity he’d left behind because of her. If she’d walked in and the place had been silent, she wouldn’t have known what she would have done.
No.
That wasn’t true.
She would have hunted him down and killed him with her bare hands for scaring her like this.
The deep-down fear of losing yet another loved one vanished in a blink, and in its wake bubbled up a white-hot fury that she didn’t even think about controlling. Dumping her purse and keys where she stood, she stalked through the great room to the kitchen, where she found the source of the voices. Tag stood by the refrigerator with his arms crossed, glaring at an older-ish woman Ivy recognized from magazine articles as Tag’s agent, Maude Brinkley.
What in the world…?
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she needed to kill Tag for putting her through anxiety hell.
“I don’t know how else to put it, Tag,” A phone lying on the breakfast bar suddenly sounded off, startling Ivy as a male voice came through the speaker. “A retraction is the best you’re going to get. Hell, you should be celebrating that the Tribune offered to cough one up so quickly. What more do you want, for the editor of the paper to go back in time and make it so Buckwald’s article never even happened?”
“That’s exactly what the fuck I want,” Tag snarled, and he sounded almost as violent as Ivy felt. “I want that goddamn Buckwald strung…the fuck…up. You’re my lawyer, Devin, so figure out a way I can cut his goddamn legs off for trying to get at me through Ivy. If anyone dares to fuck with her peace of mind, they’re the ones who lose their motherfucking peace, from now until the end of time.”
Okay, maybe she wouldn’t completely kill him, Ivy decided even as Maude held up both hands as if trying to calm a wild animal.
“Jonah Buckwald is one of the most important art critics in the country, Tag,” the older woman said, clearly trying to be the voice of reason. “To declare war on him is to blow up your own career, do you understand that? Besides, you don’t know this was a personal attack on—”
“Hell, yeah, I know it was a personal attack, and he did it because I wouldn’t fucking kiss his ass when I chose to reveal who I was during that very first press conference. That petty little bitch of a man must’ve decided I needed to know my place, but he went about it all wrong. Instead of going straight for my throat like a man, he chose to rake through Ivy’s life, sniffed out the connection I had to Teo and the Yard Kings, and then—”
Ivy wasn’t aware of making a sound as her world came to an end, but she must have. Both Tag and Maude looked her way at the same time while Tag’s words rang like a dirge in her ears.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The connection…
No.
The connection I had to…
This couldn’t be.
The Yard Kings.
Her brother’s and uncle’s killers. Not proven in any court, of course, but whispered-about common knowledge. The Yard Kings owned Back of the Yards back then. Everyone knew them. Everyone feared them. And to think, even for a moment, that Tag had been a part of that gang—and therefore part of her family’s murders—made her almost physically sick. She hadn’t believed Jonah Buckwald and his stupid article. The thought that there was any merit to that jerk’s claims hadn’t even occurred to her.
But this…
This had come right from Tag’s own mouth.
He’d been part of the Yard Kings.
This couldn’t be happening.
This couldn’t be.
“No,” she whispered, her hand pressed to her roiling stomach while her eyes filled with the sheer pain of it. She was going to be sick. The man she loved, the man she’d envisioned forever with, had her family’s blood on his hands.
No, no, no, no…
Leave,” he barked at Maude, who snatched up the phone and vanished as if by magic, leaving them standing like combatants in a war about to go nuclear. When the elevator doors clanked shut, Tag stepped forward, hand outstretched.
“Tiger—”
“Stay the hell away from me.” It wasn’t quite a shriek, but it was damn close. She took a hasty step back, her arms coming to wrap around herself as the pain-filled tears began to fall. “I believed in you, did you know that? All that shit Buckwald was spouting… There was no way it could be true, so I didn’t even give it a thought. It couldn’t be true.”
His face was like granite. “It’s not. Not the way he said it.”
“You know what upset me at the presser? You, leaving without a word. The only reason Jonah Buckwald can target you now is because you’re no longer anonymous. You left your anonymity behind because of me. When you walked today, all I could think was that you’d decided being in the spotlight wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth being around, because I was the one who dragged you into the spotlight in the first place.”
“You didn’t drag me anywhere.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I left because I needed to work on getting Buckwald to
admit he was wrong. I needed to prove to you that I was never a member of the Yard Kings.”
“I just heard you.” There. There was the shriek. She’d known it was coming up like poison out of the depths of the endless darkness inside her. “Out of your own mouth, I heard you fucking admit it.”
“Not a member of the Yard Kings,” he yelled back, his hands balling into fists. “I had a connection to them, and it’s a connection you know all about because I told you about it.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. “What?”
“The artwork I did for a gang to keep them the hell off my back when I was a kid—the artwork they’ve since copyrighted and branded, because whatever’s left of their gang have gone legit, for the most part. That artwork I did was a shitload of tags and logos, and it was for the Yard Kings.”
It was a wonder she was still standing after all the sucker punches life had thrown at her today. “And you didn’t think to tell me that little nugget of information, knowing how Teo had died? Or are you going to pretend you had no clue that my brother—the kid you called a friend—was a victim of gang violence?”
He held up a hand. “That artwork had been handed over to the Yard Kings’ leader long before I even knew Teo, all right? That deal I worked out with them had nothing to do with your brother, and I swear that was as far as my connection with the Yard Kings ever went.”
“You didn’t answer me.” She was so focused on him it only vaguely occurred to her that she was shaking from head to toe. “Did you know, even when you first met me, that Teo had been killed by gang violence?”
His chest heaved with his sharp inhalation. “The whole neighborhood knew that, Ivy.”
“I don’t give a shit what the whole neighborhood knew, Tag. I only care about what you knew.”
“Ivy—”
“Did you know that my little brother had been killed by the Yard Kings?”
Another chest heave. “Yes.”