by Stacy Gail
Despair swept through her. “If Teo was one of them, why did they kill him?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, his mouth pressing against her hair. “There was no reason for the Yard Kings to kill Teo unless your brother tried to protect his uncle when he discovered Darius was there. Maybe in the last moments of his life, Teo fought like hell to do the right thing. If you think about it, that’s the only think that makes any sense.”
“I suppose.” A shudder rippled through her as she imagined the scene. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The arms around her tightened. “I never knew it was your family’s business until you told me Teo and your uncle died together. Gotta say, you rocked my world when you told me that.”
“Yeah.” A shuddering breath escaped her. “I know the feeling.”
That earned her another squeeze. “When I understood the enormity of what had happened to you that night—that Teo had betrayed his own blood—there was no way in hell I was going to tell you about it. If it weren’t for Jonah Buckwald getting the story all fucked up, you still wouldn’t know. The cops put it in your head that Teo was a hero, so fine. Whatever. I’d swallow that shit, and I’d go to my grave making sure you believed that little asshat was a hero.”
“Tag, I know what a hero is.” She lifted her head from where it rested against his chest so she could stare up at him through the gloom. In that moment she didn’t care that she probably looked like the backside of hell with crazy hair, a red nose and swollen eyes. All she could think about was him. “I’m looking at one.”
“I didn’t save Teo. I didn’t save you from the shit that went down today.”
“You wanted to. You tried. I know what a hero is, Tag,” she repeated when he just shook his head. “Tonight, when you told me to blame you and hate you for what happened to my family, you were willing to lose me forever just so you could keep my memory of Teo untarnished. That’s what a real hero does. He sacrifices.”
“Ivy—”
“Every step of the way you’ve made sacrifices for me, in ways that nearly stop my heart because I know I’m not worthy of those sacrifices.”
“Don’t you say that. Don’t you ever fucking say that.”
“You revealed who you were to the world just so you could come to my defense,” she plowed on, refusing to back down in the face of his ominous scowl. “You took on Jonah Buckwald and potentially damaged your career, all for me. And you just said you would have gone to your grave protecting me from the truth of what my brother really was, just so I could live happy and carefree.”
“What the hell else was I supposed to do, let you suffer?”
“Yes, actually. You could have done anything you wanted—looked after yourself, ignored me and my stupid little issues, made your life easier. Instead, every step of the way you’ve chosen to take my burdens on when they weren’t yours to carry. From the moment I entered your life, you’ve been making so many sacrifices for me, and you’ve done it without hesitation, so don’t you stand there and tell me you’re not a hero. I know better. You’re my hero.”
“Ivy.” For a second his arms tightened on her so much it was hard to breathe, before he bent to rest his brow against hers. “They’re not sacrifices, tiger. Where you’re concerned, every move I’ve made has been a selfish one, because every move I’ve made has been done to keep you with me. If you think I’m ever going to let you go, then you don’t know a damn thing about me. But that’s okay. I’m a patient man. I’m willing to teach you all you need to know, even if it takes the rest of my life.”
A fluttery breath, halfway between a sob and a laugh, escaped her as joy began to seep through the anguish in her heart. “Are you sure you still want me around? Just having me in your life has put you through hell.”
“Hell is my heaven, as long as I have you.”
Damn, just when she’d thought she was done with crying, he had to go and say something like that. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not going to question it. I love you, Tag, and I’m so sorry for all the chaos my family has brought you.”
“I’m not going to tell you again to shut the hell up about that.”
“Your career—”
“You let me worry about that.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he brushed her lips with his. “All you need to focus on is putting the past behind you where it belongs, and where it can’t hurt you anymore.”
That sounded wonderful. “Any ideas on how to do that?”
“Focus on the future, and in case you’re not clear on what that is, it’s me. I’m your future, Ivy Gemelli. I’ve known that from the moment you ripped off your shirt in public and basically told the world to go to hell. You were all fire and flame, and I couldn’t wait to be burned by you.”
Her heart trembled as the hole that had burrowed deep inside it began to heal. “My thief. You make me whole.”
“You do the same for me.” He gave her one last squeeze before tucking her under his arm and drawing her away from the graves. “That’s what we are when we’re together. We’re complete.”
Epilogue
One week later
“It’s been a long time in coming, but here we are at last,” Payne said into the mic he held. Unlike the previous pressers, Ivy, Tag and Payne were standing on the dais, the long table and chairs removed. Behind them, all eight of their designs now hung on the well-lit gallery walls, taking their rightful place in House Of Payne’s remarkable history. “Our artists, Ivy Gemelli and Tag, have had one helluva journey getting to this point, and the House was honored to be a part of it. Now, if we can just get through this photo op without anyone getting accused of being a damn gangbanger just because they didn’t come from neighborhoods like Gold Coast or Streeterville, that’d be great.”
It was amazing how Ivy could chuckle about it now, and she glanced up in time to see Tag give Payne a long-suffering look. For a time it had felt like the world was falling apart, with everything she’d learned about that long-ago hellish night. But after the dust had settled and the fires inside had burned themselves out, peace that she’d never known before settled into every part of her. As hard as the truth was to take, she now had the answers she’d always needed to put the past behind her.
And, of course, she had Tag.
He seemed more at peace as well, now that everything was out in the open. None of it had been his doing, and every action he’d taken since they’d met had been all about protecting her. If she hadn’t believed he loved her before, realizing how much he’d done to keep her from harm convinced her.
Her man loved her.
And, oh, how she loved him.
“To recap,” Payne went on, gesturing to the panels of artwork, “Tag won the nautical challenge, and Ivy won the mythology and animal kingdom challenges. The last challenge for our urban artists was their choice, and they both individually came up with a love theme for their designs.”
“I want to get your design tattooed on me,” Ivy whispered to Tag, smiling. “Want to help me figure out the right placement?”
“You can have half of that design, but I get the other half,” he murmured back, curving an arm around her. “That way we’re a matching set for all time. And I know exactly where I want to put it.”
Wrapping her arms around his middle, Ivy beamed.
She couldn’t wait.
“It’s been an insane wrap-up on this challenge. The cover-their-ass retractions from the Tribune and the decision of a certain shit-stirring art critic to seek early retirement notwithstanding, the votes for this week’s tattoo challenge were off the hook,” Payne said with no small amount of glee. “But there was one winner for this challenge. Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the last challenge with over six hundred votes, is Tag and his lock and key design. It’s official—we have a tie for the overall challenge. How perfect is that?”
“Yay,” Ivy whispered, keeping herself from hopping up and down by sheer force of will. “I
t really is perfect, isn’t it?”
“Now that you’re in my life, tiger, everything is perfect.” While cameras flashed all around them, he bent his head to kiss her.
Six months later
“And this,” Scout said with a flourish, opening a frosted glass door, “is going to be your tattooing booth. What do you think? Say you like it, because you don’t have a choice.”
“Wow.” So excited she was practically skipping, Ivy poked her head through the door and looked around. Stainless steel workbench with storage, racks of new ink pots, a rolling tray filled with an unopened box of Latex gloves, wipes, liquid green soap, disposable razors and a tattooing machine, and a padded adjustable table. “So, um…I don’t suppose I can paint the glass walls, can I? Or maybe the floor?” Seriously, the floor was so boring it hurt Ivy’s soul just to look at it.
Scout’s brows shot up. “Do you know, no one’s asked that before? In a building full of creative lunatics, I find that extraordinary.”
“Good non-answer.” A laugh escaped Ivy as Scout steered her back down the hall, heading away from the tattooist booths, several of which were occupied, if the lights outside their doors were any indication. “I was so nervous when Payne made me go through my final test before hiring me. I mean, tattooing Payne himself and knowing any fuck-up I made would be a permanent one, I’m honestly shocked I didn’t faint or screw up the tat so much it wound up looking like he’d been inked during an earthquake.”
“Lucky for you, you’ll never be under that enormous amount of pressure again, so every tat from this point on is going to be a snap,” Scout drawled, heading toward a door scrawled in what looked to be the graffiti of a dozen different artists, all with the same message—keep out. “And if you had screwed it up, we’ve got the best cover-up artist in the world in Styx, so trust me, a plan was already in place in case you had a meltdown and shit went south.”
“Uh, yay, I guess?”
Scout snorted and pushed through the door. “Come on in and meet some people. Though by now I think you pretty much know almost everyone around here.”
That was true enough. Ever since she’d burst into House Of Payne so long ago, she’d become a semi-permanent fixture at the famous tattoo studio, taking her lessons from Payne and hanging around the other tattooists to see what tips she could pick up. When it came to artistic style, her two favorites were Angel and Ice, and they were both cool with her being an observer while they worked their creative magic.
The most instructive, aside from Payne, was Mad Max, a Russian-born, temperamental artist and tattooist. A little on the scary side to look at, Max hadn’t been the most welcoming guy when she’d approached him about observing his work. But once he’d grudgingly allowed it—after Payne had told him to get the stick out of his ass and help her out—Max had been almost professorial in his tutelage of her. Once the ice had been broken between them, Max had bugged her every time she turned around to show him her progress, and snapped at her when she hadn’t yet perfected a technique he’d taught her. According to Max, she had a genius for proportion that he’d never seen, and when he felt she didn’t live up to her potential, he had no qualms about landing on her like a ton of freaking bricks.
Without reservation, she adored him.
“The break room,” Scout announced the obvious with a sweep of her arm. A few heads swung around at their entry into a fluorescent-lit, white-walled room what had been liberally covered in graffiti, and had a crazy-quilt of throw rugs all over the floor. Angel and Twist, a rare married couple at the House, were at a corner table being cute as Twist fed his wife a bite from his fruit cup. Another male-female duo sat at the long banquet table in the center of the room, playing some card game while eating their lunch, and it was this couple that Scout headed toward.
“Rocket, Styx,” she began, gesturing for Ivy to follow, “I don’t know if you two have met our latest part-time tattooist. This is—”
“Ivy Gemelli.” The woman, solidly middle-aged with a friendly face and a squat, powerful build, stood up to shake her hand, all smiles. “Boy, oh boy, I’ve been wanting to meet up with you for ages, but somehow I kept missing you. How ya doin’, hon? So glad there’s finally going to be another woman around here to huddle up with. Angel and I have been surrounded by way too much testosterone. Isn’t that right, honey?” she called over to the pink and platinum-haired woman, who glanced their way.
“It’s been horrible, Ivy, you have no idea how much Rocket and I have suffered.” Smiling, and appearing to be just about the farthest thing from suffering imaginable, Angel reached out and laced her fingers through Twist’s. “We’re so glad you’re finally part of the family.”
“It’s only part-time, until I’m officially done with my bookings at Clawsome.” Ivy beamed, pleased and relieved with the friendly welcome. First days on the job were always nerve-racking, and more than anything she wanted to put her best foot forward and show her new co-workers who she genuinely was. “I’m so excited to finally be a member of House Of Payne and meet everybody.”
“Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to this, too.” Coming to his feet, the man Scout had called Styx, the House’s cover-up artist, came to his feet and rounded the table to their side. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but with his dark brown hair and pale blue eyes, angular cheekbones, strong brows and one hell of a chin, he was strangely riveting to look at. “So. Ivy Gemelli.”
She kept the smile in place, hopeful to make that all-important good first impression. “That’s me. It’s great to meet you. Styx, right?”
“Uh-huh. You’re the crazy bitch who popped her top off and flashed her titties all over the place a few months back, yeah? You gonna do that again? Because I missed it the first time, and I’d really like to see if your rack is as boomin’ as I think it is.” With that, his eyes blatantly zeroed in on her chest.
Without missing a beat Ivy reached out, snatched up a super-sized fast-food jug of soda from the table, thumbed the plastic lid off and threw the contents in the man’s face.
“Listen up, asshole, I thought my art had been fucking stolen, got that? If you’re the kind of pussy who lies down for that sort of shit, I’m not going to fucking judge your weak candy ass for it. But I don’t lie down for that shit—I fucking murder people for it, and I don’t apologize for it, then or now. So keep your eyes off my tits, your thoughts off me, sit your candy ass back down and eat your fucking lunch.”
“Wow,” Angel breathed, sounding awestruck. Rocket chuckled, Scout sighed and Twist laughed long and hard.
Dripping, blinking the soda out of his eyes, Styx began to smile. “Not bad, rookie. Welcome to the House. You owe me a soda, by the way.”
Shit, really? “The mood I’m in, if I go over to that machine and buy you one, I’m gonna chuck it at you as hard as I can. Maybe later? Your choice of soda, of course.”
“Yeah, sounds good. What time’s your first break?”
“Eight.”
“Cool, mine too. Nice to meetcha, Ivy.” And with that, Styx took off his shirt to reveal a damn fine body covered in mostly nautical tats, mopped his face and hair up, then calmly sat back down to eat his lunch and finish up his card game.
It took most of Ivy’s strength not to face-palm. “And here I was, trying to be on my best behavior to make sure everybody got to know the real me.”
“Yeah, they just did.” Without batting a well made-up eye throughout the entire exchange, Scout instead focused on the tablet she carried, her fingers dancing over the surface. “Now, there are a couple other tattooists you’ll be meeting later, like Tao, who’s our traditional Asian tattoo specialist. By the way, he’s old enough to get away with pretending he’s stone deaf when he doesn’t want to talk to you, but don’t fall for it. Say one thing that’s the least bit juicy within Tao’s hearing, and by the end of shift the entire building knows about it.”
Yikes. “Got it.”
“Then there’s Raider, another part-timer like you. He’s all a
bout athletic tats, from the Lakers to Manchester United, to freaking weird shit, like jai alai. He’s also a total jock and knows the stats of every baseball player in the history of the Chicago Cubs, so if you’re into that, he’s your guy. Also, there’s Sage, who’s a total, off-the-charts—”
The break room door snapped open and Payne stuck his head in. “Ivy, there you are. Been looking for you.” Then he noticed Styx’s wet hair and state of undress. “What the hell, Styx.”
Styx slid Payne a bland side-eye while munching on his sandwich. “What?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Scout interjected with the patience of a saint, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll find Styx something to wear, so don’t stress. We, uh, had our first little blow-up, but it’s done now.”
Payne’s expression didn’t change. “Any murders?”
“Just Styx’s drink.”
“Bloodshed?”
“Nope.”
“Awesome. Let’s hustle, Ivy,” he added, opening the door wider in a clear invitation for her to skedaddle. “You’ve got your first client waiting for you in your booth.”
Her jaw dropped in tandem with her stomach. “Now?”
“Gotta get your feet wet sometime. Might as well be now. Oh, and no pressure, but be perfect, yeah? You’re representing the House now.”
“She can take whatever shit you throw at her, Payne,” Styx called from behind them, still eating. “Trust me on this.”
Oh, man.
Ivy focused on her breathing as she walked with Payne toward the tattooing booths, with her eyes locked on the end booth that was now hers. She knew her art and she’d been training for months for this moment, she told herself firmly. She had the feel for it now, and she’d done a kickass job on the cobra tattoo Payne had instructed her to do on his calf. He told her she had a good touch, and he liked how she didn’t dawdle over the same area and make that patch of skin sore.
She could do this.
Her first client was here, and she could so do this.