“Sure thing,” Willow answered. “The frat boys left anyway.” She was smiling as she stepped through the curtain, and it didn’t lessen when she made eye contact with him. “Hi, I’m Willow.”
He stared at her longer than was appropriate, and she tilted her head at him with her eyebrows raised. “I’m Pablo.” He held out his hand, and she shook it, her smile returning.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she replied. She leaned forward and peered at his tattoo without touching him. She whistled her admiration. “Man, this is a beauty. Bogey did a great job. I hope you’re happy with it?”
“Yes. The sketch he showed me is an exact match. He’s a genius,” Pablo commented as he watched her graceful, muscular form that she’d obviously inherited from him. Her mother had been a skinny, tall bitch. “Are you a tattoo artist?”
“I am, though Bogey is much more talented than I am. I learn from him every time I watch him work,” she told him. She held up the cream and a cotton swab. With a scrunched nose, she said, “This might hurt.”
“I think I can take,” he said with a laugh. When she applied the cream, he hissed at the sting but winked at her. “Yeah, it hurts. Almost more than the tattoo. What the hell is in that stuff?”
“No idea,” Willow murmured as she continued to apply the cream. “But you won’t get an infection.”
“That’s good, I guess.” He watched her as she worked, admiring her beauty. He wanted to tell her who he was, but she wasn’t ready right now. And who knows what her mother had told her about her father, if anything. “How long have you been an artist?”
“Ha, my whole life.” She laughed. “I’ve been working for Bogey for several years.”
“So, if I wanted another, you could do it?”
She glanced up at him. “I could, but Bogey is better. I’m getting there, though.”
“It’ll be a while before I’m ready for a new one, especially if you use that shit.” He laughed.
Willow laughed her throaty laugh as she finished the last swipe. “This shit will save you a lot of pain later, Pablo.”
Subconsciously, he wished she’d called him Dad. “Do I need to wrap it?”
“I’ll do it. Don’t get it wet for twenty-four hours, and leave the bandage on until your first shower,” she instructed. As she rose, her eyes were drawn to the rose on his chest as well as the skull on his bicep. “The rose is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Do you have a tattoo?” he asked as she stepped back and reached for his shirt to hand him. He shrugged it on as she spoke.
“Coincidentally, I have a rose on my back,” she said with a forced laugh as she stared into eyes that looked curiously like the ones she saw in the mirror every day. “Have we met before?”
Pablo returned her stare, debating on telling her the truth, but he couldn’t. She wasn’t ready, he was sure of it. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Weird. You’re very familiar. Of course, I may have seen you with Bogey or something.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Well, you’re all done.”
Willow yanked back the curtain and stepped out, and Pablo followed her. Bogey lifted an eyebrow at him, and he smiled and nodded. His day had been made. Hell, his whole week.
*****
Cameron walked into the tattoo parlor only an hour after Willow got there. He’d stopped by a flower shop and found a dozen red roses for her.
His excitement about starting the tattoo thrilled through him, and the fact that Bogey would be at the parlor all evening while Willow worked on his tattoo was bonus. He’d found out nothing so far, had been unable to follow Bogey, and Pablo, so far, was a no show.
“Right on time,” Willow announced as Cameron walked in. She smiled at him and glanced over her shoulder at the man behind her, and Cameron’s heart nearly stopped.
Pablo. That son of a bitch is here, which means Bogey probably is working for him, he thought as his eyes rested on the man. He regained control of his features quickly and returned his gaze to Willow.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said to Willow. He lifted the bouquet of roses, grinning, and she laughed.
“You scamp.” She laughed as she moved away from the man he’d been waiting to find. “My favorite.”
“I know that well.” Cameron grinned. He clapped his hand together with the prospect of his new tattoo. “Are you ready to get started? Because I’m ready for my new tattoo!”
“Let’s do this!” She turned to walk to the chair she worked in usually. Both Bogey and Pablo were watching the exchange. “What?”
“Nothing,” Bogey grunted. “Just wondering when the love song is going to start playing.”
“Bogey!” she hissed at him.
Cameron’s eyes had narrowed slightly at the teasing remark, and they flicked from Bogey to Pablo. He stepped forward with his hand extended to Bogey. “Hi, Bogey. Remember me from the other day?”
“Yes.” He shook his hand briefly and headed to the back room without another word.
Cameron held his hand out to Pablo, who had remained in the same spot. “Cameron.”
Pablo shook his hand as his eyes shifted to Willow, who was looking at the door through which Bogey had disappeared. “Pablo.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Did Willow do your tattoo?” Friendly banter would throw him off, Cameron was sure.
“Not this time, but I’m hoping she will next time.” The man’s face was anything but friendly as he looked at Cameron, but when his eyes shifted to Willow, a softness entered them. “Bye, Willow. See you later.”
“Bye, Pablo. It was nice to meet you. I look forward to your next tattoo,” she joked, eliciting a laugh from him.
“Same here.” After another, somewhat hostile glance towards Cameron, Pablo followed Bogey.
“They seem like pleasant fellows,” Cameron quipped.
“Yeah, I just met that Pablo guy. Seemed nice enough to me,” she replied blandly. “But who cares about them. Let’s get that tattoo started!”
“Before we do that…” He grabbed her and hauled her up against him for a fierce kiss that lasted for a lot less time than he wanted it to. “Mmmm, I needed that.”
Breathless, Willow slapped his chest. “Dork. Besides, I do have something I need to do before I can start.”
“What’s that?”
“Put my beautiful roses in a vase. Or a Styrofoam cup, whichever I find first.” She laughed. She ran her hand down his chest and said, “And later, if you aren’t too much of a pussy, I’d love to have you over again.”
“You’re not too sore?” he asked, his hands on her waist. After she shook her head, he sighed heavily as if she’d given him bad news. “I didn’t fuck you hard enough then.”
She laughed, and Cameron’s heart skipped, his job here forgotten momentarily. “You are such a dirty man. I like it,” she whispered as she nipped his lip.
“Woman, I really want this tattoo, but if you don’t stop that, we’re going to have to sneak out to my car and christen it, if you know what I mean.” He winked like a person who doesn’t really know how, with his mouth wide open and exaggerated.
She laughed at him. “Dork. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as she was out of sight, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Coleman that he’d seen Pablo at Bogey’s parlor.
COLEMAN: What’s he doing there?
CAMERON: Looks like he’s getting a tattoo.
COLEMAN: Keep an eye on him. Can you follow him if he leaves?
CAMERON: Not a chance.
After a few more exchanges, Cameron ended the text telling Coleman he’d meet him later. Right now, he had a beautiful woman waiting to tattoo an ocean view on his back.
*****
Willow dug around in the little kitchen after directing Cameron to the table. The kiss, the teasing had made her panties wet, and she was so aroused she feared touching him would turn into a hardcore sex scene. Bogey’s voice reminded her he was not only there but had a friend with him.
As
her search for anything to put her flowers in continued, she let her mind wonder about Pablo. The man was so familiar, but she had no idea why. And the way he had looked at her had made her uncomfortable, though not in a sexual way. He wasn’t attracted to her, she was sure of it. He wanted something from her, though, and she didn’t know what it was and wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
When she found an oversized plastic cup, she filled it with water and grabbed the scissors to cut the ends of the stems so they would live longer. Voices sounded behind her, but she didn’t turn around. She assumed Bogey was walking Pablo out. But she began eavesdropping when she hear her name, though she continued to cut the stems as if she wasn’t.
“Who is that guy?” Pablo asked.
“Some guy who came in the other day. He commissioned a big tattoo for his shoulders, and she’s the one doing it,” Bogey answered.
“Are they dating?”
“I don’t know, man. That’s her private life,” Bogey told him, and Willow could detect the exasperation in his voice.
“Doesn’t he seem off to you? Maybe we should check him out?”
Willow froze. Why would Pablo care who she dated or tattooed? And how the hell was he going to check him out? Willow’s mind raced with these questions and others as she finished cutting the stems.
“Why? He’s just some surfer guy,” Bogey replied with little concern.
“I didn’t like him,” Pablo returned, his voice pitched low as if he were angry.
“Of course you don’t like him. You wouldn’t like any man who showed interest in your daughter.” Willow dropped the scissors with a clatter, drawing Bogey into the tiny kitchen. “What are you doing?”
She turned away from the sink and smiled at him as if she’d heard nothing. “Putting my roses in a cup.” She lifted the flowers so he could see the stems. “You have to cut the stems first so they don’t die.”
Bogey’s eyebrows furrowed at her. “Okay. You doing that guy’s tattoo tonight?”
“Starting on it.” To her, her voice sounded strange, but Bogey didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve got to run an errand. Gonna pick up some food before I come back. Want something?”
“Um, no thanks. I’ll be too busy to eat. I’ll eat after work,” she told him. “See you in a bit.” She turned back to the sink and continued her work with shaking hands.
Pablo stuck his head when Bogey had walked away. “Bye, Willow.”
Willow turned to look at him, and now she understood why he looked familiar. Because she looked at a similar face every morning in the mirror. “Um…” Her voice faltered, so she cleared her throat. “Bye, Pablo. It was nice meeting you.”
He pointed at her and smiled. “You already said that, chica.” He waved and walked away.
Her eyes were frozen on the doorway he’d vacated. She wondered if he was a good man. Bogey was a good man, though she assumed he was involved in illegal activities. Pablo probably was as well. She had enough problems with a drug addicted mother she couldn’t trust with money. She didn’t need a criminal for a father.
She shook her head and let her hands relax on the stems of the roses. She grabbed the cup and reminded herself that she had no proof besides that man saying she was his daughter. Except that she looked just like him. Again she froze in place, her thoughts whirring so loud in her head she had to touch her temple to calm down the tornado destroying her mind.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “What if he’s my father?”
Chapter 8
“What the hell took you so long?” Coleman growled when Cameron plopped down across from him in a booth at a pizza parlor near the beach.
“I was getting a tattoo,” Cameron answered. He turned in the booth and lifted his shirt to reveal the bandage across his shoulders.
Coleman grimaced at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Cameron?”
Cameron laughed. “I’m not a tool, which is probably why I’m no longer with the Bureau.”
“Your implication is noted, asshole, and you actually are still with the Bureau. They give you a paycheck,” Coleman replied without heat.
“Point taken, sir,” Cameron replied, his words so filled with sarcasm it could almost be cut.
Coleman glared at him, his wrinkles deepening. “So, you texted me and said you had something?”
“Yes. Pablo was at the tattoo parlor today.” Cameron thought about Willow’s odd behavior when she’d first returned, though she had settled into her usual self quickly. He wondered what had happened while she’d been in the back but had known better than to ask at that moment.
Coleman leaned forward, his eyes widening with excitement. “Really? What happened?”
“Willow introduced me to him, though she told me while working on the tattoo she’d just met him. He’s a ‘friend’ of Bogey’s,” he answered, putting air quotes around the word friend. “They went in the back as if they were going to leave, but I heard them chatting. I moved as close as I could and listened, but they were only talking about Willow.”
“What about Willow?”
“Pablo was there specifically to meet her. She’s his daughter. I’m pretty sure he gives her money through Bogey.”
“Drug money?”
“I’m sure drug money,” Cameron said with a roll of his eyes. “Are we ordering?”
“No. Does she know where the money comes from?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t know he’s her father, I do know that,” Cameron emphasized. He was sure of Willow’s innocence and had to make sure she was above suspicion.
Coleman sat back and glared at Cameron. “How exactly do you know that?”
“She told me she’d just met him,” Cameron repeated.
“And how do you know she isn’t lying?”
“Because she isn’t.”
Coleman crossed his skinny arms across his skinny chest. “Where were you last night?”
“Excuse me?” Cameron’s friendly tone shifted immediately.
“You heard me.”
“That’s none of your business,” Cameron replied.
Coleman grinned viciously. “I know exactly where you were, Cameron.”
“Followed me, did you?” Cameron asked. He leaned forward, pretending not to care, though he was seething. “My private life is not your concern.”
“It becomes my concern when it compromises your integrity,” Coleman told him, pointing a bony finger at him.
“Nothing is being compromised, Coleman. I barely work for the Bureau, and I could end this job now, if I wanted,” Cameron reminded him.
Coleman pursed his lips. “If she finds out you’re investigating her boss, this little fling won’t end well.”
“Thanks for the advice, Coleman,” Cameron said blandly. “Back to the important part of this conversation. I listened to them talking about Willow, heard them speaking to her, and then they left.”
“And you didn’t follow them?” Coleman exploded, his hands slamming down on the table, drawing the eyes of several customers.
“Obviously not,” Cameron commented, staring at the man as if he’d lost his mind.
“No, of course not. You had to get your tattoo,” Coleman sneered.
Cameron rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Coleman. I couldn’t follow them without blowing everything.”
“You’re not working hard enough on Bogey and Pablo because you’re too busy fucking that girl!” Coleman hissed furiously.
“Careful.” Cameron rose, towering over Coleman. “I’ll be in touch when I know something.”
“The only thing you know is that girl’s bra size,” Coleman snapped.
“Fuck you.” Cameron left quickly so his anger didn’t burst out of him and all over the agent. The man was a dick, and Cameron decided he needed a new contact at the Bureau. The Bogey/Pablo case was Coleman’s, but as soon as he was finished with it, he’d ask for someone new.
Cameron slowed his pace as he walked down the sidewalk towards his car. He had
plans with Willow and refused to break them, regardless of what that dick Coleman said. He’d promised to pick up dinner and meet her at her place, though he wanted her to visit his apartment soon.
*****
Willow moved slowly as she walked into her apartment, but her mind snapped from thought to thought. Pablo was her father…and she knew nothing about him. An internet search could give her some information, but the person who would know best was her mother. Willow sighed at the thought of calling her, though.
She avoided speaking with her mother. The woman was an addict, asked for money every time they spoke even though Willow sent her at least five hundred a month, and never bothered to ask if Willow was doing well. A selfish woman since she’d given birth, Willow often thanked whatever god ruled the world that she hadn’t turned out exactly like her.
After returning her laptop to its place on her table, she plopped down on the couch so at least her body would be comfortable while she spoke with her mother. As she searched her contacts for the number, she wondered if her mother would tell her anything. The woman probably didn’t know for sure. She’s been with more men than pennies in a dollar, Willow thought harshly.
The phone Willow paid for began to ring, and the ringing continued for so long she thought she’d get voicemail. Her mother answered, her voice like an old crow’s. “’ello?”
“Mom?” Willow asked. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure her mother had answered the phone.
“Willow?”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me. What’s wrong with your voice?” Although she didn’t like her mother much, the woman had raised her.
“Nothing, baby. How are you?” she mumbled. Willow could hear the bed creaking as she got up.
“I’m fine. Are you sick?” Willow asked, though she knew she was probably on a downward spiral, not actually sick.
“Just feeling low today,” she replied. “Need a little pick-me-up.”
Willow frowned. Before the conversation became about money, she asked, “Mom, can I ask you a question?”
“What kind of question?” her mother asked, suspicious. Barely awake a second ago, now the woman was alert.
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