Tattoo Lust: A Tattoo Romance Collection

by Skyla Madi

  Mikey snorted in disbelief. He glared at her. “I didn't do anything and you know it.”

  “Really? And how would I know that?” Cynthia looked over his shoulder. Mikey wanted to follow her line of vision, however, he knew she was peeking at her overly curious neighbor.

  “Are you serious? Have I ever done anything to you that would make you think I was capable of those things?”

  “No, but people can change,” she whispered so the neighbor couldn't hear.

  “That's a load of shit!” He stepped closer to her. God, this woman… the exhale he forced out of his mouth made the wisps of hair around her face fly. He couldn't see Brayden, although Mikey knew he was lingering behind the door.

  Cynthia sneered. “I'm within my rights, you know. The order states you get one weekend a month of my choosing. And I'm not discussing this any furth—”

  “What about Brayden's rights? Did you ever think of that? How does he feel about only seeing his father once a month?”

  “I don't have to. I decide what's best. Not him and certainly not you.” She poked him in the chest after each point.

  Mikey willed himself not to hit her, even though he never had. He glanced down at his clenched fists and took a couple of steps backward. “Cynthia…”

  She refocused her attention on his hands for a moment. Then her eyes landed across the street again. This time he threw a glance over his shoulder. “Why do you keep looking over there, huh?”

  “I'm not looking anywhere.” She dropped her eyes to the cement.

  “Then why is ‘nosy’ out on her porch?”

  “I don't know, why don't you ask her?” She edged closer to him.

  Mikey stared down at her. He hated her being so close to him; he wanted to shove her back but kept his hands at his sides.

  “You don't like the order the way it is, get a lawyer. And here's a tip; call a family law attorney, not your criminal one!”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Somebody ought to punch you in the nose! I don't have an attorney, you crazy-ass—God—you make me so—God!”

  “Well, you’re going to need one, probably two!”

  “What? You—”

  Two cop cars sped up the street with sirens blaring.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Mikey

  Mikey threw his hands up in the air. Awesome. This wasn’t how he pictured the conversation with his ex-wife ending. Of course, why should he be surprised? This was their normal and it sucked. Mainly for Brayden.

  Cynthia snuck back inside the house and closed the door. He stood on the porch with his hands at his sides. Two police cruisers pulled up, one to the curb behind his car and the other in the driveway. Should he assume the position now or wait for them to tell him? He rubbed his forehead.

  Two of the four officers approached him, each with one hand on their gun.

  Mikey started the conversation off. “Evening, Officers.”

  “Whatcha doing here?” the cop on the right, ‘E. Roberts’ according to his badge, asked.

  He jerked his head toward the house. “I was dropping off my son at his mother’s.”

  “Turn around and place your hands behind your head.”

  “What for?”

  “For your safety.”

  Mikey turned around slowly, praying Brayden wasn’t looking out. Naturally, he was and gaped at him. Mikey squeezed his eyes shut for a second. After the other cop cuffed and patted him down, Roberts knocked on the front door.

  “Mom?” Brayden called, his voice sounding muffled.

  The other cop ushered Mikey off the porch and over to the patrol car parked in the driveway. He craned his head over his shoulder and smiled crookedly at Brayden on the way. His son disappeared from the window and the curtain fell back into place.

  Instead of putting him into the car, he was told to plant his ass on the grass, which proved difficult with his hands hooked behind his back. Cynthia answered the door like she was surprised. Roberts nodded at whatever she told him. Mikey couldn’t hear their conversation. Right before she shut the door, Brayden yelled, “Dad!” ripping a hole in his chest.

  Roberts strode over with a tight-lipped expression, his brows kitted together. “Want to tell me what happened here?”

  “I came to drop off Brayden.”

  “That’s not what your wife alleges happened.”

  Mikey shrugged. “We had a discussion about visitation.”

  “She says you threatened to beat her up.”

  Mikey recoiled. “What? No. No, I didn’t. What I said was that someone should punch her in the nose. But I didn’t mean me. I didn’t touch her, man.”

  “She also said you were arrested recently.”

  “Not for threatening her. For murder.” Yeah, that was stupid. “I didn’t do it, though.” He smiled because there was no way he could erase what he’d admitted.

  “Get up.” Roberts motioned with his hand, indicating Mikey stand up.

  “You know, there are actual criminals out there. I didn’t do anything other than yell at her. Is that a crime?”

  “Check your attitude. You’re taking a ride with us.”

  “Are you arresting me? For what?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Harry

  Someone peered through the sidelight of Harry's front door. A stab of fear panged his heart. When the woman turned around and smiled, he cursed mildly under his breath. He hadn't recognized Natalie McGregor from behind.

  Did she change her hair?

  She waved at him and Grace.

  Harry motioned her over to join them in using the garage entrance. Natalie's hair was definitely different.

  “Changed your hair,” he grumbled.

  “Oh, yes,” she said while fondling her hair. “Do you like it?”

  “Eh.” Grace kicked the side of his foot. “Oh. Sorry. It looks fine.” The right words didn't roll off his tongue, it felt like he was being unfaithful to Annie. If she was any other woman he wouldn't care and didn’t, but she had been his wife's best friend. Natalie broke the eye contact and looked around.

  “I think it looks great. Really freshens up your look. Where did you get it done?” Grace gushed.

  Natalie shook off the wooden compliment from Harry and responded to Grace's question. She avoided looking in his direction when they entered the house.

  He took the cake from his daughter and set it on the kitchen counter. When he lifted the box lid, vanilla and chocolate aromas wafted up to his nose. The bakery kept his standing order every year. He didn't even need to call in. They just knew and called him when it was ready for pick-up. He read the inscription, Happy 54th Birthday, Annie. The lid floated down.

  “Dad? Are you all right?” Grace asked from over his right shoulder. A crooked smile plastered on his face as he pivoted.

  “Let's order a pizza. We can cut the cake later, if you still want,” he said.

  “Are you sure you're okay?”

  Harry waved off his daughter's concern.

  Natalie sat mutely at the kitchen table. Harry looked over at her and she didn't meet his gaze. He shrugged and grabbed the pizza coupons out of a drawer. “Deep dish. Pepperoni. Mushroom,” he said to no one in particular.

  “Fine,” Grace sighed. She and Harry both glanced in Natalie's direction.

  “Oh, I already ate. Nothing for me.”

  ***

  After dinner, Harry leaned back in his chair and tossed his napkin onto his empty plate. He'd not spoken since he ordered the Chicago-style. He couldn't trust himself not to say something stupid or insulting toward Natalie. He did like her new hairstyle; she looked pretty. Harry had trouble thinking of her as a woman, a potential partner. Natalie had been Annie’s best friend. What would his late wife think if he asked her out? Slap him, she would. Wouldn't she?

  “Cake,” he muttered. Wasn't he a joy to be around right now?

  Yay, me.

  Grace wandered over to the counter and brought the cake back to the table.
“Is there any ice cream?”

  Harry stared at a fake knot in the faux wood table top.

  “Dad?” When he didn’t answer; Grace cleared her throat.

  “Hmm? W-What?”

  “I asked if you had any ice cream.”

  He went to the freezer, looked inside, shut the door, and sat back down without speaking. The women gaped at him. “What?”

  Grace and Natalie looked from him to each other.

  “Oh. There's no ice cream.”

  “I'm sure we both figured that out,” Natalie said. Their eyes met. She searched his face. He suspected she wouldn't find much life there. Grace plopped a piece of the devil's food on a plate and handed it to him. The only reason he picked up a fork was Grace.

  Natalie’s hands clapped together and startled him. “Gimme a big piece, Grace. I've been waiting all day for this.”

  “Okay, here you go.” Grace handed the slice and a fork to her. Natalie dug in. Apart from the chewing, silence filled the room.

  “The cake is wonderful,” Natalie commented.

  “Uh hmmm, I love their cakes,” Grace agreed. “So, Dad? I won't be able to make the movie this weekend we talked about seeing.”

  Harry looked at her in confusion. He didn't remember them making any plans. “Wha…”

  Grace wide-eyed him so he closed his mouth. “Yeah, so I was thinking it might be a nice idea if the two of you went instead.”

  “Grace, I don't think Mrs. McGregor wants to go out with me. She probably already has plans.”

  “No I don't,” Natalie immediately said. “I would love to.”

  Harry groaned internally. “I already have plans this weekend.”

  “With who? Cedric? You can break them. I'm sure he won't mind.”

  He picked at his cake. “It's not with him.”

  “Who could you possibly have plans with other than him?” Grace asked.

  Harry pushed himself up from the table. “I'm going to go lie down.”

  Grace’s chair scraped over the tile. “Dad?”

  He raised his hand to keep her from coming after him. “I'm fine. A little tired.” He walked away and was nearly out of the kitchen when Natalie spoke.

  “Harry, there's something I've been waiting to say for a long time…” She paused and looked at Grace as if to apologize for what was coming next. Harry held his breath. “I've sat back for ten years and waited for you. Watched you parade a string of unworthy, bimbos through here.” Grace inhaled sharply; Natalie glanced at her. “I've never said anything, but I can no longer stand it.”

  “Natalie, you don't know what you're talking about, my father has never brought any—”

  “Oh please, your father is still attractive. He may not want me, but he certainly has had plenty of women over here.”

  Grace’s face fell. All the color drained out. It was a look Harry could have done without.

  “Dad? Tell me she's wrong. That you haven’t been having sex with other women, pretending to be heartbroken. Making me feel guilty.”

  Harry threw his hands up. “Do you want me to lie?”

  “You already have been lying to me. For years.” Grace wiped her face on her napkin and tossed it onto her plate.

  “I have not, Gracie.”

  “Don't Gracie me. You don't get to Gracie me. You certainly have never told me you go on dates. That's a lie by omission. You've had me believe you've been pining for Mom all these years.” She rose from the table.

  “I have; don't you see?” Harry pleaded with his daughter.

  “He has. And it's been the most pitiful thing to watch.” Natalie said evenly. When Harry eyes darted to Natalie’s face, her eyes were shiny. He knew her intention wasn’t to cause a rift between Grace and him. It was funny how now in this moment, he wanted to hold Natalie; brush her cheek with his fingertips.

  Grace grabbed her purse off the counter and fled without another word. The front door slammed, rattling the house.

  RING!

  “Now what?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Mikey

  This was becoming a real problem. This time when Mikey was shoved into an interrogation room, he asked to speak with Detective Hunter first thing. Cheap Suit burst into the room with a hard expression on his face.

  Harry narrowed his eyes on Mikey. “You're making a real habit of this and it's starting to piss me off.”

  Mikey splayed out wrist-cuffed hands on the table. “I didn't do anything.”

  “Wife says—”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “Your wife says you threatened her life.”

  Mikey glared at the detective. “Yeah, and what did Nosy-pants across the street say? She heard the whole damn thing.”

  “Did you threaten her?”

  “No. But I did tell her that someone should punch her in the nose.”

  Harry laughed humorlessly. “You're something else.”

  “That’s what I hear. Look, I didn't touch her and I wouldn't. She's limiting my time with my son. We have a shitty order that we haven't gone by in years.”

  “Mmm hmm. So you thought it was a good idea to pick a fight with her?”

  “Every conversation with her ends in a fight. She's nuts. You can't have a normal conversation with her.”

  “Well, someone called it in.”

  Mikey stared at him with wide eyes. “Wait, what time was that?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Nosy-pants was on her porch the whole time I was talking to Cynthia.”

  Harry opened the folder with the report he'd laid on the table. “Four forty-three, log says.”

  “Mmm,” Mikey grunted. “I checked the time right when I got to Cynthia's house. It was four-forty-one.”

  “How do I know you're telling me the truth?”

  “Have I lied to you yet?” The cuffs clanked on the metal table.

  Harry let out a long sigh. A few moments of silence passed between them. “Do me a favor, Hardin, abide by the custody order in place and stay away from your ex unless you're picking up or dropping off your son.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Grace

  Grace paced her living room floor. Mikey was supposed to have called her by five, after dropping off his son at his ex-wife’s house. It was past seven o’clock now. She’d sent a text to him at six but got no response and refrained from sending another message.

  Her phone chirped at seven forty-six. The text from Mikey read:

  Sorry got caught up. Meet at Hector’s in 15?

  She typed:

  Ok.

  Grace waited in the same booth from the night they first met. A man sat himself down opposite her, two booths away. No one occupied the seats in between. He stared at her with an intense scrutiny that unnerved her. Five times, she read the paper placemat covered in advertisements, avoiding his eyes. Every time she breathed, he seemed to breathe in sync with her.

  Oh my, God. What’s up with this guy?

  Her body flushed with alarm. His face seemed familiar. Or maybe he simply looked like a stereotypical child molester. Where the heck was Mikey? The clock behind the cash register displayed 8:25.

  The bells over the door jangled and Mikey walked in with damp hair. Grace relaxed and hoped he blocked the creepy stare-down guy’s face.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Mikey said and sat down.

  “I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes.” Grace faked being upset; she was relieved he showed up even if it was late.

  “I know.” He grabbed a menu from behind the condiments.

  “Where were you? I thought you dropped Brayden off at quarter to five.”

  “Dealing with my ex’s bullshit. I’m really sorry. If I could’ve called earlier I would’ve.”

  “Oh. Like what kind of BS?” God, she was grateful she didn’t have kids with her ex-husband.

  Mikey waved her off. “Nothing. You don’t wanna hear about it.”

  “You can talk to me about it. I don’t mind
.” Grace wished he would. He didn’t talk about his past much. He loved his son though, that she could tell. Which was one of his more endearing qualities. “I take it she gives you a pretty hard time?”

  He sighed heavily and ran a palm over his square jawline. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “What kinds of things does she do?”

  Mikey snorted. “I really don’t wanna talk about this right now.”

  “Is it about Brayden?”

  “No. Please, can you leave it alone? It’s my problem and I’ll deal with it.” He reached across the table and held her hands in his.

  “I want to help.”

  “I know, and thanks, but there isn’t anything you can do.” Mikey frowned and glanced around the restaurant.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think we need to find a new place. Remember that waitress from the first night we met, the one with the pink hair?”

  “Jennifer? Oh yeah, you’re right. I forgot.” Grace recalled the news report and her father’s warning.

  “May I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?” a waitress asked.

  Grace hadn’t been aware the girl was standing there. She glanced and read the name tag. “Thanks. I don’t think we’re staying, Mary.”

  “Okay.” Mary furrowed her brow.

  Mikey spoke up. “It’s not you. We…”

  “Oh, I know, you’re not the first to come and leave. You knew her, didn’t you?” Mary asked, putting her order pad into the pocket of her apron.

  Mikey nodded and led Grace toward the exit. She could get used to Mikey's hand on her lower back. It comforted her and made her feel precious. Memories of her past relationships with less than chivalrous men gave her the willies. Mikey turned out to be the best risk she'd ever taken. Granted, she hadn't known him for long, but he was definitely worth investing more time with.

  The man who was checking her out when she first got there glowered at her as they neared his booth. Well, it seemed that way. She fell in behind Mikey and nearly slammed into him when he stopped at the creep’s table.