Hot Ink

by Carrie Ann Ryan;Cari Quinn;Sidney Bristol

  He set her down on the mattress and knelt next to her.

  The unfinished drawing of him was positioned against the wall next to the bed.

  She smiled up at him. Could this work? Would he be happy here? She hoped so.

  He leaned toward her, planting his hands on either side of her hips. They were going to make love, then probably do it again. There were years to make up for, and this time, she wouldn’t let the opportunity slip through her fingers.

  “Wait, Kit, the candles. We can’t just leave them burning.” He’d just bought the place. They didn’t want to burn it down.

  “Oh fuck.” He rolled his eyes. “Fine, give me five minutes. Stay here.”

  She laughed even as tears still streamed down her cheeks.

  Kit got to his feet and tromped down the stairs. She listened to each footfall, still finding it hard to breathe.

  Was he serious?

  Renee was caught between elation and disbelief. She pinched the bruise on her shoulder and winced. Very much awake. Was this something they could do? If he was going to own the shop, she wanted to be involved, even if it was just a nights and weekends thing. He would need someone to manage the office, and she was good at that. Maybe she would even pick up tattooing again. Small things until she got her feet back under her. At the very least, she could get licensed to do piercings again.

  It could work. Couldn’t it?

  Too restless to wait for him, Renee pushed up to her feet and started down the stairs.

  “Kit? Hey Kit, I’ve got an—” She yelped as a person who was very much not Kit rounded the corner of the stairs halfway up. “Who—?”

  The man grabbed for her arm, sputtering curses. Renee fell back on the stairs, sitting down heavily on the old wood. This wasn’t a friend. In fact, he looked kind of familiar, and not in a good way. Warning bells went off in her head. He reached for her and she kicked again and again, screaming.

  “Kit? Kit! Help!”

  The man tumbled backward, but grabbed her leg, pulling her after him. She slid down every one of the damn stairs, jarring her tailbone and getting splinters in her hands and arms as she grasped for a handhold. They tumbled onto the tile together. He smelled of sweat, body odor and a slightly sweet scent that turned her stomach. He grabbed her shoulder, digging his thumb into her bruise while his other hand wrapped around her throat. Oh God, Jessica had been strangled to death.

  Renee screamed and clawed at the man, cursing herself for never getting around to taking those self-defense courses.

  She had a vague impression of a lump rising from the ground—a very human, very large lump.

  Kit.

  Renee got her knee up and kicked her attacker. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not when she and Kit were putting things to rights, not when she might get her second chance. The attacker squeezed her throat, cutting off her air. Panic rose up, shutting off all thought until the only thing in her mind was escape.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Kit’s words were a slurred roar, but he grabbed the smaller man by the hair and jerked him off her.

  Kit threw their attacker like some hulked-up ring fighter. The man hit the ground with a sickening thud, rolling through the tea lights. The man’s clothing flickered and a tongue of fire licked the air above him. He screamed and scrambled to his feat.

  “Kit, the fire!” Renee pushed to her feet and stumbled to the sink on the back wall. The wood debris and dust littering the floor smoldered and caught fire.

  “Fuck!” Kit dove for the flames and stomped at them as their assailant took off out the front door, shedding his shirt and screaming.

  She tossed a cup of water on the nearest flames, dousing them.

  Given the chance, she’d kill that man with her bare hands, but the danger of the still burning candles was very real.

  “Call 9-1-1,” Kit ordered as he continued to stomp out the remaining flames and extinguish the candles. His face and beard were matted with blood from a gash on his forehead, but other than that, he appeared to be okay.

  Renee pulled her phone out of her pocket, shaking as Kit made short work of the rest of the candles, leaving them in near darkness. For the second time that week she spoke with an operator, and in the span of a few minutes, a new set of officers arrived at the shop.

  She pulled out of Kit’s arms, lunging for Tim.

  “Tim, Tim!” She clutched the officer’s arm. “It was Brister.”

  “Who?” Tim glanced from her to Kit.

  “The man who was here. I didn’t recognize him at first, but it’s got to be Brister. Call Detective Fox. He’ll know who I’m talking about.”

  “Got it.” Tim steered her toward the front door. An ambulance had just arrived and the EMTs were helping Kit onto a gurney.

  “Shit.” He hadn’t been too steady on his feet.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  Tim handed her into the ambulance. Her whole body shook. Had it been Brister? Shit. Had it been Brister all along?

  “Hey, hey babe?” Kit clung to her hand.

  “I’m here.” She stared at him, hating the blood caked in his hair.

  “We’re okay. They’ll catch him.”

  She swallowed. “I think I know who it is.”

  And if it was Brister, did that mean they’d solved the case?

  * * * *

  Kit kept an arm around Renee’s shoulders as they trudged into the precinct. It was too fucking early for this shit, especially after spending most of the night in the ER for a couple of stitches and a concussion. He could handle the gash, but he hated Renee’s cough and bruising around her throat.

  “Renee, how are you?” A tall, white-haired man with the build of a linebacker rushed toward him.

  “Detective Fox, hi,” Renee croaked.

  The older man folded her into a brief hug, but as soon as he let go, Kit wrapped his arm around her. He didn’t like Renee’s theory that this Brister guy had come after them for asking questions.

  “How are you two?” Detective Fox glanced between them.

  “Pretty tired. Do you have any coffee?” she asked.

  “This way.” Fox gestured down the hall. He led them through a few doors that needed key card entry, then into an open area with desks and exterior windows allowing the weak morning light to stream in.

  “Is it true you caught him?” Renee asked.

  Fox glanced over his shoulder, his gaze troubled. “You need to sit down to hear this.”

  They were led to a glass room with a couple of monitors and a table. A woman with a kind smile brought them coffee, creamer and sugar. From the way she looked at Renee, Kit assumed they knew each other. Then again, Renee probably knew everyone in the building.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, cupping the mug with both hands.

  Fox leaned on the table and scratched his head. “If you were a normal victim, I wouldn’t be telling you this, but, you’re one of us, so here.”

  He pressed play on the remote.

  A well-dressed, middle-aged man sat in what appeared to be an interrogation room. From the way he held himself, all the way down to his shoes, he screamed money. The man rubbed his forehead and sagged in his chair.

  “I can’t do this anymore. I thought...when he did it the first time, we panicked. He said he’d make it go away, and I trusted him. By the time I realized what he’d done, what I’d helped him cover up, it was too late. Then it happened again. I couldn’t...I hated myself. Tonight when he came to our house, I knew he’d done it. I couldn’t cover for him. Not again. That’s when I locked him in our pantry and called the cops.” He scrubbed his jaw and stared at the table.

  “When he did what the first time, Mr. Brister?”

  Mr. Brister stared at Detective Fox sitting across from him. “When he killed our nanny, Jessica Smith. God, she didn’t deserve that. We didn’t know. I thought...I don’t know what I thought. That everyone had to be crazy. He couldn’t do anything like that. And then we came home and she was�
��she was dead. In our house. With our kids upstairs.”

  Renee gasped, a pained sound that had to hurt her abused throat. Kit squeezed her tighter.

  “Did they catch him?” Renee asked.

  “They did. His cousin turned him in. Had him locked up and everything. Gave us the whole story. Jessica worked for them. They hired her after she moved here because they wanted their kids to be bilingual. During the school year she babysat, and during the summer she stayed with them full time. Her family knew, and they lied to us because they were paid off. He says they were going to make a case for her to come live with them, but his cousin…” Fox shook his head.

  “I can’t believe it.” Renee sagged against him. “Have you told Mick?”

  “No, not yet. We want to break it to him the right way.”

  Renee nodded.

  Kit figured it was the right idea. Let the nurses tell them when the best time would be. He couldn’t begin to imagine what this must be like for Mick and Renee.

  “So this guy, what? Followed us?” Kit asked.

  “It’s circumstantial right now, but we think those kids you talked to told him what you were asking about, and he broke into Renee’s house, for whatever reason. The guy’s strung out on meth so he’s not very rational.”

  Renee shuddered. “I felt like someone was following me.”

  “Maybe that’s what he was doing. Following you, trying to stop you from finding out it was him.” Fox shrugged. “He’s going to go into withdrawal soon, so we aren’t likely to get anything out of him for a while, but both Bristers are going to jail.”

  Kit hoped the men rotted in prison.

  There was paperwork and statements to give. The entire time Kit chafed to be out of there. They had their lives to get on living, and he’d spend the rest of it with Renee, if she’d have him.

  Hours and a couple cups of coffee later, he escorted Renee to the vet’s office to pick up Peaches. Joe eyed him curiously, but didn’t keep them longer than it took to get the cliff notes version of the night before. Renee extended an offer to have dinner with them later that week, which Joe seemed eager to accept.

  Though it was now clear to return to her house—or his—they went to the shop first, at Renee’s insistence. He’d texted Dave for help while at the ER, but hadn’t heard from his friend since the early hours.

  Kit pushed open the doors and stopped. Renee crowded in under his arm and paused.

  The candles were gone, the floors were swept and Dave sat bent over a man stretched out on his padded table.

  “What’s up, guys?” Dave said as he swirled the end of his tattoo machine in ink.

  “What are you doing here?” Kit asked, glancing from Dave to Renee.

  “I don’t have a key, remember? I figured if I had to babysit your place I’d get some work in, too. Say hi to Charles.” Dave gestured to his client.

  There were a hundred things wrong with the idea, much less the reality, of tattooing in the unfinished space, but the deed was done. Or nearly done.

  “We’ll be upstairs.” Kit grabbed the carrier from Renee and led her back upstairs. He needed her to himself, just for a few moments. To reassure himself she was fine and alive.

  Everything was as they’d left it. The flowers, the bed and even their things. All his plans for a romantic evening spent where they first fell for each other were ruined, but that wasn’t the point. He set the carrier down and pulled Renee into his arms, breathing deep the scent of her hair. She clung to him, pressing her face against his chest.

  Renee leaned back first, peering up at him with a smile. “Where were we?”

  He stared at her. Last night he’d been about to strip her of her clothes, make love to her. Prove to her that he meant it all.

  “I think we were getting to the part where I say,” he cleared his throat, “Renee, I love you.”

  Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped a bit. “W-what?”

  “Look, I could kid around and wait a while to tell you, or I could just say it.”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t what I thought you were going to say at all.” She licked her lips and glanced toward the stairs.

  Looking for a way out?

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  “Scared? They caught him.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” Renee tipped her chin up and looked at him. “I’m scared of you, that you’ll leave, that I’ll never get over you, that I’m going to spend my life loving someone who left me. I know I have issues, I’m not perfect, but that’s how I feel.”

  How twisted was it that they’d spent ten years loving each other from afar?

  He cupped her cheek, hating the sight of tears on her cheeks again.

  “I know I did the wrong thing, and I’ve regretted it. I’ve thought about finding you a hundred times, but babe, I was scared, too. I’m here now, and I’d like to cash in that favor you promised me.”

  “Favor?” Her brow wrinkled.

  “For not looking at the picture.”

  “The picture you’ve already seen?” She blinked at him.

  “Yeah. That one.” He took a deep breath. It was all on the line. Everything. “I want you to give me one chance. One more chance to prove I won’t leave you. I’ll have to go to California to get my stuff, but after that, my business, my life, it’ll be here with you.”

  “A-are you serious?”

  “Dead serious. I already bought this place. There’s a no-refund policy.”

  “Not funny.” She slapped his chest.

  He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “What do you say?”

  “I love you.”

  Kit grinned. He could hear those words a million times over and it would never get old.

  “I love you, too.” He pulled her toward him. “And I promise to tell you if I’m going to the grocery store. I’m going to prove it to you.”

  Epilogue

  Four months later…

  Renee watched the black ink soak into the synthetic skin as her needle traveled over the surface. She held her breath as she made the final line on an ornamental Koi fish. Each scale, every vein of the fin was perfect. The new hybrid machine was light in her hand and allowed her to really focus on the fine details she excelled at. The rest of it, all the ins and outs of tattooing, it came back to her. A muscle memory she hadn’t lost quiet yet. She still hadn’t inked an actual customer, not that she had time, but the practice helped to get her mind off things.

  “There you be.” Remy’s boots scuffed on the floor. He wore jeans, a clean button-down shirt and his hair was brushed, though it would never quite be orderly.

  The sorrow hit her hard, right in the chest and her heart ached. She sucked in a deep breath and set the machine down, tipping her chin up to stare into the lights and will the tears away.

  “Hey.” Remy was at her side in a second, pulling her to her feet and wrapping his arms around her. “It’s okay.”

  She clung to her younger brother, burying her face against his shoulder. It was one thing to declare she was done crying—it was a whole other thing to actually be done with it.

  “It hurts,” she whispered. It was the same loss all over again.

  “Hey guys…” Kit’s voice trailed off as he stepped through the office door. The sound of Dave’s tattoo machine beat a comforting rhythm, reminding her that not all was lost.

  Remy eased his hold and she knew Kit was behind her. She’d become so attuned to his presence she could almost close her eyes and point him out in any building, in any crowd.

  “Oh babe,” Kit muttered as he turned her in place and squeezed her. “He had a good run of things.”

  “I know. But I miss him.”

  Two weeks. That was how long they’d been without Mick.

  The last four months were easily the happiest time of her life. Kit had stayed. He’d fixed up the shop and moved into Mick’s house; she’d practically moved in as well though it hadn’t been official until last month, and together they’
d made the decision to bring his uncle home. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d been together. She’d watched Kit and Mick tear down all the barriers their toxic family had built. They’d been a family for a short while.

  The kind of family she’d missed.

  Remy had visited nearly a dozen times, both to do his brotherly duty and threaten Kit, and see Mick.

  “Okay, okay.” She stepped back, swiping her fingers under her eyes to catch any tears. “I’m ready.”

  Kit paused to examine the tattoo. Her nerves redoubled and she fidgeted with the decorative bow at her waist, making sure it lay perfectly flat.

  “Lookin’ pretty good,” Kit said. “You ready to do it again?”

  “Hey, I’m first in line,” Remy interjected.

  “Maybe in a few weeks.” It was the same answer she’d given them both for the last two months. The reality was that working evidence and being the shop manager took up all of her time, but she was sad Mick hadn’t seen her tattoo again.

  When it had been just the two of them waiting on Kit to come home, Mick had asked her if she really meant to tattoo again. And she did. She would. But not today. Today, they paid their last respects to a man who had put their lives back together.

  Without Mick, Kit would probably never have come home.

  Without Mick, Renee would have lived with an emptiness where family belonged.

  “Let’s get this party started.” Remy opened the back door and held it for her as she exited, taking careful, small steps in her high heels and tight wiggle dress.

  She’d worn black to the funeral, paid her respects and honored him in the appropriate fashion with everyone else then. Today was about the family you chose.

  Kit helped her into the passenger seat of her brother’s truck, pausing to kiss her temple, before climbing into the back seat. Remy started the truck and turned them toward the cemetery. She felt Kit’s fingers brush her arm between the seat and the door. She slipped hers through the narrow space and he hooked their hands together.

  Connected.

  Always.

  * * * *