Jordan

by Lindsey Hart

  “My back,” he finally said. She was again struck by how powerful, deep and rich his voice was.

  “Your back?” Luna realized how breathless she sounded and quickly forced herself to get a grip. She gathered up what little composure she had left. “Yes… well, do you want to show me? I can give you an idea of whether I can do it or not or how long it would take.”

  His eyes darted around the shop, storm tossed and frantic like she’d just offered to knife him. Jesus, the guy was cagey. Just another indication that he was trouble, or at the very least, troubled, which was no better. Probably far worse.

  “Is there somewhere more private?”

  Hmmm. Mr. Modest. He obviously didn’t know how this worked, which meant he was probably a first timer. But no, that didn’t make sense. He wanted a cover up. “Yah.” Luna turned slowly, cautiously, and indicated the private booths at the back. “I have rooms back there where we tattoo. If you come out back with me I can take a look.”

  Cue the darting eyes again. She was shocked to realize they held a glimmer of fear. What the hell did he think she was going to do to him back there? Attack him? She nearly laughed at the thought. She was half the guy’s size. If she was stood, shoulder to shoulder, four of her probably wouldn’t be enough to match the girth of his chest.

  “Fine,” he agreed slowly.

  Luna lifted up the section of counter beside the reception desk that unlocked and let him pass through. She was painfully aware of how he nearly didn’t fit. God, that opening was wide enough to admit three of her holding hands side by side.

  She waited, breath baited. Half hoping he would follow her back, half hoping he would turn and walk out that door. Silence filled the shop. A small noise drifted from the back where Adrianna was probably either cleaning equipment or setting up a room for a client due to arrive.

  One more pause, a few hard heartbeats, and the man followed her.

  CHAPTER 2

  The guy trailed behind Luna, down the hall to the first room on the right, without incident or comment. She opened the door and the man stood there, eyes doing that shifty, darting move again. The room was filled with the usual arsenal of inks and stands. The walls were covered with drawings, paintings and past sketches she’d done for clients. A large chair, the kind like you’d see in a dentist office sat in the middle of the room and off to the side was a table, almost like what you’d find at any doctor visit, minus the creepy stirrups at the end of course. The one position she’d never had to ask anyone to get into for a tattoo was spread eagle. Thank god for small mercies.

  She finally turned and found that the guy was studying her. He hadn’t stepped foot into the room. He stood there like an impenetrable force. A brick wall? A granite mountain? If he went by a code name, Luna imagined that would be it. She could just hear him on one of those radios, Granite Mountain, over and out. She nearly grinned before she realized what a crazy fool she’d look like. She composed herself quickly.

  “So. If you want to step in and take off your shirt, I can see what we’re working with.”

  Though the man’s face remained carefully composed, his eyes changed. They took on a wild look, where the whites nearly ate his irises. Finally, he seemed to give himself a mental kick in the ass and decided the only way to go through this was to shed that damn shirt of his and expose whatever was underneath to her prying eyes.

  How bad could it be? Something sure as hell wasn’t right about any of this.

  Whatever battle he was fighting, he clearly decided that the cover up must be worth it. Hands the size of hams came up to his shirt, chest high. They fumbled with the buttons, struggling to undo them. Finally, after an eternity of tense breathing and even heavier anticipation, he shrugged out of the shirt and whirled, all in a motion so graceful, Luna almost couldn’t believe it had happened at all.

  Holy Hannah. If backs could be gorgeous or even sexy as hell, his certainly was.

  The taut, rippling muscle under that layer of bronze, silky looking skin were tense, strained even. His was not the muscle of a body builder or someone who pumped iron and steroids. No, his muscles were streamlined and beautiful. She was willing to bet that wherever the guy worked out it wasn’t at the friendly neighborhood gym.

  Seeing him half naked, all animal male did something to Luna’s body. She reacted with raw, powerful lust to seeing all that latent power simmering just below the surface. The man looked dangerous and not just because of his size.

  Marring a surface that would have been utterly glorious, was a hideous tattoo. It took up most of his back, starting just below his shoulder blades and ending right before the swells of his hips. There were scars too, short ones, long ridges, rounded circles, jagged lines. The tattoo made no sense. It didn’t have any graceful lines or flowing rhythm. It was just… figures, slapped on. What looked to be a wolf’s head crested his shoulder blades. Beside that was a sick looking grim reaper holding a scythe. At least, that’s what she guessed it was, but only because that blade in hand was a dead giveaway. The lion head below that was larger, taking up most of the back, or at least, what was left. It too looked half carved in, as though whoever had done the work meant actual harm, not art. Clearly they’d wanted that ink to stick.

  “You’ve had it lasered.” It wasn’t a question. Luna could tell from the fading that he’d probably endured a couple blistering sessions. Ouch. She felt for him. The removal generally hurt far more than getting inked in the first place.

  Luna should have known better. She should have stopped her trembling hand from reaching out, but her body reacted on a base level, without thought. Her index finger traced one particularly long, ragged scar right below his shoulder blade. A tremor ripped through her hand and it took Luna a second to realize it wasn’t her body’s reaction, but his. He uttered a shaky, raw breath and she had the feeling it took all his willpower not to move.

  “Feeling up your client is part of the job?” The man growled. He whirled, the look on his face so sinister and angry that Luna quickly jerked away. Her hand burned and a vibrant, nearly painful electrical sensation buzzed up her arm. She couldn’t even pretend that her breathing was anything short of erratic.

  This man fairly exuded danger. Worse, and far more damaging, the air was heady with a primal sexual aura that was completely raw, undeniable and far more captivating than it should have been.

  “It is when I have to tattoo over it.” She stood her ground, trying to draw air into her burning lungs on a shaky inhale. “How many laser sessions?” God, if she was him she’d want that tattoo covered up too.

  “Three. They said it’s never going to be lighter than it is now. I need it covered up.”

  “And the scars?”

  “What about them? I assume you can tattoo over them?”

  “I suppose I could. Yes. It might not be pretty, but I can do it.”

  The blackness in those icy blue eyes stopped Luna’s heart mid-beat. “They said you were the best. Anyone I talked to and I’ve done my research. I’ve seen your work. Will you take me or not?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. She knew she shouldn’t get involved with this guy. In any capacity. The fact that her body was already heating painfully and her heart beating out a hard, double time rhythm didn’t bode well. Apparently, her body and brain weren’t on the same page. Her brain told her to stay the hell away, but her body said a big fuck you to that logic.

  “Yes. I can do it.” She winced. I’m going to get exactly what’s coming to me.

  “When?” His eyes searched hers, locking, green meeting blue like hot and cold air clashing.

  What’s the darn hurry? She’d wager her last months’ salary that all that ink had been with this guy for a long time, probably at least a decade. “Probably six months wait at least.”

  “I can’t. I can’t wait that long.” His voice held that strange, wild edge, the tone that indicated he was close to coming undone. “You don’t have anything sooner? I’ll pay double. Off the books
.”

  “Make it triple,” Luna blurted, as usual her tongue skipping ahead of her brain.

  “Triple it is.” The man reached down, grabbed up his shirt in a fantastic display of rippling muscle. He shrugged it on in a movement far too agile for someone so big.

  Whoever said the male form isn’t art was a moron. Luna tried not to stare at his chest but he gave her a few seconds worth of the glorious display before his fingers, suddenly far too nimble, closed up his shirt. The image of his godlike chest was burned into her brain. Crisp, blonde hair smattered over pectorals so hard you could probably crack a beer open in the valley between them. Abs so defined he could have been a poster child for fitness equipment. And scars. Jesus, the scars. They crisscrossed the golden skin that could have been utter perfection.

  What kind of life had he known? Luna was familiar with scars. She’d tattooed quite a few. She knew from experience that some of those jagged lines were at least a couple decades old.

  Why did the guy insist on looking so clean cut on the outside? Anyone who looked twice could tell that he wasn’t who he said he was. No amount of pressed clothing or expensive, Italian leather shoes could soften those eyes of his. Eyes that had seen far too much of life.

  “Tomorrow then?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “We start tomorrow?”

  Nothing like getting right down to business. It was utterly shameful, but Luna found that she wanted to see more of his chest, more of that gorgeous broad back and that marred skin. Fuck, she didn’t want it, she craved it. Say no. Say no and run. This guy is just another Jordan. Worse. He’s far more dangerous. Overriding all her good sense, was her unabashed desire to put her mark on his skin. To cover – no. To fix his back.

  “Yah. Tomorrow. Send me your ideas tonight, to my email and I’ll draw you something in the morning. The shop closes at seven. Come by then. To the back door.”

  He nodded sharply and disappeared, nearly frantic, like someone drowning who sensed the surface was close.

  Luna sat down slowly on that bench where she’d tattooed so many people. Where she would tattoo him. It wasn’t only fucked up that she wanted to see him again, it was worse that over twenty-four hours seemed too long to wait. Her fingers itched to touch him, to caress that heated skin again.

  The worst part of it all was that she realized the next time she felt that skin she was going to be wearing gloves. It felt like a monumental loss, not to be able to touch him. A man who at this point, didn’t even have a name.

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  AGAINST HIS WILL

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  A fate worse than jail… After his third DUI in as many years, Lukas Millar is in for it. His firm has had enough. It doesn’t matter that he’s a genius lawyer or that he hasn’t lost a case in eight years. This time around he was doing means community service and lots of it. Five hundred hours at some dingy soup kitchen in a rough area. Justice is going to be served… A fortuitous chance of events lands Lukas Millar at Star Schellen’s soup kitchen. The very man who broke the heart of her best friend is at her mercy and she plans to make his stay less than comfortable. Never Say Never… The last person on earth Star would ever be interested in is Lukas. The last place on earth Lukas wants to be is at that kitchen. Despite their best intentions, sparks fly from their first encounter. She’s shocked to find that the heart of a certain lawyer isn’t as black as she thought it would be and he can’t shake the fact that he’s actually starting to care. Just as Star and Lukas find some common ground, old grudges and misunderstandings threaten to tear them apart. Can they find happiness together despite everything?

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  CHAPTER 1

  The minute William Jensen strolled into the glassed-in office, his face as somber as a deadly storm rolling in, Lukas Millar knew he was in trouble.

  “Give it to me straight. How bad is it?” Lukas Millar waited with baited breath behind his massive cherry oak desk. The thing was dwarfed by the sheer size of his office. Only the best for San Diego’s Golden Boy.

  “Basically, you’re not going to jail but I won’t say that’s the good news.”

  Lukas shifted in his desk chair, raising his legs and slamming them uncaringly onto his desktop. Pages and papers scattered to the floor. None of it mattered. The only thing that truly counted was that he was free.

  William looked like every other lawyer. Tailored suit that cost hundreds, polished square toed shoes, leather briefcase, dark hair cut short and immaculately styled. His face was ordinary and non-descript but those dark eyes of his burned with intelligence. It was why people trusted him. He had an impeccable track record. He got the job done when it counted.

  Lukas reached into his top desk drawer and pulled out a pack of smokes. He threw the pack on the desk, along with a lighter, before he reached lower and produced a silver flash of whisky. “If I’m not going to jail, why did you look like you just lost a case against the devil?”

  Will’s dark eyes shifted. For a second Lukas’ confidence in his friend faltered. “Celebration might be premature.”

  Lukas’ hand froze on the flask. “What do you mean? We both know that I’m not getting jail time. What could be a bigger win than that?”

  “I wasn’t able to reduce your community service hours. Five hundred. That’s what it’s going to take to keep you out of jail. And of course, the mandated courses and the normal fines.”

  Rage choked Lukas’ throat as he slid his legs off the desk. He threw his flask aside, his thirst suddenly forgotten. “Five hundred hours? When do they think I would have time to do that? It would take years to put in that much time.”

  Will’s eyes scanned the office. He ran a hand through his short hair. Lukas could tell something was definitely not right.

  “Spit it out then, Bill,” he demanded. He used the name he knew his friend hated just to give rise to his anger. If he could spur Will to it, he might not be alone in his own personal hell.

  “There’s talk that Stanton and Jones are going to put you on leave. Indefinite leave.”

  His glassed in high rise office narrowed and spun wildly. Lukas leaned forward in his leather desk chair. “I couldn’t have heard you right? We both know that if someone is put on leave it damn well won’t be me. I’m the Golden Boy. The one who doesn’t lose. Do you know how much money I bring into this firm?”

  His long-time friend and fellow lawyer stared him down. “That’s a load of bull shit. At least, thinking you’re untouchable. Three DUI’s in three years? Come on Lukas! It’s bad press and we both know it. They want you to take leave until this all dies down. The last thing that San Diego’s Golden Boy needs is for the entire world to know and remember that he’s a drunken mess. How confident do you think all your high-profile clients will be then?”

  Lukas stared at the hard line of Will’s jaw. He itched to plant his fist right into that rigid, angular face. He blew out a long breath and reached for pack of smokes he’d discarded on his desk. He slid one out of the package and lit it deftly. He inhaled, the buzz instantaneous.

  Will glanced around wildly. “Are you insane? What are you thinking, smoking in here? If you’re looking to get yourself fired, just keep going.”

  “Oh, I’ll keep going alright. No one lays off Lukas Millar. Before I started here twelve years ago this firm was nothing. Now look at it. We’re the best in the city at what we do. People come to us when they’re out of options and we fix everything for them. I haven’t lost a case in eight years. That’s why those old farts at the helm make the big bucks. It’s because of me. What would they do if I wasn’t here? If they think they’ll put me on leave, they have another thing coming.”

  Instead of correcting him, Will just sighed. “You’re obviously humble as they come as well. Doesn’t it ever sit ill with you what we do here? Defending people we know for a fact are guilty? Letting them back into society again?�
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  Lukas shrugged. “Of course, it doesn’t bother me. First of all, I don’t know they’re guilty. They never tell me one way or the other. Secondly, it’s not like they’re rapists and murders. We’re talking about fraud and financials here. We don’t take criminal cases.”

  “Some would say they’re as criminal as any murderer.”

  “And we both know that’s a load of shit.”

  Will shook his head slowly. “I would ask how you sleep at night but I already know the answer. You don’t. You know where fast living gets you, don’t you Lukas?”

  “Ahead,” Lukas ground out. “It gets you ahead. You only live one life. I have money. Shouldn’t I spend it where I see fit and on who I want?” He expected another lecture about the joys of marriage and family. It was utterly ridiculous that Will expected it would ever work out. Lukas gave him a few years before he was divorced, fighting a custody battle, his finances and career in shambles because he’d dared to believe in the same load of shit dream that the rest of the world bought into. Marriage was a farce. A money-making farce. He’d defended enough assholes in court to know the truth of it.

  Mercifully, Will kept his mouth shut. “Word is they’re putting you on leave. It’s a certainty. That’s what I came in here to tell you. I think this is the end of the road for us, at least as colleagues. We both know that your pride can’t withstand a blow like this.”

  “My pride!” Lukas stammered. Rage ripped through his veins. “This has nothing to with pride.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Will raised a dark brow in that annoying way he had when he knew he was being lied to.

  “Of course not! It’s the principal of the matter. If they can’t stand by me after I’ve made them millions, then they can fucking go at it alone and see how they like that.” Lukas crossed his arms. He gradually became aware that he was holding a smouldering cigarette. The ash was at least two inches long. He flicked them carelessly onto the top of his expensive wood desk. He finished the cigarette off in another long inhale. He exhaled the cloud of smoke and flicked the still lit butt onto the brand-new carpet.