Tegan: Exotic Ink Series (Book Two)

by LS Anders

  The early morning traffic was thin and yielded easily to the police car as it pulled away from the curb following E 77th Street down to the hospital.

  Rayna let her mind wander, envisioning what life would be like without him and wondered why she hadn't done this already since she was planning a divorce. If he was dead, then this would sort of be the same thing. She'd always heard a divorce was like a death but this wouldn’t be the same, this would be different.

  She had thought they would remain friends of a sort, considering they would still be co-workers at Exotic Ink. She figured Brent would be alright with the divorce, because they were basically just roommates now anyway, and he wouldn't have to lie anymore about his whereabouts.

  Last year, she had begun to worry that he would bring something nasty home from one of his many conquests. Running to the doctor to get regularly tested for STD's or worse, contracting something penicillin couldn't fix was not on her priority list. It didn't surprise her that he hadn't balked or questioned when she'd cut off what little sex they did have since she was so horrible at it.

  Squinting against the flashing lights of an arriving ambulance as it pulled under the awning that marked the emergency entrance, a twinge of anxiety broke through her numbness, and she didn't think to question as the police car passed the front of the hospital to turn left onto Park Ave and then another left onto 76th Street. But it made sense once they reached the backside of the hospital and turned into a tunnel marked, Authorized Personnel Only. A few feet in, they were met by a security guard that opened the gate and waved them through, emerging into an underground parking lot.

  Officer Landry choose a parking space closest to the elevator. Once they were parked, she ignorantly tried to open the door finding it locked. Duh. She was in the back of a police car.

  Officer O'Malley was Johnny-on-the-spot to open the way for her with a flourish, smirking, “I guess you really are a good girl. Didn't know you were locked in, huh?"

  The words, fuck you, were screaming to get out, but she just flashed him a tight smile and hustled over to where Officer Landry stood holding open the elevator door.

  She could practically feel O’Malley’s piercing gaze on her back as he raked his eyes over her body, starting at the top of her blonde head all the way to the heels of her Keds.

  What was with this guy? She was on her way to view a dead body that resembled her husband.

  Rayna attempted to ignore the despicable man as he was last to join them. When the elevator door slowly closed, she froze in place hoping if she didn't move a single muscle that she would be spared O'Malley's unwanted attention.

  They dinged down one floor, and her entire body went lax as the door slid open. Waiting as both officers got out first, relief poured out of her as she stepped out into the hallway and followed behind them down the institutional green hallway. The sharp stench of disinfectant burned her sinuses but did nothing to make her feel any better about the cleanliness of the space.

  Stopping at the first door on the right, Officer Landry picked up a phone hanging on the wall announcing their arrival. The lock clicked and he opened the way into what appeared to be a waiting area and not a very welcoming one with its grungy plastic chairs that looked like they had seen hundreds of butts, and mismatched side tables. It was even void of magazines. The stark room gave her the heebs, but she managed to hold back a shiver.

  Not wanting to sit on any more questionable seating, she chose to stand. The back seat of the police car had been quite enough of an experience for one morning, thank you.

  A moment later, a man wearing a white lab coat opened the door opposite the one they had come through. Dr. Whitfrey, Medical Examiner, was embroidered in swirling red script on his lapel as if the cheery lettering was going to disguise the morbidity of the man's occupation.

  Introductions were made, and she followed the rotund doctor into the next room. Feeling rather than seeing Officer O'Malley, she knew he had followed them inside, but that knowledge was lost when she got a good look at the cold metal table and the crisp white sheet that covered a huge body shaped lump.

  Oh god, she was really going to have to view a dead body. She took a deep breath knowing he would look like Brent. Standing a little straighter, she tried to prepare herself.

  "Whenever you're ready, Mrs. Nichols,” Dr. Whitfrey calmly stood on the opposite side of the table as if he had an infinite amount of patience and all the time in the world.

  Swallowing hard, she gave him a firm nod. He respectfully folded the sheet back to the man's shoulders revealing the corpse's face.

  At first, she didn't recognize him and embraced a moment of comfort in the knowledge that it wasn't him, but the birthmark just below the left earlobe on the cadaver caught and held her eye. Her vision dimmed as if someone had turned down her visual brightness.

  Suddenly feeling disconnected from everything in the room as if she were watching the scene through someone else's eyes, she took a step forward looking closer at the identifying features on his face and recognized them as uniquely her husband’s.

  It was Brent!

  He was so still and his skin looked as if it were made of plastic, as if someone had made a doll that resembled her husband, but it was definitely him. The birthmark, the freckle on his chin, the slight bump from the break on the bridge of his nose where he had gotten into a fight, all belonged to him.

  A wave of nausea hit her gut hard, threatening to consume her. It truly was him. Her Brent. The man that had taken her virginity. The man she had been married to for eight years.

  “I uh... that's him. That's Br..." Her vision went from dim to shrinking rapidly into a pin point of light that was being devoured by blackness as she began listing to the side.

  Somehow, she found herself floating through the air and going out the same door she had come through that was being held open by Officer Landry. Funny, she would most likely forget his name as she was really bad at remembering those, but she would never forget O'Malley's. It was a shame that the people that left a bad impression were usually the ones you remembered the most.

  Her butt touched down on a cold surface. O'Malley's metal name tag reflected the overhead lights as he settled her on a chair in the waiting room. Well crap. She could have gone all day without him touching her. She would rather have cracked her head open on the linoleum floor rather than have his hands on her.

  A white lab coat became her main focus as the doctor wrapped her hand around a bottle of water covered in condensation with one of those bendy straws bobbing around the top, directing her to take small sips.

  Plastic scraping across linoleum sounded off to her right as O'Malley drug a worn chair over and took the liberty of sitting down next to her. He even had the audacity to drape his arm around her shoulders, which didn't last long.

  Is he fucking kidding right now?

  Despite her wobbly legs and vertigo, she sprang up out of her chair— and oopsy, spilled most of her bottled water in the cop’s lap. The bendy straw hanging up on his gun belt. She seriously could not have planned that better if she'd rehearsed it.

  Rayna jumped away as he bolted to his feet with a harsh curse. She had no idea what he was capable of, but she wasn't about to remain within his reach to find out.

  Officer Landry grabbed her elbow to steady her and nailed his partner to the ground with a glare sure to turn him to stone.

  "Go clean yourself up," commanded Landry. "I've had about enough of this." Rayna heard him mutter as he led her over to a different chair on the opposite side of the room. Obviously, this wasn't the first time he'd had issues with his partner hitting on girls he was supposed to be helping. And, didn't that make her feel all special.

  "How... why...," Rayna stammered. Taking a full breath for the first time since the cops showed up at her door. She tried for an entire sentence. "What happened to him? Why is Brent... dead?"

  "There will need to be an autopsy to determine the exact cause of death," began the medical examiner
. "Here are his personal effects. I'm very sorry for your loss."

  Feeling strangely removed to what was happening, Rayna took the large plastic bag offered, immediately recognizing the contents. The clothes Brent had been wearing when he’d left the apartment that evening, the watch she had given him for their second wedding anniversary, his black leather wallet… all there.

  "Can someone please just tell me something, anything as to why my thirty-year-old husband is dead?" Her voice had turned edgy as no useful answers were forth coming.

  Officer Landry dropped to his haunches in front of her so she was looking down into his kind face. "What we know so far from the police report provided by a Miss Andrea Noles..."

  "Andrea?"

  "How do you know her?" Officer Landry began to scribble on a note pad he had pulled out of some secret pouch from his compartmentalized gun belt.

  "Um... we all work… I mean worked at Exotic Ink Tattoo Studio. Me, her, and Brent. But, what does she have to do with Brent's death?"

  "She was the one that made the 911 call. He was... with her at the time. The paramedics tried to revive him, but he was already gone when they arrived on scene."

  "When you say, ‘with her’. Do you mean with her, as in sexually?"

  Officer Landry had the decency to blush and drop his eyes. She didn't need him to verbalize an answer, his gestures were enough to confirm what she suspected.

  Holy crap. Brent had been just around the corner from their apartment. She had even helped Andrea find the place when she’d befriended the girl last year after she’d begun working at the studio.

  Rayna scrubbed her palms roughly over her face... and began to chuckle. It wasn't funny, though. There was absolutely nothing remotely humorous in the situation she found herself. Her adulterous husband died while screwing a girl she thought was her friend.

  Betrayal gutted her, leaving her feeling hollow and battered.

  Even though she knew he was a cheater and yes, it did hurt every time he lied to cover up his indiscretions, but what made it so much worse was it wasn't a stranger, some nameless girl. He had been with someone she knew personally. That stung worse than anything. She had never known any of the others. But Andrea? She had just met her out for coffee the other day and had chatted with her yesterday at work during lunch between clients.

  Looking over at the closed door that led into the room that housed Brent's body, an odd notion struck her. Brent had died doing what he loved the most.

  To think, she was worried about not leaving him a note before she'd left their apartment to come here.

  Unable to help herself, the ludicrousness of the situation hit her full in the face. There was nothing left for her to do except throw her head back as laughter erupted out of her wide-open mouth.

  Slowly waking from that horrible dream in all its clarity, she could still smell the harsh disinfectant from the morgue, still feel the cold plastic of the seat from the waiting area on the backs of her legs, and feel the plastic bag sticking to her fingers that the medical examiner had given her with Brent’s belongings inside. That bag was still on the floor of the closet where she’d placed it after coming back to her apartment with Evana that morning. Worse, was the creepy feeling that was sure to stay with her much of the morning, brought on by that skeevy cop.

  Tegan’s hand squeezed hers, bringing her fully into the moment. Amazingly, they had slept in the same positions all night.

  “How do you feel?” Tegan’s voice was still heavy with sleep.

  “Kind of shitty, but it could be worse.” Hers was a gravely mess.

  “You feel like eating anything?”

  “Sure. I think I could go for something bland. What can I get you for breakfast?” She began to rise, but he stopped her from getting up.

  “No ma’am. Stay where you are. I know my way around a kitchen. How’s eggs and toast sound to your stomach?”

  “Amazing, but you don’t have to—”

  Tegan abruptly cut her off, ignoring her protest, “You have any tea? Earl Grey or Breakfast Blend?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Not waiting for anything more, Tegan headed off to the kitchen. Sleep had been for shit and that unwelcome dream had left her feeling raw and uneasy, but it seemed her day was looking up. She grinned as a view of Tegan’s perfect backside was displayed before disappearing out of the bedroom.

  The clanging of pots and pans had her on the verge of rushing to help, but the noise soon gave way to the scent of the food he had suggested.

  To her astonishment, he’d found a bed tray and was bringing her breakfast in bed. Brent would have never done anything like this in a million years, which made her feel that much more foolish for staying married to him as long as she had.

  Was it too soon to move on? How long was a decent amount of time to mourn before involving herself in a new relationship?

  She had been raised by a rather old-fashioned mother and knew her mom wouldn’t approve of anything under a year. Six more months to wait was a long time and felt like an unnecessary waste of time, especially since she’d almost had sex with Tegan last night.

  She wanted so badly to ask him when he would be officially divorced because moving on with him would be heaven on earth. Tall, gorgeous, built, and he could cook? He was beyond perfect. Plucked directly from a wet dream she’d never had enough imagination to conjure on her own.

  “That’s some serious cookware you have in there,” Tegan commented.

  “Yeah, I love to cook. I even took a bunch of classes at the Culinary Institute,” she admitted, beaming.

  “Pfft, well let me go ahead and apologize for my cooking incompetence. I didn’t know you were a chef.”

  “Well, I’m not all that. This is perfectly delicious. You have nothing to apologize for.” Even as he set the tray across her lap, she still couldn’t believe he had gone to so much trouble for her.

  While they ate together in companionable silence, Rayna let her thoughts stray. She imagined them married living happily ever after in some beautiful place, but she was being fanciful and that was dangerous. Just because Tegan had been kind to her was not an indication that he was ready to settle down and get hitched again. For the love… he wasn’t even divorced from his current wife.

  “I need to get going. I gotta get home to shower and change before I go back to work.”

  “You can shower here if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend wearing any of Brent’s clothes. I think you’d scare the shit out of Avie and give the other guys an inferiority complex if you walked in wearing something that form fitting,” Rayna smiled.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Cale would hurt himself trying to kick my ass if I paraded around in front of his fiancée like this. And, since he’s already seen Gabriel’s—”

  “Wait! What? How do you know Cale has seen Gabriel’s… junk?”

  “He had a closed-door appointment with Cale, and I couldn’t see any visible piercings on the guy afterwards. Had to be in this area,” Tegan said, circling his hand over his lap.

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Yep.” Tegan gathered the tray of dishes, shaking his head at her as she made to get up. “Just rest. I think I’ll take you up on the shower.”

  Rayna relaxed back against her pillows, lavishing in the unfamiliar feeling of being waited on by a man. Wow, and he was even yummy in the morning. Rumpled was a good look on him and that scruff that had grown in overnight, outlining the rest of his beard was begging to be molested. Listening as the shower came on, she let the sound of falling water lull her back to sleep.

  She came awake slowly as awareness that someone else was in the room with her. Cracking open her lids, Tegan was dressed in what he had on the previous night and was setting another cup of hot tea on the nightstand next to her.

  “I gotta go.”

  “Alright. Thank you again for everything. You're such a sweetheart,” she answered sleepily.

  “Keep that to yourself woman, I have a reputation as an
asshole to maintain,” Tegan jested. “Text me later if you want and go bed shopping today. Promise me you'll pick out something you want. You deserve it.”

  Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Not trusting herself to speak without becoming an emotional freak in front of him, she merely nodded.

  “Do you feel well enough to get up and lock the door behind me?”

  “Sure.”

  Following him down the hall, her head felt like it was trying to swim off in another direction from the rest of her body. The discomfort was easily ignored as she enjoyed the roll of his massive shoulders as his long-legged stride ate up the short distance between her bedroom and the front door. His long damp hair hung loose around his massive shoulders as they stood facing each other. Hand on the door knob, she hoped he would kiss her goodbye.

  He didn’t.

  Not knowing what to make of their awkward parting, she should have known better than to entertain ideas about a serious relationship with him, because he obviously wasn’t.

  Locking the door behind him, she rubbed her sternum from the visceral loss. Heading back through the kitchen she drew up short, back tracking her steps. Taking in the small space, she was shocked to the soles of her feet. Everything was back the way she'd had it as if Tegan had never been there.

  Still shaking her head that he had cooked and cleaned, she resumed her place in bed and sipped the tea he was thoughtful enough to make for her. If ever there was a more complicated man, she didn’t know of one. Mulling over and analyzing his every move to try and decipher the enigma that was Tegan got her no closer to understanding him and only made her temples throb.

  Finishing up her tea, she was beginning to feel more like herself. Deciding to take his advice and go shopping for all new bedding, she headed to the shower and tried to shake off the emotional attachment she was beginning to feel for him.