Wicked Ink

by Simon, Misty

  She walked into the sub shop across the street from her office and put in her order, then found a seat with her back to the wall, so that she had a direct line of sight to the front door. She would not be taken off guard.

  As she glanced down to put her napkin in her lap, she felt a presence enter the room. She’d sense him anywhere. Glancing up, she was not surprised to see Garrett standing at the corner of her two-seater table.

  “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing.” His hands were stuffed in the pockets of well-worn jeans. His T-shirt was as dark as his hair, but she could just see a bandage peeking out from the edge of the neckline.

  Why that should make her heart flutter, she didn’t know, but she enjoyed the sensation for a brief second. The kiss that never should have happened still remained as an imprint on her lips.

  “Have a seat.” She gestured to the one across from her, then caught the counter guy’s eye and raised two fingers to signal she wanted another sandwich delivered with hers. “Sal will make you a sandwich.”

  “I can’t stay.”

  “Sure you can. Come on, I don’t have cooties and it’s lunchtime. What’s the harm in taking a break?”

  She caught him mid-eye roll and hid a smile. “Would you feel better if I let you have the view of the door?”

  He breathed out a sigh filled with exasperation.

  “Come on, you owe me for taking care of you.”

  “Fine then. And yes, you need to move.”

  She got up without much fanfare and let him have her seat. Instead of feeling exposed, she felt protected, something that hadn’t happened in way too long to remember.

  “We’re having turkey and avocado, just to let you know. I hope that’s okay.” Fiddling with her napkin, she managed to shred it into pieces in her lap. She might feel safe around him, but this big brawny man who attracted her like no one else still made her fumble.

  “That’s fine.”

  “So, okay, should we make small talk or are you too busy protecting me to actually enjoy this lunch?” It was a lot cheekier than she usually was with him, but there was a new familiarity after their strange morning together.

  “Of course I’m going to enjoy lunch,” he said with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

  “You’re not doing such a great job of convincing me.” Their sandwiches came at that exact moment. Dory bit into hers immediately. She had half an hour for lunch, tops, and was starving.

  After about the fifth bite, she realized he was staring at her. “What?”

  “You’re going to eat that whole thing?”

  She looked at her twelve-inch hoagie, then back up at him. “Yes, why?”

  “I just thought most women ate salads and picked at their food.”

  “Then you haven’t been around real women,” she answered, before taking another bite to emphasize her point.

  And was rewarded when just the hint of a smile kicked up the corner of his mouth.

  Chapter Four

  Garrett had never sat across from someone who enjoyed her food so much. He liked it a whole lot more than he should have. Clearing his throat, he took a bite of his own sandwich, then winced at the way the clashing flavors exploded on his tongue. It was not just the simple turkey and avocado he’d expected and would have enjoyed. This sandwich had some kind of hot sauce, a salsa that was maybe made of fruit, sweet pickles and a kind of caramelized something or other that he couldn’t name.

  No wonder she liked her own food. It had already occurred to him that his dislike of her food had to do with all the spices she used, but with proof positive in front of him, he took that line of reasoning a step further. He was a straight meat and potatoes kind of guy, hold the seasoning, please. Maybe her food was actually delicious, but his palate just couldn’t take it. He’d have to try some of the things in the freezer out on Jackson to see if that was really the case.

  He choked down as much as he could, which was about five bites. She had consumed the whole sandwich in that amount of time.

  “Okay, so now that you’ve seen me you know I’m fine. I have to get back to work because my lunch break is up. Are you going to show up after work so you can run along beside my scooter?” Her smile tipped up the corners of her eyes, making her look far more exotic than the simple girl next door he had always thought her. She was surprising him again and again today.

  “Yes. I’ll be there at four. See you then.” He stopped by the trash to dump his sandwich without a second thought. The guy behind the counter caught his eye and shrugged, mouthing the word sorry. It was the closest Garrett had come to laughing in quite some time.

  He waited for Dory to clean up her own place at the table, then held the door for her. Using his body, he shielded her as best he could when they crossed the street.

  “Seriously, you’re taking this too far. I’m going to be fine, okay? You don’t even have to come back later. Surely you have something better to do this afternoon?”

  He did still have to find Marta, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the time to protect Dory. “I’ll be back. Don’t leave without me.” He held the door for her at her office, stuck his head in to make sure no one was in there who shouldn’t be. He nodded when he didn’t smell any true evil in the two-story structure.

  “Bye, Garrett,” she sang as she walked down a hallway. She waved to him before disappearing behind a cubicle wall.

  He stood behind the closed door for another moment, using his nose to try and sense something—anything—he should be concerned about. Thankfully, there was nothing. And now he had wasted time he could have spent finding Marta. The bastard had had her for almost twelve hours. There was a lot that could be done to the human body in twelve hours.

  He took off at a lope. With two more buildings to look at, he needed to hustle. If he found nothing at either place, he’d have to go back to the drawing board and start over again. He could have just roamed around the city trying to sniff out evil, but there was no guarantee that would work. In fact, it could possibly land him in a different situation in which his focus on Marta would be lost.

  Though he hadn’t said more than twelve words to the lawyer in the two months he’d been in the building, he didn’t want anything to happen to her. And he was nearly one hundred percent certain this was not about her at all, which made her expendable if the bad guys thought he wasn’t moving fast enough.

  The first building was a bust—it was filled with rats and trash, but there was no evil within sight or smell. The second, he approached much more cautiously. There was a tinge to the air, as if violence had been done but was currently not in practice.

  Circling around the metal, barnlike building, Garrett approached from the back through the trees surrounding the property. It wouldn’t give him perfect cover, but hopefully it would be good enough for him to sprint from without getting cut down in the process.

  All was quiet, as if the giant was sleeping. He had no darkness to pull from, so he hoped he wouldn’t need to come up with something on the fly. With a plain old switchblade from his back pocket, he jimmied the big rusted lock on the back door, then crept into the building’s dim interior.

  Slinking through the shadows was not his usual M.O. anymore, but sometimes it had to be done. There was nothing on the first floor and only a loft above him. Not much chance of finding Marta here, but he had to try just in case.

  Keeping his feet on the absolute edges of the stair tread, he managed to climb the majority of them without a sound. Then one of them gave way under his boot, and he knew in his gut Marta was not going to be here. How would they have dragged her up these stairs?

  Still, he climbed. Having come this far, he was not going to leave without checking out every last piece of the building. Nothing greeted him at the top of the stairs, not even a single piece of furniture or a bare bulb hanging from the rafters.

  “Damn!” he yelled into the blank air.

  And heard muffl
ed screaming coming from a closet in the corner.

  * * *

  “You need a doctor, Marta,” he said softly into the older woman’s gray hair as she sobbed against his shoulder. She clung so tightly to him, he could barely move, much less get her down the stairs and out the door to a hospital. As it was, he was going to have to call Jackson for a pickup or take a taxi. There was no way he would be able to carry her the twelve blocks to Mercy General. The assholes had broken her ankle and arm—both on the right side—and she had a gash on her forehead that definitely required medical attention…and quickly.

  “I need you to at least let go long enough so I can get my cell phone out. I don’t want to be here when these guys get back. Do you?”

  She sobbed all the harder. While he felt bad for traumatizing her more, he also took it as a no, so he pried her arm from his waist for the split second it took to grab his phone from his pocket.

  “It’s going to be okay.” He patted her hair while he waited for Jackson to answer. He’d never been all that good at the part where you had to see to the needs of a victim. Usually he saved and left, but he couldn’t just leave her slumped on some corner by herself to wait for the police.

  Not knowing what else to say was grating on his nerves. He tried to come up with some of the things he vaguely remembered Dory murmuring to him this morning, but drew a blank, just like he had when he’d tried to figure out how he’d managed to stay sane without the purging.

  “Jackson here. Two times in one day is way beyond your quota, guy. This had better be important and not another cleanup detail.”

  “Thanks for answering, man.” Garrett blew out a breath. “I know I’m asking a lot, but I just found the woman from the attack last night. I need you to come pick us up or I’m going to have to take a cab with a hysterical woman.” Jackson had not only dragged him out of his hole, he’d cleaned him up and helped him find the right path. He hated to do this to him, but there was no one he could count on like his friend.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  After relaying the info of where they were, Garrett glanced around the loft for the best way down. He wouldn’t be able to use the stairs. They looked even worse from above than they had from below, and he wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to get both of them on the rickety wood.

  He could try a grappling hook again, but he didn’t think he had enough strength or resources to make it happen. Still, it was worth a try.

  Closing his eyes, he pulled one or two shadows from the corners and then sent his feelers a little farther out to pull the anger from a guy walking down the street. He took a split second to wonder if the man was coming here to see about Marta, but decided it didn’t matter. They would be in a hell of a lot of trouble if he showed up while they were stuck in the loft. It would take only a single match for this whole building to go up in flames.

  The grappling hook that came slithering down his shoulder and into his hand from a Celtic knot tattoo wasn’t the best he’d ever made, but it would do. Hooking it onto the railing of the loft, he stepped over the first tread. “Marta, we’re going to have to go down through the air. I want you to hold on to me.”

  She was incoherent with her sobbing, but he took that as a yes this time. Short of knocking her out, there was nothing else he could do.

  Still holding her tightly to him, he jumped out into space with his hand firmly wrapped around the cord that came spinning out of the grappling hook. He slowed their descent at the last moment and came to a soft landing.

  Though he hadn’t thought it was possible, Marta clung to him even more tightly. Hearing a door open somewhere to his left, he dragged her over to a darker corner of the cavernous warehouse.

  He couldn’t get Marta off him but his senses were going into overdrive. The angry man had been coming for them after all, and now he was in the building. Garrett didn’t want to do it, but he ended up having to clamp his hand over Marta’s mouth and nose until she passed out. It was dangerous, but Jackson had taught him more than just how to pound a nail into a stud. The man was a veteran of some kind of military organization. Grateful for the help and guidance, Garrett had known better than to ask. He was gentle when he laid her down on the dirty concrete floor, but that was all the time he could spare for niceties.

  Quietly and quickly, he made his way along the perimeter of the warehouse, keeping his eyes and ears open for the man whose evil he could smell without any effort.

  “Stupid bitch. Why do I have to be the one to check on her? Don’t touch her, though,” he said in a singsong voice, obviously trying to mock someone. “We want him to come to us, Bert, and that’s not going to happen until tonight, but she has to be alive.” Something was kicked across the floor. “She’s a stupid bitch, too. Making me do the grunt work when I should be the one pulling in the big guy. I could have just gone after him in his apartment if she wasn’t so hell-bent on revenge—the slow kind.”

  “That’s all very interesting, Bert,” Garrett said, stepping out of the shadows and into the path of the man whose hair was mud-brown and whose gaze revealed a soul that was black to the core. “And who would this stupid bitch be, exactly? Who calls herself the Celtic goddess of war?”

  “I ain’t telling you shit.” Bert whipped a knife out from the sheath at his waist, but he wasn’t quick enough for Garrett.

  “I find that disappointing.” Another tribal tattoo shot up from his hip and careened down his arm to become fully forged as a pike. It might not have been the prettiest of weapons, but it would allow Garrett a hell of a lot more leeway and leverage, not to mention space.

  “I heard about you, you shit. You ain’t going to get one past me, that’s all I got to say.”

  “Then let’s see how all your vast knowledge has equipped you to deal with me.” Garrett did not go in for the killing strike the first time. If at all possible, he liked to avoid taking lives.

  He poked Bert in the gut with the blunt end of the pike, making him lose his footing, but he was fast to get it back.

  “See, you aren’t exactly scary, are you, Mr. Superboy? I can take you down if and when I want to. And she won’t be able to blame me, because I’ll just say it was self-defense. Perfect.” With that, he started swinging with his knife and a fist.

  A solid shot landed in Garrett’s gut. The knife, which was aimed at his head, didn’t land quite so easily. He chopped down with his hand and heard the satisfying crunch of a wrist breaking.

  “You fucker!” Bert cried.

  As the other man’s rage and violence escalated, Garrett sucked it in like a drug. “Keep it coming, boy. You have quite a few other bones I can break if you’re so inclined.”

  Bert’s foot flashed through the air, rustling the fine hairs on Garrett’s temple. He broke the man’s leg by bringing the pike crashing down onto his knee.

  Still the other man didn’t go down. He limped across the floor, his face contorted into a mask so fierce that the best warriors of old would have flinched. But Garrett stood his ground. Jackson would be here any moment, his brain reminded him, even as the bloodlust crested inside his stomach, making him crave the opportunity to destroy.

  He heard a mewling from the corner where he’d left Marta. The part of his brain that was still under his control knew he had to end this before she came all the way around. She would not want him living in the same building with her if she saw him now.

  Grabbing Bert in a headlock, he realized he had forgotten about the man’s knife when it slid into his side, right above his hipbone, dead center of the tattoo that had become the pike. That one would have to be replaced. Rage boiled through him, making him pant and curse as he wrestled with Bert, trying to get him to submit. But the other man fought like hell was on his heels.

  Finally Garrett had to let go. Bert had managed to start twisting the knife in his side and even though the tattoos had swarmed the wound to stop the forward movement of the blade, they hadn’t been strong enough to actually stop the pain this time
. Agony screamed up through his body as he tried to put weight on the leg on that side of his body.

  “Not so powerful now, are you?” Bert swiped at his bloody face with the back of his hand. That was his blood, Garrett thought, preparing himself to make one more assault.

  Bert was fast even with that broken leg. He made it to Marta’s side in record time and yanked her head back by her limp gray hair. “Don’t come any closer, you jackass. I can kill her in a second, and you’ll never get here fast enough. Now, back away.”

  Garrett did as he was told, his mind working furiously all the while. If he could time it right and angle it right, the pike might be his very best idea yet.

  Ten paces back, he brought the pike up as if in surrender. And then threw it right into Bert’s left shoulder with enough punch to send the man reeling backward. Garrett relished the sound of the man’s head bashing against the hard floor. He wasn’t getting up from that anytime soon.

  After making sure Marta was okay and still unconscious, he stood over Bert. The urge to kill this despicable animal was nearly overpowering. He made sure to twist the spiked head of the pike in Bert’s shoulder before yanking it out with a very satisfying squelching noise.

  “Do it,” Bert said with the same smile he’d seen on the man who had fought him in the alley the previous night. “She’s going to kill me if you don’t. Finish it.”

  “No. I won’t let your death be on my hands. I want you alive so you can tell this Andraste to back off or it will be the biggest miscalculation of her life. You got that, Bert? I take care of what’s mine, and she can come for me herself if she wants me so bad.”

  A car pulled up outside and Garrett could hear Jackson calling his name. Not a moment too soon. He absorbed the pike back into his hand, the tattoo returning to its rightful place, a little mangled now. He would definitely have to go see Lissa, and she was not going to be happy. His mom had first taken him to see her almost twenty years ago for his first tattoo because of her unique abilities and beliefs. Like Margery, she bought into the ancient traditions that dated back centuries in Garrett’s family. He’d never gone anywhere else for a tattoo. He couldn’t. But that didn’t mean he liked her grumbling and the way she poked into his life. Before Margery’s death, she’d thought of herself as his protector against the woman who’d birthed him and then tried to destroy him. When he hadn’t gone along with his mother’s plan to be her money machine and monkey rolled into one, she’d done everything she could to persuade him. When that hadn’t worked, she’d gone after him with a vengeance until he’d cut ties with her, moving out of her sphere of influence.