So Steady: Silver Daughters Ink, Book Two (Silver Daughters Ink Book Two)

by Eve Dangerfield

  Toby reappeared in the hallway and Noah jerked his head at a packed Corona box by the door. “What’s in there?”

  Toby used his keys to slit open the tape and flipped the box open. “Sneakers. Fancy ones.”

  “Take them out to the van.”

  Gil shuddered, but still he said nothing. Noah checked his phone. They’d been there five minutes; they needed to move faster. He caught Scott’s eye. “Can you have a look around?”

  Scott nodded and headed for the back of the house. He emerged a minute later with an armful of puffy jackets. “These are all Moncler.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “They’re about eight hundred each.”

  Noah grinned. “Chuck them in the van. We’ve got towels down.”

  “Sure.” Scott’s dark eyes fell on Gil. “You okay?”

  Noah squeezed Gil’s shoulder. “Am I okay?”

  Gil nodded and Scott headed outside. When the door clicked shut, Gil looked up at him, genuine tears filling his eyes. “You can’t do this, man. I’ll pay you back. When I get up to Sydney, I’ll send the money to you every week!”

  Toby came back before Noah could answer. “What now?” he asked. Despite his earlier protests, Noah got the impression he was enjoying himself.

  “Just keep grabbing boxes. Leave any kid shit you find, but everything else is fair game. Get Scott to help you with the TV.”

  “What!?”

  Noah ignored Gil. “Fill up the van. If we have to do two trips, we do two trips.”

  Toby gave him a salute, grabbed another box and left. Once he was gone, Gil shoved his hand. Caught off guard, Noah lost his grip and Gil stood up, squaring his shoulders. Anger buzzed in his eyes.

  Easy, Noah thought, ignoring the alarm ringing through his body. Easy.

  Gil glanced at the hallway and his body tensed to run. Noah lunged, grabbing for Gil’s upper arm. He gripped and twisted like clockwork, forcing his ex-colleague back onto his knees.

  “Sorry,” Gil wailed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” He crouched low so he and Gil were almost face to face. Gil’s eyes were wide, his breath had the cheesy smell of chocolate protein powder. Noah felt a dizzy sense of Deja vu. He was twenty-one, high on coke and his old man’s approval, making some slimy, weak fuck pay for what he’d done.

  He tightened his grip, making Gil cry out, and then he saw Nicole in his mind, smiling across at him in the car. He loosened his hold, letting Gil slump onto all fours. “Stop fighting it, you’re fucking done.”

  “I’ve got kids,” he wailed. “I’ve got kids.”

  “Edgar has kids. Three daughters you fucked over because you had to have as much brand shit as possible. Don’t act like you did what you did for your kids. It’s fucking tacky.”

  “Noah?” Scott had returned. He was studying the scene with a coolness that increased Noah’s respect for him tenfold. “Is this necessary?”

  “’Fraid so,” Noah said. “We should head out pretty soon.”

  Scott nodded. “Where’s your motorbike?” he asked Gil.

  “What?” Gil struggled against his hold, kicking out. “You can’t take my bike, you prick.”

  Noah twisted his arm a little harder, keeping him in place. “If we were pricks, we’d take your car as well as your bike. I’ll get it later, Scott. You see what else is around.”

  Sam’s boyfriend nodded and headed back to what Noah assumed was Gil’s bedroom.

  “You and Sam don’t have shit on me,” Gil hissed. “I could get you locked up for what you’re doing, you bikie piece of shit.”

  “Maybe.” Noah leaned in close. “But if I go away, it won’t be for more than a few months, and what do you think I’ll do when I get out? I’ll give you a hint, it involves the bones in your right arm.”

  Gil made a noise like a mouse being stepped on. “You wouldn’t...”

  “I will. Even if it lands me back in jail for ten years, I will. And if I do enough damage, you’ll never ink again. Is your Fat Boy worth that? Are all your fancy shoes worth it?”

  Gil looked away, but not before Noah saw the panic in his eyes. He was scum, but he was an artist. He’d felt a tattoo pouring out of him like liquid gold. Losing that was a death sentence that’d kill him for the rest of his days.

  The acrid smell of Gil’s sweat filled his nose. It made Noah want to gag but he leaned in even closer. “Take the easy choice. Let us get what we came for and move on.”

  “I knew you were with The Rangers, man. I Googled you a year ago and I never told anyone.”

  Noah laughed. “Don’t appeal to my better nature. If you knew what I was, you should have known not to steal from Sam and try to pin it on me.”

  Gil snapped his mouth shut, his eyes darting around as he thought of the next tack to take. Noah realised he was doing what he’d warned Scott and Toby not to do—talking too much, letting Gil think this was a debate and not a shakedown. He stood, rubbing his hands on his jeans to get rid of Gil’s sweat. “I’ve said all I want to say. What’ll it be? You gonna let us get on with it?”

  Gil gnawed at his lower lip. “If I let you get on with it, Sam won’t go to the cops?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you won’t stop me leaving for Sydney?”

  “Why the fuck would we want you here?”

  Gil looked at the carpet as if searching for the Hail Mary pass, then his shoulders slumped. “Take what you want.”

  “Including the bike?”

  He nodded, his eyes watering at the edges again.

  “Good,” Noah said. “Go get me the keys.”

  Ten minutes later the van was packed to capacity with clothes, electronics and a couple boxes of tattooing ink that had come straight out of Silver Daughters storeroom. When Toby found them, Gil had gone white as a sheet. After that, he’d practically helped them pack the van.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as Scott slid in the last box. “I mean it. I’m sorry about everything.”

  Scott looked at him like he was an unwashed urinal. “Sod off. Ready to go, Toby?”

  Toby, who’d been arranging Gil’s chains and rings into a shoebox, nodded, still taking his vow of silence seriously. He tucked the shoebox under his arm and climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Okay,” Scott said, slamming the back of the van shut. “Just two more things.”

  He turned to Gil and tapped his wrist. With a look of utter misery, Gil unbuckled his Gucci watch and handed it over.

  “Thanks,” Scott said carelessly. “And you’ll call VicRoads tomorrow and transfer your bike into Sam’s name?”

  Gil nodded, ashen faced.

  “Wonderful.”

  Like Toby, Noah had a feeling Scott was enjoying himself, but why not? Everything had gone well, it looked like they’d be going for that victory drink, after all.

  “Are you ready to head back to Sam’s?” Scott asked, gesturing to Gil’s Fat Boy.

  Noah took in the glossy black machine, his mood hovering between lust and fear. He hadn’t ridden in years, let alone to where Nicole was, full of questions and expectations and a bright, colourful future. He wasn’t ready. Not for any of it.

  “Noah?”

  Noah walked over to the bike and sat astride the leather seat. The sensation of metal against his thighs was like a homecoming. It had been years and years and years, but it was so fucking familiar.

  “You sure you know how to ride that thing?” Scott asked.

  Noah looked across and realised he was joking. He grinned. “Pretty sure.”

  He kicked the stand out of the way and turned the engine over. It roared like a pet tiger. He fought to keep the smile off his face. He turned to Gil, who looked like someone had punched him in the back of the head. “We’re done here. Head back inside.”

  Gil opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he walked away, hands in his jean pockets. Noah watched him go, wondering how expensive they were. Maybe they should have taken them?

>   “I think we can leave him the clothes on his back,” Scott said, reading his mind. “We did well.”

  “Yeah, you and Toby handled yourselves just fine.”

  Scott smiled sheepishly. “I went a bit Sanford experiment, didn’t I?”

  “You got the job done, that’s all that matters. See you at Silver Daughters.”

  “Wait one sec. You know Nicole’s there, right? That she’ll want to see you.”

  Noah’s gut tightened. “What’s your point?”

  “That she’ll be able to see you. You know, be close to you. In the flesh, as it were.”

  “Huh?”

  Scott winced. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Jesus, you’d think this would be easier than robbing a man…”

  “The fuck are you talking about?”

  He sighed. “Okay, no offense, but you look like shit and you smell worse. And that was fine while you were freaking Gil out, but I don’t think Nicole will appreciate it. Especially if you’re going to convince her that she should overlook all this bikie business and whatever the fuck you said to her last night, and be your girlfriend, or old lady, or whatever it is you want to call it.”

  “Oh.” Noah looked down at himself, seeing his stained t-shirt and patchy jeans anew. He could only imagine the state of his teeth and stubble. “Yeah, I should shower.”

  Scott looked relieved. “And shave. And change your clothes. Give your entrance a less authentic biker feel.”

  “Yeah, okay. Message received.”

  Noah revved the engine. He’d have to be quick getting home; Gil’s helmet didn’t fit and he didn’t want to get busted for riding without one. He didn’t want to get busted for anything ever again. “See you soon.”

  Scott shoved his hands in his pockets. “One more thing?”

  “What?”

  “Thanks for what you did for us. For Sam. I didn’t think we’d see a penny from Gil, and I know we don’t have eighty grand’s worth of things, but at least he didn’t get away with it. And that’s thanks to you.”

  “Oh.” He found himself wishing for Gil’s helmet so he wouldn’t have to look Scott in the face. “Yeah, no worries.”

  Scott nodded, clearly as uncomfortable as he was. “Right, well, if things go well with Nicole, well, then…welcome to the family, I suppose.”

  He turned and strode to the van, looking profoundly awkward. Noah grinned. He had a feeling he’d be giving Scott shit about this someday. It was a good feeling to have. He revved the bike, feeling like he’d just been handed the keys to another life. Maybe he had. He needed to get home, shower, and get to Silver Daughters. Open the lock.

  Chapter 21

  John Mayer crooned about the nature of gravity as Nicole stared out of her bedroom window. She didn’t believe Tabby’s half-assed claim the boys were playing golf. They didn’t need to take Noah’s van to play freaking golf—they’d gone to confront Gil. She didn’t know why the idea made her so nervous—it wasn’t like Gil was dangerous. It just seemed like such a reckless thing for Scott and Toby to do.

  “Was it Noah’s idea?” she asked Tabby, but she’d just covered her ears and shouted ‘lalalalalalalalala’ until Nicole gave up. A typical Tabitha DaSilva victory.

  All she’d wanted to know was if he was okay. He hadn’t answered any of her calls or messages. His being gone shouldn’t have changed anything, it had been less than two days, but she ached. She missed him. Everything seemed more unstable without him around, crowding out tattoo room two, reading his books at the front desk, sitting at Monday meeting, saying nothing and eating everything. Last night she’d dreamt he was her priest again, cupping the back of her neck and forcing her to her knees. If she never slept with him again it would be the single biggest non-death tragedy of her life.

  Hello? A bit of focus, please? mind-Sam snapped.

  Nicole forced her gaze back to her laptop and re-read her draft email.

  Hello all,

  Due a change in our personal circumstances, Aaron and I are no longer getting married. I’ve decided to move back to Melbourne to spend more time with my family. I’ll be contacting people individually to sort out loose ends, but for now, I’d just like to say thank you for all you’ve done for me,

  Nicole DaSilva

  In the ‘to’ box was her boss, her Adelaide friends, wedding providers and any and all relevant parties she could think of. The message was hokey and a bit ‘politician forced to retire’, what with the bit about spending more time with her family, but it was the truth. She was done trying to make the narrative of what happened with Aaron compelling and tasteful and mutually blameless. It was time to let the train go off the tracks and see where the damage fell.

  Besides, it was only a formality. From the messages she’d been getting, Aaron was telling everyone in Adelaide she cheated on him with Noah. Sam wanted to mail him a king brown snake, but Nicole told her about the plate condom and, once they were both done laughing, agreed they didn’t need any more of his pettiness in their lives.

  She re-read the email again, her mouth bone dry. Telling everyone was the right decision, but she wasn’t sure about moving to Melbourne. Now the mysterious money pit problem was solved, she had no real reason to stay.

  Except Noah.

  He was the fishing hook that would keep her tethered to home. If she left, the line would stretch out behind her for miles and miles, reminding her that no one had made her feel like he did. Calm and excited at once. Sexy without having to try.

  And he liked her, she knew that, he just didn’t think he could be the man she deserved. But why shouldn’t she stay and prove to him that he was? Did she have to wrangle a commitment to a ring and three kids before they went on a real date, or saw a movie, or tried tying each other up? Did she have to have a plan perfectly in place to enjoy what was between them?

  Give me three months, she imagined telling him. Give me three months of dating and then say you don’t think you’re the guy for me.

  She stood up, needing something to do. Something else to think about. She paced over to her old bookshelf, scanning the novels that were as familiar as her sisters’ faces—Charlotte’s Web, A Chinese Cinderella, A Series of Unfortunate Events, the Twilight series. God she’d loved those books when she was thirteen. She moved closer, tracing the black and red spine of New Moon. Something was nagging at her. She pulled the book off the shelf and opened it to a random page. Bella was contemplating a dangerous cliff dive in order to see Edward in her mind. What had triggered her memory? It wasn’t the cliff diving, or the Volturi stuff…

  “Holy shit, this fucking email.” Sam strode in, talking like they were already mid-conversation. “Nix, this Russian guy wants to fly me to Thailand to give him an axolotl tattoo? He’s offering ten grand! For one weekend! And a holiday! That’ll put a dent in what that fuckstick stole from us, huh?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re damn right, yes!” Sam raised a victorious to the ceiling. “Tabby was saying we should break out dad’s incense. Have a cleanse. Symbolic, you know.”

  “Um, sure. Smudge away.”

  “Great.” Her twin paused. “You’re not re-reading Twilight, are you?”

  Nicole closed the book. “No. Wait, why can’t I re-read Twilight?”

  “Because it’s pus.”

  “It’s not!”

  “It is. Pure white and green pus.”

  Nicole made a face. “They’re YA novels for teenage girls. Besides, you read them.”

  “I also read Cleo magazine and got a bunch of weird ideas about what to do to during sex. And I didn’t like them. I wanted every character to get the black lung and die. Especially that giant vampire edgelord.”

  “Mmm.” It was true Sam hadn’t been particularly generous to the series. She had been forever telling girls at school that Edward was a sexual predator and sending them links to people burning the books in metal bins. But Nicole hadn’t cared about Sam’s opinion and anyway, she didn’t like Edward, she li
ked—

  “Who was the guy you were all boned up about?” Sam asked. “That abs dickhead? Jason?”

  Nicole’s cheeks went hot. “Jacob.”

  “That’s right! The werewolf that lady-drip puts in the friendzone. That was incredible! I gave you so much shit about his sadboy mooning and his fake gang. Man, he was the first mildly bad boy…” Sam paused. “Holy shit. Wait…Holy. Shit.”

  “Don’t,” Nicole begged. “Please?”

  But it was already too late, Sam doubled over, her hands on her knees, so choked up she was laughing without making a noise, her whole body shaking.

  “Stop,” Nicole said. “Noah isn’t—”

  “Noah is your Jacob,” Sam gasped. “Oh my god, Noah is your Jacob.”

  Nicole ran at her, intending to slap her before she could tell Tabby and escalate this whole situation, but she screamed like an eight-year-old and ran from the room. “Tabby! Tabby, come quick!”

  “What?” Tabby yelled. “I’m trying to fucking meditate!”

  Sam hammered on her bedroom door. “Noah is Nix’s Jacob. He’s her Jacob!”

  “That doesn’t make sense, you crazy moll.”

  “It does if you pay attention. It’s Twilight. Nix always had a massive wide-on for the werewolf motorbike guy. We thought it was weird she wanted to fuck Noah, but it isn’t. He’s the motorbike guy! He’s Jacob.”

  There was a short silence, in which Nicole hoped both her sisters had died.

  “Oh my god!” Tabby gasped. “You’re right!”

  Nicole screamed her frustration. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here!”

  “You look like Bella,” Tabby shouted. “Your life is Twilight!”

  Nicole could hear her running down the hallway, Sam and the puppies in hot pursuit. They sounded like the stampede that killed Mufasa. She ran to the door and held it closed. “Don’t come in here—”

  Both her sisters burst into the room, pulling her away from the door and crash-tackling her back onto her bed.

  “Get off,” she screamed as the puppies jumped up to join them, stepping on her hair and arms and faces.