Against the Tide (19 page)

“Morning,” I sing out as I push the door to the studio open.

Torran pokes his head around the office door, breaking in to a smile as soon as he sees me. “Good morning, Cupcake. You feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m sorry about yesterday. Were you busy?” I drop my bag on the floor by the desk and look through the diary to see what’s booked for today. Not much in my column as usual, most of my clients are walk in appointments. Mostly people that have just about plucked up the courage to have a needle poked through them and need to have it done there and then or the chances are they’ll never have that amount of courage to do it again.

“Nah, normal Tuesday really. Nothing we couldn’t handle. Doesn’t mean we didn’t miss you though. ” He comes out to join me, and puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in for a tight hug. He smells good. He always smells good. “Sure you’re okay? You still look tired.”

“I’m fine, I think. Although I have got a doctor’s appointment later, would it be okay to nip out for an hour? I’ll take a late lunch if that suits?”

“Sure. But that doesn’t go very far in convincing me you’re okay.” He looks down at me, narrowing his eyes.

“Women’s stuff,” I answer, knowing this will be a conversation that’s out of his comfort zone.

“Ah, I see. Say no more. Just block it out in the diary so Tam doesn’t book anything in with you.”

“Thanks, Torr, you’re the best.”

“I know,” he sniggers, resting his chin on the top of my head.

I pull back and smirk at him, “You’re a cocky fucker.”

“I know that, too. Got good reason, sweetheart.”

“So you keep telling me,” I answer wryly, rolling my eyes.

“But you don’t believe me?” His dark eyebrows arch and his eyes twinkle with naughtiness.

I laugh under my breath and shake my head at his persistence. He’s one of the only people I’ve never been able to read. I don’t know if he’s joking or if he’s seriously flirting with me. “What do you want, Torr? A date? Because I think that would be weird.”

He steps back, cocking his hip and crossing his arms in front of him. “Why?”

“Because,” I answer, shaking my head and trying to think of the right words so I don’t offend him. “Because it would be you … and me and that’s just …” 

His mouth twitches with amusement. “I’m only kidding with you, Meg,” he says softly, raising his hand and placing his palm gently on my cheek. I find myself leaning in to the tender gesture, not just because it’s Torran, and it’s familiar, but because the physical contact is just what I need right now, but when my eyes gently close and I’m left to my own imagination, all I can see is Finn, until Torr speaks again. “But just so you know, there would be nothing weird about us, sweetheart. We could make music so beautiful, the angels would weep with joy.” Huskiness lingers in his quiet tone and the sensuality ripples across my skin, until I open my eyes and see him trying to contain his laughter.

“Torran!” I screech, feeling stupid and embarrassed. I blame the hormones currently bouncing around in my body. I pick up the pencil from the diary and throw it at him. He dodges it and walks off laughing, going back to his office.

“You love it,” he jokes. And he’s right, I love the banter we have between us. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about being with Torran. He’s such a sweet person under all those tattoos and the tough, scary exterior. Not forgetting the fact that he is sexy as hell and you can tell by the way he carries himself, the way his body moves with confidence and sway, that he would be an amazing lover. Even for just one night. But in my experience, one night of passion, or lust, or whatever you want to call it, stupidity might be a better description, ends up as a regret. A big, fat fucking regret that I’m now going to have to live with for the rest of my life.

The morning passes quickly. Torran and Tammy are really busy which keeps my mind on the job, and off what I have to do this afternoon. Torran has a raw talent for tattooing and has built up his reputation over quite a few years now. The quality of his work is second to none and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t admire the beauties he has inked on people’s skin.

“Can you do me a new one, Torr?”

“New ink?” he asks, cleaning up his workstation after the last client.

“Yeah, I want to add to my sleeve.” I brush my hand over the sugar skull he inked on my upper arm.

“Any idea what you want?”

“No,” I laugh gently.

“Well, that’s a little problem, I’d say.”

“Can’t I just let you decide? I trust you not to ruin my work in progress.”

“No can do, sweetheart.”

“You have an hour’s gap, look!” I stab my finger at the space in the diary trying to convince him to do it. I look at him with big, expectant puppy dog eyes and a smile to match, fluttering my eyelashes for extra effect. And then the door opens.

I glance over and look away without registering who it is at first. When I snap my head back to him with realisation, Torran is already around the desk and barrelling toward Finn.

“Torr! No!” I yell, but it’s too late. He has Finn pinned against the wall with his forearm pressed hard against his throat.

“I told you to get the fuck out. That was not an open invitation to come back and harass my staff,” Torran growls viciously. I’ve never seen him so fierce. 

Finn holds his hands up, not even trying to fight back. “I just want to talk,” he chokes out on a strained breath.

I place my hand on Torran’s shoulder and tell him, “It’s okay, Torr, I can handle this.” He looks at me uncertainly, and I nod calmly. “It’s fine. Thanks.”

He releases Finn slowly, but keeps his stance protective and ready to retaliate before stepping back a couple of paces to letting me get closer in between them. “What do you want?” I ask coldly and I tilt my chin up in defiance while he gasps trying to catch his breath.

“I just want to talk. I need to−”

“Oh,
you
need to?
You
need to talk so it’s alright to be civil toward me?” I angrily poke my finger in to his chest. How dare him.

“I−”

“You …” I interrupt, “are an arsehole.” I place both hands gently on his shoulders and before he knows what’s happening, I bring my knee up hard in to his groin. He lets out a deep strangled sound and he squeezes his eyes tight shut before doubling over. “Get. The. Fuck. Out,” I spit, turning immediately and stomping to the back room.

I drop down in to the armchair in the corner of the staff room and study my hands which are shaking uncontrollably. My nerves are totally jangled and I would be lying if I said that didn’t feel good, because I feel as though I have just had some kind of revenge for the way he’s treated me. But the other part of me wanted to scream ‘I’m sorry!’ the minute my knee connected with his balls. Torran comes steaming in and crouches in front of me. When I look up, he cups my face in his hands. “Are you okay?” he asks, searching my eyes.

“Torran, I just dropped that shithead to his knees and you’re asking
me
if I’m okay.” I laugh and shake my head at his concern for me.

“Sweetheart, I know you, and I know that no matter if you dropped his sorry arse, you will be feeling bad about it, and it will have shaken you that he was here to begin with, so … Are you okay?”

“For fuck’s sake, Torr.” I stand up, pushing his hands away. “Why do you have to be so god damn intuitive?”

“Because I care about you, Meg. A lot.” He looks up at me through those dark lashes, with his big baby blues and not for the first time do I wish I felt something more for him than friendship.

“I know you do.” I place my hand on his bicep which flexes under my fingertips, and I smile regretfully at him.

He blinks slowly and smiles back at me in the same way. I don’t have to voice it, he knows there’s nothing more than that for me. I wish there was, but there isn’t. If I hadn’t met Finn, I might have been tempted to see where it went, but even if I never speak to that shithead again, he has taught me that passion is something that you can’t fake. It’s either there or it isn’t. Lust is an undeniable reaction that sends your body in to a spin, even if it gets you in to trouble.

“Did you throw him out?”

“Didn’t have to. As soon as his legs would hold his weight, he left of his own accord. Obviously knew what was good for him.”

“Obviously,” I mutter. “Did he say anything?”

“Didn’t give him the chance, Meg. Told him he would have a problem bigger than he could handle if he came back or bothered you again, he just scowled at me and left.”

“Torr,” I scold quietly, shaking my head.

“What? I’m just looking out for you, Megs. Damien didn’t do it, fuck face Finn or whatever he’s called, clearly isn’t going to put you first, so regardless if you only want me as a friend, I’m going to look out for you whether you like it or not.”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.” I stand on my tip toes and kiss him softly on the cheek. “But I can handle myself.”

“I know. You’re the sweetest badass I ever knew.” he smiles crookedly. “Now, if you’re so capable, you had better get back to work.”

I salute him cheekily, “Yes, boss.”

The next hour passes slowly as I sit at the front desk and watch the world go by. My mind races through the possible scenarios that would bring Finn here. He was different today. Quiet, more … broken. There was no anger pulsing from him, no malice aimed toward me. Instead he seemed pained and vulnerable. I remind myself that it hasn’t been long since he lost his sister, and judging by the emotions I’ve seen it evoke so far, I assume they were pretty close and it has hit him hard, which has drawn out demons that have been left to manifest themselves in to something quite dangerous. But even when he was so angry at me, I didn’t feel like I was in danger. Frightened, yes. Confused, definitely. But never once did I think he would hurt me. Maybe I’m just a really, really bad judge of character.

Motherfucking sassy little mare.

My groin is still throbbing and not in the way it has previously been after seeing Megan. It hurts like a box of fireworks have exploded in my trousers. But I still can’t help but smile when I think of her. I deserved that. Actually, I deserved far worse, so although it doesn’t feel like it at the moment, I think I might have gotten off lightly.

But I have to see her. I need to speak with her and I have to do it today. I’m being totally selfish, I know. She said she didn’t want to see me. She said to never come back, but I know she doesn’t mean it. At least, I hope she doesn’t.

So I’m currently waiting a little way down the road from the tattoo studio. I have a good view of the door so I can see when she leaves, but as it’s only two pm right now, I could be here a while. I crouch down and rest my back against the wall with a sigh. I still don’t have a clue how to work out what’s going on with Damien Brooks. My blood is boiling. My fingers itch to choke every last breath out of him, for what he did to my sister and now, for messing with my mum. She doesn’t need this. I don’t need this. Maybe I need to pay Julian a visit again. I thought I had made it clear enough that he should keep his mouth shut; perhaps I should have been more forceful. I’m guessing he’s gone running to Damien and that’s why he’s warning me off, but everything running through my head is speculation.

I look at the concrete pavement and trace the cracks with my eyes for a while, running things over in my head. I press my fingers to my temples, rubbing in circles, taking in deep breaths. It’s hard to believe what my life has become. Other than my mum being sick, I lived a relatively carefree, untroubled existence before Lizzie’s death. But now I’m living in a nightmare, holding on to the last person that matters to me by a thread that’s fraying fast. I’m chasing revenge, whilst being eaten up by bitterness and pain, and every breath I need to take just to stay alive stabs at my chest, reminding me that very soon I’ll have nothing and no one to live for.

A click, click, click of heels gets closer, slows, and then stops right in front of me. Dainty little feet, slipped in to dangerous, spiked, black stilettos are planted firmly in my line of vision. I run my eyes up over the tops of her feet, lingering on a tattooed script which I don’t have a chance to read before she starts to tap her foot. I push my knees together, instinctually protective after seeing what she’s capable of, and I stand up, wincing as I straighten due to the tenderness still lingering down below.