Dead Ink: A Karma World Romance (Karma Series Book 4) (11 page)

The tension of the previous day was completely gone by the next morning. Something had changed between Faith and Lars at lunch yesterday, as if they were friends now. That evening, he’d pulled out a collection of DVDs and they’d eaten popcorn on the couch while they’d watched movies. She’d fallen asleep in his bed later on, and Lars had slept on the couch like always.

As pleasant as the day had been, she’d had trouble sleeping that evening. She’d found herself waking in the night and looking over to where Lars slept. A couple of times he’d already been looking her way, before one of them would break eye contact and pretend to go back to sleep.

Even breakfast this morning had seemed different; easier, somehow. They walked down to the shop with him teasing her about getting her a bat. He said he needed her to look scarier if she wanted to have any chance of kicking the unwanted humans out of the shop. She’d replied that he was scary enough for the both of them.

She’d worked the morning away organizing this and that and straightening up when the phone wasn’t ringing an just trying to be useful in any way she could find.

He’d been working on a bird tattoo on a guy’s bicep when she stepped over to watch him do his thing. She’d never done that before, watched over his shoulder. Somehow she felt like she could today.

He stopped working and looked up at her. She immediately took a step back, thinking she might be crowding him.

He held the gun up to her with a gleam in his eye. “Want to try?”

“Really?” she asked, thinking he had to be kidding.

He nodded.

“On him?” she asked, still disbelieving Lars.

“On me?” the client said.

“Yes. On you,” Lars said to the client, losing the soft quality of his voice when he stopped speaking to her.

The guy started shaking his head. “I don’t want my tattoo to be all—”

“Shut up. It’s not like she can make you any uglier,” Lars said. The client paused for a second and then let out a resigned sigh before he fell silent.

“Pull up a chair,” Lars said, motioning to an extra that sat a few feet away.

She pulled the chair over anxiously. “Lars, I don’t know if I should—”

“Sit,” he said, a bit more forcefully but still not like he’d spoken to the client. She did and he grabbed the bottom of the chair and dragged her right up beside him.

He placed the gun in her hand and showed her how to hold it. “Did you see how I was shading the feathers?”

She nodded, remembering clearly what he’d done.

His finger pointed to a lower spot on the guy’s skin that only had an outline. “Try it here, in this part where I haven’t gotten to yet.”

She leaned in and the client, who’d been eyeing her up nervously, cringed and looked away, afraid to see what she’d do to his skin. She mimicked what Lars had been doing for a few minutes and then leaned back to appraise her work. She’d actually done a fairly good job.

She looked as Lars, who was reclining in his seat and nodding with a pleased look on his face. “I knew you could do it,” he said softly.

The client turned his head, peeking through squinted eyes. He made a
hmmm
noise, as if he was as surprised as she was. “Not bad.”

“Keep going,” Lars said.

She put the gun down, insisting she’d had enough for the day. She was positive if she remained that close to Lars she would botch the guy’s tattoo just from distraction.

He didn’t argue with her but he stopped smiling when she walked away.

***

That afternoon Lars was on his second client of the day, tattooing an enormous set of angel wings on the back of a girl who lay topless on his bench. His new client couldn’t seem to remember that she didn’t have a shirt on and kept
accidentally
flashing him as she leaned up. When she flashed him for the fifth time in under an hour he finally snapped at her.

Normally he’d enjoy the show, or at least have a small amount of patience for the interruptions. Today he was too consumed with watching the show Faith was putting on. She was making unusually loud noises as she inched closer and closer to his office. She paused, half in and half out of the door. He raised his eyebrows in a silent
and?
It wasn’t like she’d never gone in his office before.

He heard some loud clanking, as if she were trying to alert him to her shuffling through the things inside his office, as if he hadn’t just seen her go in. Then he heard her raised voice. “Wow, look at all this unorganized paperwork. I wonder why no one has taken care of it?”

He’d known she’d been distracted during lunch today. Now he knew why. She’d been eyeing up his chaotic piles of bills and invoices in between bites.

His normal accountant, a human who had accidentally rented space in the building the agency used, had left recently due to the uprisings and violence. He’d mysteriously won a trip for him and his family. The only real mystery was why Fate had taken such a liking to a human that he’d made the arrangements.

“I wonder if it’s because I don’t have an accountant anymore?” he asked, loud enough that she wouldn’t doubt he was speaking to her.

He heard more shuffling around before she walked out, her arms filled to the brim with books and papers. Again, being very obvious about her actions, her gathered booty was clearly displayed as she walked unnecessarily close to him while making an arc toward the front counter. As she passed by him, he did a subtle shrug.

She seemed very pleased with herself as she plunked down the armful of stuff on the counter. She looked so satisfied in fact that he had to hold back the laughter. She was welcome to them, but she wouldn’t look so happy shortly.

It only took about fifteen minutes for her to start shaking her head grumbling under her breath. Lucky for him, he could hear the words she was saying,
idiot
and
moron
being among the nicer ones. A few minutes after that, she started looking at him, still shaking her head. He raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t understand what baffled her.

When she started making sounds like she was in psychical pain, Lars had to stop tattooing because he couldn’t hold back the laughter.

“Get up. We’re done for the day,” Lars told his client, who blatantly flashed her bare chest at him
again
. He’d already seen it plenty. He wasn’t quite sure what she thought this last peep was going to do.

“Really? We’re done?” Her voice was thick with disappointment. She held her shirt to her front as she rose, covering the barest amount she could without being completely indecent. She stared up at him with large, soft brown eyes and a full pout. This was his cue when he’d normally bring her in his office, or upstairs if he was in the mood for a bed, and bang her.

His dick didn’t even twitch.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” He grabbed her purse for her and shoved it into her hand, trying to encourage a bit more expedience on her departure.

“But don’t you need to put something on my tattoo? Wrap it or something?” she asked.

“You people are ridiculous. ‘I want ointment. I want my tattoo wrapped,’” he said in a whiny voice. “Nobody gets babied here. Now get out.”

His client, in full simpering mode, slowly put her shirt on and made her way to the door as he walked over to Faith.

His full attention now on Faith, he watched as she flipped through his ledgers at an alarming rate, grumbling to herself as she went.

“Everything okay?” he asked, knowing the mess she was staring at.

She turned to him and opened her mouth but said nothing; she just kept shaking her head.

“You don’t look so good. Maybe you should lie down?” he asked with mock concern.

She started stabbing the open book with her finger. “How?”

“How what?” God, she was so cute, all riled up like this.

“How are you keeping your lights on?”

She had her hands on her hips, which were wrapped up nice and snug in dark denim. They were rounded and dipped in just the right amount towards her waist. He’d always liked short skirts and heels but it didn’t seem to matter what she wore. It was like she’d been built to his exact specifications.

“Well?” she asked, waiting for a reply.

“I don’t know? Maybe I paid the bill when I was drunk one night?” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant when all he was thinking about was wrapping his hands around her small waist, lifting her onto the counter and stepping in between her legs. Why did she always have to look so damn adorable all the time?

“With what? The ink you buy is ridiculously expensive. You pay top dollar for everything in here. And don’t say you don’t, because I checked the prices on my phone. Your customers’ checks are bouncing left and right. And that’s if they get deposited! You’ve got a pile of checks shoved in here that are too old to even cash anymore!”

He watched her run a hand through that thick blonde hair of hers. He wondered what it would look like hanging down her bare back, or trailing over her full breasts. His hand itched to curl his fingers into it, take a large hank of it and yank her head back, lifting her face to his. He’d like to find out if she’d squirm against him or cling and let all her inhibitions fall away.

The alarming part was he found himself thinking back to how she looked when she slept. How he enjoyed seeing her sleep in his bed, like she was his and meant to be there. He’d never even let a woman stay over long enough for anything more than a catnap in between sessions before.

“Are you listening to me?” Her voice pitched higher. Not as high as it would of if he was having his way with her but enough to get his attention back to the fact she was speaking. “Lars?” It was an admonishment.

“Is there a Faith here?”

Lars whipped around toward the door, alarmed that he’d been so engrossed in her that he hadn’t realized someone had walked in. Then it registered that the guy had called her by name. How the hell did he know her name?

Lars didn’t take his eyes off him, and quickly positioned himself in front of Faith.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, realizing the kid wasn’t much past twenty and scrawny to boot. The stench of an unkempt human clung to him.

The kid threw his hands up, palms outward, and was trembling slightly, which revealed forearms with track marks. “Hey, man, I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Who sent you here?” Lars asked.

“Some guy a few blocks away from here threw me a hundred bucks to deliver her something.”

“What was his name? What did he look like?” His gut twisted, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know, ‘bout forty and rich looking? I didn’t much care,” he said, his hand going to scratch his arm as if bugs were crawling on him.

“What is it?”

“I have a package for her.” The kid moved his hand toward his back pocket slowly, waiting until Lars nodded to proceed before he pulled out a small box.

Lars reached forward and snatched the small box from his fingers.

“Give it to me.” Faith had come around to his side and pulled the package from his fingers before he realized what she’d intended.

The kid took off running the minute Lars turned toward Faith. He watched as she shot into his office, as he was torn between who to follow. He already knew who had sent the delivery and he was sure the kid wasn’t involved. First off, the kid was human. And secondly, he was way too rattled. This wasn’t a normal gig for him. He was just a junky looking for a quick buck. Even if he hadn’t seen the evidence, he would’ve known from the sickly smell of him.

Lars dug out his phone as he stepped outside the shop and tried to get an idea on where the kid had taken off to. He dialed Bic, who he knew was in the area this afternoon, and relayed the information. Then hurried back in to find Faith.

He found her sitting at his desk and trying to cut open the taped seams of the package but the scissors kept slipping. It had probably been what had bought him some time.

“Let me,” Lars said but she wrenched the package back toward her.

“No.” Her gaze shot to him. “You guys tell me where to sleep, eat and work. It’s enough. This was delivered for me and I’m going to be the one to open it.” She stared at him, making it clear she was going to stand her ground on this.

He was at a loss. He knew that he and his guys were, in essence, micromanaging her life but she hadn’t complained once. And he didn’t think this was so much about opening a package that was surely going to carry a bad message as her needing to gain some tiny bit of control back. He didn’t like it but she was right. If he respected her then he had to let her do it.

But he couldn’t quiet down this pesky urge he had to protect her. He walked around the desk and hovered over her but he didn’t make another move to take the box.

She didn’t seem to notice or care where he was; as all of her attention focused on the package. Scissors in hand, she cut the rest of the taped seams and the top of the cardboard box flapped open. A folded note, which she withdrew, lay on top.

I really wish you’d reconsider.

Keith

A ring box lay below. Keith had sent her jewelry? She lifted the box out of the tissue paper padding and flipped open the top. Lars barely got a glance at the ring inside before it fell from her hands with a gasp.

He knew it was a man’s. He smelled the dried blood it was coated in. It had belonged to a healthy male in his twenties, suspiciously like the blood on Cutty’s guest room ceiling.

He quickly grabbed a pen from his desk and used it to pick up the fallen ring, having no desire to touch it. It was a college class ring. He slid it into the box that had also dropped to the ground and closed the lid.

“Faith?” After the initial gasp, she’d fallen silent and completely still. He lowered himself until he was sitting back on his heels and could get a better look at her face. All the color had drained from her cheeks, and her eyes didn’t look right, as if they weren’t focused and she were somewhere else right now.

“Faith?” he repeated, softer this time.

Her eyes, shifted to his with a crazed look. “I need my phone.”

“Whose ring was that?” he asked.

“I need my phone,” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard his question. Her voice had a strained quality.

“Stay here. I’ll get it.” He went into the other room and dug the phone the guys had gotten her out of her purse and brought it back.

He thought she was going to try and call someone but instead she was trying to search the Internet on it. He had a computer in the office but it was stored in the cabinet, gathering dust, and she probably didn’t realize it was there.

He watched as she tried to type. Her fingers would hit a few letters that didn’t form anything coherent before erasing them. She did this repeatedly before he decided he had to step in.

“Let me,” Lars said, slowly easing the phone from her hands. “What are you trying to type?”

“Arthur Dover.”

Same last name but, according to her, she’d never been married. He walked a few feet away from where she was sitting, thinking it was best if he could try and skim whatever information he found first. He didn’t need to be a genius to put the ring to the name and know that if something came up, it was going to be bad.

He didn’t get far. She stood and followed him across the small expanse of the room, grabbing his wrist to keep the phone where she could see. Her hand, ice cold and shaking as it was, locked down on him like an iron vise.

He typed the name in as she stood, looking over his arm. News articles about a man mutilated and killed flashed across the small screen, complete with images.

His thumb went to close it but stopped when she barked out the word, “No.”

He angled it toward her. Whatever had happened, she had a right to know.

Her eyes scanned the screen but she didn’t make any attempt to take it from him. She just read it, her grip on his arm getting weaker until her hand finally dropped to her side. She took a step backward and she collided with the wall, and then slid down it. She ended up sitting on the ground, the sheetrock being the only thing keeping her upright. But her face looked like she’d slid all the way to the depths of Hell.

He quickly scanned the phone for more information. The police had no suspects and there had been no known enemies. They’d determined he’d been kidnapped by one of the gangs that had popped up everywhere.

“Who was this to you?” he asked her.

“My brother.” She reached out a hand for the phone. He shut down the screen and then gave it to her. She didn’t look at it but grasped it in a firm grip as she held it to her chest. A few tears escaped her watery eyes to trail down her cheeks.

When he’d met her, she’d looked like she’d been through hell. He’d scared the crap out of her that first afternoon she’d shown up here. Then the guys had come and piled on as well. Couple nights later, she’d woken to blood dripping on her from above. But she hadn’t looked broken until now.

He’d never consoled a crying woman before, not in all his years, and it wasn’t from lack of opportunity. When they fell apart at the seams, he walked away and sent one of the other guys to deal with them. Or he just walked away and left them alone. But he always walked.

And now, after too many years to count, he wasn’t heading toward the door ready to jump ship. It wasn’t that the instinct had disappeared or that the response to a situation like this, engrained in him after so long, didn’t swell up. He looked at the door but his stupid feet wouldn’t move.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled down to Cutty’s number. He hit dial but, for no reason he understood, hung up after the first ring.

He stared down at her. The tears had stopped but there seemed to be puddles forming along the edges of her eyelids, just waiting for further provocation to spill over.

He was frozen. He wanted to leave. He really did. So why wasn’t his body moving?

His phone rang where it still sat in his hand. He answered without looking. “Yeah?”

“I’m with Bic looking for him now. Everything okay there?” Cutty asked.

“I’ll explain when I see you,” Lars said, not wanting to repeat anything in earshot of Faith.

“Then why did you call?” Cutty asked.

He looked at her sitting there; deep sorrow clung to every line of her form. “It was a mistake.”

“Like last time? Do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Fuck her already. I can’t deal with your head all messed up. Not right now.”

Lars hung up on Cutty, not wanting to hear his shit. His head wasn’t messed up.

He pocketed his phone as he watched her. He wanted to comfort her and he didn’t know the first damn thing about how to do it.

He looked around, trying to figure out a plan. He could handle this. He should probably get her off the floor first. In all the movies he’d seen, they never left them sitting on the floor.

He felt her stiffen as his hand grabbed her wrist but it didn’t matter. He needed to get her up so he could move on to the next part of what he’d seen them do. He tugged her upward and across the room until he got to his desk chair in the office. He sat and then tugged her roughly down onto his lap where he proceeded to wrap both arms around her.

“What are you doing?” She tried to shove off his chest. He wrapped around her firmly, knowing the squirming could lead to an altogether different type of physical comfort. She didn’t seem to be appreciating his efforts but he was confident he was doing it right.

The urge to use some of his old talents swelled. She needed it. It was the only way he knew he could calm her down.

He could feel the misery coming off of her and, for the first time since near forever, he gave into the urges. He let the ability stir within and build until his voice was calm with an eerie quality to it. The power of that voice was addictive. It was a voice he hadn’t used since he’d retired. It was the voice he once used to calm the humans who didn’t want to die. It felt achingly familiar to his tongue, leaving a sweet warm flavor in its wake.