Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) (2 page)

I downed the rest of my coffee and backed out of the room with raised hands, heading for the door. “That’s my cue. I’ve seen both Synner’s and Hawke’s bare asses way too many times already. I’m out.”

I shut the door behind me, escaping the chaos, shaking my head at the insanity that was Dash’s life. I had no idea how he did it.

But, truth be told, his chaos was kind of welcomed.

It kept thoughts of Ree out of my head.

two

P
eople swarmed the cobblestone streets around me as I walked all alone in a city of strangers. At least Dare was here. Somewhere. I hadn’t seen him yet, but I knew his brother’s band was in town. Thankfully, Dalia had taken pity on me and given me their address.

“I’m sorry, Ree,” she’d said when she answered his door back in Paris. “He left.” She’d stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her.

“Left?” I’d said, my knees feeling weak. “How could he already be gone?”

She bit down on her lip, her beautiful features tinged with sadness. “I’m sorry…”

“No,” I said. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s my fault. I’m the one who’s sorry. And I shouldn’t be putting you in this position but…” I searched her face. “Would you…can you tell me where he is?
Please?
”

“He asked me not to.” Her teeth sank farther into her lip as her eyebrows tilted toward each other. “More like
ordered
me not to.”

My eyes started to water and I furiously blinked back tears as I fought to keep my breathing under control. “I understand,” I choked out. There were other ways to find him, of course. It wasn’t like I hadn’t picked up
any
tricks from my parents, but I had so hoped she’d tell me. “Okay. Thanks, Dal.” I took a step back, but Dalia reached out to stop me, her hand light on my arm. My gaze lifted to meet hers.

“Ree…do you love him?” She peered intensely into my eyes.

My head was nodding before she finished, my words coming out in a tight whisper. “With all that I am and everything that I have.”

“
Well
…” Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “It’s not like I ever do what he says anyway. He’s in Amsterdam with Dash. And he’s being a complete idiot, if you ask me.”

A laugh sputtered up and out of my mouth even as the tears overflowed. I half-laughed, half-sobbed as Dalia hugged me.

“He needs you,” she said into my hair, which only made me cry harder. “And he loves you, too. I don’t think my brother has ever loved someone. Not like this. Not like you.”

She released me and I reached up to wipe off my face. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.”

She nodded with a grin. “Just…don’t hurt him. He’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, but he’s my favorite brother.”

The apartment door flew open and Dax stood there glaring at Dalia. “
WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!
”

“Oh, don’t get your frilly panties in a twist, Dax,” she said. “I knew you were there the whole time—stop eavesdropping on us already.” She rolled her eyes, turning to me again. “I meant that Dare is my favorite brother outside of Dax.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe with a satisfied smirk as she said, “And you need to be good to him because I really don’t wanna have to hunt you down if you break his heart.”

Another laugh bubbled up within my chest. God, I loved her. “I won’t. His heart is safe with me. I swear.”

Dax lifted an eyebrow at me and winked. “You can come break my heart anytime you want, babe.” Dalia spun around, smacked his arm, and shoved him back into the apartment as his deep laughter echoed out into the hall.

Even now, as I walked along the canal, the city lit up, amber lights shining like fire on the water as blue hues filled the spaces in between, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Dalia and Dax. They’d stayed in Paris for a week before catching a train to Rome. And they’d be coming to Amsterdam later this summer to see No Man’s Land in concert. I only hoped I’d still be here by then. And that things would be good.

Sabine had understood when I’d called to tell her I was leaving La Période Bleue and didn’t know when I’d be back.

“
Pour l’amour? Bien sûr.
”
For love? Of course.
“You MUST go,
chérie
. You must say
oui á l’amour.
This Wilde…he is your great love. I knew that from the first time I met him.”

She had contacts in Amsterdam and had set me up with a couple of interviews at some local galleries. I had no idea whether I’d be able to find work here, but at least I had a little bit of money to keep me going for a while. The work I’d done in Paris made a huge difference, and Sabine still insisted on sticking to our terms and paying me for Marie Ormonde’s show even though I’d left before it opened.

I owed her big.

She was making it possible for me to have the life I wanted.

To reinvent myself.

I reached into my bag, my fingers closing around the familiar folded-up piece of paper. My phoenix—what had become my source of strength and inspiration over the years. The one item in my purse I reached for first, instead of pills.

Well,
most
of the time.

I wasn’t perfect. And some old habits were hard to break. Especially at night. In the dark. When I was all alone.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t numbed the shit out of myself those first few days without Dare.

Again.

But I was trying. Even if I had slipped just this afternoon before I’d stepped out of my apartment. Needles scared the crap out of me—I needed a little pharmaceutical courage if I was going to go through with this.

Because before I sought out Dare, I wanted to have his bird—
my
bird—imprinted on my body in ink. Maybe its strength would infuse itself into my skin, into my mind, into my soul.

If I had his art on my body when I came to apologize, he’d know. He’d know how much I loved him. It would have to mean something to him. It sure as hell meant EVERYTHING to me. Enough that I was willing to brave needles.

Nothing would stop me this time. Not my parents. Not the nightmares. Not even Dare.

I needed this bird, and then I needed to find him. To explain. I needed him to understand.

Fuck, I needed
him
.

Breaking free wasn’t something that could be done in one fell swoop. At least not with my family. My parents weren’t used to losing. In their minds, my freedom was their loss. Their failure.
Fail is not in my vocabulary,
my father had said. He wasn’t kidding. He didn’t take failure well. AT ALL. And me not going to Harvard and refusing to follow the path they’d meticulously marked out for me reeked of failure to him.

I knew this, and I knew that getting out from under him would be akin to a twelve-step program. Dare didn’t understand this about my family. But from everything that had happened in Paris, and all that Dalia had told me, at least I knew he loved me.

That tiny piece of knowledge was enough to keep me going. I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

The issue now was finding the right tattoo shop. There had to be a hundred of them in Amsterdam, and I’d already visited dozens today, but none of them caught my eye. Somehow, I felt like the work of the parlor had to affect me like a great piece of art—when I came across the one that did, I’d know it was the right place for me and my phoenix.

So I braved the fear and the pain in my feet, and kept going. Even though it was late. Even though I’d been looking all day long already, was exhausted and ready to crash. The beauty of this majestic place, with its grand architecture and old city feel, should have been enough to entice me to keep moving, exploring, searching, yet there was something stronger that spurred me on.

Dare. Always Dare. Just one more, for Dare.

And so I turned another street corner with windows full of beautiful girls glowing crimson in the dark of night. Ahead on the right, I spotted yet another tattoo parlor—black front with gold lettering, a bright red sign lighting up the window. As I got closer, I could see the name of it clearly.

Vogel Tattoos.

The name brought me to a full stop. Vogel? Like Rex Vogel? That had to be some kind of a sign. Chills tumbled down my spine as I took a few slow steps toward the shop, my eyes scouring the art.

Magnificent birds in all styles graced the display in the window, along with animals, symbols, and words written in beautiful scripts. If I didn’t already have the perfect design clutched in my hand, I would be hard pressed to pick from the samples in front of me. Not to mention, I was certain they had even better designs by the hundreds inside.

This
was the place. Without a doubt. A strange calm settled over my mind as excitement shot through my heart, kicking my pulse up. I grinned at my reflection in the shop window. I was seconds away from getting my phoenix and becoming reborn.

New Ree. New me. I was starting now.

More sure of the step I was about to take than of anything else I’d done in my life, I opened the door to the shop, ready to claim my freedom.

three

“K
eep the bandage on until at least noon tomorrow,” I said to the blonde splayed across my table. “Resist the temptation to show it off until then.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, hopped off the table, and peeled back the wrapping, wiggling her butt in her twin’s face. “Hot or what?”

“So hot, Izzy.” Her sister smacked her ass as I tried to hide my irritated groan.

Izzy fixed her dark brown eyes on me, lifting her shirt up much farther than it needed to go. “And what do you think?”

The tiny butterfly on her lower back won zero creativity points with me, but she was a paying client. And the client was always right. “It’s great. Just don’t touch it or it could get infected.”

“God, I wasn’t talking about the tattoo,” she said with a giggle. “So…you also do piercings, right?”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Everywhere?”

I nodded. “What would you like done?”

“I’m not sure…” Her high heels clacked against the hardwood floor as she strutted over to me. She placed a hand on my chest and tilted her head up, an unmistakable expression in her hooded gaze. “What’s the most intimate place you’ve ever pierced a girl?”

“We have a great female technician who would be happy to pierce anything you want as long as you can withstand the pain,” I said. “Want me to get her in here?”

Izzy’s bravado melted a little, and I couldn’t help but grin. The threat of an actual piercing always deflated posers like her. She pulled her hand away and tugged down her shirt.

“Umm…maybe another time.” Glancing over at her sister, she said, “We’re going to Jimmy Woo. Apparently there is a celeb-studded VIP event there tonight. Do you want to come?”

She was the third chick to ask me out today. The later in the day it got, the more buzzed they were, and the quicker the invitations came. Especially around midnight.

I shook my head. “Can’t. We’re open until three.” She didn’t have to know that she was my last appointment and I was off in ten minutes.

“Wow. That late?” She stuck out her lip. “Or, rather, so early?”

I shrugged. “The best business hours in the red-light district happen once the sun goes down and the lights come on.”

“What about meeting us back at our place?” Izzy’s sister said. “We have a room at The Toren.” She took her sweet time dragging a bright pink wand over her already glossy lips. “ONE room. As twins, we’ve gotten used to sharing our playthings.” Then she winked.

Way to be subtle.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to pass. I’m really swamped tonight.” And so not interested.

“Too bad,” the girl said, then turned to her sister with a haughty grin. “God, Daddy would’ve killed us if he heard that we hooked up with a tattoo artist. He’s already going to freak when he finds out we got these matching butterflies.”

“Happy to save him the double homicide charge.” I guided them out of the room. “Thanks for stopping by, ladies.”

“If you change your mind, we’re in the penthouse suite!” Izzy shouted over her shoulder.