Vigilant (14 page)

“Gross.”

“I’m just asking, because last time it was hard not to notice. Anyway, I like to know if there’s any chance of walking into a half-naked guy at 3:00 a.m.”

“Shhh!” The last thing Nick needed to hear was about how loud he’d been the last time he was there. When, of course, that wasn’t him. “You promised not to mention it and it’s not like I haven’t had that pleasure a million times.”

He frowned. “I’ve never had a half-naked dude over.”

Ari hit him playfully on the arm. “Stop it and go work.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When she entered the kitchen, Nick asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, just roommate stuff.” She picked up a pot and began scrubbing it in the sink. “Thanks for coming over. Sometimes the job gets to me, you know?”

“I definitely know,” he said, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt his chin on the top of her shoulder, and his lips on her neck.

“That feels nice.” Ari could feel her heart rate increase with every kiss. She wanted more but Nick was always so gentle with her. So respectful. The fire in her belly craved something intense to drown out the sadness and guilt she’d been feeling.

She turned away from the sink, drying her hands on the back of his shirt. She reached for his face to pull him closer, to bring his lips to hers but he resisted, gathering her into a tight hug instead.

Ari buried her head in his chest trying to squash the feelings of rejection. Because that’s what it was, right? A rejection?

“Now that you’re home safe and Oliver’s here I’m going to head home,” he said, completely unaware of the turmoil Ari was going through. The frustration and longing she had for him—for something.

“Sure.” She dropped her hands. “Thanks for coming over. It was fun.”

Ari watched as he gathered his keys off the small table by the door and flashed her a quick smile before leaving.

* * *

The familiar buzz greeted Ari when she walked in the front door. That buzz sent a shiver of anticipation down her neck. Immediately, she turned to the walls, looking at the artwork. This was ridiculous, of course. Ari always got the same thing, maybe a little varied in size or shading , but each one of her tattoos held the same design. A star.

“Hey girl, how are you doing?” Martin said from behind the small barricade, keeping the customers out of his work area, yet allowing them to view his work in process. He glanced up again. “Jesus Christ, what happened to your face?”

“Long story, but trust me when I say I didn’t get the worst of it.”

“That’s hard to believe,” he said. “This have anything to do with your visit?”

“Maybe,” she admitted.

Ari got her first tattoo when she was eighteen. A star on her ankle, signifying her independence when she moved out of her home. It was also an act of rebellion, against her parent’s strict rules. The hum and sharp, specific pain of the needle proved addictive and she was back again in six months. That time to commemorate another first. Her first. Three weeks after that, she came in with a broken heart and added another star to the collection. The pattern continued for years. The road trip to New York City with her friends in college. Graduation. Her first job. The time she and Oliver made a bet and she lost. Her body became a road map of her memories.

“It’s been a while,” Martin said, coming around the corner. His hair was bleached super white. It had been black the last time she’d been here. Almost every inch of his body was covered in ink, except his face. He’d told her once that he and another apprentice practiced on one another. The early ones were terrible and led to other, more professional cover-ups over the years.

“Thought it was time to make a visit.” She hadn’t been in since her last one, the hardest one so far. Ari had asked him to make the mark extra dark, making the skin raw and bloody under the black ink. She’d just wanted to feel something that night—something other than the pain of her loss. This time, she was running from the rejection she felt from Nick. The only other option was Davis and that wasn’t an option. She’d ended up at the tattoo parlor instead.

“How you been holding up?” he asked.

“You know me,” Ari said with a shaky laugh. Martin was something like a therapist. Or a bartender. She spilled her secrets while in his chair.

“Where are you thinking this time?” he asked. Ari removed her sweatshirt and revealed a low-cut tank top.

“Maybe here?” she pointed to the middle of her chest. The purplish bruise was still noticeable. She wanted to remember it when it was gone.

“That looks pretty brutal. Accident?”

“Sort of. I was almost shot. That came from someone saving me.”

Martin nodded in understanding. “So where do you want it? Maybe here? The base of the palm?”

Ari looked in the mirror to see where he pointed and it was perfect. Right between her breasts, the center, anchoring part of her body. “Yes. I like that.”

“Let me get this ready,” he said. He pointed to her tank. “You’re going to have to take that off.”

“Sure.”

Ari waited while he prepped the materials and pulled her tank over her head. Martin did his best to be professional and not a perv despite how Ari sat only in her bra. He applyed the template on her skin. “This is going to hurt,” he told her. She believed him. Different parts of the body had more or less sensitivity. The spot she chose would be tender for days. She relished the idea.

“You ready?” he asked, picking up the silver ink gun and leaning over her body.

“I’m ready.”

“Let’s do this.”

Ari gripped the sides of her chair bracing herself for that first sting—the first wave of pain. Goosebumps covered her skin and she knew her nipples were erect, easily visible to Martin. She closed her eyes, sinking to the place where the pain became pleasure and once again, she felt alive.

* * *

The adrenaline rush from the tattoo still ran through her veins. The residual pain distracted her and that was why she didn’t notice the guys standing in the shadows on the other side of the street across from her home. She’d barely shut the car door when one walked in front of her bumper, while another came from behind.

Too late to get back in the car and too far from the door, she fought the urge to panic and tried to get up the driveway. “Where you running, baby?” the boy closest to her asked.

Ari flicked her eyes at him and took in the pale skin and scraggly hair. It was dark and she wasn’t sure, but she felt like she’d finally come face-to-face with Jace Watkins.

“Just let me by,” she said.

“Yeah, I can’t really do that,” he said. “I know you told the police about me being at that hardware store.”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” Ari lied.

Jace shook his head. “They’ve been looking for me and only one person could connect me to that robbery. I saw you there—and you saw me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. The police collected evidence at the crime. Fingerprints, that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, but I could have been in there at any time. You’re the eye witness.” Jace moved his lean body so she couldn’t possibly escape. The guy behind her stood just far away enough for her to understand this was Jace’s issue to deal with. He was simply muscle. “The funny thing is I’ve always known who you were. The only young, hot chick in that office. I tried to talk to you more than once.”

Ari tried to ignore the creepy look on his face, but clenched her keys in her fist. Where was Oliver? Or a passing car for that matter?

“Jace, I didn’t tell the cops anything, but this is only going to get you in more trouble.” She hoped to rationalize with him but after the story Hope told her, she wasn’t sure it would work.

“Thought messing up your car would help you get the idea, but you’ve been talking to the police. That’s right…” Jace laughed, when she realized he’d been following her. She’d felt it all along, she’d just hoped it was someone else. Someone who obviously had better things to do or he’d be there right now. “I’ve been following you for some time and it’s been a treat. You like to get around, huh? Dirty dancing at the club, meeting up with different guys. I know you’ve got that lawyer on the hook.”

He made a move toward her chest with his hand. She batted it away, trying to make contact with her keys, but he stopped her, forcing the keys from her hands. They fell to the ground. Jace aggressively pushed her up against her car, using his hips to hold her, while one, calloused hand covered her mouth. With the other, Jace tugged down the zipper on her sweatshirt, shocking her skin with cold, winter air. He smiled, flashing a row of gold teeth when he saw her thin tank top, and the cloth bandage covering her new tattoo peeking out from the fabric.

“I wanted to see it myself.”

Despite the cold, Ari broke out in a sweat. She felt Jace all over her. His hand on her face, his arousal against her stomach, his dirty fingers lightly stroking against her chest, toying with the bandage. She gagged and Jace’s face went from delight to disgust. “Don’t even think of puking on me, bitch.”

His hand went from her mouth to her throat and from the corner of her eye she saw his free hand go to his belt.

“Don’t do this, Jace,” she whispered. “You’re better than this.”

Jace snorted and opened his mouth to say something but they both saw a flash movement to the side. Ari used the distraction to get her knee between his legs, ramming it upwards as hard as she could. Jace’s face contorted and he dropped both hands. “Motherfucker,” he grunted, lunging at her. He was too late. Ari darted out of his reach and toward her house, yelling for Oliver—for anyone. She couldn’t get in without her keys. She banged on the door over and over until Oliver, groggy and confused peeked through the window. His eyes popped wide open and she could hear him scramble to get the door open.

“Call the police!” she shouted, locking the door behind her.

Finally awake, Oliver dialed 911 and made the report, even if somewhat incoherently. A loud crash came from outside and Ari ran to the window. Jace was still out there. In the throes of a fight with the Vigilante.

He came.

“Oliver! Look!” she cried and he rushed next to her. “That guy is destroying him.”

Ari unlocked the front door and went on the porch. She knew the mystery guy wouldn’t let him get away a second time. She winced as she watched Jace’s face slam into the tree in their front yard. She heard him beg for his life. “Don’t!” Jace cried. A similar plea to one Ari had made only moments earlier. “I didn’t do this on my own,” he said, between spitting out mouthfuls of blood. “I can tell you things! I’m not the one that wants her!”

The mystery guy didn’t seem impressed and kneed Jace in the back. He hovered over him and whispered something in his ear. Ari was too far to hear and the sirens wailed on her street. She didn’t take a breath until the flashing lights stopped in front of her house and the police spilled out of the cars.

The mystery guy stood up and faced Ari. In the darkness of the night, she couldn’t see his face, cloaked by his hood. He bent down once more, slipped something into his pocket and then disappeared into the night.

* * *

This time, the police invited her back to the station. “Invite” was the nice way to put it. Forced sounded so…well, forceful. Ari willingly went with Detective Bryson, knowing her repeated involvement with Jace Watkins and the mystery man was too much to ignore.

They made Ari feel comfortable—she was the victim after all. She was given a large cup of coffee and a cushioned chair to sit in. It was all very benign except she suspected it wasn’t. Four crimes in the past month, two involving the Vigilante. All of them involving Jace Watkins, a former client in her department. The police wanted answers. She didn’t blame them.

Detective Bryson sat behind his desk and pulled out a clean sheet of lined paper. The kind reports got filed on. Ari had similar paper in her desk. He cleared his throat and asked, “Are you feeling up to this?”

As though she had a choice.

“I’m fine, let’s get this over with.”

A knock on the door interrupted them and Ari was shocked to see Nick poke his head in. He gave her a sympathetic look and said, “I’m here to advise Ms. Grant during her questioning.”

“That really isn’t necessary and Ms. Grant hasn’t requested representation,” Detective Bryson stated.

“No, let him stay. It’s fine,” she said uneasily. How did he know she was there?

Nick touched her shoulder and took the seat next to Ari. If it annoyed Bryson, he didn’t let on. “Let’s start with what happened tonight.”

Where should she start? With Nick coming over for dinner? Rebuking her advances? The ritualistic tattoo habit? Ari guessed it had to be the tattoo parlor.

“I’d just left Marked, the tattoo parlor on Arbor Street. When I got home, they attacked.”

“Who attacked you?”

Ari told her story to Bryson and Nick. Slowly sharing the terrible details. She fought back tears, unwilling to seem weak in front of either of them, because she already felt exposed enough. This was not how she wanted to reveal herself to Nick.

“Tell me about the Vigilante,” Bryson asked.

“He came out of nowhere. I didn’t even realize it was him until I was in the house.”

“This makes the second time he’s been at a crime scene with you and Jace. Any idea why?”

“No,” she shook her head. “None.”

“Maybe he has a fixation with you,” Nick suggested. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

“I don’t think he’s fixated on me. He’s never approached me or anything.” Lie. Maybe he didn’t start a conversation, but he actively saved her life that first time. The box came to mind but she didn’t mention it. She was protecting him, she knew that, but why not? He protected her.

“Maybe he’s been after Jace this whole time?” She thought back to some of the things Jace had said during the fight. “Maybe all this is about something else? He said he knew information but the Vigilante didn’t seem to care.”

Bryson flipped through a report on the desk. “Jace doesn’t have any known gang affiliations, but it’s possible. The robberies do have a crime-ring feel about them.”