Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(34)

Stunned, I’d gone home, my newly formed plan to grab life with both hands already floundering. A glass of wine later, I’d decided that this development would not slow me down. New plan: go see what all the fuss was about. After all, I’d never been to a strip club before.

“I heard about the club from…an acquaintance. When I didn’t see your bike at Voodoo, I decided to see if you were there.”

His expression hardened for a beat before one side of his mouth quirked up. “You stalking me now, princess?”

I shrugged. “Maybe?”

The half smile fell when he said, “Don’t do it again. Tracking me down is a bad idea. Besides, that’s not how this deal works.” He stepped closer. “You’re supposed to be where I say, when I say.”

Arrogant bastard. “What if I don’t like how that works?”

“That’s the deal.”

The tension between us was rising, and Con took another step toward me. Was I really ready for this? I looked around, gauging our surroundings.

“Where are we?”

The smoldering intent flaring in Con’s eyes died out.

“Joy and Andre’s lake house. They’d been in the middle of construction when they were killed.”

My mouth fell open into a little O. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t think many people do. Or if they did, they’ve probably forgotten about it by now.”

I glanced back toward the house. “You said it was mid-construction. It looks finished to me.”

“Because I arranged for it to be finished.”

“And you kept it?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t seem right to sell it. They were so damn excited about it. This was going to be where they played with all the grandkids they’d hoped they’d have someday.”

The mention of grandchildren surprised me. “Grandkids? From you?”

Con’s expression twisted at the surprise in my voice. “So hard to believe that I might want kids someday?”

“Do you?” I didn’t know why I asked. It was none of my business. But I couldn’t restrain myself.

His eyes flicked up and down my body, and I had the urge to wrap my arms around my middle. I always felt like he was looking inside me and seeing all my flaws.

“Maybe. But not until…”

He trailed off, fist clenching.

“Not until what?”

His dark blue gaze, flashing with the blinking twinkle lights, caught and held mine. “You don’t want to know.”

“Why not?”

“Because you might end up on the witness stand at my trial.”

The statement was so raw and ominous—not to mention completely unexpected—that I stumbled back to the railing behind me.

“I don’t…understand.”

“Let’s just say that I can’t move forward with my life until whoever ended theirs pays for it.”

My hands gripped the railing to hold me upright, but his words cut me off at the knees. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Con planned to extract the payment himself. I was reminded that he was a veteran. A man who had probably killed before. Who might feel compelled to kill again.

How the hell was I supposed to feel about that? In awe of his conviction or terrified that he could so easily end someone’s life? Even if it was justified to his way of thinking—which was completely foreign to me—it was still criminal.

“Are you serious?”

Con ignored the question, which was probably appropriate, because it was a stupid one. Instead he jerked his chin toward the house.

“The booze is inside. And I’m not having this conversation without it.”

With that, he stalked off down the dock, leaving me stunned and silent on the pavilion.





Fuck. Shit. Goddammit.

I don’t know why I said what I said. It was a f*cking mistake. I didn’t need to go shooting off my mouth in front of Vanessa. I’d all but straight up told her I was planning to kill someone—and just when she was showing initiative for the first time since I’d thrown down my ultimatum.

Of course I’d f*cking ruin it. Watching her cringe as I’d admitted that I planned to take my own justice was not how I wanted this night to go.

I blamed it on the house. I didn’t know why I’d brought her here. But when I’d climbed on my bike, wanting to get her as far away from Tassel as I could before the cops showed up, and she’d have to give a statement as a witness, this was the only place I could think to bring her.

My apartment above Voodoo would have been more convenient, and a hell of a lot smarter, but I didn’t want to bring her back there. She deserved… better.

Which was ironic considering I hadn’t had a problem bringing her there before. Or maybe I had had a problem with it. I didn’t know, because I didn’t f*cking remember.

I strode up the stairs at the back of the house and dug the keys out of my pocket. I didn’t turn to see if she followed. If she wasn’t following now, she would eventually. Or she’d call the cops and have me dragged away in cuffs for planning a murder. I left the door open and made my way to the liquor cabinet.

Spying Andre’s favorite Irish whiskey, I poured three fingers into a glass. Tossing it back in one long swig, I lowered the glass and filled it again.