Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(53)

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Surprised that I actually cooperate with law enforcement?” I stepped closer to her. “It’s not like I’ve spent my entire life on the wrong side of the law. Hell, I was a damn good soldier.”

“I know. I remember when you shipped out after graduation. Your dad was proud, but your mom was terrified.”

The mention of Joy and Andre hit me in the gut like it always did. The sick feeling dissipated faster than normal when I processed the fact she remembered something like that. “Can’t believe you actually paid attention to anything that had to do with me back then. I was beneath your notice.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, her face flushed pink. “I don’t know why you’d say that.”

I lowered myself to the bed and sat with my arms braced behind me. “Because it’s true.”

Her little huff had my cock jumping in my boxers. Her eyes dropped to my lap, and I knew she hadn’t missed it. A grin spread across my face. She was turning out to be more perfect than I could’ve ever guessed.

Her attention lifted, and her expression was serious. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have noticed you just as much as you noticed me?”

My grin faded.

No. That had never occurred to me. Ever.

“Are you shitting me?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I’m not. But I don’t have time to discuss this right now. I really do need to get home.”

Still gobsmacked from the little bomb she’d dropped, I shoved off the bed and grabbed my jeans from the floor. Pulling them on, I jerked my head toward the door.

“Then let’s go. But we’re continuing this conversation later.”





I was unsuccessful at making it into the house unnoticed.

“What the hell are you wearing? Where the f*ck have you been? I just got a call from the goddamn superintendent of police telling me you got carjacked last night!”

My father’s roar echoed off the sixteen foot ceilings of the kitchen. And his outburst explained why he was waiting in the breakfast nook. He never ate at that table. He was lying in wait because I always used this door to come and go from the garage.

I looked down at the giant gray man’s sweats and the T-shirt that read ARMY across the chest.

I wasn’t a proficient liar on my best day, and the last twenty-four hours certainly didn’t qualify as good. I decided to go with part of the truth. Besides, he’d probably already heard some of it.

“There was a boy who tried to stop the carjacker, and he was shot. I went to the hospital to get checked out, and I sat with his mother most of the night. My dress was ruined, and someone was nice enough to find me some clothes.”

My vagueness was rewarded because he stood and paced the kitchen. “Your car?”

“The police have it. For evidence.”

“And you’re okay?”

I cringed when his question about my well-being came after his question about my car. I tried to ignore it as I stared at the Italian marble floor.

“Just some cuts and scrapes and bruises.”

“I suppose that should’ve been the first question I asked when you came in the door. I apologize.”

I’d shed more tears in the last dozen or so hours than I had in years, but once again they swelled in my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks.

At my sniffle, my father studied my face. “You need to take more care. I already lost your mother. I’m not willing to lose you, too.”

Then he did something that shocked me—he wiped the tears away like he never had when I was a child. Or a teenager. Or a woman. I honestly had no idea what the hell had brought about this sentimental side of him.

He stepped away and cleared his throat. “I’m late for a meeting. And you’re going to be late for work.”

“I’m calling in today. I’m going back down to the hospital to sit with Ms. Vincent.” At his confused look, I added, “The mother of the boy who stepped between a carjacker with a gun and me.”

“That seems unnecessary. We’ll pay for the boy’s treatment. That should be enough.”

I dug in my heels. “Yes, we’re paying for his treatment. Every penny. And no, that’s not enough. He could still die because of me.”

My father glanced down at his watch. “Fine. Do what you need to do. I have to go.” Without any further discussion, he turned and walked out the door I’d just entered.

I supposed I should be happy he hadn’t questioned me further. But I was too tired and wrung out to care.



Before I’d left the house, I’d put a note for my father on the desk in his office. It was the one spot he was guaranteed to visit when he came home. It seemed even at nine o’clock this morning I’d known that I wouldn’t be returning to the house tonight. Normally, I wouldn’t bother informing him, but after his strange attack of fatherly concern, I’d decided to allay any potential worries.

So the fact that my loaner Mercedes was now parked in the alley behind Voodoo Ink shouldn’t be as big of a surprise. But for some strange reason it was. My sweaty hands clenched the steering wheel as I asked myself why I was here. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t even know if I’d be welcome.

Whatever Con and I were doing, it wasn’t defined beyond the boundaries we’d set early on. I was supposed to give him a shot. That didn’t mean I had the green light to show up at his place of work and barge in. Oh wait, I’ve already done that.