Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(67)

One thing was for sure though: I wasn’t going home.

I gave the cabbie a different address.





I wasn’t sure what happened last night on that f*cking steamboat, but the after effects on two of the most important women in my life made me wish I could have been there to throw some punches.

Vanessa had hammered on the door, and when I’d opened it, she’d practically fallen into my arms. The scent of gin coming off her had been intense. When I’d tried to get answers she’d just mumbled gibberish. The woman could not hold her liquor.

After she’d puked her ass off in my bathroom while I’d held her hair back, I’d forced her to down a glass of water. She’d already been passed out by the time I’d tucked her into my bed.

And then Lee had shown up. She’d let herself in, dead calm and determined. Her requests had been simple, and there was no way I could refuse her. I’d pulled my Tahoe out of the alley garage behind Voodoo, and we’d gone back to her place. She’d packed one bag, and we’d loaded up her mutt. I’d watched her drive off, and Huck, her giant of a dog, was left sleeping in his crate in the break room.

And then Simon had shown up. It was like a f*cking revolving door. The only upside was that Vanessa had slept through it all. I wasn’t sure that she was ready to tell Duchesne about us, and I wasn’t going to do it for her. Besides, the man had already had a hell of a night.

One thing I knew for sure: Vanessa was going to be answering my questions this morning.

Which was why I was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting like a schmuck for her to wake up.

It was almost eleven, and she was going to miss her standing Sunday brunch with Elle. Although I didn’t expect she’d be interested in eating when she woke. She was going to have a hangover to rival all hangovers.

She rolled, and a groan escaped her parted lips. Her eyes fluttered open, and I reached for the glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand. This wasn’t my first rodeo.

Vision focusing on me, Vanessa lifted a hand to her face and rubbed. “When did I get hit by a truck?”

“It wasn’t a truck so much as a truckload of gin.” I offered her the pills and water. She took them and swallowed dutifully.

She collapsed back onto the pillow. “Oh my God. I feel…this sucks.” She rolled onto her side to face me. “Why did I drink so much?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering since you showed up last night.” I thought for a moment about telling her about Charlie and Simon and decided that now probably wasn’t the best time. I reached for her phone instead. “You might want to text Elle and let her know you’re not going to make it to brunch.” I paused. “Unless you are planning on going. It’s already ten forty-five.”

She groaned again. “No. Definitely not going. I’m never eating or drinking again. Ever. Never. Ever.”

I smiled. I wished I could take away the hangover, but even I didn’t have a miracle cure. “You’ll change your mind eventually.” I held out her phone, my thumb bringing it to life.

I couldn’t help but read the text message on the screen.

“Who’s Chief Fuckwit?” I asked. “Because he wants to know what the hell happened to you last night.”

She sat up quickly at those words. Too quickly, because she grabbed her head with both hands.

“Shouldn’t move so fast, babe,” I reminded her.

She reached out blindly for her phone, and her reaction had my curiosity spiking.

“Chief Fuckwit?” I prompted.

“Can we talk about that later?” she asked.

Now I really wanted to know. But I took pity on her condition. “Fine.”

She tapped out a text to Elle, who replied immediately to say she had a raging hangover as well.

“Was Elle there last night?” I asked as Vanessa cuddled back under the covers.

“No. But Simon and Charlie were. She seems really nice. From what I can remember through my drunken haze.”

“You’d be right about that. Lee is a good woman.”

“You’re the only one who calls her that, aren’t you?”

“Told you, I like nicknames.”

“Don’t I know it.” Then she started to ask, “So how long were you and her—?”

“It’s ancient history, babe,” I replied before she could finish the question.

But it was the perfect opening to fill her in on what had gone down last night with Lee and Simon. I laid it all out for her. “Holy shit” was her only response.

“Yeah.”

We both sat in silence for a few minutes, but there wasn’t much we could do about the giant shitstorm that was about to rain down on those two.

“What are your plans for the day?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Sleep and tell myself repeatedly that I’m never drinking again.”

I chuckled, softly, so as not to hurt her head more. “You sleeping in my bed?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I’ll bring you some lunch later.”

She threw a pillow at me as I stood and crossed toward the door. “Don’t talk about food. It’s just mean.”

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I made my way downstairs to work on the books and take Huck for another walk. I liked this. A lot. These regular moments that anyone else would take for granted? They meant everything. Even with wild bedhead and grumpy with a hangover, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.