Inked Destiny (31 page)

“You planning on running?” Jamaal called from his workstation. “I figured it was about that time. You’ve been with the same guy, maybe the same two for what? A week now? Got to be some kind of a record for you.”

“I’m reformed,” she said, going around the counter.

“Sex must be mighty fine then.”

She wasn’t quick enough to block the image of DaWanda above him, though she got rid of it by asking, “Where’s Bryce?”

“Back anytime.”

She went into Bryce’s office, opening the cabinet where the last shirt and pair of jeans plus an old pair of tennis shoes were stashed to save her from having to cross the bay. “I am definitely going back to my apartment today,” she muttered, shimmying out of elegant and expensive, except for the necklace, then pulling on worn and comfortable.

Bryce was steps away from the office door when she emerged. “Shit, Etaín, couldn’t you have stayed in the fancy clothes for another couple of minutes? I missed the show.”

“Take a look at that necklace and you’ll get an idea of what it was like,” Jamaal said.

Bryce whistled then rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Nothing says sexual satisfaction like expensive jewelry.”

Jamaal laughed. “No surprise there, not the way we nearly had ourselves a peep show earlier today.”

“Eamon know you don’t give a shit about being decked out in bling?” Bryce said, capturing her in a hug and touching his nose to her neck. He inhaled loudly. “Yeah, smells like money all right. Lots and lots of money.”

“Plebeians,” Derrick muttered.

Bryce laughed. “Never claimed to be a class act.”

He let Etaín go. “Where are you going that you decided to ditch both your men?”

“I need to take care of some things on my own. Mind giving me a lift somewhere? It’s not far.”

No point in doubling back for her bike or taking somebody else’s ride. She was guessing Eamon would arrive shortly, or send Cathal to collect her.

“Ohhhh,” Derrick said, “now she’s being secretive. Well, we have our ways of making her talk.”

“Hell,” Jamaal said, “we don’t need to make her talk. Bryce’ll give us the lowdown when he gets back.”

Bryce dangled his cars keys. “Ready? This has to be quick. I’ve got a piercing coming in.”

It was quick. Too quick as far as Etaín was concerned. And Bryce was too perceptive, zeroing in on a fear she couldn’t completely swallow and cutting the engine to signal she didn’t have to immediately get out of the car and enter police headquarters.

“Are you in trouble? Shop bullshit aside, if you want to talk, whatever you say stays with me.”

“No trouble.” She managed a smile. “Except maybe with Eamon for bailing on Aesirs. Bad memories of this place, that’s all.”

She opened the door and slid from the car. “Thanks for the lift.”

He waited, making sure she didn’t have second thoughts before starting the car and driving away.

Liam appeared at her side. She didn’t even flinch.

“Lord Eamon will not be pleased.”

“Probably not.”

She wiped damp palms against her jeans, the chill of remembered panic and terror pebbling her skin as her heart thundered like waves against a cliff. She wasn’t absolutely certain the captain wouldn’t hold her in the building in some kind of protective custody. Or worse, allow the feds to swoop in for another round of interrogation, a closed-room session to break her so she’d give them cause to arrest Niall and Denis Dunne for murder.

Her pulse throbbed in her neck. When she became aware of it, she also heard the shortness of her breath.

I have to do this.
Of that she was certain.

Fighting for calm, she headed toward the front door. Reaching it she said, “You’re not going in with me.” Though of course he would, unseen, death hiding in shadow.

“Enter this building and you risk one of the humans you supposedly care about.”

Promise and threat combined. She shivered. “Harm him and there will be consequences.”

“His death wouldn’t create even a ripple in our world.”

“And your death?” she asked in defiance of the icy chill that settled in her core.

Liam laughed, the sound of his amusement like the scrape of barren branches against glass on a windy night. “I hope you survive, Lady.”

Twenty-three

S
hit!” Sleepy said, banging his hands on the steering wheel. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Sorry,
ese
.”

He took a deep breath, cutting Puppy a look. “It’s okay. No problem. Would have been nice, that’s all.”

A few minutes sooner and maybe he could have tailed Etaín to Cathal Dunne, or used her to get to him. “The dude inside will talk.”

“And then I get to finish him, right?” Puppy lifted his arm, tilting it sideways and holding a pretend gun. “After that, everybody starts calling me Trigger.”

“I don’t know, man. Drooler hasn’t spilled as much blood as you have. I’m thinking maybe this hit should be his, feel me?”

“Yeah. I feel you. Guess it’s fair since he’s the one that put us on to this dude. I thought you were going to get Drooler when you went to talk to Emilio.”

“Wanted to, but his uncle got busy and Drooler didn’t spin the bullshit about needing to meet up with his parole officer in time. No way was his uncle going to buy it with me there. I talked to Emilio, that’s all. Then I left. Drooler’s going to hook up with us here as soon as he can.”

“Emilio give you this guy’s address?”

“Yeah. I checked it out. Old one. Some neighbor told me she thought he was taking care of his sister’s place. So we’ll have to hang here. Walk past the shop, see if he looks like he’s getting done tattooing.”

Puppy climbed out of the car. Soon as the door was closed, Sleepy tugged Lucky’s phone out of his pocket, going to Jacko’s number, thumb hovering over it. He didn’t want to let on that somehow he’d been made, but this was his chance to get in with Jacko and prove himself.

When Jacko answered, Sleepy said, “I’ve been asking around. I got a connection between Cathal Dunne and a tattoo artist who might know what happened to Lucky. We’re grabbing him.”

“Good. That Irish asshole isn’t going to be talking to nobody.”

“He’s dead?”

“As good as. A friend of mine is waiting with a little surprise for him. Asshole won’t survive this time.”

Sleepy wanted in on it. But it sounded like Jacko was letting it ride too. Best he could do was try to pull Jacko in to his action.

“One of my crew is begging to earn his bones. I’m going to have him cap the guy we’re snagging. You good with showing up? Be our guest of honor. Afterward we could celebrate. I can get my hands on some good shit.”

“Call me when it’s ready to go down.”

*   *   *

E
taín stepped into the office, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans, fisted against possible use and to hide the trembling that had taken them when windowless hallways telescoped inward and sweat poured down her sides each time they passed a waiting interrogation room. The captain closed the door. Quietly, and somehow that was far more threatening than if he’d slammed it.

She couldn’t stop herself from noting the shadows in his office, and shivering with the question of how large an opening Liam needed in order to pass through it.

The captain moved around the desk, separating himself as though he realized the unseen menace she brought with her. Or maybe Laura or one of their daughters had already called him about what happened at Aesirs.

Yeah. That was probably it.

“Are you here to talk about your involvement with the Dunnes?” he asked.

“No.”

“Your choice in boys, and now men, hasn’t improved.”

And your choice of a wife is any better?

But she didn’t say it. She was tired of this dance, tired of being judged and found wanting even if that judgment had its roots in love.

“Did you know Eamon has forbidden your brother or me from asking you to help us?”

Her expression was answer enough.

“I believe his exact words were something to the effect that we wouldn’t be allowed access to you.”

Aggravation flared but faded quickly, because the encounter with the captain and Parker could only have happened days ago, before Eamon took her ink, before he’d eased up on the whole Lord of Elves thing. “Yeah, that sounds like something he’d say.”

Her flippant answer didn’t set well with the captain. His face tightened into austere and disapproving, a look she’d seen often enough since she’d first used needle and homemade ink to mark skin.

“You’ve moved in with him I take it? Or Cathal Dunne?”

“I’ve still got my apartment.” A place she was determined to go to next.

The captain’s expression altered. Pity? Victory?

“Parker said you’d cleared out of your apartment.”

“What?” The stuttered question matched the uneven beat of her heart.

“Parker got called back to DC after we left you the other night. He stopped by to leave a note when he realized your phone hadn’t been recovered.”

“I’ve got it back,” she said, rote response as the panic that had swelled into existence at Aesirs, along with the sense of having lost control of her life, returned in a wild rush.

“Let me put you into protective custody,” he said, voice gentled as if sensing weakness.

“There’s no place you could put me where I’d be safe. I need Cathal and Eamon for that.”

It was a mistake to admit as much. She knew it the instant the words left her mouth, but some little girl part of her wanted him to understand, to stop pushing for something impossible.

“They’re going to destroy you, Etaín. If you’re lucky, you’ll just end up in jail.”

“Nothing I say will make you believe they’re not criminals.”

“Look what you’re involved in because of them! The murder of four boys!”

Who drugged, raped, and tried to cover what they’d done by overdosing two girls, succeeding in killing one of them.

Even though the federal agents had told her as much, any argument she made would only confirm for him what the surveillance pictures hinted at, that she’d touched Brianna Dunne and afterward drawn her memories.

“I can’t say what you want me to say. Just like I can’t be who you want me to be.” She pulled her hands from their hiding place, turning them and opening the fists to reveal the stylized eyes, the ink that marked the beginning of their estrangement. Though for
his
brand of justice, he’d been willing to keep her in his life. “This is who I am.”

He sat heavily in his chair. “Why are you here, Etaín?”

“You’ve got a two-sided picture of my mother. I need to see it.”

She spared him the knowledge that his wife apparently had him watched by a PI when he went out of town.

Or she meant to.

His lack of surprise had additional questions tumbling out of her mouth. “Did she tell you I’d come looking for it? Did she give you a message for me?”

Dread sunk into her at his expression. It arrived in a heart clawing instant before he asked, “How do you know I saw her?”

She shrugged, hoping casual would deflect. “I just know.”

His attention lingered on the necklace that clearly didn’t go with the jeans and shirt then dropped to her hands, a detective’s mind sorting possibilities. Hurt came, clouding his eyes. Resignation followed, deep-seated and painful for her to witness.

His gaze lifted, meeting hers, and there was only condemnation, an accusation that echoed Liam’s insinuation that she was out of control. “You assaulted Laura.”

Further evidence no doubt of her spiral downward into full criminality thanks to the Dunnes. It was childish. Etaín knew it was but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Laura started it. And she was on my turf.”

The ridiculousness of that last bit nearly made her laugh. “I’m surprised you haven’t forbidden her from Aesirs.”

He rose from his seat and turned away, a fist squeezed her heart at the weight of his movement, the age and weariness he’d gained since meeting her downstairs and escorting her to his office. Was this what happened when humans got tangled in Elven affairs? Had her mother even cared about him? Or had she slept with him only so he’d believe later that he’d fathered the child presented to him?

The questions stung her, filling her eyes with tears she wiped away while his back was to her. And yet still her hands tingled with
the desire to use her gift to capture his recent memories of her mother. She imagined herself reaching out, touching. Taking.

No! No!
She refused to be controlled by gift or magic or Dragon.

With ferocious concentration she envisioned one of the complex sigils Eamon had taught her. She imagined herself completely surrounded by the glyph meant to become a personal ward, a shield against more than physical danger.

It was enough to deaden temptation, though she wasn’t entirely certain whether she’d actually created a barrier or if the captain’s opening a cabinet drawer beneath the window refocused her desire.

Her mouth became dry. And in her heart, hurt and longing and hope clashed like tumultuous cymbals in the hands of a manic-depressive.