The Darkest Link (Second Circle Tattoos) (10 page)

He wandered over to his desk, bracelet wrapped around three of his fingers—
fuck, her wrist was small
—and studied the drawing Lia had done. The lines were incredible, and her sense of scale and proportion was even better than his own. Certainly, it wasn’t mechanically correct. Heck, it didn’t even have an exhaust. But that could be taught. Part of him thought she would make an excellent partner in the custom-bike side of his business. Talent like hers was natural, and difficult to find. He knew it firsthand because he had been looking for months for somebody to come on board and help them grow the business. It was incredible to think that this was her first try. Even he wasn’t that good.

He wondered if he could persuade her to join him one evening, even if it was under the pretense of talking about her bike designs. Hell, he’d get them back in the same room any way he could. From there, he could persuade her to spend another night. Then another. She could call it whatever she wanted, but he needed desperately to explore what they could be together, because his gut was telling him that it would be special.

Before he changed his mind, again, he hurried back to the kitchen and picked up his phone. He took a photograph of the bracelet still wrapped around his fingers and then placed it down on the counter. She had given him her details so that he could call her about the car. Technically, what he was about to do was a breach of customer confidentiality, using her number for something other than professional business, but for once, he really didn’t give a shit. For all he knew, she was worried about the bracelet and didn’t know where she had lost it. And calling to let her know he had it would make him her knight in shining armor.

I have something of yours, more than willing to return it before Cherry is ready.

Like some fifteen-year-old high school kid, he read and reread the text over and over, until he realized he was acting like a pussy and hit send.

He wandered back to the bathroom and stripped naked before stepping under the steaming hot spray. What was the worst that could happen? Perhaps she’d respond right away, delighted that he’d found a long-lost family heirloom. Or perhaps it was nothing more than a carnival trinket, and he wouldn’t hear back from her until the day he told her that her car was ready.

Only one of those options was going to bring a smile to his face.

* * *

Gravel crunched beneath the wheels of the car as Lia pulled into the driveway of her parents’ home. She marched to the imposing front door, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible. When she hadn’t been thinking about Kenny, she’d been stewing over her father’s plans, and she’d come to the conclusion that she needed to clear the air. He needed to understand that she wouldn’t be dragged into his political foray or publically pretend to agree with his beliefs for the sake of his campaign.

She let herself in. “Hello,” she called out in the vast atrium. The words echoed off all the marble. “Dad?”

Her heels clacked against the tiled floor as she made her way toward his office. She pushed the door open to find her father sitting in his tall leather chair at his ornate redwood desk.

“What do you need, Lia?” he asked without looking up from his laptop. It had always been that way. Somehow it aggravated her that he still had the power to make her feel insignificant, or worse, like a nuisance. She wondered if he would even notice if she never spoke to him again, never gracing his presence with another word.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, wandering closer to the desk.

Her father slammed his laptop closed with a frustrated sigh. “About what, specifically?”

“What you are doing. Politics. Me. Mom.”

His eyes pierced her suddenly. “Ah,” he said, calmly. “As usual, you manage to make this about you. How incredibly ungracious of you, Lia. Although I am not entirely surprised.”

Ungracious. Disappointment. Useless.
Words he always used to describe her, she’d heard them over and over, but this time she wouldn’t be distracted by his tactics.

“I’m not making this about me. It’s you making it about me and Mom. Because I can guarantee that Mom and I don’t want it. Hell, Daddy, I doubt Mom can even cope.”

Her father toyed with the fountain pen sitting next to his computer, turning it in slow circles as he considered his answer. “Let me rephrase,” he said.

She hated that cold, patronizing lawyer tone.

“Your mother has always known about my aspirations. I don’t see how it is expecting too much for my family to support me after I have supported them for years. Isn’t that what families are meant to do?”

“You’ve supported me?” She paused, clenching her hands in an effort to keep her voice calm. The past had taught her that when talking to her father, emotions were seen as a weakness. And worse still, her father would have mocked her, finding humor in her agitation. “In what? I didn’t see you at my graduation from art school. And you financially disowned me privately, while in public you made a show of being a doting father. Without Granny Emmeline’s support, things would have been a lot tougher.” She tried to bury the small part of her that was still looking for her father’s acceptance, knowing full well it was never going to come.

Her father studied her as she imagined scientists studied a culture of bacteria, clinically. Lia’s stomach lurched and cold sweat formed down her spine. She hated that his scrutiny made her feel that way.

“Ah, yes. Because becoming a tattoo artist is such a great aspiration. Your life goals have always been as underwhelming as you are.”

“You are such a hypocrite,” she blurted out. “Mom could have been a great documentary filmmaker, but you—”

“ENOUGH,” her father roared.

Lia shivered, knowing she had pushed him too far. He’d always been like this. Cool, reserved, and distant until he fell straight off the edge into a fearsome anger. Once he’d pulled the paintings off the hallway walls and put his fist through them after losing a particularly difficult case, then calmly smoothed his hair back down, collected the damaged artwork, and took them out to the garbage before sitting back in his leather armchair with a brandy like nothing had happened. Fortunately, he’d never taken his anger out on her or her mother that way.

“Anything your mother agreed to was her decision.”

“That you pushed her into,” Lia snapped back.

A heavy silence filled the air, the only interruption the sound of her father’s quick breathing. She watched his chest rise and fall until he let out a deep sigh.

“Your mother has always understood what was expected of her,” he said, his voice returning to an eerily fake calm. “You could learn from her.”

“Learn what?” Lia asked, attempting to control the quaver in her voice. “She needs drugs to get out of bed in the morning. And you won’t let her get the help she really needs in case someone finds out about it and it affects your precious chances.”

“Tread carefully, Lia. I will only let you push my patience so far. Despite choices to the contrary, you aren’t stupid. Middle America and conservative America like to vote for the family man. There hasn’t been an inauguration I can think of where the president has not been supported by a wife and children if they had them. Excepting Johnson because his happened on
Air Force One.
When my time comes, I will not allow you or your mother to force me to break that tradition, come hell or perilously high water.”

Lia bit her tongue. So many thoughts raced through her mind that they were at risk of falling out in a hateful haze. Her father was delusional if he thought he was making it all the way to the White House.

“We’re having a party next weekend. Here at the house. For the donors that I believe would be willing to make the most significant contributions to my campaign.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Lia asked.

“If you care about your mother’s mental health as much as you say you do, and if you truly think this will push her over the edge, then you
will
be there to help her.”

“I can’t, Daddy. You know that. We are too different.”

“Well,” her father said, opening his laptop, effectively dismissing her. “The party is happening regardless, and if you don’t attend, it will be clear to both her and me that you care about her even less than I do.”

His words hit her square in the chest with a force that made her gasp. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was the
only
one of the two of them who cared, but arguing with him would get her nowhere.

Fighting the tears that threatened to fall, Lia turned and left his office without another word. She hurried down the hallway, not stopping to see if her mom was tending her plants, and left through the front door.

“Asshole,” she shouted out loud once she was in her car on her way back to her apartment. She shivered uncontrollably as she rushed over the bridge, anxious to put as much distance between her and her father as possible.

It wasn’t until she was safely parked in her building, and about to exit the elevator to her floor that the shakes began to subside.

Lia opened the door to her condo. It was moments like these she missed living with her best friend. Pixie would have been great company right now. She fished her phone out of her purse, then dropped her keys and purse on a small table before making her way over to her whiskey collection. A thirty-five-year-old Talisker would do perfectly, and she poured herself a glass.

Drink and phone in hand, she sat down in her favorite spot facing out over the water. Lia took a sip of whiskey and savored its bite, warmth trickling through her as she swallowed. Leaning her head back on the large chair, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

How has life suddenly become so freaking complicated?

She’d been stalling responding to the text Kenny had sent her, trying to figure out whether to listen to her head or put her heart on the block one more time. It was unfair to keep him waiting when she was so uncertain. Lia placed her drink down on the side table, and opened his message to respond.

Thank you. You have no idea how much that bracelet means to me. Please keep it safe until we make arrangements for the car.

She knew he’d look after the vintage Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet that had been part of a collection she’d inherited from Granny Emmeline.

My pleasure. If it’s so important, wouldn’t you like to have it sooner?

Her heart started to pitter patter in her chest. She should be sensible. Deal with what was going on with her family. Deal with the fact that she always fell for men too quickly. Lord knew she was probably suffering from some underlying psychological affliction to do with her family that needed fixing before she put herself out there again.

I’d love to have it sooner, but unfortunately can’t get away from Miami for a while. Work. :-(

It was true. Trent had her booked solid given she’d been away at the tattoo expo.

I’m curious what the going rate is for a motorcycle courier these days.

He wanted to see her and her heart exploded like it was filled with popping candy.

Can I be honest?
she typed.

No. I’d prefer it if you lied to me and took me for a fool.

Very funny.

I can be. What’s up?

I have two answers. The one I want to write and the one I need to write.

So let me hear them both and I’ll help you choose.

Okay. Answer one . . . Great idea. I’ll organize a motorcycle courier and let you know.

Ouch. Answer two?

Was she able to admit to herself just how badly she wanted to see him again? She took a deep breath and typed.
Would you be able to stay for dinner?

Hmm. I can see the dilemma . . . but I gotta be truthful, answer two works way better for me.

Grr. You were meant to help me choose answer one.

No can do, Red. So which are you going to choose?

I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this again, Kenny.

Do what?

She might as well be honest. Better to scare him off now rather than later.

I have a terrible habit of falling hard and fast. Does that make you think I should pick answer one?

No. I like things hard and fast.

Lia laughed, something she hadn’t done all day, and her chest suddenly felt lighter. She hadn’t realized how good it felt.
Argh. Stop it. Not helping.

It’s the truth. You trying to scare me off?

YES!!!!

Not working, Red.

Still not helping.

All this texting is giving me carpal tunnel. Would it be easier if I called?

“No,” she said out loud, then laughed at her own silliness. Talking to him with that sexy gruff voice of his would wilt the last of her self-control.

DEFINITELY NOT.
She typed quickly, trying to temper the huge grin on her face.

I’m more persuasive in person.

I know, and that’s half the problem.

Let me lay it out for you. I really enjoyed the time we spent together, and I know we said it was just one night, but I can’t get that smart mouth and those sexy as sin curves of yours out of my mind. So pick option two already, and put both of us out of our misery.

Lia picked up her drink and took two large gulps. There was probably a scotch distiller in Scotland turning over in his grave at her abuse of his fine liquor. She was playing with fire and yet the idea of being burned wasn’t a big enough incentive to say no.

Just so you know, it’s totally your fault if I fall in love with you.

The thought that you could makes me smile
.

Reid removed the last of the valve springs from Lia’s car and popped them on the table at the end of the garage bay. He couldn’t explain the relief he’d felt after talking with her the previous evening, even if it had been via text. Before his phone had pinged, he’d been watching the Cubs game while reasoning that the hours he’d spent with Lia had fucked with his eyesight or something, because everything suddenly seemed bland. He’d looked around the apartment for a hint of color, but nothing had stood out. Everything matched. It was calm, understated, and boring as fuck. The only brightness was the damn bracelet sitting at the edge of the counter, the little red clovers taunting him.

But now they had plans. Which made his heart, dick, and ego all kinds of happy. Lia was supposed to work on Saturday, which limited them to one day only. Sunday. For the first time in years, he had a bona fide date. Lia was clearly still trying to convince herself that they shouldn’t give whatever was happening between them a try.

He on the other hand had had an epiphany while at the boys’ club. Surprisingly, he hadn’t had the same wash of guilt that he usually did when he’d shared a story about his own past with the group. Lia’s words had stuck with him.
You’re a good man.
For the first time in a long time, he felt the balance tip. That the good he was doing outweighed the bad he’d done. Perhaps there was a way to move on, after all. Another reason to be grateful for Lia’s unexpected appearance in his life.

“Ouch, that looks a mess,” Chase said, looking over his shoulder at Lia’s engine. He’d been one of the boys in the first group Reid had mentored when he’d arrived in town six years ago. When he’d graduated high school, Reid had taken him on permanently and made him an apprentice.

“Yeah,” he agreed amiably. “It’s gonna take a bit more work than I anticipated. Good thing I love stripping these babies down.”

“Better you than me,” Chase replied. “Too many fucking tiny rusted bits in old cars. I like new, and preferably fast.”

“You realize age has nothing to do with speed, right? Go look up the Ford Galaxie 427 SOHC. So powerful that Chrysler petitioned NASCAR to ban it because their 426 Hemi couldn’t compete with its 660 horsepower.”

“Yeah, yeah. And we all know the early gross horsepower taken from an engine running on a test stand is not comparable to models rated on a chassis dynamometer. The real-wheel horsepower measurements from the two methods can’t be looked at side by side. So I think you’ll find that 660 downgraded if you try to do the test today.”

“No respect for the classics,” Reid said, shaking his head, which made Chase laugh.

Reid’s phone rang. He pulled it from his rear pocket and saw Lia’s name flash on the screen. He smiled as he answered.

“Hey, babe,” he said, walking through the open double doors of the garage. He perched on the low retaining wall that separated the garage from the unit next door. It needed knocking down and rebuilding, but neither he nor his neighbor really had the funds to do it.

“Did you just call me
babe
?” Lia said. From the way her voice went up at the end of the sentence, he took it that “babe” wasn’t a good thing.

“Guilty,” he said. “You don’t like it?”

“The sentiment, yes. But
babe
has always struck me as the kind of word a guy calls all the girls he dated. I can never decide if it’s just habit or he just doesn’t want to get my name wrong.”

Reid laughed. “Believe me, Red, no one could ever forget your name. How’s your day going?”

“Oh . . . you know,” she said, in what he assumed was her fake-it-’til-you-make it tone. “It’s going.”

“You know, if you just put a fraction more excitement into that, I might just believe you.”

“No, it’s fine.
I’m
fine. There’s just a lot going on, but for some totally messed-up reason, you were on my mind. So I decided to give you a call.”

“I like that,” Reid replied sincerely.

“What? That there’s a lot going on in my day?”

“No, of course not. That for whatever totally messed-up reason, I’m on your mind.” He couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face.

“Funny,” she replied.

“I like to think so. So is this a booty call? Because I need to know if I’m about to be taken advantage of.”

Finally, she laughed. “No. It’s just a
call
call. No booty.”

“Pity. I’m here to serve. You want to talk about my booty, I can get down with that. As long as I can talk about yours in return.”

“There was definitely no booty in the purpose of my call.”

“Damn, because you do have a pretty spectacular—”

“Kenny,” she warned in a tone just like his mother used to use when he was in trouble, and he rubbed a hand around the back of his neck.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m glad you
called
called me. Are you at work?”

“Yeah. Just sitting outside for a ten-minute break, but I’ll be done at five. I should head back inside.”

His chest tightened a little at the thought that she had called him for absolutely no reason at all. “Okay,
babe.
Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Don’t babe me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, before hanging up the phone.

Reid wandered back into the garage. He looked at the giant clock on the rear wall and then Googled the tattoo studio where she’d told him she worked. Second Circle Tattoos. It was a lot more impressive than he’d imagined, all white walls and modern artwork. Unable to resist, he clicked on “About Us.”
Trent Andrews.
Wasn’t he on that TV show always being advertised, the one with the lead singer of that metal band? He opened the profile. Wow, he was actually Lia’s boss. He found Lia’s profile and smiled at the picture. Her hair was styled just as it had been the day he had found her on the side of the road. Examples of tattoos and artwork she’d completed decorated her profile. God, she had more talent in her little finger than he did in his entire body.

And shit, he really missed her.

It was a little before three. Reid grabbed the manifest clipboard off the wall. He scanned through the jobs left to be completed for the day and was relieved to find that there wasn’t much left to do. If he left now and headed down to Miami, he could be there before Lia finished work. It was possible that she wouldn’t be excited to see him. Maybe she already had plans with friends. He briefly considered calling her back to check, but decided that it was a beautiful day for a drive.

After quickly arranging for Jarod to oversee the last few jobs that needed bringing home before the garage could close for the day, he hustled up the stairs to his apartment. He took a quick shower, then packed a pannier with some clean clothes and pulled on his leathers.

“So where you heading off to, boss?” Jarod asked as he set up his bike.

Reid smiled. His favorite movie was
Good Will Hunting,
so there was only one thing he could say.

“I gotta go see about a girl,” he said.

And he fucking loved the sound of that.

* * *

Lia loved the symbolism lighthouses represented. Guidance for those looking for direction in life, and a beautiful beacon of safety and hope in darkness. She was about to tattoo the West Quoddy Head lighthouse in her favorite American Traditional style onto her client’s bicep. Set against the classic blue-and-turquoise waves and thunderous black-and-gray clouds, the red-and-white candy-striped lighthouse was the perfect centerpiece.

Her client, a young man from Maine, wasn’t much of a talker and had politely asked if it would be okay for him to sit and listen to music through his headphones while she did the tattoo. The decision actually matched her mood. She dipped her liner into the black ink and began to outline the rope oval that would surround the picture.

She usually tried not to allow too much time for regret. She’d spent significant time in therapy working through the notion that life was too short to spend doing what was expected of her instead of what she wanted to do for herself.

But she was second-guessing why she’d called Kenny. Ezra, a guy she’d recently dated, had said they were moving too fast, but they rarely spoke during the week, and if they did, it was to arrange weekend plans and that was it. What defined too fast, too slow, or even too needy in a Tinder world that seemed focused on instant gratification rather than relationships?

For some reason, she’d felt compelled to see whether the spark between her and Kenny was as good as she’d imagined. To confirm if their connection was as real as she remembered, or whether she was simply romanticizing the whole thing.

Was she being too . . .
much
? She couldn’t tell. But what she did know was how speaking to Kenny had created butterflies in her stomach and placed a smile on her face for the rest of the afternoon.

However, realizing that she hadn’t said anything of value, just inane ramblings about being called
babe
and the fact that it wasn’t a booty call, was slightly embarrassing, although Kenny hadn’t seemed to mind.

She moved on to the water, dipping her tattoo equipment into one of the blues she’d mixed in little ink pots. It had taken her a long time to perfect the stylized waves that American Traditional required. In the beginning, they’d looked too . . . frothy and foamy, more like the Japanese style. But now she had mastered the smooth curves and sparse detail, which was why her clients tended to return over and over. Though with Trent’s help she had become an expert in many more styles over the years, this was the one she was known for.

Noticing that the palette of colors was starting to run a little low, she tapped her client on the leg and waited for him to remove his headphones. “You doing okay? Can I get you a drink, maybe?” she asked.

“No, I’m all good. But thanks for asking.”

“I need to go top up the ink. I’ll be back in a moment to let you know when I’m about to continue.”

She walked back to the supply cupboard, where Trent was currently mixing some colors.

“Doing anything good?” she asked.

“Single line of text down the spine of a newbie.”

“Ouch.” Lia winced in sympathy. “Good luck with that.”

“Fortunately she wants some stars on either side of the text, so I’m gonna start with the ones at the top. I have a feeling this tattoo might be over real quick. But what can I do? I warned her that this really wasn’t the tattoo for a beginner.”

“You could just run the needles without ink and show her what it feels like. I’ve done that for people who are unsure or in cases where I felt like they might be more committed to the
idea
of a tattoo rather than the reality of it.”

“I suggested that,” he said, “but she wasn’t having any of it. And the client always knows best, right?” he added sarcastically.

“Hey, look on the bright side. At least it isn’t a tribal tattoo,” she said, laughing. It was Trent’s least favorite kind of tattoo.

“There is that,” he said, laughing.

Harper arrived through the rear doors of the studio and Trent grinned. He put his ink down and hurried over to her, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Lia sighed happily. The softhearted romantic in her thought their story was book-worthy. It was the kind of tale that great movies were made from. Hell, Nicholas Sparks should write it. Or Harper should. She was the English teacher, after all.

Lia shook the lovey-dovey musings from her head and focused on mixing the yellow ink that she would use for the finishing touches to the beams being emitted from the lighthouse.

She thought about her previous conversation with her dad and felt guilt wash over her. Was he right that she should be helping her mom? The smart side of her brain realized her father had cast a hook and she’d bitten. This was all about her father manipulating them into doing his bidding. He hadn’t spoken to her since. No messages or calls. Ironically, the day after their conversation, a small piece had appeared in the local Orlando newspaper about the expo featuring a large photo of her with examples of her work. It had led to a couple of job opportunities, which she had politely declined, and an offer for another public speaking engagement. Despite her father’s
disappointment,
her career was on a huge upswing.

The loud growl of a motorcycle roared up the street, and Lia couldn’t help but look outside. It sounded just like Kenny’s bike had as he’d pulled up behind her car on the road. Maybe she could convince him to take her out on it the next time she saw him.

The bike pulled into a spot outside of the studio and her whole body tightened in excitement, but she forced herself to blow out a breath. There were lots of blue bikes in the world, and she’d only spoken to Kenny a couple of hours ago when he was safely ensconced in his garage. Working. Which is what she should be doing. Right now.

But she couldn’t take her eyes of the rider. Just in case. Because everything about him, from the perfect fit of those jeans to the strong shoulders reminded her of Kenny. Then he turned, helmet still on, looked straight at her through the studio window, and crooked his finger at her, encouraging her to join him.

With a grin, she put down the ink she was mixing and hurried outside just in time to see Kenny remove his helmet. His dark brown hair shot off in all different directions and his unshaved jaw was sexy as hell. Relief trickled through her. He was her own personal knight in shining armor.

“What are you doing here?” She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck. He’d driven all the way here to see her on a whim without knowing whether she would still be at work. Excitement filled her.

“The
call
call with no booty in it just didn’t cut it, babe,” he said, his smile showing off a single dimple. He unzipped a pocket and dug inside before pulling out a tissue, which he carefully unwrapped. Her bracelet.

She squinted as she studied his dark brown eyes. “Did you just call me babe?”

He fastened the bracelet onto her wrist. “Definitely not,” he replied as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him. She let the gesture warm her. “Kiss me, Lia,” he said. “I missed you.”