The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos) (17 page)

She pulled out her phone and took a selfie for Dred. She attached it to a text message.

Spring in Miami. Come keep me warm?

It was Saturday, and she and Lia were both on the later shift, so they’d planned to visit their favorite vintage store. Pixie was looking for some specific fabric for a dress she was making, but first she had to visit the bank.

“What are you smiling about over there?” Lia asked, trying to peer over her shoulder.

Pixie showed her the photo of her in her coat, and Lia laughed.

“Your rock star should fly you to Brazil for the day. I bet it’s hotter there than here.” Lia blew warm air between her hands. “Ask him if he’ll get you a jet. We’ll skip work and I’ll go with you, see if I can’t find a nice Brazilian man to appreciate me for at least twenty-four hours.”

Pixie laughed as her phone vibrated. She stepped away from Lia and checked the message.
Holy guacamole.
The photograph was taken from his shoulder down his body revealing all his abs. A white sheet was strategically placed across his . . . well . . . and his hand was under the sheet in a way that suggested he was holding his . . .
jeez.

Spring in Brazil. I’ll be warm when I come. Next time . . . less clothes!

She blushed bright red, embarrassed to admit the photo turned her on as much as his overtly sexual behavior shocked her. Being logical and practical, she’d never share those sorts of photos. That’s how revenge porn got started. But part of her wanted to try, perhaps be a little . . . sexier . . . than she was right now.

She took a deep breath.
Wish I was there to watch.

There was a pause and her phone vibrated again.
You can watch from there if you want. Change to video :-)

Lia studied her curiously, and there was no way in hell she was standing on a Miami street corner watching the hottest man alive jerk himself off for her. Because that would be . . .
hot, delicious, sexy . . .
wrong.

Pixie typed a quick response.
My head says no, but the rest of me . . .

There was a short delay of response.
MY head says yes ;-) But the rest of me gets it. Miss
you, Snowflake xxx

Miss you too <3

Pixie had travel envy. Not only would she love to visit Rio to check out Ipanema Beach and the giant art deco statue of Christ the Redeemer, but she wanted to be there because Dred was. The idea of exploring both the man and the sights of Brazil were equally compelling.

“I’ll see you in there,” she said to Lia. “I’m going to get some cash.”
It wasn’t lying. It just wouldn’t occur to
Lia
that she was actually withdrawing so much.

Pixie hated having large sums of money on her ever since she’d been mugged upon arrival in Miami, but if she’d waited until after they’d shopped, Lia would come in with her, and there was every chance that she’d hear how much money she was withdrawing. Which would lead to questions. And that was bad. Bad that she still hadn’t figured out a way to resolve things.

Of course she had options, the problem was they all sucked. Call Arnie’s bluff and say no, which could lead to him going to the police. Find a lawyer, go to the police herself, and confess. Tell Cujo and Trent, and ask them to help her, talk to him even. Continue to give him money. A headache developed in her temples. Perhaps she’d start with telling Trent and Cujo that her step-dad was coming around again.

She entered the bank and joined the line of a teller she didn’t know very well—less questions that way. As she took her place at the front of the line, Cedro, her favorite teller arrived and switched places with the cashier.

“Hello, Miss. Pixie. You are looking delicious today. How may I be of assistance?” He fiddled with the brooch attached to his work shirt, revealing bright yellow nail polish.

“I need to withdraw . . .” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t withdraw the money from Cedro. She’d come back. “I need fifty dollars, please.”

“You could have got that from the machine,” he said with a bright smile, taking her card.

Pixie thought quickly. “I know, but then I wouldn’t have seen your cheery face. When is that delicious boyfriend of yours coming back into the studio for some more ink?”

Cedro laughed. “I think he has enough already.”

They walked through the transaction and Cedro withdrew the cash from his tray. “How is the business planning coming along?” he asked.

The question hurt worse than a spear through her heart. “Starting to pull things together,” she answered vaguely.

Cedro counted the cash onto the counter. “I’m so excited for you, Pixie. Good luck.”

Pixie tucked the cash in her purse, and left the bank. Once outside she unzipped her coat and sat down on the bench on the sidewalk. She no longer felt like going shopping. She felt like crying. What was the end game of all this? Arnie wasn’t going to stop until he had everything he wanted, and hellishly, that seemed to include her. She’d rather go to prison than allow that to happen. She’d given him five hundred and fifty, and he came back for a thousand. If she gave him the thousand, he’d come back for more.

Even if she told Trent and Cujo, there was nothing they could do to resolve the situation. It would crush them to know they harbored someone capable of killing a person, even if it was self-defense, and it would kill her to see that look on their face. She knew they’d stand by her, but their relationship would be changed forever, and she couldn’t forgive herself if the news became public and ruined the reputation of Second Circle. They’d ploughed everything they had into growing the business.
Would Trent lose his host job on
Inked
as part of the fallout
?

Perhaps she should resign . . . put some distance between herself and the studio. Her stomach turned and she was grateful she’d not eaten breakfast.

And then there was Dred, the first man she’d ever had deep feelings for. What would he think of her when all was revealed?

* * *

With the help of a great checking agent at Galeão International Airport who also happened to be a hard-core metal fan pissed to be missing Rio’s biggest open-air concert of the year, Dred had secured himself a business-class seat on the last flight out of Brazil.

He’d walked off the stage, straight into a waiting limo, and rushed through the crazy nighttime traffic. The rest of the guys had been totally supportive of his detour on the way home. Thankfully, with the agent’s help, he’d managed to grab a quick shower in a VIP lounge and was able to change out of his concert gear into something way more comfortable for a thirteen-hour trip that included a quick stopover in Atlanta.

Dred stepped off the plane in Miami and looked at his watch. Ten a.m. He made his way to the exit and grabbed a taxi, telling the driver to go straight to Second Circle.

It was a week since he’d seen Pixie, and he was beginning to realize that a long-distance relationship was going to take a bit more planning than he’d done so far. They needed rules, like the maximum time they’d spend apart or that he’d always be responsible for buying tickets. He’d gone from having no family of his own, to having Petal and Pixie in less than a month, and he was determined to not let them down.

“You can pull up here,” he instructed the driver, indicating a spot a few feet away from the studio, hoping to prolong the surprise until the last possible second. Trent was in the window of the store, head down, focused on a tattoo. Cujo was standing near the desk. When he moved to the left, Dred could see he was talking to Pixie who was laughing at something.
God, she had the best smile.

Pushing the door open, he walked into Second Circle. It was the first time they’d really gone public with their relationship, and he wasn’t sure what her boundaries would be with regards to him greeting her exactly how he wanted. But he needn’t have worried. The moment she looked up, she squealed.

“Oh my God,” she ran around the counter, throwing herself into his arms so he had no choice but to catch her. “You’re actually here.” She showered kisses all over his face, and while he was aware that pretty much everybody in the studio was looking at them, he didn’t really give a fuck.

“Hey, Snowflake,” he said before capturing her lips and kissing her the way
he wanted.
She tasted fruity, like jelly beans. It was fun, and sweet, and so very Pixie.

“What did I tell you about hitting on the staff?” Trent asked, slapping him on the back.

Dred lowered Pixie to the floor but kept her tucked under his arm. He shook hands with Trent. “Good to see you too.”

“What are you doing here?” Pixie asked him, the huge grin on her face worth every uncomfortable moment of the shitty overnight flight.

Suddenly he didn’t feel tired at all. “I was in the vicinity, so I thought I’d drop by.” He kissed her again.

“I’m going to vomit. Or punch you. Can’t decide which.” Cujo shook his hand and slapped his shoulder, with enough force to send him a little off balance. It wasn’t so hard as to take offence, but it certainly wasn’t harmless.

Dred grinned. He understood where Cujo was coming from and was happy that Pixie had someone to look out for her when she was in Miami and he wasn’t.

“Four thousand miles is nowhere close to the vicinity,” Pixie said. She stood on her toes and kissed him quickly on the lips. “But I am very glad you came by.”

“What time are you off today?”

“Not until five, and Eric called in sick, so I really can’t bail today.” She took his hand and led him to the empty kitchen area.

Out of sight of the others, he let his hands to slide over her ass, and sucked the skin on the side of her neck. “Don’t worry about me. I came here to see you. Don’t care where that happens,” he murmured.

He smiled as she tilted her neck away from him, allowing him better access.
Fuck.
She was delicious. He stood up straight but kept his arm around her waist. There was no way he could do what he wanted with her while they were still here. His flight home wasn’t until quarter past nine, so he didn’t need to leave Pixie’s condo until seven. He needed to talk Trent into letting his girl go an hour early.

“It’s so good to see you, Dred. It’s been a crappy week, and I really missed you.”

“You were on my mind all the time too. Not sure what that says about us, but I like it.” He took in her pretty eyes. “Anyway, I have an idea for a new tattoo. You think Trent or Cujo can fit me in?”

“Sure, let’s go see the calendar. I think Trent’s good in another hour or so.”

Several hours and one tattoo later, Dred glanced over at Pixie. She was laughing at something Lia said.

“So what will it cost me for you to let Pix leave now?” he asked Trent, itching to get Pixie alone for as many hours as they could manage. It was three o’clock and he watched Trent tape the cover over the incredible rose he’d inked as a tribute to Petal on Dred’s lower forearm.

Trent looked around the shop, presumably calculating what needed to get done before the studio closed in a few hours. “Your timing sucks, man,” he said. “Couldn’t you drop in like Superman on a Wednesday?”

Dred laughed. “If only I had that much control over my schedule. Was meant to fly straight back to Toronto but did a trade with the guys so I could fly through here today.”

“What was the trade?’ Trent asked as he turned the black baseball cap on his head around so it faced the right way.

“We were meant to pitch in to have the garden landscaped this summer at the group home we grew up in, now I’m footing the bill while they work on a new arrangement for one of our songs.”

“Was it worth it?” Trent asked seriously.

Dred looked over to where Pixie was laughing with a group of women at the desk. “Yeah,” he said. “Worth every nickel.”

“We’re friends now, right? So I can say shit that pisses you off and you’ll get over it, right?”

Dred had been waiting for this moment and knew what was coming. Pixie smiled at him from across the room and suddenly it didn’t matter what Trent needed to say. “Sure,” he replied.

“Be careful with her. It’s not my place to tell you what I know. But, well . . . it took her a long time to get over whatever happened before Cujo and I found her in that doorway one morning.”

Dred was momentarily confused. With the tilt of Trent’s head, he could have sworn Trent meant the doorway to Second Circle. “When you say found her? Like she was waiting for a tattoo one morning, or sleeping there?”

Trent’s easy demeanor changed. “Forget I said anything. It’s her story, not mine. Just don’t . . . don’t be
that
guy. She’s my kid sister in every way that counts. Everything about you is—fuck—up until meeting Harper—shit. Don’t hurt her.” Trent took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair before placing it back on.

Dred understood what Trent was saying and, more importantly, why he was saying it. He got what it meant to redefine family. He only had to look at his own living situation. “I hear you. If I could make you promises about where this is going, I would. But I can’t.”

The idea of Pixie sleeping not ten feet from where he was sitting rubbed up against his own memories. Nights he’d spent sleeping in friend’s garages or living rooms while his mom worked the streets and took strange men back to the tiny apartment they lived in. Why hadn’t Pixie told him any of that? In fact, he realized, she hadn’t shared much of her previous life with him beyond her real first name.

He looked at Trent who was eying him coolly. “Look,” he said, choosing his words carefully, because he could feel the weight of their importance, “I want this. And I think she does too. We’ve got to figure out how to be in a relationship with each other.”

Trent frowned for another moment before smiling again. “Fine. Go. We’ll manage. But next time we’re in L.A., you can take me to that sushi place again. Your treat.”

Dred walked to Pixie to pay. He handed her his credit card. “When you’ve run this through, we’re leaving.”

“We are?” She cocked her head and smiled flirtatiously.

“Yes, Snowflake. And you and I are going to take the fastest route between here and naked.”