Unique Ink (Shadow Assassins Book 5) (9 page)

The last thing he wanted was to continue his questioning. He wanted to comfort her, drive away the painful memories, not rub her face in them. But this was his mission, his obligation, and it was important that they understand Roxie’s connection to the enemy.

He swallowed past the sudden dryness in his throat and forced out the next question. “Where did you go? Did you have any other relatives?”

“Group home,” she whispered. “I stayed eleven days then realized I didn’t need that sort of bullshit.” She kept her face pressed against his throat, but he made out every heart-rending word. “This hallelujah couple ran the place and did their best to maintain order, but most of those kids had been in the system all their lives. They knew nothing but intimidation and violence.”

It didn’t take a clairvoyant to figure out where this story led. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to think about Roxie being harmed in any way. But it was obvious she needed to talk and needed someone to listen. That rational was easier than admitting he was still doing his job. “Why did you leave?”

Her arms tightened around him and her breath shuddered out against his skin. “The two oldest boys cornered me in a shed and told me I had to blow them or they’d beat the shit out of me. I opted for the beating, but two days later they came after me again.”

She didn’t elaborate and his hands clenched into fists. It was too easy to picture a younger, more rebellious Roxie trying to fight off two older boys. He had to work hard to keep his embrace supportive. His anger would only add to her pain. “Did you tell anyone what they’d done?”

“What they
tried
to do.” Her voice was stronger now, though her hair concealed her face. “I went sort of crazy the second time and gave even better than I got. I left them both dazed and bleeding on the floor of the garage and didn’t look back. I stuffed my things into a backpack, ‘borrowed’ some money from the hallelujah woman’s purse, then hit the road. Aunt Shelia had taught me how to avoid attention and how not to leave a trail.”

He eased her back, needing to see her face. “You’ve been on your own since you were fifteen?”

She blinked back tears though miraculously her cheeks remained dry. He shouldn’t be surprised by her composure. She’d had many years to learn how to suppress emotion and focus only on survival. “Life on my own wasn’t that much different. Like I said, Aunt Sheila checked out long before she died.”

“But where did you stay? What did you do for money?”

“Do you really need to hear it?” She pushed against his chest and twisted out of his arms. “Street kids only have two options.”

“Drugs or p-rostitution?” He stumbled over the last word. It was a common enough story. It had just never felt personal before. They weren’t speaking in abstracts, describing the unfortunate reality no one could seem to change. This was Roxie’s life, what she’d endured, how she’d survived.

“I wasn’t about to sell myself, but I had to eat.” She stood beside him again, leaning back against the wall. And with each word she retreated deeper into a protective indifference. “I started out as a courier and pretended I didn’t know what I was delivering. Then one of the dealers, a guy named Smoke, noticed me. And it wasn’t the sort of attention I wanted to attract.”

He braced himself for the worst. Stories like this never had happy endings. “What did you do?”

“I was about to take off again. I wasn’t willing to whore myself for anyone. But he had a girlfriend named Jodi. She was literally a swimsuit model. I couldn’t figure out why he’d want a skinny, foulmouthed, street rat when he had someone like her. One day I got brave and told her that Smoke had been eyeing me for weeks. She laughed and promised me that his interest wasn’t sexual.”

“Then what did he want?”

“He wanted a street-smart girl with the sort of face and figure that would allow her to stroll into high-class clubs and exclusive parties without raising an eyebrow. Jodi had done the job for a while, but he didn’t want her directly involved with the drugs anymore.”

“But he had no problem with you being involved?”

She shrugged away his concern. “I was already involved. Besides, I wasn’t sleeping with him.”

“Expensive nightclubs and private parties sound like a huge step up from the streets.”

“No kidding. They cleaned me up and refined my speech until I could pass for a rich party girl. I was still a courier, but now I drove a Mercedes and traveled with a body guard.”

The pieces were starting to fit together, so he tried to steer the conversation back toward the present. “How did you go from being a high class courier to owning Unique Ink?”

Chapter Four

The past pulled at Roxie like a silent vacuum. She’d made so many mistakes, so many bad decisions, and yet she’d survived. She’d staggered out of the darkness with her soul mostly intact. Wasn’t that an accomplishment to be celebrated?

“I broke the first rule of surviving as part of a drug ring.” Why was she telling Elias all of this? He wanted to know about her connection to the Shadow Assassins, not her misspent youth.

“What rule is that?”

“Never use the product.” She looked up at him and sighed. How could such an intimidating man be so easy to talk to? He was solid muscle from head to toe, yet his eyes were kind, patient. Maybe he’d slipped something into her coffee that made her talkative. She’d known Jett and Tess for months before she told them about any of this.

“Is that even possible? That would be like working for a rock band and not liking music.”

“I never stayed at the parties after the package was delivered and most deliveries were made before the real partying started. I avoided it all whenever possible.”

“Then why did you start using?” There was no condemnation in his tone, just calm curiosity.

That was part of the reason she kept talking. Elias didn’t judge, didn’t make her feel ashamed or foolish. Still, she wasn’t completely blind to what he was doing. This wasn’t a first date. He didn’t want to know her better. He was trying to figure out why Sevrin had targeted her. And Roxie wanted to know too. Maybe an outsider would see something in her past that she was too emotional to understand. “A particularly nasty customer insisted that I sample the goods and I wasn’t in a position to refuse. My body guard got me out of there before any real harm was done, but I liked the way the drugs made me feel. I
really
liked it.”

“Are we talking cocaine or something worse?”

“The deliveries were usually a mixture of substances, so I tried all sorts of things. I’d seen what crack and meth can do, so I never went near either. My poison of choice was good old-fashioned cocaine. Well, I was pretty fond of ecstasy too.” She shook her head and pushed away from the wall. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. It has nothing to do with the alien invasion.”

He lightly caught her arm and drew her gaze to his. “You can’t stop in the middle of the story. The aliens aren’t going anywhere.” He was so damn appealing with his green-gold eyes and teasing smile. The distinct waves in his dark hair made her want to run her fingers through the soft-looking strands. How could anyone resist his lazy charm? “How’d ya get out? Once you’re in that deep, it’s harder than hell to make a clean break.” When he relaxed and become engrossed in the conversation, his Texas roots crept back into his speech. She’d always thought the accent sort of annoying, but Elias made it sound sexy.

“My break wasn’t even close to clean.” She eased her arm out of his grasp and stared out across the desert. She felt empty like their surroundings, dry and nearly void of life. “I got swept up in a police raid with a purse full of our best products. I didn’t have a criminal record, but I was in the system, so it didn’t take them long to figure out who I was. They told me if I provided them with names and locations of all the pivotal players in our network, they’d send me to rehab instead of jail.”

“Did you cooperate?”

She glanced at him with a soft smirk, but inside her heart was breaking. “Their interrogator was almost as good as you are. I’ve always been a sucker for the soft approach. Besides, I was so strung out by then I didn’t know what I was doing. They convinced me Smoke would kill me even if I kept my mouth shut. They were probably right. He was a ruthless son of a bitch.” She released a long, ragged sigh as an image formed within her mind, an image that frequently haunted her dreams and filled her with bitter regret. She saw silky dark hair, kind brown eyes, and the perfect body of a swimsuit model. “I felt guilty as hell helping the cops. I know drugs destroy lives, but Smoke and Jodi rescued me from the streets. They took better care of me than my family had.”

“You were a valuable commodity. Smoke was protecting his investment.”

“I know.” She fought back a wave of grief, cold and hollow like the echo of an emotion that had long since done its damage. “They picked up Jodi and several of the other curriers the same night they caught me. They promised they’d leak several different stories so Smoke and his bosses wouldn’t know who gave them up. I didn’t tell them much. I didn’t
know
that much. No one was stupid enough to tell me anything important. But I provided the missing pieces to a puzzle they’d been working on for months, maybe years. Before it was over, they’d dismantled one of the largest drug networks in the Southwest.” She lapsed into silence, unable to find words capable of explaining what came next.

“Did Smoke or one of the others come after you?” Elias reached out for her again, but she wasn’t ready to be touched. Even after all these years the wound was still raw and painful.

She shook her head as her lips began to tremble. “The cover story worked a little too well. Jodi’s body was found in an alley a few days later. Her tongue had been cut out.”

“I’m sorry.” He pressed his hand against the wall beside her shoulder, his body easily within reach.

All she had to do was turn toward him and accept the comfort he offered, but she didn’t feel worthy of comfort. With another unconvincing shrug, she concluded, “Jodi had been kind to me, protected me from more abuse and danger, and she paid for my weakness with her life.”

“It wasn’t weakness to cooperate with the police. They left you no choice.”

A sharp, humorless laugh escaped her throat. “Says my current interrogator. Maybe you’re the one in danger. Dead bodies tend to pile up wherever I go.”

“I’ll risk it.” He caught a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. How many ways could he find of touching her without actually touching her? And she wanted his touch, ached for the shelter of his strong arms. But she didn’t deserve compassion, much less comfort. “Were you still a minor?”

“No such luck. I’d turned eighteen three months before the raid.”

He released her hair as his warm gaze moved over her face. “So they sent you to rehab?”

“I told them the punishment had to be more severe or it would seem suspicious. But I ended up with this bleeding-heart judge who felt like the system had failed me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” he flared, his expression suddenly fierce. “The system
did
fail you. You survived the only way you could.”

She shrugged again, trying to recapture her protective detachment. Compassion shone in his eyes and it was obvious he wanted to kiss her. She just didn’t understand why. They’d known each other for less than a day. How could he possibly have any sort of feelings for her? She was his prisoner. “The judge suspended my two-year sentence with the condition that any infraction, regardless of how minor, would reinstate the sentence. Then I went to an in-house rehab center for ninety days. When I was released from rehab, I was on probation for the remainder of the two years.” Succinct and factual, she recited the events like a shopping list. Though unspoken, she hoped the message was clear. She was finished talking about her past.

“When did you become a tattoo artist?”

Fine
. She could compromise. This was still technically the past but the events were more recent and more applicable to the current situation. “Drawing had always been an emotional outlet for me, sometimes the only one I had. I’d had more than one teacher tell me I had raw talent. But it was my probation officer who encouraged me to take classes at a community college. The art classes led to private lessons and my interest in tattooing flowed naturally out of my love for art, and my nonconformist personality.”

A soft smile curved his lips without parting them. “Didn’t you win a TV contest or something?”

She nodded. “I came in second on the show, but it helped me build a fan base and develop name recognition. That made it possible for me to secure financing so I could open Unique Ink.”

“Well, no one can deny all you’ve accomplished. You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

“I am.” Still, it was hard to escape the shadows cast by her past.

He pushed off the wall and motioned toward the door behind him. “Ready to head back inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”

“Not a chance.” She was more than ready to change the subject, however, so she turned and faced him. “You just heard my entire life story. I want to hear yours.”

He laughed. “I’m no mystery. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but I’m getting dehydrated out here. Let’s find somewhere cooler so we can finish our conversation.”

“Cooler” shouldn’t be hard to find. He was right. It was hot and miserable outside. They retraced their steps, using the same elevator to return to one of three belowground levels. She hadn’t seen much of the complex except hallways and locked doors, but it was much bigger than she’d first thought.

“Does this place have a name?” She did her best to sound casual.

“We call it the Bunker.”

“Fitting. And how many people are stationed at the Bunker?”

He chuckled. “I guess I should have qualified my offer. I’ll tell you anything you want to know
about me
. Anything else has to be approved by Morgan and she hasn’t been in a generous mood lately.”

Morgan? It took her mind a second to produce a face to go with the name. When the image formed, she grimaced. The snooty red-haired bitch. Poor Elias. “How long have you worked for Morgan?”

“I’ve worked for the program for two years. Morgan has been my direct supervisor for the last nine months.”

Roxie was more interested in his story than hallways she’d already seen, so they walked much faster now. “Why did you decide to join the military?”

“I come from a long line of military professionals. Dad made it to general before he retired. Mom started out as an Army medic and later became a nurse. She’s retired now too. My grandfather was a Navy pilot. Both my brothers are in the military. One’s a Navy SEAL the other a Marine. It never occurred to me to pursue any other career path.”

She’d labeled him a soldier when she first saw him, so the information didn’t surprise her at all. “Which branch did you join?”

“Army. I served for three years then became a Ranger. I’d been a Ranger for six years when, much to my father’s chagrin, I was recruited by the FBI. He still refers to it as my demotion.”

Many military personnel had a general distrust of government agents. Even she knew that. “How’d you end up chasing aliens?” They turned down a wide corridor she was pretty sure they hadn’t used before. New territory was good and anything was preferable to being locked in the holding cell.

“I was working a kidnapping case when I first crossed paths with Morgan.” He ushered Roxie inside a large cafeteria. The kitchen staff was tearing down and the subtle disorder of the tables and chairs indicated recent use.

“Where is everyone?”

“The kitchen stops serving at six thirty. Looks like we just missed dinner.”

She chuckled at the evasion. “I’m still digesting that hamburger, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Some of the staff have gone back to work, the rest are in the living quarters or one of the common areas like the gym.”

“Does everyone eat at the same time?” She looked around, trying to gauge the maximize occupancy of the room.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Just because a room seats over a hundred doesn’t mean all of the chairs are used.”

They helped themselves to fountain drinks then sat at a six-person table near the door, away from the clatter, and curious stares, coming from the kitchen.

“Sorry for the distraction. You were in the FBI, about to meet Morgan.” She took a sip of her cola as she waited for his tale to resume.

“Morgan claimed to have been dispatched from a different office, but her involvement didn’t make sense to me. I tried to be courteous and respectful, but it was obvious she was trying to take over.”

“Morgan trying to take over?” She laughed, savoring the simple pleasure of cool air and a refreshing drink. “I can’t even imagine it.”

“I know her better than you do. Morgan isn’t always such a hard-ass.”

Her brow arched as she fiddled with her straw. “I’ll have to take your word for it. She’s certainly been all business with me.”

“Military men will take advantage of any hint of weakness, especially in a female commander.”

“Wow, that’s not sexist at all.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, tension creeping into his expression. “It might be sexist, but it’s reality. She’s had to work really hard to earn the respect of the people she commands.”

“Does someone have a crush on his CO?”

He smiled. “Is someone trying to annoy me?”

She returned his smile then paused for a sip of soda before digressing to the original subject. “You were working a kidnapping case.”

“All I’d been told was that a seven-year-old girl had been snatched from her school by someone the child knew. Morgan told me she believed the child’s father was the culprit and I had nothing that indicated otherwise.”