Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 40057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
He arched a brow. “Which means she’s fair game. Any asshole in this city could make a move. Could offer her safety. Comfort. Something you’re not around to give her.”
I turned, my hands braced on the doorframe now, breathing hard.
Ink stayed where he was, calm as ever. “You want her safe? You wait. You watch. You collect every piece of that bastard’s life and burn it down the right way. Quiet. Permanent. Clean. So there’s nothing left to tie you back to it.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “And when it’s done, you take her home and make her yours.”
I didn’t speak. Just stared down the hallway where Elena had disappeared, my heart pounding with a hungry ache.
He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Now breathe. And wait. Let’s take this motherfucker down right.”
I said nothing, my jaw locked, and wrath simmered under my skin.
He was right.
And that made it worse.
Because now I wasn’t just angry.
I was plotting.
Jareth Marks was already a dead man.
8
ELENA
Ifinished sterilizing the parts of the coil machine I’d used that day, checking for indicator changes before storing everything away. My hands kept moving out of habit, but my attention drifted to Reeve. He was focused on what he was doing in that intense way of his.
It reminded me of what Ink had told me when I asked about Reeve’s road name.
“Onyx didn’t get his name for bein’ pretty with a machine,” he explained, leaning back against the counter. “He got it ’cause once he puts something on skin, it doesn’t fade. Doesn’t blur. Doesn’t soften. Just sits there—dark and solid—like it’s part of you. Someone said his work looked like it was cut from stone, like onyx, and that was it. Name stuck. Same way he does.”
I cleared my throat softly. “I’m all done.”
Reeve looked up immediately. “Almost ready to head out. Wait for me.”
“I don’t mind walking alone, really.” My fingers twisted in the hem of my shirt, giving away the nerves I hoped he didn’t notice.
He shook his head. “Don’t leave without me.”
Something in his tone made resistance impossible. Butterflies swirled in my belly as I nodded and made my way to the front door.
I slipped outside into the evening air, stepping away from the entrance so I wouldn’t block it since the studio was still open.
It was much quieter out here. I leaned against the brick wall and let out a slow breath, my thoughts drifting straight to Reeve. Again.
That first kiss in the supply room, how he’d hauled me against him like he couldn’t hold himself back another second. The little touches and smoldering looks since then. More kisses. It all kept me on edge.
He wasn’t even hiding the possessive gleam in his dark eyes anymore, especially when I worked with male clients.
I should probably have been wary of that, but it made me feel safe. Protected in a way that was new and confusing. Addictive, too.
I tried to tell myself it was nothing. The Hounds of Hellfire guys were just protective of women. He was the manager of their tattoo shop. Maybe he’d walk any female employee home if she lived as close as I did.
But that didn’t stop me from looking forward to it. And on days I wasn’t at the studio, time felt as though it moved so much more slowly.
I shouldn’t have wanted his attention this much.
But I stood there waiting anyway, my heart doing the fluttery thing I only experienced around Reeve.
Sliding down the wall until I sat on the cool concrete, I pulled my sketchbook from my bag. The familiar weight of it settled my nerves, and I flipped through the pages without really thinking. Then I reached the sketch I did of Reeve.
I paused, my fingers tracing the edge of the page even though I hadn’t meant to stop there. I’d drawn him a few days ago, late at night when sleep wouldn’t come. It was just his profile, the strong line of his jaw, and the shadow of his throat where his tattoos disappeared beneath his shirt. It was a simple line drawing, but somehow more intimate than anything else in my notebook.
Sketching Reeve hadn’t gotten him out of my head. If anything, it had only made things worse.
The last thing I needed was someone catching me sketching the guy who already consumed too much of my headspace, so I quickly flipped the page.
A strange prickle brushed along the back of my neck, and I glanced up, expecting to find someone standing there. But the sidewalk was mostly empty. A couple walked past without looking at me, and the cars on the street rolled by like normal. Nobody was paying attention to me.
I shook the lingering unease off, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The neighborhood was safe. The studio was right behind me. And Reeve would be done any minute. There was no reason to be worried.