Chapter Two

At first I almost ignored the girls as they came sauntering out of the tattoo place. They were giggling to themselves and didn’t even see me tucked into the archway beside the shop. That made me roll my eyes a bit. I kind of wanted to grab them and shake them both and ask them if they had any idea who could be lurking around in a neighbourhood like that one.

I laughed at myself.

Because it wasn’t really a bad part of town at all. And I was the one lurking.

I watched them stop for a second, and the taller, plumper one grabbed the shorter, thinner one by the shoulders. I paused. There was something endearing about the little blonde one. She smiled up at her friend, who whispered something I couldn’t hear, then tugged the shorter one’s sweater.

What did they have done? Was it both of them? Or just one getting a tattoo, and the other was there for her support?

I eyed the brunette. If it was only one of them, it was probably her. She looked like the type to get something typical and cutesy—a flower or a dragonfly, maybe. But I was curious anyway. I peered through the darkness to see if I could get a look at evidence of fresh ink on her back. I’m a sucker for tattoos. My own body is proof of that.

It was far too hard to see, though, and when I stepped forward to try to get a better look, I stumbled ever-so-slightly before pulling myself together.

Dammit, I cursed, and then added, Damn yourself, Seever, for drinking those shots of whiskey before leaving the house.

But I had been so frustrated lately, and it had seemed like an easy way to dull my senses.

“And dulled they are,” I muttered under my breath.

The voluptuous brunette glanced up as if she heard me, and I stepped back into the shadows. She paused for just a second and grabbed her friend by the hand and yanked her along, laughing again.

I glanced at the glowing sign above Yun’s and willed myself to go in—and to make this be the right one. My contacts had left me a sudden tip that led me right to this very shop, but it wasn’t the most convenient of times. I was three drinks in, and cranky. I was definitely too drunk to take bad information with any kind of grace. This was the sixth tattoo place I’d tried in as many months. I’d been doing my best to keep any attention regarding this little pursuit of mine to a minimum. It’s much harder to keep a low profile with an entourage, so I was alone, as usual. And that meant I hadn’t brought anybody along to keep me in check.

I was truly torn for a moment.

I watched the two women as they disappeared around the corner, and I sighed. The shop was empty and it was near to closing time. I trusted my gut and ignored my conscience—which were not on the same page—and I went into the tattoo parlour.

“You Ji-Hun Yun?” I asked.

The Asian man behind the counter tensed when he caught sight of me, and I smiled.

“Don’t worry,” I said in my quietest voice, “I have that effect on a lot of men.”

Yun quivered and it made my smile widen even more. He was considering making a run for it. I’d seen the chicken shit expression on enough men’s faces to recognize it.

“I’m fast,” I told him casually. “I run ten miles a day, and I don’t break a sweat. I’m strong, too. Probably bench what you weigh. How much is that? Hundred and thirty? Hundred and forty if you’ve had a couple burgers and shakes during the week?”

I could tell from Yun’s face that he knew I wasn’t telling him to brag. Sometimes it pays to be big. And sometimes it pays even more to point it out.

“This is actually my uncle’s shop,” he informed me in a heavy Korean accent. “I just do the work.”

I didn’t know if it was a lie, and I didn’t care. But I did know that he’d been in Canada for thirty of his thirty-eight years. It was true that having a few drinks dulled my senses, but it didn’t drown them out completely. I had still done my homework.

“Drop the phoney accent,” I suggested. “And we’ll talk.”

“What do you want?” he replied, sullen but still nervous, and in near perfect English.

“I just have a couple questions about some ink. Think you could help me out?” I asked nicely.

Yun nodded once, and I pulled the photocopy out of my jeans pocket.

“I’m looking for some info on this,” I explained as I handed it to him. “Maybe you’ve done it more than one time.”

“No. I haven’t.”

I saw recognition pass across the Asian man’s face, but it dissolved quickly back into guarded tension.

“You sure?” I asked, still in my nice-guy voice. “It would have been on a few girls who were on the unwilling side.”

“You a cop?” he asked.

“Do I look like a cop?” I replied.

I didn’t bother to feign offence. It was a valid question in our little exchange.

He did a once-over, and I let him check me out. Yes, my hair was military short, but that was about as close to cop as I came. My clothes were too expensive to be bought on a city salary. And my demeanour was just a little bit too cocky to belong to any kind of law enforcement personnel. He would see it in my eyes. I was nothing more than a mildly intoxicated, not-so-common criminal with a personal agenda. He met my gaze and I raised an eyebrow.

“So. Do you have an idea of how to lend me a hand?” I wanted to know.

Yun sighed at last. “Yeah.”

“Good.” My whole body was practically lit up with the excitement that one word brought. “Tell me.”

“Well, aside from…” he trailed off.

“Aside from what?” I pushed.

Yun shook his head as if to clear it.

“Nothing. Just…”

“I’m not a patient man, Yun.”

I put my fingers on his counter, and he watched as I tapped them slowly.

“Look,” he told me nervously, “A guy called the shop—it was a seriously long time ago, I mean I want to say years—and was looking for someone to do some art off the books on some girl who might be…”

“Less than willing,” I filled in, and Yun nodded.

“It was weird because people don’t call for tattoos. Especially those kinds of tattoos. He also mentioned the specifics of the ink, something that sounded a little like that drawing. I don’t know if it’s the same one or not. But I said no. We run a legitimate place.”

“You do?” I replied, picking up on his deliberate emphasis.

“Yes.”

“But?”

“But I of know someone who still does that kind of stuff, no questions asked,” he admitted.

“And you’ll tell me who that is?” I tapped my fingers loudly on the counter.

He didn’t answer me.

“For a fee,” I added.

I watched Yun mentally weigh his options. He wasn’t a dummy, and he was probably taking a risk by telling me anything. I’m good at reading people, and it was easy for me to make an assessment of the other man’s price.

If his uncle was truly running a straight shop, he was paying taxes, paying rent, and keeping his tools serviceable. He probably had some walk-in clientele, as well as referrals and repeat customers. But he was also likely missing out on the seedier types. The ones who didn’t want their art traceable through transaction records.

The ones like me. I smiled a small smile.

And if Yun really wasn’t running the shop himself, he wasn’t being paid top dollar by his uncle, either. Watching his face, I pulled five hundred-dollar bills out of my wallet. It was enough to make him blink, but not so much that I looked desperate. I’d bet my left leg he didn’t make that much on a good day. I put the money on the counter and Yun placed his hand on top of it.

“All right,” he said a tad eagerly. “It’s just a connection through a buddy’s buddy.”

I smiled again. I would’ve paid him ten times that amount if I thought his information would lead me in the right direction.

“Good enough,” I replied mildly. “That’s how I found you.”

“Can I ask you where you got that picture?” Yun asked.

I started to tell him that no, he couldn’t, but I changed my mind. I was feeling almost giddy with the knowledge that I was finally getting somewhere. I took my flask out of my pocket and took a celebratory swig. The whiskey was fuelling my enthusiasm.

“You give me the phone number of your buddy’s buddy, and I’ll tell you,” I offered.

He pulled out an old fashioned Rolodex and flipped through until he found a card. As he handed it to me, I leaned closer to him, and let my smile become a grin.

“I pried it out my brother’s cold, dead hands.”