| |
“I’m here, I’m here!” I say, rushing through the front doors of the incredibly awesome tattoo shop Jo just got a new job at.
She’s been wanting to learn to tattoo for such a long time, but she’s not been able to get a chair anywhere, or a place willing to look at her stuff. She’s always been an incredible artist, even back when we were younger, but she’s never done anything with her talent. Her marriage to Patrick was always at the top of her list, keeping her busy.
“God, could you be any later?” she gasps, flicking her hair to the side and studying me with those piercing eyes. “My first day in the chair, my first client, and you’re bloody late?”
I give her a big grin, just as the back door opens and the guy who owns the shop comes out. I stare at him, like I do every damn time I come in here, which to be fair is only twice, but god, he has the power to stop you in your tracks. He’s ... I don’t know ... terrifying. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Everything above.
He is a solid six-feet tall, and is built like a statue, with thick biceps and broad shoulders. He’s covered in ink, the eccentric designs running all the way down to his fingers. No doubt under those clothes, too. His skin is olive, the prettiest damn olive I’ve ever seen. The rest of him though, damn, it’s not pretty, it’s fucking perfection.
His hair is dark, maybe a chocolate brown, maybe even closer to black, it’s hard to tell. It’s thick and it’s long, flowing down to his shoulders in that messy, sexy, Viking kind of way. He is sporting a heck of a beard, which only adds to his masculine, dangerous features. His lips are full, his eyes are the palest and yet most stark green I’ve ever seen, and he has a scar running down his left cheek, it’s not overly pronounced, but it sure does add to his look.
He would be a perfect match to be on Game of Thrones, only they’d probably kill him off too quickly, so I’d say that’s a very bad idea.
He’s too sexy to be killed off.
The best part? Oh, the best part is ... He’s part of a biker gang. Yep. A motorcycle club. A bunch of gorgeous men, who all look like him, at least, that’s what Jo told me, and they own a chain of tattoo shops. This one being the main one. When I first found out, I freaked out, until Jo told me that she’s perfectly safe working there, and that the club business has nothing to do with the shop.
She likes it here.
I can see why.
Alarick. That’s his name.
That’s his damn perfect name.
Alarick.
Shivers.
I glance at him as he walks over to us and stops, crossing his big arms. Jo told me he’s the President of the club, I don’t know the name, but oh boy, imagine him leading a pack of wildly gorgeous men on bikes? That’s something I’d like to see, no doubt about it. Alarick doesn’t say a lot, and he’s super broody, but he’s fair and that’s all Jo cares about.
I wonder if their club is bad? Do they murder people?
God. How exciting.
“You ready?” he asks her, in that rumbling voice that goes right through you.
I stare at his inked arms, with the biceps showing, and the way his waist narrows down nicely to those incredibly well-fitting black jeans. God damn.
I need to stop.
“I think so, if it goes wrong, it’s only Callie.” Jo laughs nervously, then looks at me with a sympathetic smile.
“It’ll be fine,” I say to her. “Come on, let’s do this.”
Jo glances at Alarick again, and he simply gives her a nod and takes a seat, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs as he lounges back in the chair, watching us.
“Well, that’s not much pressure,” I laugh, then glance at Alarick who is watching me, expressionless.
Oh, boy.
He is intense.
I wonder if he knows how to have a conversation? Probably not. Maybe all bikers do is grunt at each other.
Like a bunch of leathered up cave men?
I sit on the chair and Jo prepares my wrist for the tattoo she designed. She cleans my skin and then gently places the inked stencil down so it’ll leave the outline for her to follow. She pats it with her hands, and then peels it off, glancing at it before saying, “Have a look—if it isn't how you want it, we can change the position.”
I look down at the outline on my skin, and my heart skips a beat. It does every single time I look at the flowers with a name set amongst them. A name that will forever hold more power in my life than any name ever will. Celia.
I swallow and look back up to Jo, “It’s perfect,” I say, my voice a little thick with emotion.
“Are you ready then?” Jo smiles at me, her eyes warm.
“I’m ready.”
She prepares the tattoo gun and then looks over to Alarick who gives her the go ahead with a short nod. She fires up the gun, takes a deep breath, and gets to work. The first touch of the needle to my skin makes me grit my teeth. The sharp pain that almost feels like a knife being dragged along my skin. After a few moments though, the pain becomes almost familiar.
Funny how pain does that.
Becomes familiar. So familiar it almost doesn’t hurt as much anymore.
I feel that every single day.
Every day that I think about the life we left behind three years ago. When I think about the moment I took my phone, everything that could connect me to my old life, and I tossed it. I deleted Facebook accounts, social media accounts, I changed passwords, got new cards, a new number, everything.
I began again.
Driving out of that town was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Knowing that I was leaving behind Ethan, my longtime friend, Tanner, the man I had fallen for, and all the memories of Celia and my life there. It was hard. For the first week or two, Jo and I barely spoke as we processed what we had done.
I wondered how long it took people to realize we had gone.
I wondered how many times they called my phone.
I wondered how hard they looked for us.
Or did they just let us go? Figuring maybe their lives would be easier, too?
Every single moment I think about Tanner Yates, my heart still burns. It still throbs against my ribcage, it still aches to hear his voice and feel his touch. I miss him more than I’ll ever admit. Even now, even years later, he is still in my mind every single day. I’ve dated, in fact, I’m dating someone right now.
But Tanner holds a place in my heart that I can’t seem to close off.
It was hard on Jo, too. She had to deal with Patrick, with her family, with her friends. She had settled into a bigger life than I had, considering I was in prison for so long. She signed her papers with Patrick, and the moment they were signed, we left. She organized her house to be packed up, for her things to be moved, and then she told her family she would be going away for a while.
She didn’t cut contact with them; she couldn’t, I suppose.
She did however change her number so Tatum couldn’t contact her, so she too couldn’t be connected to that life. The one we left behind to find a better one.
Has it been better?
Sure, I mean we’re both happy. Jo bought a gorgeous set of apartments and she rents one out to me and lives in another. The rest she rents out to other people. California life, it’s nice. I won’t lie. Beaches and a freedom I have never felt before. It’s something else, that’s for sure.
I got a job working at a local restaurant. It’s big, flashy and overlooking the water. I’ve been there a few years, and I’m part of the family, so to speak. I’ve got friends and things feel ... well ... normal. All except that empty feeling I carry around with me, like a hole I haven’t quite filled.
But are we happy? Yeah, we’re happy.
As happy as we can be.
It was the best choice for us, that much I don’t doubt.
“Rest your forearm down on her, don’t be scared to lean on the customer to steady your hand,” Alarick says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Jo nods, and keeps working, leaning over me a little more to get her angles right. I don’t mind, already I can see she’s doing a brilliant job. The outline taking form on my skin.
“So, Alarick,” I say, daring to make conversation with the monster-sized man sitting in the chair. “You’re part of a club?”
Jo pauses for a second, lifting the needle off my skin and giving me a look that warns me to stop asking questions. Shit? Am I not meant to know about that? Is it a secret? I didn’t think it was, I mean, clubs aren’t exactly secret societies, now are they?
“Yeah,” Alarick says in response, he doesn’t seem pissed, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to chat all day about it either.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
Jo nudges my foot with hers.
“Wouldn’t be there if I didn’t,” he mutters.
“Fair enough. Have you ever killed somebody?”
“Callie!” Jo gasps.
“What?” I say, shrugging. “I’m just asking a question.”
“She always talk this much?” Alarick asks Jo.
“Mostly. I’m sorry.”
Whoops.
“Have you ever killed anybody?” Alarick asks, his voice thick and strong, a real masculine voice.
He’s throwing my question back at me, as a form of sarcasm no doubt, but little does he know that I actually have killed someone.
“Yes,” I answer honestly, my voice a little less chirpy. “This girl right here.”
I nod down at my wrist, and Alarick’s eyes travel to the name Jo is currently putting on my skin, to stay for the rest of my days.
“You do it on purpose?” Alarick asks.
“No,” I answer.
“Accident?”
I nod.
“Fuckin’ horrible feelin',” he mutters.
Ah, so he has killed someone.
That’s all he had to say.
“Well, now we’ve gotten to know each other,” Jo says, “can you be quiet so I can concentrate.”
I grin.
That’s my girl.
There she is.
There’s my Jo.
~*~*~*~
I STARE AT MY FRONT door, narrowing my eyes. I’m sure I locked it when I left this morning to get my tattoo and then go off to work. Jo lives a few apartments down, but she left before me so she wouldn’t have used her key to get in. Narrowing my eyes, I carefully push it open and peer inside, wracking my brain trying to remember if I locked it or not.
I was in a hurry, maybe I forgot.
Still, my heart races as I step into the apartment, flicking on a light. At first glance, everything seems to be exactly how I left it. I clutch my purse to my chest, my wrist letting off a dull ache as I walk in farther, peering around. I round the corner to my kitchen and stop in my tracks as I see a package and a note on my counter.
Maybe it’s from Jo?
She does enjoy leaving me special things, sometimes she brings me muffins or cakes, sometimes she makes coffee before I wake up and she’s on her way to work.
I breathe a sigh of relief, wondering what it is she got me.
I walk over, placing my purse down and picking up the package, opening it. I stick my hand inside without looking and my fingers graze against something almost rubbery in its texture. Narrowing my eyes, I pick it up and pull it out. The moment my eyes fix on what I have in my hand, I scream and launch it across the room.
No.
It can’t be.
It isn’t real.
My heart races as I stare where it landed, lying on the floor. I just touched it. Oh god, who would do something like this? With trembling hands, I glance down at the note I now know is not from Jo, but if it’s not from her who in the hell is it from and how the hell do they know where I live?
I pick up the note and unfold it, reading the lines written in scrawling handwriting.
You didn’t think you could hide, did you? You’re part of this. There is nowhere I can’t find you. Chase looks good without a finger. I wonder who will be next?
No.
No.
This isn’t happening.
My heart slams against my chest, an angry beat that has my head spinning and my whole body working out of control.
How did they find me?
Why do they want me?
I moved away. I left it all. Tanner is the one they wanted, Tanner is the one who caused the problems. They only took Jo and Tatum as a way to get him to come forward. Why would they go to so much effort to send me something so horrible? Do they have Chase? Is Tanner and Tatum okay?
God dammit.
No.
Why is this happening now?
Was I honestly stupid enough to believe that they wouldn’t come after us?
I mean, we all put them away. A group effort. We made sure they got what we believed was coming to them, only that plan didn’t work and they’re coming after us.
I don’t know what to do.
I have no idea where to go or who to tell.
Do I tell Jo, and mess up her whole world?
Do I ignore it and pray it goes away?
Do I call Tanner?
No.
I can’t do that.
I do know one person I can call, though.
One person who I’m hoping won’t hate me enough to tell me what’s going on.
I pull out my phone, and dial Ethan’s number. I kept all the numbers from my old phone, though I never made contact with any of them. I guess part of me, somewhere deep down, wondered if I’d ever need to speak to them again.
I guess that time has come.
“Hello?” a familiar voice answers, a voice I’ve missed for years now. A voice I came to become so familiar with when I was in prison, hell, I used to look forward to the moments where I’d get to hear it.
Ethan.
“Ethan?” I say, my voice soft and nervous.
He goes quiet for a moment, for a long, long moment. “Callie?”
“It’s me.”
More silence.
“You’re joking, right?” he mutters, and I can hear the anger in his voice immediately cloud the line.
Of course he’s angry, why wouldn’t he be?
I left him without saying goodbye.
He was my best friend and I ran away.
“I know you’re angry, I have a lot of explaining to do but ...”
“Explaining?” he laughs, bitterly. “Oh, you mean how you just left everything behind and disappeared? That explaining? By all means, Callie, explain. Then tell me why the fuck you’re calling after how many years? Two?”
“Ethan, look,” I start, and then close my eyes and exhale, “no words are going to make you not hate me, I get that. I did what I thought was right, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. I... couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t breathe anymore. It was too hard. That’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I needed to start fresh, and I did that, but ...”
“But now they’ve found you too, right?”
I jerk back a little. “You know why I’m calling?”
“Course I know why you’re fuckin’ calling. You think we haven’t been dealing with this shit here? We’ve been wonderin’ just how long it would take them to track you down, didn’t take long at all, it would seem.”
“We?” I whisper, my heart pounding against my chest.
“Yeah, we. Tanner, Tatum and me. The people you two fucked over when you ran without an explanation. You left us to clean up this fuckin’ mess alone and we did. Until now.”
Tanner is still there. Tatum, too. My heart races.
“I’m sorry, Ethan. I am.”
“Sorry means fuck all to me now, Callie, what do you want?”
I clench my eyes closed, knowing I deserve that, but still standing by my decision to leave, because at the time, it was honestly what I thought I had to do. Tanner and his family were going through enough without our complicated relationship coming in and ruining everything.
“I got sent a finger, and a note. I think ... it’s Chase’s finger.”
Ethan goes silent, then hisses, “Fuck me.”
“I wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise, but I’m ... I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t have,” he mutters under his breath, then says. “Give me a few hours to work out what to do. In case you’re wondering, Chase has been through hell and back since you left. The least you could have done was stand by him and his ownership of what happened, instead of running off after you insisted on going and getting him. He deserved at least that much. It hasn’t been easy for him.”
My heart twists. When I Ieft, I didn’t consider Chase, and I feel selfish for that. So fucking selfish. Ethan is right, I went and found him, brought him back to admit what he had done, and then ran. Things wouldn’t be easy for him there, because people will blame him, and I’m sure that hasn’t been easy.
“I never meant to cause anyone any pain. For what it’s worth, I actually thought I was doing you all a favor. I was making everything so much more complicated. If you had seen how Mrs. Yates cried that night, the things she said, it was truly heartbreaking. Me being there wasn’t making anything easier.”
“And you think leaving did? It doesn’t matter now, we’ve all fucking moved on. You broke Tanner, fuckin’ cut him to the core. He’s found someone better, someone who fuckin’ appreciates what he is. So have I. I’ll contact him, see what to do about this, and before you tell me not to, you don’t get a say in all of this. Chase has been missing for two days, we are tryin’ to get him back, but it appears they want us all instead of just one. I’ll call back.”
I open my mouth to say something, but he hangs up on me.
Ethan.
My friend.
The man who got me through the worst time in my life.
Hung up on me.
And I deserved it.
I fucking deserved it.
What have I done?