“I don’t want to be careful.”
Hemi watches me for a few long, intense seconds before he releases my hand. “Then show me what you got.”
Easing me back a little, Hemi stretches out on the table then turns on his side, facing me. I sit down on the stool and lower the bed until my “canvas” is at just the right height. Instinctively, as if he knows what I need (which I’m pretty sure he does, in every possible way), Hemi inches toward the edge of the table, toward me.
It’s my turn to ask him. “Ready?”
“Hell yeah.”
I dip the tip of my gun into black ink and I set my foot near the pedal on the floor. Finding a comfortable position for my arms, I lean into Hemi, holding the gun less than an inch from his skin. I take a deep breath and depress the pedal, tentatively grazing Hemi’s smooth skin with the sharp point.
He doesn’t jerk or make a sound, but I feel the muscles beneath my arms and hands clench in response to the first prick of the needles. I pause, feeling him calm instantly, before I resume.
It doesn’t take long to learn the feel of the gun, of how to move it over skin, of the rhythm of inking and wiping, inking and wiping. And Hemi is the perfect canvas, his skin smooth and tight, his body perfectly formed beneath my hands. After a few minutes, I lose myself to what I’m doing, to watching the shading bring his tattoo to life in a new and wonderful way.
I don’t know how long I’ve been bent over Hemi’s side when I glance up at this face. His eyes are on me, and they’re glowing with…something. We are kindred spirits. I sense it, as I’m sure Hemi does. Or at least I hope he does. We both love art. We’re both consumed by it. And happily so. We both escape in it. Hide in it. Hide from the reality of our secrets.
Once again, as I think back to my brother saying that Hemi is hard to pin down, I find myself wondering what it is that Hemi’s hiding from me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Hemi
I’m not surprised that Sloane takes to the art of tattooing like a fish to water. I could see it in her from day one. What does surprise me is what the feel of her hands is doing to my concentration. And that’s unacceptable. I’m here for one reason and one reason only. This was the type of distraction that I knew I didn’t need. And yet, here it is.
The pragmatist in me says that I need to let my id run free and get her out of my system so I can focus on what I need to focus on. Which is not a woman. And certainly not this woman. Within a few seconds of the thought crossing my mind, the decision is made. It didn’t take much convincing at all. The old me was salivating at the hint of blood in the water. I felt him creeping back over me, rearing his ugly, hedonistic, egocentric head. And just this once, I welcome him back.
Already, I feel a stab of guilt. I tamp it down with an iron fist, reminding myself, Live, no regrets.
“You need to call home and make whatever excuses you need to for staying a little late at work tonight,” I tell Sloane.
Her head comes up and her eyes meet mine. She doesn’t ask questions. “Okay. How late will I be?”
“That’s up to you. But you’ll definitely be home before sunrise.”
I see on her face that she’s not particularly thrilled with that answer, but I warned her I wasn’t a breakfast kind of guy. That needs to sink in before we leave here tonight.
“Okay,” she says again.
“Why don’t you start wrapping it up? I’ll get Gil to close up for me.”
“I thought you didn’t let anybody close up the shop for you.”
“I’m making an exception tonight.”
Now that I’ve decided to let my inner animal off the chain, I’m anxious to get out of here. With Sloane. She wants to spread her wings, show the world she’s grown up. I can help her with that. I’ll help her grow up. The right way. And real fast.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - Sloane
I walk outside to call my father. It’s humiliating enough that my family is so overprotective that, at twenty-one, I still have to call home to tell someone where I’ll be. But, it is what it is. There’s no changing it. At least not tonight. That’s what I’m trying to do, but it’s a work in progress.
“Locke,” Dad answers in his clipped way. I know the caller ID shows my name, but still, he answers the same way he does when anyone calls. I roll my eyes. He’s a cop through and through.
“Hey, Dad. I’m just calling to tell you I’ll be late tonight. Sarah and I are—”
“Nope. You and Sarah aren’t anything. You need to come straight home tonight.”
“Why? We won’t be—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupts again. “This is important. You need to come straight home. In fact, Sig is off tonight. He’ll be making sure you get here all right.”
“What? I’m getting a police escort home from work from my brother?”
“No, your brother, who just happens to be a police officer, is making sure you get home safely. That’s all.”
“Semantics, Dad. This is ridiculous! When are y’all gonna see that I’m all grown up? That I can do—”
“This has nothing to do with your age or how grown up you are, Sloane. Steven has gotten a threat. We’re just taking precautions.”
“Dad, y’all are cops. You get threatened all the time.” And they do. They’ve pissed off ninety percent of the criminal element in the greater Atlanta area.
“This isn’t like that. This is…different.”
A little chill wiggles down my spine. “Different how?”
“Just different, Sloane. Look, this is important. And it’s non-negotiable. Sig will be there at two. You be ready.”
“Dad…” I sigh. On the one hand, I’m struggling with still being seen and treated like Young Sloane, the child. The little girl I used to be. But on the other hand, I’m worried. While they all might overreact when it comes to me, they’re usually all full of piss and vinegar when it comes to holding their own. This must be a pretty big deal to get a response like this from Dad.
“No arguments. Love you, kiddo.” And then there’s a click. End of conversation.
I stomp my foot a few times in a fit of pique, not very adult-like at all. But then I calm myself and head back inside. Looks like my wild days of sexual exploration are going to have to be postponed for a little while longer.
Hemi is cleaning his tattoo chair when I go back in. He looks up at me, smoke in his eyes. I give him a smile, but it must carry all the disappointment I feel. He straightens and I see his brow wrinkle.
“What is it?”
“Something’s going on with one of my brothers at work. Dad’s a little worried that it somehow might affect me so he’s sending Sig to follow me home in a little while.”
I wonder for a second how slutty it would be to try and seduce Hemi into doing me in the bathroom. He might have some big plan for tomorrow night, for taking my virginity, but I could care less where it is. As long as Hemi takes it and it’s a night full of mind-blowing passion, the other details don’t matter to me.
Hemi’s frown deepens and he walks to me, abandoning the chair completely. He bends to look into my eyes and give me his full attention. “What does that mean? Has something happened? Which brother?”
I half laugh, half frown. “Wow! Ummm, I wasn’t really expecting that kind of reaction.” I chuckle. “Actually I don’t know what it is. Something with Steven being threatened. Must be a pretty big deal for Dad to act like this. Usually they all act like they’re bullet proof.”
“Why would your brother be threatened? And why would it affect you?”
“My brother’s a cop. It comes with the territory. As for it affecting me, I doubt it does. This is just an excellent example of the Locke men and their tendencies to overreact when it comes to me.”
“Does your father think you could be in danger?”
Hemi seems genuinely concerned, which pleases me. Quite a bit, actually. I find myself wanting to smile, even though I know that reaction wouldn’t be appropriate. “Dad thinks the wind is a danger to me.”
Hemi steps closer to me, winding his fingers around my upper arms. “Sloane, I’m not playing around. Does he think you’re in danger?” He annunciates like I’m a kid who isn’t listening closely enough.
This time I do frown. Not another overprotective man to treat me like a child! “I don’t know, but if he does, I’m sure he’ll see to it that I’m ensconced in a steel fortress before morning.”
“This could be serious, Sloane. Stop acting like it’s nothing,” Hemi snaps.
“Stop treating me like a child. I get enough of that from the other men in my life. I don’t need this shit from you, too,” I bite back.
Hemi’s expression softens and his fingers loosen and move over the skin of my arms in a caress. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just…I’m just worried about you.”
“And I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine. My family will see to it. They might suffocate me in the process, but they’ll make sure I’m safe.”
“I’m sure a house full of cops is probably the safest place in the world, right?”
I think it’s odd that he seems like he’s uncertain of the answer, like he needs my reassurance. “A house full of Locke cops? There’s no doubt.”
“Good. That makes me feel better,” he says. The funny thing is, based on his expression, I doubt that’s true. He doesn’t look like it made him feel any better at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - Hemi
“I’ll walk you out,” I tell Sloane when she heads for the door at five minutes before two.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says, holding out her hand to stop me from following.
“I know I don’t.” But that doesn’t keep me from following her. Hell, I hate letting her out of my sight. For any length of time. And not all of it is because of the guilt I feel. Not by far.
She stops again when she gets to the door, before pushing it open. “Seriously, my brother is already here. I can see his truck right there,” she declares, pointing through the smoked glass. Still, that’s not enough for me.
“Great, then I’ll introduce myself.”
I push her through the door and look around for a truck. It’s easy to spot the big 4x4 and the giant slouching behind the wheel, his upper body illuminated by the glow of the dashboard lights. I guess all her brothers are huge. Thank God Sloane got a shitload of feminine genes.
I veer toward the truck. Sloane alters her path as well. I don’t know why it seems like she doesn’t want me to meet anyone in her family, but I couldn’t care less. I’m going to make sure he’s here and he’s going to follow her home before I let her drive away. Period.
The window is rolled down and I hear some southern rock, turned down low, drifting from the dark interior. When we stop beside the driver side door, I see her brother straighten up in his seat. I wonder if he’d been sleeping.
“Sig, this is Hemi. Hemi, uh…Hemi, this is my youngest brother, Sig.” I’m sure the short stutter was over the absence of a last name to introduce me with. I never told her. I don’t really tell anyone my last name. That’s the thing about an occupation like mine. People aren’t very curious or insistent about knowing too much about me. The majority probably think I’m some kind of criminal, which is fine. I don’t really care what they think.
“Nice to meet you, Sig,” I interject smoothly, offering my hand through the window. “I just wanted to make sure you were already here to follow her home.”
“Got it covered, man,” Sig says, taking my hand in a firm grip. It’s not one of those too-firm grips that says he feels threatened or that he’s trying to be all alpha and shit. I get a lot of that. Evidently I intimidate a lot of people. I’d say most of my family does. We’re used to a certain amount of respect and getting what we want. I guess a lifetime of that can make us all come across as pretty confident and commanding. It’s who we are. Have been since birth.
“So, do you know much about what’s going on? Sloane doesn’t know much. Should I be concerned about her coming and going every night? Because I’m happy to make sure she gets home all right.”
I don’t want to seem too curious, but I at least want to give it a shot before I call Reese, see what I can find out.
“Nah, nothing for you to worry about. We’ll make sure she gets home on the nights she’s working out here.”
Damn.
I nod once and slap the window sill. “Sounds good, man. Let me know if I can help.”
“Will do, brother,” Sig answers with a nod of his own. He seems laid back and genuine. I like him right off the bat. Not like the older one, Steven. Even if it weren’t for the reasons I have to dislike him, I’d still think he’s an asshole.
I walk Sloane to her car and help her inside, shutting the door snugly behind her. I wait until the engine is started and her lights are on before I head back across the street. To lock up. And to call Reese.
From my pocket, the phone rings as I secure the front doors and shut off the outdoor neon sign. I take it out as I’m cutting off the lobby lights. LEIF is displayed on the lighted screen.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“’Sup, old man,” my younger brother, Leif, says.
“Not much, little boy,” I reply, emphasizing the misnomer. Although Leif is a couple of inches taller than me and several pounds heavier, he was the runt growing up and he absolutely hates any reference to it. So, when he ribs me about my age, I rib him right back. It usually stops him in his tracks.