Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)

“Who?” The word came out low and threatening.

“You can’t do anything, Con. He’ll tell Archer about us and portray it in the worst possible light. I need a chance to tell him first. You have to promise you’ll let me handle it. I’m already blowing the terms of the deal by telling you. I just don’t want to keep any more secrets—”

Con interrupted what was becoming a full-on babble. “Just fucking tell me who, Vanessa.”

“Lucas Titan.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Con bit out.

And that was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.

I laid a hand on his arm. “You aren’t going to do anything. I’m going to fix this. I just have to go to one more event with him, and it’s done.”

“You aren’t going anywhere with Titan. He can go fuck himself.”

My emotions were split evenly between frustration and something that felt a lot like gratitude for Con’s behavior. I squelched that second emotion.

“Stow the possessive routine. I’m telling you because I need you to trust me enough to handle it.”

“And you thought lasagna would soften me up enough to make me okay with the fact that some rich fuck is blackmailing my girlfriend, and she’s been hiding it from me?” Chest heaving, Con paused. I think we were both internalizing the words he’d just spoken. I’d fixated on one in particular.

“Girlfriend?”

Con’s eyes found mine. “You just told me you wanted to keep this going. What the hell else am I supposed to call you?”

The smile flitting around the edges of my mouth spread across my face.

“That works for me.” I squeezed his arm. “Now do you want to eat before it gets cold?”

“This subject isn’t closed. If you think I’m going to stand down and let Titan threaten you—”

“I know. But you also need to trust me. I have a plan.”

Con growled, “I don’t like it. But I do trust you.”

“Good. Then let’s eat.”



I’d forgotten to bring wine, but after we’d finished the lasagna, garlic bread, and salad, I was glad for it. Because I had another idea. And since the rest of my ideas had seemed to unfold without blowing up in my face entirely, I was hoping maybe this one would work out okay too.

“What would you say if I told you I wanted a tattoo?”

Con’s affectionate smile warmed me.

“I’d say I know a guy.”

“Seriously, would you do it? Tonight?”

“What brought this on?” Con asked, one eyebrow quirked.

“Just something I’ve always wanted.”

“A fleur de lis?”

It was what I’d asked for that first time I’d come into Voodoo when Con had laid down the law about the only ways he’d spare me his time. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten anything about you yet, princess.”

“So would you do it?”

Con reached over and covered my hand with his. “Yeah. I’m surprised you have to ask twice. Figured you’d realize that I’d do just about anything for you. Even stow my urge to rip Titan to pieces for thinking he could get away with blackmailing you… and especially because he succeeded, because of me.” Con shook his head. “That part really pisses me off.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, and I certainly don’t want you to feel guilty. I made that choice. I’d probably make the same one again if it got me to this rooftop.”

“You’re something else, babe. You really want that tat now?”

“Yep.”

“Then let’s clean up and head down.”





The woman never ceased to surprise me. And I’d found the surprises both good and bad so far—although mostly good.

The bomb she dropped about Titan made me want to dig my old sidearm out of my drawer and hunt the motherfucker down. But I was trying something new: trust. If Vanessa said she was going to take care of it, I was going to trust that she would. I’d gotten over most of my old issues, and the lasagna we’d shared indicated that she was getting over some of hers.

So this was what an adult relationship felt like? With any other woman, I might have missed the variety of my previous lifestyle, but with Vanessa in my bed, I couldn’t even remember a single one of those women. She was the ultimate prize. And I would do my damnedest to cherish her.