Currently, it looked like she was getting pushed back to the tattoo shop. Lars parked his black Audi in front of a steel door at the back of the strip mall that held Dead Ink. He got out of the car and motioned for her to follow him. She did, because again, right now she didn’t have a choice. And she didn’t really care where she slept as long as she was out of Keith’s grasp. Sleeping at the shop was still a step up from a bed of dirt and dead leaves.
He grabbed the borrowed bag full of her clothes from his trunk. He walked to the metal door he’d parked in front of and opened it. He waited as she got out of the car and then her body decided it didn’t want to go any farther.
“Don’t you lock it?” The thought of anyone being able to stroll over and open it was unsettling considering what was going on. It wasn’t time to let the fresh air in and love thy neighbor. It was buy an extra deadbolt and stock up on ammo.
“I don’t need to,” he said. “No sane person would attack here even if they could.”
“You have noticed the world is going a bit crazy, right? Sanity is a scarce commodity at the moment, so if you wouldn’t mind?” she asked, deciding that no lock on the door was definitely not a push toward safety in her opinion. Plus, she had this strange feeling of wanting to stall, now that she realized it wasn’t the door to Dead Ink, but the one beside it.
He nodded, as if pondering her request. “No one that means harm is getting close to this place, sane or crazy. But if it makes you feel better, it’s not a problem,” he said and there seemed to be a slight softening, as if it finally dawned on him that tonight had been a really crappy one for her.
She hesitated before taking a step toward where he was standing but then shrugged off the hesitation. She didn’t have a long list of choices. This was it, at least for now. But still, staying here seemed more dangerous than Cutty’s, and she didn’t know why she felt so vulnerable.
Telling herself she was being ridiculous, she walked past him to just inside the door and saw a set of stairs. She wasn’t sure exactly what she expected to see at the top but at least it wasn’t the tiled floor of the shop. Maybe there were wood floors up there? She could do wood. Maybe she’d luck out and it was pine and not one of the harder oak varieties.
With heavy steps, she climbed the flight to the door on top.
“Go in,” he said from not far behind her.
The second she stepped inside she knew this was his lair. She could have come here alone, without any idea who the owner was, and she would’ve still known it was his. It smelled like him, a mixture of cardamom and vanilla that somehow reminded her of strength and virility.
His place was one large room. A king bed sat at the farthest end, and couches dominated the middle of the area where a TV screen took up a large chunk of exposed brick wall. The kitchen area and a dining set sat just beyond the door. The only privacy to be had looked like it would be the bathroom.
There was nothing frilly or feminine about the place and she wouldn’t have expected it. It was all hard edges and rough textures, with an occasional smooth spot or soft place that broke up the harshness. It was exactly like him.
“This takes up the entire second floor of the strip mall?” she asked, looking around at everything but the enormous bed that was piled high with pillows.
He nodded. “I had the walls torn down after I bought the building. I like open space.” He crossed the room and dropped her bag on the single dresser. “You take the bed.”
“I can’t do that,” she said. What she didn’t say was she wasn’t planning on sharing it either.
He walked back over to her and stopped a little too close. “Yeah, you can.”
She started shaking her head, getting ready to argue.
“You’re taking it.”
She paused but then relented with a short nod, just to not belabor the point. The truth was the idea of sleeping in his bed, even alone, was unnerving. She didn’t want to argue if it meant staying this close to him.
The instinct that had made her hesitate coming in here was now very clear. Whatever tension she felt between them in the shop seemed wholly magnified now that they were alone in his place. The hunger she’d sensed in him during their very first meeting magnified.
Standing this close to him, she felt a tremble go through her that had nothing to do with fear. Her breathing accelerated and she saw something trigger in his eyes, like a lion on the Serengeti, deciding on whether to take down its prey.
It was that look that jolted her out of whatever was happening between them. She wasn’t going to be anyone’s prey, not even a hunter as glorious as him. She stiffened and took a step away, not caring that her retreat might mark her as weak. Survive first—worry about the particulars later; that was her new motto.
As if her movement snapped something within him, he said, “Go, get some sleep.” The look in his eyes seemed to fade slightly, as if he’d decided she wouldn’t be that tasty anyway.
She moved over to where he’d placed her bag. Once he stepped away she had and idiotic desire to follow him and tell him that yes, she was tasty. Instead, she focused herself on the much more sane desire of crawling into a clean bed and getting some sleep.
Then she remembered her pajamas, covered in blood, were sitting in Cutty’s garbage. She shuffled through the contents of her things, looking for anything that would work. She pulled out a pair of shorts that didn’t look too fitting for bed.
“Need something to sleep in?” he asked, from behind her but keeping his distance now.
“If you’ve got something you can lend me.”
He nodded and walked over to a drawer, and then handed her a t-shirt. She ducked into the bathroom and was relieved when it came down to her mid-thighs.
When she came out several minutes later, she bee-lined it to the bed. It was such an odd feeling, to be crawling under his blankets with him so close by. She hadn’t just slept in a room with a man since she was a child and it didn’t help dispel any of the tension she felt.
She tried to sleep but she kept peeking glances at him from behind her eyelashes as he walked around the large room. He stopped and flipped through some papers he had piled on the kitchen counter before he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to be quiet for her or if he was just naturally this silent.
He took another swig from the bottle before he walked toward the door and looked at her, as if he knew she was not only awake but had been watching him. “I’ve got to run down to the shop for a couple.”
“Okay,” she replied but then found herself clutching the covers.
He paused, looking like he thought he should say something more. Then he left without another word.
She watched the door close behind him and hoped he’d come back soon. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, for some crazy reason she felt better when he was around.
Chapter 12
The five guys sat in silence in the darkly lit shop. Bic, normally the quietest of the five was the one who spoke first. “So, who wrote the shit on the ceiling?”
“We aren’t exactly sure,” Cutty said. “But I’ve got a hunch it wasn’t Malokin but somebody close to him.”
“So was she this guy’s girlfriend or some shit? Or did he just want her to be his girlfriend?” He ran a hand over his shaved head. “Can someone tell me what the status is?”
“So, we’ve got one of Malokin’s guys’ girlfriend?” Angus let out a low whistle from where he leaned on the counter. “This shit just keeps getting crazier and crazier.”
Cutty, who had been leaning by the door, stepped forward. “I’m telling you guys, whatever went down, it wasn’t of her choosing.”
Lars put his boot on the bench in front of him and rested his forearms on his raised leg, trying to appear calm about the whole matter. “But, Cutty, by your own words, you don’t know that for sure.” Lars looked around the room to the other guys. “Did she mention anyone besides Malokin to any of you? Any hint of a personal relation with someone in his employ?”