Inked Destiny

ignore. “We’re about to have company.”

“Derrick?” Cathal guessed.

“Derrick,” she confirmed, a glance at the sketched Dragon and a splinter of fear for Quinn making her hurry to refasten bra and shirt then hustle to the front door.

She half expected Liam to step out of a shadow and prevent her from opening it. Let him try, she thought, stepping outside, the strike of sunshine and hit of fresh air a promise of intoxicating freedom.

Derrick was in the process of turning to make another pass in front of the house. He punched the horn and gave the bike a shot of gas at the sight of her.

Apparently she was allowed to be more than a leash-distance away from Eamon. He didn’t join her or trail after her as two and three at a time she took the steps leading down to the wrought iron gate.

Temptation came when she stepped onto the sidewalk and Derrick pulled up next to her. It gripped her in a wild euphoric rush.

If she swung onto the seat behind him, he’d take off. Run and keep running.

Her mother’s life. Not hers. But a flash of aggravation came when she realized Myk had moved in close enough to grab her if she attempted escape.

Derrick cut the engine and removed his helmet.

“Quinn?” she asked, his confusion over the question answer enough.

“I am not his keeper yet.”

“Your timing sucks then.”

“And hello to you too.”

He got off the bike, enfolding her in a hug, rocking them slightly as she hugged him back with the same intensity, inhaling his familiar scent and feeling a deep sense of peace.

She needed Cathal and Eamon. But she needed this too, this normal in her life.

“I’ve never been so scared,” Derrick whispered, hot tears wetting the side of her face as he alluded to her being taken by the Harlequin Rapist.

“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual.” She rocked them harder, a ward against guilt. She should have done this first thing this morning, made a point of seeing her friends in person. In truth, she should have done it yesterday rather than settling for a call to let them know she was safe and that Cathal and Eamon had reached her in time.

She’d been injured and taken to a healer. And then there’d been time with her men, the enforced sleep, the captain and Parker, the hospital…

Excuses. Her arms tightened on him and she felt the burn of her own tears as fear spiked into her, at how easy it could be to lose touch with the people who mattered to her. “You know I love you.”

He took a loud, shuddering breath, rubbing his wet cheek against hers. “Enough of this B-movie melodrama.”

She laughed. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“We all have our skills, Etain.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I love you too. You’re my best friend. Do you think maybe you could just stay out of trouble for a little while?”

“That’s what I was trying to do but someone’s obnoxious horn interrupted.”

He leaned away from her and grinned. “Oops. Sorry.” Though he absolutely didn’t sound it.

His hands went to the front of her shirt, undoing the buttons all the way down to her navel and redoing them so they actually lined up properly with their correct slots. Her body hummed with an awareness of the ink she’d put on him.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but did you come by just to act as the fashion police?”

“Your name is all in the news again because of the drive-by at the shelter. They’re also saying you were seen at the hospital last night—with your father and another policeman—visiting a victim in that shooting over in Oakland.” He touched his forehead to hers again. “Someone’s been keeping secrets.”

His voice was light, but it didn’t mask the pain. Even with the leather of his jacket between her palms and his skin, the hurt he felt ran up her arms to fist and squeeze her heart.

“That part of my life is so strange and fucked. It’s always just been easier to keep it separate.” And maybe some of her mother’s teachings had been too deeply ingrained to escape.

“If that’s an apology Etain, it’s terrible.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“We’ll just have to work on that aspect of sharing in our relationship.”

“Says the man with a whole library of self-help books. How’d you know I was here?”

“I have my sources.”

She considered just what Derrick had interrupted. And what the seizure had interrupted before it. The point of visiting Sean personally was because he was a private investigator and good at what he did. Letting Sean direct the conversation might pry loose additional names and faces and facts, adding to the list of possible killers wearing her ink. But she already had enough for him to start with, and though she could give him the names over the phone, it made better sense to do some sketches then have Derrick deliver them.

“Come on,” she said, noting that Myk had retreated, his attention on their surroundings rather than on Derrick and her. “Let’s go inside.”

She stepped away from him, breaking the physical contact to reach for the gate and open it.

“Aren’t you going to invite that delicious example of a bodyguard to come with?”

“Stick to one boyfriend, Derrick. Two is twice the work and twice the headache.”

He laughed, following her into the TV room. Seeing both Cathal and Eamon, one with no shirt and the other with the buttons undone, Derrick stopped her with hands on her shoulders. “Oh you naughty, naughty girl, you.”

Heat crept up her neck and into her face. “You’re on the crotch rocket and wearing leather, usually that means you’re channeling your inner man.”

He lifted his hands, fingers clawing the air. “Meow, meow. Just how many secrets are you keeping?”

But at least this time Derrick emoted pure relish rather than hurt.

She made the official introductions then took a seat, grateful for an excuse to flip the sketch pad to a clean page and away from the picture of the Dragon waiting there like a storm warning now that the fun and games had been interrupted.

As she drew faces and the tattoos associated with them, she skirted the issue of magic and Elves and changes to her gift, though she shared some of the truth with Derrick. What she’d done in the past at the captain and Parker’s request. Why she’d been at the hospital and how she’d come to owe Anton the favor that had her standing with him in front of the shelter. She hoped as she did it, and then later, when she handed Derrick the finished sketches, that she wouldn’t come to regret involving him in this.

“Walk me back to my bike?”

“Definitely.”

When they got to it he said falsetto-voiced, “I am sooo jealous.”

“They are both gorgeous, aren’t they? Lucky me.”

He hugged her and his pain vibrated through her, sharp enough she felt the Dragon’s awareness in the heat racing through her tattoos, and that made her nearly jerk from his embrace. “I’m sorry,” she said.

His arms tightened. “We’ve been best friends for years, a lot longer than you’ve known them, but you trusted them—”

“Let’s not do this, Derrick. Please. I’ve got problems enough waiting for me inside. There’s more to all this than it’s safe to tell you right now, okay?”

“But you will tell me?”

“I’ll tell you what I can. When I can.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

He circled back. “What problems?”