It was mesmerizing to watch the buzzing gun move over the skin, leaving behind a mix of ink and blood that Gunner meticulously wiped away in between filling in the designs.
Hours later, Keegan snored lightly and Gunner looked bleary. He took off the gloves and massaged his hands, alternating between rubbing his fingers and flexing them.
There was still a lot to do, as he’d predicted, but she got exactly what Gunner was going for. He was creating lots of separate tattoos that would cover the back plate—some in color, others in grayscale. Some even looked like they’d been there for years.
He was creating a fake map of this man’s past.
“WITSEC should hire you.”
“No thanks.” He put on another glove and used it to rub ointment over the completed tattoos before covering them with paper towels and paper tape to hold it in place. “Hey, Keeg, want to move to a bed? Gotta stay on your stomach though.”
Keegan mumbled and Gunner helped him slide off the table and put him in a room and locked the door. She also heard it lock from the inside.
She thought about all the lectures she’d given, how many times she’d said, “I know it’s going to be hard, but you’ll get through it” or “A lot of people would love a fresh start, so take this opportunity and run with it.”
She wanted to smack herself now. Yes, she’d been helpful, sincere. She’d meant every word. Believed it.
Did anyone’s lives really get better? Did any of them take advantage of their new opportunities? Men and women lost their livelihoods. Most found it hard, if not impossible, to recover financially or emotionally. The criminals would always be okay, but the innocents, the ones who’d been caught in the cross fire . . . she had no doubt they were devastated.
She knew she was. Because once she gave up her job, what could she do? Helping people was in her blood. With Reid, she could still do so, but she’d be working well outside her comfort zone. Well, outside the law.
If she didn’t go with Reid, it would be more than a single lonely year for her. She had a feeling it would be a lifetime before she ever met anyone like him.
“Hear you decided to stay with Reid.”
She nodded. “Unless you need a tattoo assistant.” By the end of the session, she’d been handing Gunner inks and he’d been asking her opinions on colors. “You could do worse.”
“Yes, I could. But you could do much better. And you should. Can’t waste time mourning what was—you miss out on something better.”
“Is it always better?”
He gave a brief glance over to where Reid stood outside on the balcony and back at her. “Isn’t it already?”
* * *
It was Kell on the phone. Reid slid outside to the balcony on the first floor to take it, shouldn’t have been surprised to see that Kell was actually there, standing against the stone wall, unable to be seen from the inside.
All Reid could do was shrug and not look his best friend in the eye. Kell, in turn, stood right next to him and simply waited until Reid was ready to speak.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Reid asked, “How pissed is Dylan?”
“He made up new curse words he said apply only to you from now on,” Kell admitted, and Reid winced. “He knows why you did it.”
“Good. Maybe he could tell me,” Reid muttered.
“She doesn’t want help?”
“I don’t know what the hell she wants.”
“I don’t think we’re ever supposed to. Haven’t you realized that’s the way they seem to like it?” he said, and they both froze when they heard a female clearing her throat. “Did she hear that?” Kell asked without moving his lips.
“Think so.” Reid turned and found Teddie there, arms crossed, but with a smile on her face. “I didn’t say it.”
“Oh, I know you didn’t. But you agreed with it,” she said, but that didn’t stop her from tucking her arms around Kell. “How are you holding up?”
Reid shrugged. “She’s going to stay with us for protection.”
“And for you?” Teddie prompted, and when Reid didn’t answer, Kell pointed to the bar. “Let’s go get a beer. She’s okay with Gunner. And Dylan’s out front.”
Reid consented, letting his head get lost in the crowds and the music for a couple of hours. He had just one beer, because he wanted to be clear when they talked. When they made the short walk out of the bar through the alley, he noted that Dylan was sitting on the balcony, waiting for them.
It was wide enough to house several seats. Kell stood behind Teddie and Reid chose to stand as well.
“Jack’s in a safe place—figured Gunner would have our heads if we brought another one here,” Dylan said.
“Grier’s parents?” Reid asked.
“The Vanderhalls have round-the-clock security. So far, they haven’t gotten any threats, but they’re not taking any chances,” Kell told him. “They’re freaked. Blaming Grier’s job.”
“They’re high profile—could work in our favor. The ring will most likely leave them alone, or else they’ll bring a hell of a lot of heat on their head,” Dylan said.
“We followed the ring down here, same as you,” Kell said.
“Grier doesn’t know that part,” Reid admitted.
“Better that way. We’re not going to be able to take down this ring. We can give evidence that can help at trial, but unless they have more people than Grier willing to testify . . .” Dylan trailed off. “I don’t think testifying’s going to be in her best interest.”
“Then what? She just stays in hiding?” Reid asked.
“Maybe. There are worse things,” Dylan pointed out.
“The trial could drag on forever. The fighting club is all spread out,” Kell added. “Maybe we can get them to leave her alone if she doesn’t testify.”
“She’ll never go for that,” Reid said.
“No, she won’t.” Grier’s voice, coming up from behind them. She was half out the French door, and when Reid motioned to her, she walked out and stood next to him. “I appreciate
