chapter twenty-three
LAYING CLAIM
SABAN
For days I’ve been brimming with the knowledge to tell Hadrián about my parents and what Peace told me of them living in New Orleans.
He, however, has not been around. Along with Angel, Ulysses, the Takeda brothers and the Seville syndicate and the Carrington headed by Fade, and Ghadi, he’s hunting down the traffickers who held Kandie in those kids.
It seems Assistant Pastor Nathaniel Simpson was part of an underground network of folks who were watching the worst things take place in that secret basement under the burned-out children’s home.
Hisashi Takeda and Thad, who’s using his ‘good trouble’ in an attempt to redeem himself from all the problems he caused with Creative Chaos.
They are working together using Takeda tech to hunt down anyone who logged into the server to watch him hurt Kandie.
Since Nathaniel Simpson was dead, and Bahir Carrington and the team he led got there first, there was no one to destroy it or time for anyone to tamper with it. We don’t know how deep this network goes, but it seems to be vast, maybe even worldwide.
The more information we find, the clearer it becomes that the people involved have resources and wealth.
It doesn’t seem to be the same dastards as Rudy’s contacts which has caused no small amount of frustration since we still haven’t found out more about the girl who turned up drowned in the Tombigbee sporting the phoenix rising from a crown of flames tattoo — a direct link to the people Rudy was trafficking.
Working deep into the night, Hadrián only comes in to rest for a few hours, then leaves.
Many times it’s not even with me. He just crashes on one of the sofas or in his home office.
I wouldn’t have known whether or not he came home at all, other than I woke up one night and saw the light as I passed to make myself a cocoa.
Opening the door, hoping it didn’t squeak, I saw him conked out on the sofa.
No matter how busy he says he is, I know he's putting this distance between us. He’s been avoiding me since the night I had the breakthrough and the days after when he took such lovely care of me.
I know he’s avoiding me. That's not someone I wanna share the deepest secrets I just discovered or any part of my life.
Last night, instead of going all the way out to his secret mansion, I came back to my loft above the tattoo shop.
I'm done being his afterthought. This town has plenty of potential clients and, frankly, interest from several of those clients, who ask me out regularly.
If anyone thought the big bad snake was serious, they wouldn't dare step to me with offers of relationships or hook-ups.
“The word is out that you cut ol’boy loose, and now you’re a free agent.
” Comes the deep rumbling of Big Ben Carrington, who I can't lie is quite the handsome specimen. Well over six-feet with skin so deep dark brown it’s almost blue, contrasting with hazel eyes, the color of caramel.
He has thick, lush hair, kinky from root to tip, that makes you wanna bury your fingers in as you guide his face to places you dare not mention.
He has the most beautiful bright smile to match, and the added dimples make him very much a temptation.
“And who said that, or are you just making it up, Big Ben?” I can't hide my smile because he’s just that kind of handsome that makes you wanna smile.
Long lashes sweep up and down as his gaze rakes my body, and I can't help but smile.
“Sugah, don't you worry about that. You just tell Big Ben if it's true?” Brown caramel eyes meet mine.
“The hombre mess up?” A devilish smile quirks at the corner of his lips.
“Now you know Big Ben is more than happy a swoop on in and take care of you, nie.”
“Boy hush.” I giggle, loading up my needle to finish up the Superman symbol tattoo on his biceps.
He’s my last client of the day. Since the incident with Kandie, I’ve steadily booked clients.
I’m not sure why that’s so other than people wanting to memorialize their part in her rescue, though she saved herself by killing that perverted bastard.
The men who left that night came back with almost three dozen kids locked in the most dismal conditions imaginable.
They had to be treated for various respiratory illnesses arising from being held underground in damp and mold.
I learned all this through Lourdes since Snake refused to give me all the details, figuring it would trigger me.
He needn’t have worried, and would have known had he not been avoiding me.
Thankfully, since that night and finally confronting the mystery of that night with my new therapist, my night terrors are less frequent.
One thing I can say about Big Ben Carrington other than his being an excellent horse wrangler, rancher and even better moonshiner is he’s a good time. A good time — not a long time, at least not for me. Like his brothers, he takes my declination with grace.
“Well, all right,” he says, tipping hat in a gentlemanly way. “Thank ya kindly. This gone have Ms. Queen and all the ladies at the shack oohing and aahing over me all night.”
“See, I knew you weren’t serious, you big flirt.” Swatting his other arm, but he’s quick to grab it, bringing my hand to his lips. “Now, we’ll never know, will we, Sugah?” Letting my hand drop with a wink, he steps toward the door.
“Get out of my shop, Ben,” I say through a fit of giggles. This man is incorrigible.
Once he leaves, I clean the station I use in front, then head to the back to make sure everything is in good shape there before I go up to my loft and open the bottle of Diggs Boys Whiskey, I had shipped to me just for nights like this — nights after a long workday where I can cozy up to a good book.
The door chimes.
“I’ll be right out,” I call, shaking my head. It’s not fully dark, but I’ve been acting too cute with Ben and forgot to lock up. I can just hear Snake, Lourdes and everyone else yelling at me for being careless with those traffickers still hunting.
“Hey, sorry, we’re closed—” my words stutter to a stop when I see Snake standing like a sentry at the door.
Reaching behind him, he clicks the door lock and flicks off the open sign.
“What are you doing here?” I can feel my smile fading in response to seeing him.
His expression isn’t smug or cruel or twisted in amusement.
It’s cold as frost. Furious. A sharp, seething fury that shimmers just beneath his tawny skin.
The shadows under his eyes are deep, like sleep — if he’s getting any, is fitful.
His jaw is taunt with tension, with no trace of softness anywhere on him.
“Let’s think about that, shall we, martirio.” Slowly stalking toward me, he doesn’t stop until I’m craning my neck up to meet his flinty glare. “Seems like you misunderstood me when I said you’re mine.”
“Hmm, maybe you think about that as you reflect on how you haven’t been around for days.
Ain’t that much work in the world. Heck, Angel always makes sure he calls and checks in on Easy and Judah.
They came by earlier to have lunch, and he called her twice.
” My feet are tapping as I inform him, agitation making me go faster and faster by the second as I look upon his forbidding face.
“They’re married.” He grounds out, like I need the reminder.
“Case in point.” His saying, I’m never doing that shit again, plays like a litany I my mind. “You can leave now. We’re closed,” I say, turning my back on him. Deciding I’ll just go out the back to get to my loft if that’s what it takes to avoid him.
“Nah, I want a tat.” Brushing past me, shrugging off his cut, he heads to the back room where I do full body work. Sighing because I don’t have the energy for this I follow, watching him fist the black Henley he’s wearing, center back, tugging it over his head.
My tummy drops as I follow like the puppy Ellie called me, but I don’t care.
Muscles rippling, eyes narrowed to slits, he watches me approach.
“What design do you want?” Cocking my head to the side, I look at the broad expanse of his massive chest. It’s all tatted up with work he’s had done over the years — never by me.
Something in me was always a little jealous, though it was only by old Rafael, who taught me and mainly did the other riders. I always wondered if Snake didn’t trust me or like my work enough to allow me to do his ink.
“No design. Just a word.” Flexing his fingers, he stretches them, resting his arms on the retractable arms.
“The word?” I quirk a bored brow at him.
“I’ll tell you once you start. Black and indigo mixed with a silver edge.” The low tone he uses does something to my insides, low in my belly.
“Alright, but don’t get mad if you don’t like it, after making me freehand it.” Warning him, I prep and load the ink.
“I trust you.” My head shoots up at his words. Biting the inside of my mouth hard so as not to moan or even worse cry at his confession.
“Ah well.” I swallow. “T-that’s good to know.” Moving my little stand beside him, I pause when he shakes his head.
“You won’t be able to reach it there. Get up here.” Nodding to his lap, he takes a lollipop out, plopping it into his mouth only to immediately crunch it.
“You’re supposed to savor your treats.” Swallowing against the breathlessness his very presence is causing.
“I will as soon as you get that juicy ass up here, little girl.” He growls, his voice hitting the deepest register.
Straddling him, I get the alcohol pads to clean the area. “Where do you want it.” He his gaze drops to my neck for half a second before he tilts his head back.
Knowing what this means, I feel my heart squeezing tight. Hadrián is not the type of man to expose his neck to anyone, not even me. To make himself this vulnerable is more than a sign of trust, but I’m too scared to voice it out loud.