Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
INK
“ D on’t forget we’re partying tonight for Hash’s birthday,” Scotch says as I come downstairs from my room, taking the steps two at a time as I shrug on my cut.
“Here or DD’s?”
“Here. I figured we’d keep this one more low key and personal with the usual crowd. He hasn’t seemed in the mood to go all out like we usually do.”
I nod. I’ve been meaning to ask him about that, but I’ve been too wrapped up in my own shit. Now I feel like a fucking dick.
“Sounds good. I need to run into the shop, but if anyone needs help with somethin’ today, just holler.”
“Later, brother.” Scotch slaps me on the back.
A short while later, I’m parking my bike in the back alley behind the shop and heading in.
I don’t have a client today, but knowing that Sutton is working today has me itching to be here the entire time she is.
I keep telling myself it’s to make sure Derrick’s sleazy ass doesn’t come back to bother her, but deep down I know it’s more than that.
I felt like I made some progress in the right direction last night with her. She has a fortress built up and I’m fully prepared to wear her down until she has no choice but to let me in. She’s never met a stubborn bastard like me.
Gage gives me a knowing smirk as I walk past his room. I flip him off as he busts out laughing.
“You’re so fucked, dude. I knew somethin’ was up with you and her, but I didn’t think you would turn into a baby back bitch and stalk her.”
“I’m not fucked,” I grumble. “And I’m not stalking her. I just want to know what’s going on with my employees. If there’s a possibility of the baggage following her to work and causin’ issues, I have a right to know what’s in the suitcases.”
“So when you pop those suitcases open and see how full they are, that’s going to be enough to satisfy your nosey ass? Because you know there’s more than one and you know the zipper is holding on by a thread. Anyone with two eyes can fuckin’ see that.”
“I just need enough to get the big picture,” I argue.
Gage snorts at the lie.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Noticing that she isn’t in yet, I head to my room to work on a drawing for a client I have in a few days.
I know some artists will put it together for their clients the day of, but I’ve never liked doing that.
I hate my time being wasted and I’m not going to waste someone else’s when I can send updates through email.
It’s also annoying as fuck to have them awkwardly sitting there, watching your every move as you draw up their piece.
Turning on a 2000s rock music station on shuffle, I settle in. Before I know it, I’ve zoned out long enough to finish the drawing. After sending it off to the client for approval, I look at the time.
1:00 p.m.
Did I really zone out so hard that I didn’t hear Sutton come in?
Setting my iPad down on the bed, I head to the front. All of the lights are still off. The open sign hasn’t been turned on and the front door is still locked .
What the fuck?
“Yo!” I yell back to Gage. A sense of dread is settling in the pit of my stomach. Something isn’t right.
“What?”
“Why the fuck is everything still locked up? Did Sutton not show?”
I hear Gage throw down whatever he was working on and come up front. He looks just as confused as I feel as he takes in the dark front.
“What the fuck?” he mumbles, looking dumbfounded. “Did she not show?”
“Apparently not. You didn’t have a client, did you?” The last thing I need is word getting around that we aren’t open when we claim, especially if we have something on the books.
Gage shakes his head. “No. And Tommy’s off today.” He runs a hand through his messy hair as he looks around. “Sorry, man. I didn’t even realize she hadn’t come in yet. I know we haven’t known her that long, but she doesn’t seem like the type to no call no show.”
No, she definitely fucking doesn’t.
Sutton is the type of girl that will apologize if you bump into her.
“I got her number from the first night she told me she was walking home. Let me try calling her and see what’s up. Fuck,” Gage says, his hands resting on his hips as he tries to wrap his head around this.
I’m going to hell for being pissed in a time like this that Sutton gave Gage her number. Those two seemed to have gotten pretty tight in the short time she’s been here, and I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t irritate the fuck out of me. I’d hate to have to murder half of my friends.
“I’ll call.” Gage slides me a look as I level his stare. What can I say? I’m a territorial motherfucker. “She seemed tired when I dropped her off last night. She probably just overslept,” I say, trying to convince myself more than anything.
The sense of dread that has settled in the pit of my stomach is growing the more I try to tell myself nothing is wrong and she just lost track of time.
Gage nods along, but he doesn’t look like he believes it either.
Instead of asking Gage for her number, I pull out her application and quickly type her number in my phone and hit call, silently praying that her phone isn’t turned off.
If I was in the spot she’s in right now, the phone would probably be my first bill to go because at that point the only other option is to be homeless.
On the fifth ring, the sense of dread is practically climbing out of my throat, making it hard to think rationally about what I should do instead of running up to that shit hole with guns blazing.
“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave your name and nu—” I hang up, not bothering to leave a message and try again. It goes straight to voicemail.
Fuck.
“I’m going to head over to the motel and see what’s up.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“Nah, stay and actually open the shop. I’ll let you know what’s goin’ on once I figure it out.”
“Alright,” Gage says reluctantly. “Whatever it is, don’t be too hard on her. I don’t think she’s had the easiest life, and it seems like a rough time.”
My jaw clenches at Gage thinking it’s his place to let me know that as I turn on my heel to grab my cut out of my room. Does he think I can’t fucking see that something is going on?
It’s not his place. It will never be his goddamn place.
I pull out of the back alley onto the main street without bothering to look if anyone was coming and gun it straight to the motel.
I get there in half the time, parking my bike right next to a Pontiac Grand Am that looks like it’s on its last leg.
Sutton never flat out told me it was hers, but from the few times I dropped her off and scoped out the parking lot, that’s the only car that looks like it hasn’t moved.
Doesn’t hurt that it also looks like a giant pile of shit that doesn’t start .
Sauntering up to the door, I whip it open, listening to it crack against the exterior brick that is chipping away.
“Yo, what the fuck’s your problem?” The sleazebag behind the front desk jumps to his feet.
My lip curls up in disgust as I take in the dirty bandage with old blood stains that’s wrapped around his hand. This must be the guy Adduci fucked up.
“I need a room number. Female. Blue and black hair. Big hazel eyes. About this tall.” I raise my hand to just below my shoulders, exactly where she comes up to me.
His eyes narrow as he slams his good palm on the counter. “Look buddy, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but?—”
“Not your buddy.”
“But you don’t get to come up in here, demandin’ shit like you own the joint.”
“Asked you a simple question. This doesn’t need to be difficult.”
“I’m thinkin’ it does ‘cause you thinkin’ we just give handouts here isn’t gonna fly.”
My lips curl into a mocking smile as I place my hands on my hips, causing my cut to bunch up, the butt of my gun visible just enough that I know he sees it.
A slow smirk takes over my face as I watch his eyes move from my waist up to the Dirty Devils club patch on my cut to the one percenter right underneath it.
I’m full-on grinning as I watch everything click in his stupid fuckin’ head.
“Problem?”
I can see the internal battle going on in his head right now. He doesn’t want to tell me, but also doesn’t want the hell I’d bring into his already shitty life.
“Down the hall. Third door on the right,” he mutters, easing himself back into the chair.
“Good man.” I smirk, rapping my knuckles on the counter as I walk past.
I take long strides to eat up the short distance. With every step, my body grows increasingly more and more tense. The feeling that something isn’t right tingles across my body.
Her door is closed. Nothing looks broken.
I knock lightly three times with my fist. I place my hands in my front pockets and look down both ends of the hallway, trying to get my bearings of the place as I wait for her answer.
Nothing.
“Sutton?” I call, stepping up to the door as I knock again.
I sigh, looking up at the ceiling.
What the fuck is she doing?
If she’s not here, where would she be? Someone with no car and no money wouldn’t be doing a lot of fun shit on the side. She hasn’t mentioned any friends or people she hangs out with in passing.
I stare at the door handle as I contemplate whether to knock again or just leave it alone and see if she comes in tomorrow. Maybe she just forgot she had to work today.
Nah, that doesn’t sound like her.
Fuck it.
I reach around into my back pocket for my lock picking kit. I unlock the door in record time because I refuse to go back up to the front desk and get a key from that piece of shit. Stepping inside, the door closes softly behind me.
“Oh, fuck.” I slap my hand over my nose.
What the fuck is that smell?
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only light comes from the sun, slipping through the cracks around the old, dust-covered drapes.
A soft whimper draws my attention to the corner of the room near the bathroom door.
“Sutton?” I ask, trying to keep the alarm out of my voice.