Keegan’s Promise (Silver Spoon Falls #13)

Chapter One

Landry

F ear slithers through my veins as I hurry down the sidewalk, peering over my shoulder. My breath comes in raspy pants, and my legs threaten to give out beneath me, but I can’t stop now. As if to remind me why, a motorcycle engine revs somewhere behind me. Getting closer.

“No, please,” I whisper, trying not to sob out loud. “Not now.”

I take a right at the corner, hurrying my steps as fast as I can. My knee throbs faintly and my side twinges, but I don’t stop. I don’t dare look over my shoulder again either. There’s a crowd gathering up ahead. Even from a distance, the people surging toward the convention center doors are intimidating. Half of the women are dressed in miniskirts, tiny shorts, and crop tops, displaying tattoos all over their bodies. Some of the men are shirtless, as if to show off the ink painted across their bodies. Others are fully dressed. Fauxhawks, mohawks, leather, and piercings are everywhere I look.

There’s no way I’ll fit in with no tattoos and a wrinkled T-shirt, but there’s safety in numbers. At least, there always has been before now. Garrick has never tried to grab me in front of a crowd of people. Neither have any of his people. They’re too smart for that.

An engine revs behind me again, even closer than before. I rush toward the crowd, elbowing my way through. People shout complaints and protests at my back as I squeeze between them, bumping them out of the way, but I don’t slow down long enough to apologize. If I do…

No. They aren’t taking me. I’d rather die than go with them.

I haven’t spent the last year running just for them to catch me now. I don’t care what my uncle promised Garrick to get himself off the hook for what he owes. They can do whatever they want to that monster. Imprison him, torture him, kill him. I don’t care. But I won’t take his place. I won’t be some MC slave until they get tired of me and sell me off to someone else to play with.

I choke on a sob at the thought, fear choking me again.

“Breathe, Landry,” I coach myself. “Just breathe.”

Right. Breathe.

It’s easier said than done when I’ve been running for the last hour straight. Ever since I heard them outside the ramshackle apartment I’ve been renting. My knee still hurts where I jumped through the window to escape before they broke down the door. They would never have seen me if I had just landed on my feet.

But I’ve never been very graceful. I landed on my knee…and Garrick nearly caught me.

It’s the closest he’s come since I ran over one of his people not long after my uncle sold me to him. I don’t think they realized I could hear every word of their disgusting little deal that day. My freedom for Uncle Danny’s life. No, thank you.

I grabbed what I could and slipped out while they were still making their plans. By the time they realized I was gone, I was racing through Dallas, trying to get as far away as possible.

When they found me last time, I hit one of his people with my car. I don’t think I killed him…but if Garrick catches me, I know I’ll pay for it anyway. He won’t ever let me go now that I’ve not only run but hurt one of his men in the process.

I don’t know how he found me here. Maybe it was stupid to stay in one place for so long. But I thought Colorado Springs was far enough away. I thought I was finally safe. I got a job and an apartment. I let myself relax a little.

It was so stupid!

Garrick found me anyway.

I stumble as the crowd suddenly thins around me, people flowing to the left and right. My feet refuse to move as I gape around me, trying to figure out what exactly I’ve rushed into. My gaze lands on a massive sign to the right.

“Colorado Springs Tattoo Convention,” I mumble aloud, on the verge of panicking. What the hell is a tattoo convention?

Judging by the booths set up all around me with artwork hanging all over them, it’s some sort of…tattoo expo? I don’t know, but I stare with wide eyes as a tiny blonde hops up onto a table a few yards away, tugging her top down like it’s no big deal to flash her boobs to everyone.

The massive guy with facial piercings standing beside her says something, and she throws her head back, laughing.

“Hey!” A hand clamps down on my arm as the guy with piercings yanks a curtain closed.

I cry out, cowering away as a surge of terror shoots through me. Garrick found me. Oh, sweet Jesus. He actually foun–

“You gotta pay if you want in.”

I blink up at the man holding onto my arm, trying to see through the panic. He’s got a mohawk and big gauges in his ears. Those brown eyes definitely don’t belong to Garrick.

“W-what?” I stutter.

“If you want in, you gotta pay.” He points at the same sign I was looking at just moments ago.

Apparently, I didn’t read far enough the first time. Entry times and fees are listed beneath the festival name. Beneath that are hundreds of people’s names, most printed in tiny font. Those at the top are bigger. I don’t recognize a single one.

“Fifty dollars?” I squeak.

“Unless you plan to be here tomorrow, too. Then, it’s seventy-five.”

“I…I d-don’t have fifty dollars.” The money I grabbed before I fled Texas slowly dwindled to nothing after months on the run. My job at the diner barely pays my bills. If I spend fifty now, I’ll be starving soon. Or freezing. I don’t even have my car this time. I had to leave it behind this morning, along with the rest of my possessions.

“Then you gotta go,” the man says, his expression flat.

“No, please,” I whisper, on the verge of panicking again. If he kicks me out of here, Garrick and the MC will find me. I’ll become their property. “Please don’t.”

“Rules are rules, chick. Either you pay or you leave. Your choice.”

“P-please,” I beg, trying not to cry as everyone passing by slows to peek in our direction. I see the pity and judgment on their faces, but it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen the same thing. Probably won’t be the last, either.

Most of them won’t even look me in the eyes as they pass by. They want to watch the show, not interact with one of the participants. It must be so easy to look down on others when you have safety and security, when you’ve never lived in fear or wondered if you were going to survive or starve. Even here, amongst the people the rest of the world judges harshly, I’m the outcast. The poor little pathetic girl, begging for scraps.

What else is new?

The brawny giant who meets my gaze is new. He stares right at me, his expression soft. Empathy wells in his strange eyes—not quite hazel, but not green, either. They’re somewhere in between, some unnamed shade that’s stunning. So is the artwork covering every inch of his muscular arms. A simple T-shirt stretches across his broad chest, Bleaker Street Tattoo emblazoned across the front. His faded jeans encase thick, corded thighs that make mine clench in a way that’s also brand new.

Or maybe it’s the way he’s staring at me so intently, like he actually sees me, that has my nipples turning to hard points. Men like him never look at me. Honestly, most people look through me or around me. A chubby girl with wild eyes wearing wrinkled clothes? I’m a problem to ignore. Even before I ran away, I was a problem best ignored.

This stranger isn’t ignoring me. His gaze doesn’t slide from mine like he’s uncomfortable, either. He just…looks right at me.

“Let’s go, chick.” Mohawk yanks on my arm to get me moving.

I stumble slightly.

The stranger’s lips compress, his expression hardening as he breaks my gaze, looking at the man trying to drag me out of the building.

“Let her go, Tyler.”

“What?” Mohawk—I mean, Tyler—says like he didn’t hear that lethally soft command.

The stranger steps forward, his presence overwhelming. I’m not the only one who notices. The whole crowd moves back slightly. They murmur to each other, all eyes locked on him. He’s become part of the show now, a participant in their entertainment.

“I said, let her go.” His sharp command cracks through the silence of the crowd, landing like thunder rumbling. “Now.”

“Shit.” Tyler lets go of my arm as if I burned him…or as if the stranger’s command did. “Sorry, Keegan,” he says, holding his hands up as he quickly steps away from me. “I didn’t realize she was yours.”

“I’m no–”

“Well, she is,” Keegan says, cutting off my indignant protest. “I suggest you keep your hands off her in the future.”

Tyler gives him a jerky nod, looking faintly sick. The whole crowd is wide-eyed, completely silent. They aren’t staring at me with pity now, though. They’re looking at me in pure speculation, as if trying to figure out how someone like me could possibly be with someone like Keegan. As if they know I don’t belong.

My stomach churns with anxiety as they watch. Too many people are really noticing me now, committing me to memory. Two minutes ago, they wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone the first thing about me. Now, they’ll remember me. They’ll talk about me, simply because the kind of man you remember spoke up to defend me.

This is bad. Really bad.

Keegan steps forward, holding out one big hand toward me. “Come on, sweetness.”

I hesitate for only a second before slipping my hand into his. What else am I supposed to do? Cause an even bigger scene? Give these people another reason to remember me and point Garrick and his goons in my direction? No. Absolutely not.

Keegan immediately pulls me up against his side, as if sheltering me from the crowd with his body. He doesn’t say anything as we stroll away, heading deeper into the convention center. I feel two dozen sets of eyes following us, though.

“T-thank you,” I whisper when we’re far enough away not to be overheard. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Are you here for a tattoo?” he asks instead of acknowledging what I’ve said.

“What?” I gape up at him, startled. “N-no. I just…” I trail off before telling him I ran in here to hide. The less he knows about my messy life, the better off he’ll be. For now, I need to be just another tattoo enthusiast in the crowd. That’s what he needs to remember.

“Yes,” I whisper reluctantly. “I guess so.”

His lips quirk into a panty-melting smile as he leads me around the side of a booth, ignoring the line stretching halfway down the aisle. No one protests. In fact, they all whisper with excitement, gawking at him.

“Do you know what you want?” he asks as we step behind a curtain, effectively blocking out the rest of the convention. At least…mostly. The dull roar is impossible to miss. But behind the simple black curtain, it’s just me, him, and an array of tools and ink. If Garrick comes inside looking for me, he won’t find me back here.

“Um…no?” I squeak, looking all around as realization slowly sinks in. This is Keegan’s booth. He’s a tattoo artist. And I just told him I came for a tattoo. “M-maybe I should wait.”

He grins at me again, his expression still soft as he boosts me up onto the table with his hands around my waist. His hands are only on me for a few seconds, but my thighs clench again, a wave of heat rolling through me.

Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think he feels it too. He grunts, his eyes turning a shade darker before he drops onto the rolling stool in front of me.

“What’s your name, baby?”

“Um, Landry.”

“Just Landry?” One eyebrow lifts in question.

“Landry Drake,” I lie, hating that I have to do it when he’s been nice to me, but it’s safer that way. For both of us.

“Well, Landry Drake, my name is Keegan, and I’ll be doing your tattoo today.” He pauses, his eyes rolling over me as if he’s seeing me again. “If you trust me to pick it for you.”

“I d-don’t think I can afford it.” I’m not entirely sure if I’m talking about the tattoo or trusting him.

“I didn’t ask you to pay me, sweetness,” he says, chuckling.

“Oh.” I lick my lips nervously. “What do I have to do?”

“Sit right there and look beautiful, just like that.”

My stomach turns a flip. No one has ever called me beautiful before.

“Okay,” I agree before I can stop myself.

“I’ll pick something that fits you. And I’ll be gentle.”

I’m not sure why I believe him when I never trust anyone, but I bob my head in a nod. And I think it’s worth the courage it took when he rewards me with another of those panty-melting smiles before he starts lining up tools on a tray and selecting inks. His hands are so steady and methodical as he moves, like he’s done this a million times.

“Where are you from, Landry?” he asks while he works.

“Um, here,” I say. It’s a lie, just like my name. Until Uncle Danny sold me to Garrick, I lived my entire life in Texas. But I’ve been in Colorado Springs for three months, so it’s not a big lie. My tiny apartment with the leaking faucets and the draft felt more like home than anything else.

“How old are you?”

This is one answer I feel like I can give him. “I’m twenty.”

“Eleven years younger than me,” he murmurs softly, loading his tattoo machine with ink.

I’m not sure why that’s important, so I don’t say anything.

“Have you ever been to an expo before?”

“I…no.” I shake my head. “I didn’t even know they were a thing.”

“Then how’d you end up here?”

“How’d you end up here?” I ask, trying to avoid lying to him again. I don’t like being untruthful when he’s been nicer to me than anyone else has in a long time.

He peeks up at me, chuckling. “I’m headlining.”

“Headlining?” My brows furrow, and then my mind drifts back to that sign at the front of the convention—the one with all the names. There was a Keegan at the top, larger than most others. A shocked gasp escapes before I can call it back. “You’re a big deal.”

When he laughs this time, it’s not a little chuckle. It’s a deep, rumbling laugh that touches me in places it shouldn’t. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he meets my gaze. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

I just stare at him, trying to fit this new piece of information into place in my mind. He’s one of the biggest names here…and he’s being so nice to me. It doesn’t make sense. People like him are supposed to ignore people like me. They’re supposed to be jerks. Keegan isn’t. He’s just…kind. Gentle in a way no one has ever been with me.

He rises to his feet while I’m staring at him and moves around behind me.

“W-what are you doing?” I crane my head to look at him.

“Getting you ready.” He winks at me, and my thighs clench again. “I’m going to put your tattoo right…” He reaches for me, running his fingertips across my shoulder blade. “Here.”

I shiver beneath his touch.

“You’ll need to pull your shirt down and remove your bra.”

My heart slams against my ribcage. For a minute, I hesitate, frozen in place. I’ve never gotten undressed in front of anyone before now. Well, not anyone that counts. Gym class in high school definitely doesn’t count.

“I won’t look until you’re ready,” he murmurs. “No one will be able to see you. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

I give him a jerky nod and then take a breath, quickly shoving my arms through my shirt sleeves before I lose the nerve. I hear him shifting around behind me while I unhook my bra, trying to pull it off without flashing my boobs. Somehow, I manage to do it, shoving it up under my legs so he can’t see it. And then I quickly adjust my shirt so it’s down low enough for him to reach that spot, but still high enough in front to cover my breasts.

“I’m ready,” I whisper when I’m finished.

He steps up behind me again, touching my shoulder. I jump slightly.

“Easy, baby,” he croons. “I need to clean the area and then shave it, okay?”

“O-okay.”

His hands are gentle against my skin as he wipes it with some kind of cleansing pad and then carefully shaves over the area. Once he’s finished, he wipes it down again.

“I’m not using a stencil for this one.” He crosses back in front of me to pick up his machine. “I’m going to do it freehand. It won’t take long. If it hurts and you need a break, just tell me, all right?”

I nod instead of answering, a little afraid I might chicken out if I open my mouth. My heart is pounding so loudly, I’m sure he can probably hear it. I’ve never been afraid of needles or pain, but this feels different. Maybe because it’s Keegan touching me. It’s Keegan putting his mark on me.

I like that thought a little too much.

Or maybe it’s him that I like a little too much.

The machine clicks on, and I jump again.

“Easy, sweetness,” he murmurs, his breath whispering against the side of my neck.

I bite my tongue, fighting a whimper.

The desire to whimper only grows as he places one hand around my waist, steadying me as he presses the tattoo gun to my skin with the other. “It’ll feel good, baby,” he breathes. “Promise.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, fighting to stay still.

The gun feels like tiny pinches as he sets to work, his hand steady as it moves across a small area—a much smaller area than I feared. After the first few seconds, the pinch dulls to a slight burning sensation, and I relax.

He was right. It doesn’t really hurt. It feels good.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his lips still so damn close to my ear.

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Stay real still for me.”

I try. Really, I do. But he’s touching me. I feel him moving against my back, his heat searing into me. I feel his breath whispering against my ear. His scent—like leather and ink—envelopes me, lulling me toward the edge of something I’ve never felt before. It bubbles up from the pit of my stomach and soars through my veins. Desire, potent and raw.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises me.

“I…like it, Keegan.”

“Yeah?”

I hear the smile in his voice and nod, leaning back against him slightly. “Feels good.”

“The ink already looks beautiful against your skin.”

“What is it?” I try to turn my head, but his is right next to mine. All I manage to do is bump into him.

“Sit still,” he murmurs, his lips gliding across my cheek.

This time, I can’t fight the whimper that escapes my lips. It just tumbles out without my consent.

Keegan hears it and groans softly, stirring pieces of hair along the side of my face. “How’d you get so fucking sweet, Landry baby?”

“I-I don’t know.” I curl my fingers around the side of the table, gripping it hard. Not because I’m in pain but because I’m not. I feel better right now than I have in a long time. He’s pressed up against me, his lips against my skin, his tattoo gun humming against my shoulder blade. The little burning pain of the gun, coupled with the way his breath rasps against my skin, has me on the verge of sensory overload.

“Do you belong to anyone?”

My heart thuds against my breastbone in a painful thud. Does he know about Garrick and the Sons of Loki? About my uncle? How?

“Do you have a man, Landry? Someone waiting for you at home?” he clarifies, allowing me to take a little breath. He wasn’t asking about Garrick and the MC. Of course he wasn’t. I doubt people get sold to cover debts in his world.

“There’s no one. I’m all alone.” The admission comes out wistful and…lonely.

Good job, Landry. Let him know how pitiful you are.

“Not all alone, sweetness,” he rumbles as the tattoo gun moves to a new spot. “You’re here with me right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So you aren’t alone. You’ve got me.”

“I like you.” I squeeze my eyes closed on the admission. Why can’t I stop talking? “I mean, I like being here.”

“Yeah? Well, I like you being here too.” His lips graze my cheek again, sending another wave of heat through me.

I try so hard not to whimper this time…but it’s useless. The sound comes anyway.

“Sweetness,” he groans, the tattoo gun going still against my skin. “You gotta stop making that sound.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, biting my lip. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know.” He groans again. “It’s so fucking sweet. I can’t focus when you make it, Landry.”

My eyes flutter open. This time, when I turn my head, my eyes meet his. Another whimper slips out before I can stop it because he looks so beautiful right now. His eyes are dark and full of hunger, like he’s looking at something he’s dying to sink his teeth into. And that something is me.

“Keegan, I…”

“Turn back around, baby. Let me finish this.”

I quickly whip my head forward again, staring at the curtain ahead of me. The tattoo gun doesn’t move for a moment before he slowly starts again.

For long moments, neither of us says anything. I don’t know what to say. He looked at me like no one ever has before. And I feel like I never have before. But…that can’t happen.

Why did I have to meet him today? Why couldn’t it have been yesterday? Or the day before that? Or any day before Garrick and his goons reappeared in my life? He doesn’t need to be mixed up in my mess.

And yet…when he finishes the tattoo fifteen minutes later and carefully wraps it up, his hands so gentle, my stomach bottoms out and I realize that I want him mixed up in my mess, even if it’s just for a while longer. I’m not ready to leave yet. I’m not ready to never see him again.

“Come here.” He holds out his hand for me.

I take it without question, allowing him to help me off the table. He walks me over to a group of strategically placed mirrors, allowing me to see myself from every angle.

I gasp, staring at the tattoo with wide eyes.

“Keegan,” I whisper, my gaze flickering to his in the mirror.

“You like it?”

I nod silently, feeling a little like I might cry. The tattoo is a delicate king’s crown perched on the petals of a pink lily. The stem is my name in his handwriting. It’s so damn delicate and beautiful. The entire tattoo is maybe four inches from top to bottom, but there’s so much detail in it.

“It suits you.” Keegan brushes a fingertip alongside a petal on the flower. His gaze flickers to mine again. “Strength, beauty, and innocence.”

I don’t know what prompts me to do it, but I spin, lifting up on my toes to press my lips to his. He grunts, one big hand lashing around my waist to yank me up against him.

His breath rasps in his throat, his body trembling against mine as he devours my lips, kissing me as if he’s starving for me. I hear people murmuring in the crowd, and I know they can see us. They’re watching us make out, his hands running all over me. But it feels too good to stop.

“You shouldn’t tempt a beast, Landry baby,” he growls against my lips. “I’m already hanging on by a thread here.”

His confession makes me feel brave and bold in a way I’ve never been. Maybe I can’t keep him forever, not with Garrick still hunting me. But I’m not ready to walk out of his life with nothing but his ink in my skin to remember him by. And judging by the way he’s holding onto me, his lips still moving against mine, he isn’t ready to let me go yet.

“Take me somewhere,” I plead quietly, praying he doesn’t tell me no. That he gives me one more beautiful memory to keep me going.

He doesn’t even hesitate before brushing his lips against mine again. “Get dressed, sweetness. We can’t walk out of here with your shirt like that.”

My heart swells. And even though it’s impossible, I think I fall in love with him in this moment.