Chapter Two
Indie
Why was he here? Gunner knew I could take care of myself. I had worked in the shop alone plenty of times. Hell, I lived alone. I’d been alone ever since I ran away from the foster home they stuck me in after Magyk rescued me from the Trick Pony.
It hadn’t been a terrible home. The mom was nice. But the dad looked at Alice and me a little too much. We’d made it through three weeks before we’d decided to sneak out.
Magyk gave each of us girls a card with her number. She said we could reach out anytime. I never did. I was grateful she’d helped us escape, but as soon as she turned us over to the authorities, she vanished.
Alice and I had made our own way then. We stuck together for a few months, making our way across the states. It was clear we were different people. She was willing to do whatever she needed in order to eat and sleep.
I wasn’t.
I didn’t judge her. She did what she knew, what she’d been taught, and used her body to get what she wanted. I refused to let anyone use me ever again. Sometimes I wondered where Alice was.
Was she still alive?
Did she go back to her family?
Had she found someone to love her?
I didn’t go back to my mom. I didn’t believe the lies they tried to brainwash me with. My mother would never have sold me. But I couldn’t be sure she was alive, much less safe. I assumed that was the first place Devlin Scott or his son, Daniel, would look for me.
I wouldn’t put her at risk. Maybe now that they were both dead, it was safe to look for her. Now that the Trick Pony was gone, maybe it would be safe to be me again.
“Indie, I’m sorry.”
“What?” My eyes focused on Mimic as he stood in front of me. He’d cleaned up the broken glass and the ink as best he could. I knew by the stains on the floor I wasn’t the first person who’d dropped a bottle of ink and made a mess. I likely wouldn’t be the last.
“I wanted to apologize for accusing you of being my sister.”
“How do you know I’m not?” I asked, thinking about the day a few months ago when I first met him.
Gunner was in his office, and the bell over the door chimed as it opened. I turned around to greet the newcomer, and my eyes settled on the sexiest man I had ever seen in my life.
It had been years since I’d had such a visceral reaction to a man. Ten years of being used and abused had a way of turning your libido off permanently.
Or so I thought.
He was tall and slim. Not skinny, he had muscles, but compared to Gunner, and even Bruce, who wasn’t more than six feet tall, but was wide like a football player, this man seemed small. But no less dangerous.
He stared at me as the door closed behind him. He had to be eight inches taller than my five-foot six-inch frame. His hair was dark, almost black, and it curled a little at the ends. Cut short on the sides and messy on the top.
He wore a cut like Gunner’s, and I assumed this was another one of his brothers. He looked close to my age, my actual age, not the age on my license. But there was something in his eyes that said he’d lived a lifetime beyond his age.
I recognized that look. I wore a similar one. One that took me years to hide.
“Rosebud?”
He didn’t move closer; he just stared at me like he knew me. Like I was someone he’d been searching for. In that moment, I wanted to be her. Until he continued.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Who’s Rosebud?” I asked, looking behind me. My heart sank as I realized there was someone special in his life already. Someone he had lost but wanted back.
“Don’t play games with me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Indigo.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, baby sister.”
Sister? He was looking for his sister? Suddenly, the band around my chest loosened, and I considered the possibilities. I’d never considered the possibility of having a man in my life. Not until—I looked at his chest, Mimic—not until Mimic walked through the door.
“I’m not your sister. My name is Indigo Cambridge. I’m twenty-six years old, and I just moved here a few months ago.” The lie rattled off my tongue, and for the first time, I felt guilty about it.
I wanted Mimic to know my real name. My real age. But fear held me back. That, and the angry stare he was directing toward me.
“You’re fucking lying.”
“Don’t call me a liar!” I snarled through gritted teeth.
Okay, so I was a liar, but he didn’t know that.
“Then don’t fucking lie to me, Rose.”
“I don’t know who you think you are or who you think I am, but my name isn’t fucking Rose!” Mimic and I stood toe to toe, glaring at each other, arms crossed over our chests, neither one willing to bend.
“HEY!” I jumped at Gunner’s voice and turned around. “What the fuck is going on?”
Gunner stood mirroring Mimic’s stance. His angry scowl, which had never been directed at me in all the months I had worked here, would bore a hole into Mimic if I didn’t do something.
“Nothing. I was rude,” I said, quickly turning back to face Mimic. “Mimic, is it? I apologize.” Pivoting back to Gunner, I whispered, “Excuse me,” then dashed through the shop and out the back door.
The corner of his mouth turned up a fraction, and he answered, “Because I found her.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad you found her.” Mimic caught my arm, holding me in place when I turned away. His voice lowered to a gravelly tone when he said, “But you’re still fucking lying.”
I wrenched my arm from his grasp and narrowed my eyes at him. “Takes one to know one.”
Mimic was right. I was lying about my age; I wasn’t twenty-six.
Apparently, I was five. I might as well have said, ‘I’m rubber and you’re glue.
’ I heard him chuckle as I stomped to the register and fired it up.
My first client would be here any minute.
I had a full schedule that hopefully would keep my mind off the sexy, brooding man that I wanted to both fuck and strangle at the same time.
I could do it too.
Devlin Scott had made sure I was well trained.
The day had been long and tiresome. I had one last client coming in, and then I could go home.
Mimic had been quiet throughout the day. He sat in the corner, ignoring everyone who came in. Well, almost everyone. Right after lunch, a guy came in. I had been working on him for a few weeks. He was getting a very intricate sleeve done, and he didn’t have a very high threshold for pain.
He was older, maybe mid-thirties, and lived a few towns over. He flirted with me every time. It was harmless; he’d never taken it too far or given me a creepy vibe. More of a brother’s best friend teasing the little sister vibe.
I wouldn’t lie; he was handsome. He was rugged and manly. More muscular than Mimic, but something told me he wouldn’t win in a hand-to-hand fight.
It was always the same when Steve came in; he’d ask me to dinner, and I would decline with some bullshit story about not mixing business with pleasure.
I’d offered to hand him over to Bruce, and he’d quickly declined and said Bruce was an asshole; plus, he didn’t want to risk our business relationship with a bad date that would make things awkward when he came in.
It was harmless fun.
Steve made me laugh, and there was something about him that led me to believe he knew I was young, which was why he never took me up on my offer to pass him off. He wasn’t really interested in me.
But Mimic didn’t know that.
He growled every time Steve spoke. Steve and I rolled our eyes at each other every time Mimic growled. I explained that my boss was concerned about me being here alone and sent his brother to keep me safe.
Steve said he understood and approved. Mimic mumbled something about not needing the approval of assholes, and I’d hoped Steve hadn’t heard him. But when he looked at me and winked, I knew he had.
After Steve left, I ignored Mimic’s attempts to talk to me. I walked away every time he opened his mouth, and now he was sitting in the corner glaring at me while I tidied up my space.
The bell chimed, and Mimic growled, “What the hell are you doing here?” He walked past me and pulled the small woman into his arms.
“Well, hello to you too.”
I assumed she was my new client, Kytten. Gunner had booked the appointment, so I hadn’t met her yet. She was cute with her tiny body and pink hair. It was hard to tell how old she was, but when Mimic leaned over to kiss her cheek, I bristled.
I wasn’t jealous. I was pissed off. He’d spent hours being passive aggressive over my client, and then this woman walked in, and he was all over her like I wasn’t even there.
I knew I was being ridiculous. We weren’t anything to each other, which is why I wasn’t jealous. I was angry.
“Where’s Cash?”
“He dropped me off; he knew you were here.”
“He’s an asshole,” Mimic said as he looked through the window.
“He’s your VP; show some respect.” Kytten smacked Mimic in the chest and turned my way. “You must be Indigo. I’m so excited to meet you. Gunner raves about you and your work.”
I smiled as I took her hand. “Thanks. Do you know what you want?”
“I do. It’s not super elaborate, just a property of tattoo.”
“Property of?”
“Yeah.” Kytten gave me her back, and the patch on the leather cut she wore said ‘Property of Cash.’
I knew what it meant. I’d seen Haizley, Gunner’s old lady, in her cut. But Kytten’s cut said Cash, not Mimic. If Kytten was Cash’s old lady, why was Mimic acting like her man?
“Rosebud, I’m gonna run over to Trudy’s; do you want anything?”
Rosebud? This is Mimic’s sister? I looked between the two of them. They didn’t look anything like each other. I mean, I didn’t know what color Kytten’s hair really was, but the height difference alone was staggering.
“No thanks, but tell Trudy I said hi!”
“Wait, I thought you were supposed to stay here until I was done?” I asked Mimic. Had he lied to me? “What happened to ‘watching over me’?”
“Rose is here if anything happens. I’ll be five minutes.”
My mouth hung open as I stared between the two of them.
“Thorne, go.” Kytten pushed Mimic out the door and then closed and locked it behind him.
“Thorne?”
Kytten looked over her shoulder at the door before turning back to me. “That’s his name. I can’t get used to calling him Mimic, just like he can’t seem to call me Kytten.” The tiny little woman smiled, and her face lit up the room. “Besides, I don’t want my brother here while I get this done.”
She undid her jeans and pushed them down. She had a pair of compression shorts on under her pants, but when I looked at her legs, I saw the scars.
“Think you can tattoo over some of these?”
I stared at her legs until she moved over to the chair and sat down.
“You can ask,” she said.