CHAPTER 3
EMERY
I try to keep my eyes from staring at the Devil’s Saints MC patch on the cut hanging on the other side of the room, but it’s not easy to do. It’s taunting me. Or maybe haunting me.
Then there’s how difficult it’s been to not ask Loot, who I’ve tattooed a few times before, about his brother Driller. I shake my head and focus on finishing up the last session for the back piece I’ve been working on the last few times he’s been in my chair. This art deserves my focus.
Not that they all don’t, because they do and I take a lot of fucking pride in my art, but I know how much this piece means to the man in my chair. It’s both a memorial, depicting the horrors the city was up against in the aftermath of Katrina, and hope for the future because of the Harley riding in to save the day.
If only it was that simple back then. I guess, in some ways, it was for Loot. He had no one after Katrina, but then the club found him and gave him what he was missing—a family and a purpose.
I was only five when Katrina swept through and my memories are fuzzy, at best. I vaguely remember evacuating and the state of everything when we came back. But, then again, that was before everything fell apart in my family. I do remember how hard it was to rebuild and how the ripples from that one storm were felt for years.
Loot is a good guy, and it wasn’t until he came in a week after the night I spent with Kade that I realized they’re from the same club. I have no idea why I didn’t put those things together when I met Kade at The Sanctuary.
Maybe I didn’t want to make the connection.
My heart aches and I fight the need to rub my chest right where the pain is.
I swear I can still feel the man’s phantom grip on my hips. I can still see the sparkle in his aquamarine eyes as he looked up at me when I was sitting astride his hips and riding his dick like my fucking life depended on it. I can hear his voice as we talked about all sorts of things—his job and his regrets about spending so much time on the rig, my art.
He even told me about his own dreams about opening a tattoo studio for the club and how he was able to piece together an apprenticeship before he should have been allowed to because of his age. The work he pulled up on his phone to show me was beautiful. It might not be the best place, considering where he works, but he’s tattooed men he works with and they’re grateful as fuck for his skills.
I can’t imagine putting so much of your life on hold to be out in the middle of nowhere for that long.
I close my eyes as I tip my head forward, my arms feeling so fucking heavy because part of me wants to hate the man. I want to lock the memories I have of that night away and never allow them to touch my heart again.
Because I know, without a single doubt, Kade stole my heart that night.
It’s been three months and the memory of waking up expecting his large, firm body to be wrapped around me is still just as vivid as it was then. But he wasn’t there.
He was gone and I haven’t heard from him or seen him since.
I feel so fucking stupid for letting him in. For letting my guard down. For thinking I could have something that was always going to be out of my reach.
“Em,” Loot’s deep voice pulls me out of my thoughts and my memories. It’s a good thing because there’s nothing more than heartache waiting for me at the end of those meandering mental pathways. I’ve already cried more than a man I spent a few hours with deserves. I look up to find him peeking over his shoulder at me, concern shining in Loot’s eyes. “You good, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” I croak and then swallow hard, trying to dislodge emotions I can’t seem to shake. I glance over at his cut, and it feels like a knife slicing through my resolve. I square my shoulders and force myself to only see the art in front of me. “I’m good,” my voice is surer this time, more confident.
Fake it ‘till you fucking make it.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about Driller. Again. But I bite back the words. It would be unprofessional as fuck.
“Are you sure? You seem sadder today than you have over the last couple of months,” his voice is soft and hesitant, like he’s talking to a wounded animal he doesn’t want to spook.
Honestly, I’m not even sure what to say to him. I could shrug it off as man problems, but it feels wrong. Not only is Loot the man in question’s club brother, but my tattoo chair is a place for my clients to exorcise their demons, not mine.
His voice is calm and even, “Whose ass do I need to kick?”
I glance up at him, expecting a joking glimmer in his eyes, but it’s clear he’s dead-ass serious. The bark of laughter that comes from me is surprising, but not unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all. It’s been hard to laugh over the last three months, not going to lie.
“You don’t need to kick anyone’s ass, Loot, but I sure as fuck appreciate the offer,” I assure him sincerely.
“Most things can be solved with a little ass kicking,” he mumbles, and I can’t help but grin as I finish the man’s tattoo.
After I’ve finished and he’s all wrapped up, I wave my hand dismissively. “I won’t bore you with all the aftercare. You know what to do.”
His chuckle is low and dark. If only it did something naughty to my lady bits. But it doesn’t.
From the moment I met Loot it felt like he was the big brother I wasn’t sure I wanted but got all the same. That feeling has only grown as I’ve had the opportunity to work on him.
“I’m good with that shit, sweetheart,” he assures me. When I pull off my gloves, I’m a little startled as he grips my hand tightly. My eyes snap up to his and his dark eyes bore into mine. “You know if you need anything, all you have to do is ask, Emery. As far as I’m concerned, your family.”
Fuck.
My eyes well up with his words. I know they shouldn’t matter so much, but when you’re short on family, it means everything.
“Thanks,” I choke out.
“Aw, hell,” he grumbles before pulling me against his chest and hugging me tightly against him.
It feels damn good. Not as good as the night I spent in Kade’s arms, but beggars can’t be choosers and all that shit.
His words are whispered against the top of my head, “Is it your dick boss?”
I sigh, “Nothing’s changed on that front, but it’s not worse.”
“I wish the club would just open a fucking tattoo shop,” he grouses, and everything inside of me freezes.
Kade told me about how he wanted to open a shop for the club. That was the plan, but then everything went to shit. Hell, that’s a sentiment I can understand. Far too well.
The only thing I can do is push away the feelings of compassion I want to feel toward Kade. He left me without even a fucking note.
Clearly, I didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to me.
I just wish it wouldn’t fucking hurt.
“When the club is finally able to get that shit open, your name is the first one I’m putting out there to be hired. You’d be a tremendous asset, Em,” his voice is earnest, and it makes my heart skip a beat. He almost makes it sound like that could happen soon. “Just wish I knew when it was going to happen.”
Well, fuck. Dreams dashed. Hope falling on the rocky outcropping under the cliffs. Talk about fucking tragic.
I take a deep breath and force a smile to stretch my lips as I look up at Loot. “It’s all good,” I assure him. “I’m fine here for now.”
He arches an eyebrow at me like he doesn’t believe me, but, thankfully, he doesn’t push it either. What he does do is narrow his eyes at me and muse, “Maybe I should force you out to a party at the clubhouse.”
I feel the blood drain from my face as I turn away from him quickly, hoping he doesn’t see my reaction to his suggestion. “I’m not sure you and your brothers could keep up with me,” I quip.
His bark of laughter lessens the pressure around my chest, and it feels like I can take a breath, a real one. “I have no doubt you’d give us a run for our money,” he teases me.
I flip him off without looking at him because I don’t want him to see deeper than he already has. There’s no way I will ever go to his clubhouse, but he doesn’t need to know that. He’s a good man and a good friend, but that only goes so far when it comes to him being my client as well.
With a gentle kiss on my temple and a promise to shoot me a text soon, he’s out the door and I fight the need to slump against the wall and let everything truly weigh me down. It would be so easy, so damn easy. But I fight against the feeling because it won’t do me a bit of good and I need to get everything cleaned up before I head over to my aunt’s house for dinner.
I’ve been avoiding her a little bit over the last three months because I know she’d be able to see right through the fa?ade I’ve carefully crafted brick by brick. She knows me too damn well and hashing out the one-night stand that left me reeling is not something I want to do.
No thanks.
I’m exhausted by the time I get everything cleaned up and I leave the shop. I know it’s not just about the hours I put in on Loot’s tattoo. Normally, I love my work, but it’s been harder to focus and find the spark of joy inside of me which used to always come so easily.
I should not allow a man to have this kind of effect on me, but it’s hard not to be bogged down by negativity and questions. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had known it was only going to be a one-night stand. But everything was pointing to it being so much more; he made me believe it was so much more.
By the time I make it to my aunt’s house, I really wish I could just go home and fall into bed. I can’t even do that when I’m done here because I have some sketches that I need to do from the two consults I had today. But, fuck, I wish I could just drift off into slumber.
Not that it would do much to help me. I haven’t been sleeping very well for the last three months and I refuse to analyze why that is.
Nope. Fucking refuse!
Before I can even get to the front door, it swings open, and I’m being engulfed in arms I’ve always found soothing and comforting. It’s no different now and the fact that I’ve been avoiding this woman for far too long doesn’t matter at all. For a moment, one blissful moment, all the feelings from the last three months since I woke up alone melt away.
I soak up the sensation and I sink into it.
“It’s so good to see you, Emery.” I’m pushed back slightly, and look into my aunt’s eyes.
And, just like I knew would happen, my aunt assesses me. And I can’t hide from her. Nope, Dot Bisby sees everything. She always has.
It serves her well at the high school where she works in the front office, but it’s not doing me any favors right now. I’m sure there have been many teenagers caught in lies and half-truths because of the way Aunt Dot assesses them.
But I’m not a child.
“I’ve missed you,” I chirp. It’s not a lie, but my tone is a little forced.
She narrows her eyes at me but doesn’t push as she pulls me into the house and toward the table. My stomach growls as I get a whiff of the meal she’s prepared and the light laughter that comes from her, even though the sound I produced is horrendous, makes me feel warm from the inside out.
Sitting down with her at her table, she doesn’t push me to share what is going on with me. I’m grateful even though I know that she knows there’s an elephant in the room. But she lets me have my privacy. I’ll take it and run with it because I do not want to talk to Aunt Dot about Kade.
Not even a little bit.
As we talk and she fills me in with how the school year is wrapping up and how she’s been doing, guilt starts to settle around me. I shouldn’t have pushed her away just because I didn’t want to talk about a man. How ridiculous can I be?
“You know you can talk to me about anything,” she reminds me gently. I sigh heavily because I should have known I wouldn’t get through tonight with a little something being said. Before I can say anything, she holds a hand up to stop me. “I’m not going to force you because it’s clear you don’t want to talk about whatever has been bothering you, and I won’t push.”
The look she shoots me has a heavy side of an implied ‘yet’ in there, but it only makes me smile. Genuinely smile.
“I know, Aunt Dot,” I promise her.
And I do know.
She nods once and looks down at the piece of Chantilly cake on her plate. There’s a tightness around her eyes which isn’t normally there. I’m instantly on edge.
Panic starts to seep in and I almost shout, “What’s wrong, Aunt Dot?”
Her head snaps up and her eyes soften, but the worry remains wrapped around her. “I think Jen’s in trouble,” she whispers.
It feels like she drops a bomb into the middle of the small table we’re sitting at. It tears through me with worry, but it also has me going in so many different directions.
I haven’t been close to my sister in years. If she were in trouble, she wouldn’t come to me. Sadly, I’m not sure I would help her.
I try and keep my voice even, “I didn’t know you were still speaking to her.”
Aunt Dot reaches over and grips my hand, grounding me and reminding me that I haven’t been abandoned or pushed aside by all my family. “It doesn’t happen often, honey. But I try and keep up with her as best I can.” The way her shoulders slump has me wishing I had a better relationship with Jen, even if it only means I can give my aunt some peace of mind. “I’ve heard from her less and less over the last few months and then the last time she called she sounded scared, while trying to hide it.”
“Did she need money?” The question slips past my lips before I can think twice about it. I hate how jaded I sound, but I need to know.
“No,” the defeat in Aunt Dot’s voice guts me. “Nothing like that. She was whispering and wouldn’t tell me where she was or what she’s been doing.” Her eyes meet mine and there’s so much devastation there that my heart cracks open. “That was two weeks ago now and I haven’t heard from her since. I’m worried.”
I put aside my feelings—not an easy thing to do, but the right thing to do—and ask, “What can I do?”
“I think I know somewhere I can go to get some help finding her. Will you go with me to meet them?”
Figuring she’ll hire a private investigator, which is probably our best bet considering the cops will probably be less than helpful, I do the only thing I can do.
“Of course,” I assure her.
The way she slumps back into her chair with relief has me moving toward her and wrapping my arms around her in a hug this time. I might have issues with my sister, and I do, but that doesn’t mean I want her to be in danger or to be hurt.
I’m not a fucking monster.
Do I think she’s probably shacked up somewhere with a guy? Yup. Is she probably high off her ass? Yup, that too.
Still, I’ll help my aunt in any way she needs me to. She’s always been there for me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t return the favor.
Maybe, if nothing else, this little quest to help Aunt Dot find Jen will serve as a distraction from Kade.
A girl can only dream.