Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Lukas
I’m a little worried about letting her leave in the morning. I don’t know where Adam is, or if he’s waiting for her at the apartment. I know she’s a freelance researcher, she can go wherever she wants. In theory she could come to the studio, but we’ll both be too distracted to get work done. “Where do you work?”
She stands in my kitchen, drinking tea and squishing her nose with every sip. Not a tea drinker. “Normally I hang out at cafés or libraries, but Alana wants me to stay at her place today.”
“How did you meet Alana?”
Waverly stiffens a little. “She’s a family friend.”
Ohhhh. I’d heard rumors and whispers of her father and his chosen profession. As far as I could tell she wasn’t a part of that world. Maybe her freelance work is for her family. Could it be that she's not as sweet as I thought?
“I see.”
Waverly takes another sip of her tea and frowns as she puts it down. “So honesty is our thing, right? And cookies.” She grins a little and sighs. “Go on, you can ask what you want.”
“Are you sure?”
“It seems only fair.” She walks to the couch, patting the cushion. “It’s really not as interesting or scandalous as you might think.”
I ask the most important question. “Are you in danger?”
She shrugs. “No more than any other woman surrounded by men.”
Fuck. Ouch. The reality of the statement guts me.
“But my dad hired Alana to keep outside factors away. She runs a security company, and Izzy works for her. It’s called Mastodon.”
Ok, that tracks. And I do feel a little better knowing she has professional protection. Wait. “Darren works at Mastodon, doesn’t he?”
“I’m not sure about all the ins and outs of the company. He might work for them, but he’s not assigned to my case. Anything else?”
“Izzy’s the one who got pregnant when she was a teenager, right?” Waverly was so freaked out that summer. I remember her sobbing in the car when we went on an ice cream run. She was terrified I wouldn’t want to spend any time with her because she was scared to have sex. Worst of all, she thought she owed me sex because I flew all the way to the East Coast. I never got mad at Waverly, but the fact she assumed I was entitled to any part of her was insulting. I assured her I would never force her to do anything she wasn’t ready to do. We spent the summer talking, laughing, watching movies, a few hook ups here and there mostly without sex. It was my favorite summer.
“Yeah, Drew’s in school with my sister, Shae.”
I nod. There’s a thousand things I long to know, but her safety is the most important.
As if she can sense my hesitation, she says, “I’m not involved in any of the family business. They actually do their best to keep it all far away from me”
I’m glad she isn’t entangled in the dangerous criminal life, but frustrated that it puts her in a position to be lonely without her family. Although, I can’t be too angry, because it was why she hung out with Angie every weekend.
“Don’t you need to leave for the studio.” She checks her phone.
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck and bend to kiss her. “Text me when you get to work.” Standing to grab my keys, I look around the apartment then focus back on her. “Lock up whenever you’re done, and I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Already making plans for a second date… pushy.” She giggles and pulls me back for another kiss.
I hate leaving her, but Boss Guilt is taking over. I’ve got an ink shipment coming in and sketches I need to get done before my meeting to finalize all the details with my trip to LA. Still, with every task, Waverly infiltrates my brain and I can’t wait to see her again.
It’s 10:45 and I’ve been at work for an hour. She reposted a video of a cow living inside a house on Instagram. House Cows. Seriously? But she still hasn’t sent me an, “I’m at work” text.
Me: Are you alive?
Waverly: Hey
Me: You didn’t text when you got to work.
Waverly: Oh, you were serious about that?
I stare at the phone. Is she fucking kidding me?
Me: Of course!
Waverly:…
Waverly: I’m not used to someone caring.
I scrub my eyes with the heels of my hands. How could she think that? Two feelings erupt in me simultaneously: a deep desire to care for her and a rage toward everyone else in her life.
Me: Not any more.
How can I get her to understand why I’m doing this?
Me: But that’s one of the elements to a relationship.
Waverly: Are you kidding me? Mind blowing Big O’s, cookies, massages, cuddles, AND YOU CHECK ON MY WELL BEING!
She sends me a gif of a raging monster.
Waverly: What else have I missed out on? Are Pegasus real? Can I get a pet dinosaur?
She’s so damn cute. Where would I buy her a dinosaur?
Me: No Dinosaurs. There’s a bunch of movies about why that’s a bad idea, but I hear House Cows are an option.
Waverly: DO NOT PLAY WITH MY HEART.
Me: Sorry, even I have my limits on what I will do to keep you happy.
Waverly: Cock tease… no COW tease.
She’s funny. I forgot she was funny. How could I possibly forget? What else did I repress? Or is it her? Is she the one changing?
Me: How are you holding up?
It takes her a second to respond.
Waverly: Besides the drama of the last few days, and for a millisecond I thought I was getting a house cow, it’s been a lot.
Well at least she can laugh about it.
Waverly: What’s on your to do list for today?
Me: I’ve got three clients and bookkeeping. You?
Waverly: I’m hanging out at Mastodon, doing some research on drones for Alana.
Me: Well, don’t forget to eat and hydrate.
She sends a gif of a soldier saluting.
The back of my neck starts to sweat. Did Jade screw around with the thermostat again? No. It’s because I’m legit nervous as I type my next message. Then I delete it. I try three more times before I finally send:
Me: Want to come over tomorrow and watch Knights of the Night?
It's one of her favorite shows. She posts about it all the time on Instagram, not that I've been checking out her account for years.
Waverly: Will there be any sexytime?
Shit. Does she want this to be only sexual?
Me: We can go over your Green Yellow and Red list, I’ll show you mine.
I’m sick waiting for her response.
Waverly: Awesomesauce. Is there an actual list or do I have to make it up?
I exhale reading her message.
Me: I’ll send you the PDF.
Shit. My client will be here soon, and I still gotta prep my station. I send her the file and head out to the studio. Two hours later I’m done outlining a basic skull and roses on a middle-aged man going through some sort of identity crisis. When he needs a break, I check my phone. Five missed texts from Waverly.
Waverly: Um I don’t know like 75% of the things on this list.
Waverly: Am I supposed to color code it in marker or something?
Waverly: I asked Alana about the list.
Waverly: My brain is melted. No brain. Just a puddle.
Waverly: So, can things move from yellow to green? If I’m not sure about it and we try it and if I like it, can it change? I want to do the right things here.
Me: How’s your puddle brain doing? And yes, things can move columns as long as you articulate it.
Waverly: YOU LIVE!
Me: I was working, you should try it.
Waverly: RUDE! I’ve been working and researching.
Waverly: I think you’re cranky.
Me: I’m not cranky
I’m hungry. Rico’s eating a BLT which smells freaking awesome.
Me: Maybe a little hungry.
Me: I’ll answer any of your questions after I’m done with the client.
Flexing my fingers and rolling my shoulders, I tell my client to take a break after another two-hour session. My shoulders are killing me, I’m starving, and I’ve got the early onset of a headache.
Jade checks out the client and hands me a bag. “When did you order food? I thought you didn’t use your phone when you work.”
I blink at the bag. “I didn’t,” but damn it does smell good.
I take it to my office and smile as soon as I read the comment on the receipt. Don’t be hangry.
Tearing into the food, I sit back and send Waverly a text as the flavor explodes in my mouth.
Me: You’ve got this whole thing wrong. I take care of you.
Waverly: It’s what I do.
Waverly: Were you hungry?
Me: yes
Waverly: Is the food good?
Me: yes
Waverly: Cool. Later gator.
She’s amazing. How can she be open so quickly after being hurt?
After my video conference with one of the tattoo convention organizers, Jade knocks on the door. “Hey, there’s a scary guy here to see you.”
What? I jump to my feet and push past Jade. The man in front of me in a crispy light blue shirt and black jeans, with slicked back brown hair, and dark sunglasses is vaguely familiar. He’s the kind of man who does a threat assessment in a Build-A-Bear shop. Even through the sunglasses, I feel his piercing gaze.
“Lukas?” His voice carries no hints of where he’s from.
“Did you want to schedule a session? I don’t have a spot open for six months.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Popular guy. But, no. We have a mutual friend we need to talk about.” When I don’t move or give any indication that I’m the least bit threatened, he adds, “Waverly.”
My stomach drops to my toes and my throat dries as beads of sweat form on my spine and around my hairline. He’s here on business but it has nothing to do with a tattoo. “Step inside.”
I sit behind my desk as he closes the door and leans against it.
“We’ve met before,” he says as he crosses his arms.
“I figured. I just can’t place it at the moment.” I’m flipping through all the people I’ve ever met and still I’m coming up with nothing. He’s a ghost from a forgotten world.
“I was supposed to kill you.” Aaaand I just shit myself. The man waves his hand away. “But that’s not when we met. I used to pick Waverly up from Angie’s house over the summer.”
Oh?… Oh! This is Uri, Waverly’s cousin. Got it. Son to a Russian mob boss. Cool, cool, cool. And he’s standing in my office. Not loving this turn of events.
“Is there a reason why you were supposed to kill me?”
“About five years ago, I got a call from the sweetest and most pure person in the world. Wave was sobbing big, ugly tears. I hadn’t seen her cry like that since her mom died.”
My hand drags down my face as I groan. I hurt her as bad as when she buried her mom. Fuck. Gotta start looking for a house cow breeder. Do they have breeders? Something else I’ll have to research.
“Do I need to go into any details about why she was upset?”
“No.” I am very familiar. “Why am I still breathing?”
Uri shifts from side to side, his tough guy image cracking a little. “Um, well I sent Dimitri instead,” he mumbles. “I had a cold.”
“What?”
“I had a cold,” he snaps. “And when I was a kid, I flew when I was congested and ended up with a double ear infection. Horrible trip to Disney World. I don’t fly if I have the sniffles anymore.”
“Wow. Um, okay.”
Uri shakes his head. “And Dimitri didn’t kill you, obviously. But he did come home with a really cool octopus tattoo.”
Oh. I have zero memory of this. “Is there a reason for this little visit?”
“Three reasons.” He crosses the room and sits in a chair across from the desk, sliding his cell phone across the surface. The screen displays a picture of a purple M, ornate and almost medieval in style. “It’s the logo for Majesty. This shit is bad news, and right now, only dealers are getting this tat.”
I’ve never seen it before. “I’m not getting involved in your drug war.”
“You already are involved… or at least your brother is.” He throws a baggie on the desk and my body is instantly ill. “Found this in Waverly’s place while we were packing your brother’s shit. It’s definitely not hers.”
I refuse to touch the bag and I sure as shit don’t want it on my desk. But Adam is using drugs. It’s surprising, but not shocking. I might be the tattoo artist, but he’s the one with fucking sketchy friends and money problems. “My half brother is a bag of herpes-coated dicks.”
Uri’s lips curl. “Agreed.” He reaches for the baggie and puts it in his pocket. “Wave knows we found one, but she has no clue about the three other baggies we found. Adam has a problem, and because he’s been hovering around Waverly, that becomes my problem.”
The color drains from my face as I sit in my chair. My mouth is agape. The damn baggie and the purple M burned into my retinas. People have died from the slightest contact with this shit, and she had it in her house. She kissed the guy using it. I could have lost her forever. I try to direct my focus to Uri who has been examining me silently.
The same question I asked her this morning comes to mind. “Is she in danger?”
Uri shakes his head. “Nah. She’s staying with Alana, and we’ve got people watching her.” He leans in across the desk. “That’s how I know she left your place this morning.”
Oh, shit.
He gives me a little smirk before standing up. “Whatever. She’s an adult.” He slides his hand in his front pocket and tosses a business card on the desk. “Give me a call if anyone wants that tattoo.”
Fucking Adam. Doing drugs, maybe even selling them, out of Waverly’s home. Where she’s supposed to be safe. I grab the card and start typing on my phone. I don’t notice Uri’s still standing at the door.
“By the way, you’re local now. A cold isn’t going to stop me from putting a bullet in your head if you hurt her again.”
The threat doesn’t land because his phone buzzes, and the confusion on his face makes him far less scary. “Why did you send me a coupon for baseball bats?” Uri asks.
This time I smirk. “My brother’s favorite possession is his car. Be a real shame if something happened to it.” Leaning back in my chair I move the cursor on my laptop. “You want me to put you on the schedule in six months?”
Uri has one of those smiles that shines in his eyes. It's genuine. “Yeah, man. See you later.”