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Maybe he should just cash out and move somewhere tropical. The idea of having Ophelia all to himself in the Caribbean was appealing, to say the least, but after about five minutes of playing through that idea in his mind, he realized he’d never be able to walk away from this life. He loved stealing cars too much to retire now. It was part of who he was—who he’d always been—and how he defined himself. Drinking beer on a beach was fun, but not forever. He needed his cousins. He needed his life to be a little crazy. He was too high-strung to handle boredom for long.
For now, they’d just have to come up with a plan to keep everyone safe. As much as he wanted her, Ophelia would be safest if he stayed the fuck away.
***
The buzz of the tattoo machine lulled him into a comfortable stupor.
For the first time in weeks he was relaxed, the smell of disinfectant almost as pleasant to him as Ophelia’s scent.
Damn.
He had to stop thinking about her. That was why he was at Fitte, getting this damned tattoo. Lying on his stomach with Geir working on the back of his knee, Luke was tempted to doze off despite the discomfort. He hadn’t been sleeping lately, and although he’d been trying to throw himself into his work, he just fucking missed her.
Idiot. She’d probably forgotten all about him.
“Was the pussy that good?” Geir asked, the smirk in his voice making his accent even more mocking than usual.
“I’m here for ink, not therapy,” Luke grumbled.
Geir snorted. “Ink is therapy. If anyone knows that, it’s you.”
The frustration of the past few weeks was making him short-tempered. “Fuck off.”
“Fy fæn!” Geir swore. “You didn’t tell me you were in love with her.”
“Shut up.”
Geir lifted the tattoo machine away from Luke’s skin before his deep booming laugh rang through the shop. The asshat made some kissing noises before resuming his work. “You make sure to invite us to your wedding. Open bar, right? She’s a rich girl or a poor girl?”
“There’s no girl. You’re delusional.”
“I’m mad, yes, but I know things. There is a girl. I haven’t seen you this morose before. Like a dog who’s lost his master.” He clicked his tongue. “And here I thought you liked being the boss.”
Luke frowned into the crook of his arm, where he was leaning his head. “I am the boss,” he said without thinking, then realized he’d given himself away.
“And you want to see her but you’re not calling her?”
“Are you a fucking mind reader?”
“No,” Geir said, still sounding amused. “Fox came last week and was gossiping like an old woman. There are no secrets between a man and his tattooist, which is as it should be.”
Geir squirted disinfectant on the tattoo one last time. “Done. I made him a bit creepy, like you.” He stood back as Luke got off the table and walked over to the full-length mirror to check out his work.
The gray alien on the back of his knee was perfect and made him smile to himself. A permanent reminder of his trip with Ophelia, but it also blended in with several of his other tattoos. Their week on the road wasn’t just about her. He’d reconnected with life, remembered who he was other than a thief. As much as he loved his work, sometimes he had to be reminded that he wasn’t his job. Before Glacier, he’d almost forgotten that.
But yeah, who was he kidding? It was also about Ophelia.
Maybe getting a tattoo about a girl—especially one so transitory in his life—had been a dumb idea, but he’d needed to record it on his body alongside some of his other important life events.
As he paid Fitte’s receptionist, Geir clapped him on the shoulder. “Get a drink downstairs. See if you can find your balls and call her.”
“No. There’s too much shit going down right now. If she doesn’t call me, it’s better if I leave her alone.”
Geir pretended he was crying and dabbed at fake tears. “So sad and so brave.” Amiably, he punched Luke’s chest. “Quit being a pussy and go fuck her. Get her out of your system.”
“What if I can’t get her out of my system?” Luke grumbled.
“If you can’t?” Geir grimaced as though the idea had never occurred to him. “I don’t know. Marry her? Breed her? Buy a minivan?” He flicked a dismissive hand. “It’s your life. Make choices and live with them. Quit sitting on your ass feeling sorry for yourself.”
