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“Yeah, tomorrow afternoon, because tomorrow evening I’m going out of town and I’m not leaving Ash alone with you.”
Ouch. I guess I deserve that. “See you around six.”
***
In the end, I don’t go alone: I end up heading there with Dakota. The moment she hears I’m going over to Zane’s, she clings to me like a leech and insists on tagging along.
Which is weird. Does she have a thing about Zane?
More like an obsession, a thing that becomes obvious the moment Zane answers the door, his Mohawk dyed now a dark blue. A long-sleeved blouse hides the colorful tattoos on his arms.
He arches his pierced eyebrow at us.
“Hi Zane.” Dakota waves, a huge grin on her face. “I’m a friend of Audrey’s, nice to meet you.”
God, can she get any more obvious? I’m mortified for her sake.
But Zane only seems amused by this development, a corner of his mouth lifting. “Come on in, girls.” He gives me a hard look as I enter but says nothing more.
The apartment is quiet, the living room with its framed drawings and big black sofa empty. I glance around, hoping to see Ash, but he isn’t there.
Dakota doesn’t seem to recall the reason we’ve come over. She grabs my hand and drags me over to a framed print of one of Zane’s drawings.
“This is amazing,” she gushes. “See how bold the lines are, and how subtle the coloring? He’s a genius. Oh my god, I’m dying to get one.”
“Girl, you’re full of tattoos already,” I say, distracted. Where the hell is Ash? Did he leave when he found out I was coming over?
“You like ink?” Zane comes to stand next to her, interest in his dark gaze. He sucks on the barbell in his tongue. It’s distracting.
“You’re a god,” Dakota says and I roll my eyes. “I’ve been saving money to come to your shop and get an ink done.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Apparently she doesn’t even need to think about it. “A dragon tat. Like the ones you did for your gang.”
The light goes out of Zane’s slanted eyes. They go flat in an instant. “Who told you about the tats?”
She shrugs. “I’ve seen Rafe’s. He plays in my band.”
“Out of the question,” Zane grates. “That kind of tat isn’t for you. Find something else.”
Dakota bites her lip. “You don’t know me. How can you tell if it’s not for me?”
Okay, this conversation is way over my head. I’m not sure what they were really talking about, and I have other things on my mind right now.
“Show me your ink,” Zane says.
And just like that, Dakota starts to undress, pulling her turquoise blouse over her head.
Whoa.
I step back, leaving them to their thing. I turn around—and freeze.
Ash is there, leaning against the doorjamb, watching me from hooded eyes, arms folded over his broad chest. His dark hair falls to his forehead in shiny strands. I remember how soft it felt against my fingers when he carried me.
His lips part and I try to tear my gaze away when he moves. His pale blue eyes keep me still, but I don’t see anger there. Only wariness and curiosity.
It’s then I notice the dark bruises along his jaw and under his eye. There’s also a stiffness in the way he moves that brings a lump to my throat.
