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“Look at her face. She’s clearly fucking terrified.”
“Give us five minutes.”
Cockerel looks dubious, but he nods and slides out of the room. Viper turns to me, gathering my hands in his and crouching down so we are nose to nose.
“I’m getting a t-tattoo?” I whisper. He nods slowly.
“You don’t have to. But it would mean a lot to me.”
Sincerity shines from his eyes, and I take a deep breath. “What tattoo am I getting?”
Viper hesitates. “Palmer and Merch branded their women with their names. But claiming marks don’t have to be so literal.”
“What’s a claiming mark?” My heart is thudding, but not for the same reason as before. A claiming mark? This sounds… official. Like, more permanent than a wedding ring.
“It’s a tattoo that tells the world you’re mine. That tells the world doing what Joey did isn’t an option. It will keep you safe.”
“That’s all? I can’t just wear a T-shirt that saysViper’s woman; back off?”
Viper snorts, grinning as he straightens, still holding my hands.
“I mean, you could. But you might get sick of wearing the same thing. Besides, this isn’t only to tell everyone else to back off. It’s for us too.”
“How will everyone know you’re mine?”
Chuckling, Viper drops onto the bench beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and drawing me close, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“I’m getting a tattoo too.”
Oh.Oh. I straighten, looking him in the eye. “What are you getting?”
He smirks, holding up his left hand and waggling his ring finger. My heart thumps.
“I’m getting a peach.”
A peach. For Peaches. On his wedding ring finger. This is totally more permanent than a ring. I lift my left hand to mirror his, also waggling my ring finger. Viper’s eyes find it as I smile.
“I’ll get a viper then.”
VIPER
The hammering at the door is fucking annoying, penetrating my consciousness as I jackknife upright. Naomi blinks awake, frowning as she grumbles.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure.” I have an idea, but it’s best Naomi doesn’t know that. Sliding out of bed, I tug on some sweats and a T-shirt, watching as Naomi drops one of my T-shirts over her head, tugs on a pair of panties, and follows me out of the bedroom.
As expected, when I open the door, we come face to face with two grim-looking policemen. Naomi’s eyes widen, darting between the three of us. I offer them a smirk.
“Something we can help you with, officers?” I know why they’re here, and I shouldn’t be so flippant, but I can’t help it. It’s an automatic, visceral reaction to cops on my doorstep. My dad died in jail. Cops like these put him there. I’m not about to befriendlywith them.
They ignore me, turning to Naomi. “Ms. Naomi White?”
“That’s right,” she replies, blinking in surprise. “Is everything okay?”
“You’re the next of kin for Ms. Josephine White.”
The blood drains from Naomi’s face, leaving her as white as a ghost. I steady her shoulders as she sways.
