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I hesitated only a moment, knowing without question that I’d do anything I had to in order to protect Asher, even sell my soul.
Decision made, I pushed off the wall, ready to make my way to Mott Haven and finish this once and for all, no matter the cost.
But as I pulled my phone up to call a ride share, it rang again.
And this time, the name that flashed across the screen made me smile.
Maybe I wasn’t quite as alone as I had thought.
Chapter forty-one
Ricki
Theneighborhoodwasquiet,but in that creepy way that made it seem like something was lurking around every corner, just waiting to jump out and grab you.
In this case, that was probably true.
I watched as the car I had used to get here drove away before I turned and faced the boarded-up windows ofMurray’s Tattoo.
That was what he’d called his shop. Murray’s Tattoo.
I should have known from the start that he lacked vision and creativity.
The place hadn’t reopened since the break in, and for a second, I felt bad for him. While Violet’s inheritance had made it so that we had access to everything as soon as we needed it, Murray had likely been waiting for weeks just to get someone from his insurance company out here to assess the damage.
Assuming he even had insurance, which wouldn’t be completely outside the realm of possibility. The man was a known cheapskate, so saving a buck on premiums would have been just his style.
Remembering just how awful he had been to me when I worked there, my moment of pity faded quickly as I reached for the handle, not really surprised to see that it had been jimmied open.
I guessed Javier really was expecting me.
Pulling the door open, I stepped inside, my boots crunching over the remaining pieces of glass and debris that still coated the floor, and I curled my lip in disgust. I get that Murray maybe hadn’t gotten his insurance check yet, but it didn’t look like they’d even attempted to clean the place up.
I mean, have a little pride, right?
“Hello?” I called out, not wanting to get far enough into the building to let Javier get the jump on me. The lights may have been on, but with all the windows and doors boarded up, the place looked like a ghost town from the outside, and I wasn’t dumb enough to expect anyone in this neighborhood to start investigating strange noises; no one around here was that stupid.
I still had some time before my own help arrived, but even though I’d been instructed to wait, I knew that I couldn’t do it. There was no way I could leave Asher alone a minute longer than I had to, so I’d once again rejected any attempt by someone to tell me what to do, and marched my ass straight into the fire, so to speak.
“Javier? Let’s go, man. I got shit to do.”
The sound of a door closing brought my attention to the back hall, and suddenly Asher was there, looking a bit worse for wear, but more or less whole. His hands were behind his back, his clothes the same as the night I’d last seen him, and he was sporting a decent bruise on one side of his face, but overall, he looked incredible. I smiled when I saw him, the relief I felt indescribable, but he just frowned back at me, clearly not as happy to see me as I was to see him.
“You shouldn’t have come, Ricki,” he said, shaking his head.
“Nah, she’s right where she’s supposed to be.” Javier stepped out from behind Asher, one hand wrapped around Asher’s elbow, the other holding a gun, pointed at me. “Ain’t that right, woman.”
“I’m where you told me to be. Now, what do you want?”
“Slow down a minute.” He laughed, clearly enjoying the power that holding a gun afforded him. Javier was several inches shorter than Asher, and I had no doubt that in a fair fight, it would have been no contest; Asher had the build of a man who’d known hard, physical labor all his life, while Javier was built like a whippet, wiry and lean, with small eyes and a mouth that wouldn’t stop yapping.
“We’ve got some shit to do before you start making demands, so shut the fuck up and listen.” Shoving Asher into one of the tattoo chairs, Javier turned the gun on him, but kept his eyes on me. “You started a tattoo on me, and then you refused to finish it.”
I huffed out a dry laugh, but said nothing. The way I remembered it, I started a tattoo that he couldn’t handle, and his bitch-ass had walked out, but okay. Let him tell the story how he wanted to tell it.
“So, you’re gonna do what you should have done in the first place and tattoo me. This half-finished bullshit ain’t gonna cut it.” He gestured with the gun down to his leg. I could only see the bottom half of the tattoo underneath his long denim shorts—in November, no less—but I remembered it clearly; the skull and marijuana design was pretty badass, if I did say so myself. “And then, when you’ve finished, we’ll talk about what else you owe me for the shit you’ve put me through, yeah?”
“She’s put you through?” Asher seethed, and Javier looked up at him with a scowl. “You’re the one who’s been dicking around and being a fuck about shit that’s not her fault.”
