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I purse my lips. “Fine.” It’s his business, who he wants to ink or not, but his reaction seems a bit extreme.
“Oh, by the way, we saw Tyler today,” Zane says.
Trying to change the topic, much? “Where?”
“He passed outside Damage.” Meaning, Damage Control, the tattoo shop—the boys have shortened the name.
Rafe puts down his fork carefully, his gaze flicking between Zane and me. “He looked like hell warmed over.”
My heart squeezes in a vise. “Why? What happened?”
Rafe shrugs and shoots another uncertain look at Zane. What are they hiding from me? “He looked spooked. The only thing I could get out of him was that there was a meeting with a lawyer this morning and that Asher was there, too.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I mutter, mystified.
Zane winces. “You wouldn’t know, but Asher sorta hates Tyler’s guts for going off like that years ago and not reporting in until now.”
I swallow hard. “Sounds like he let a lot of people down.”
Zane sighs and pushes a mussel around his plate with his knife. “Something’s seriously off with that fucker. My hell-radar is never wrong.”
“You got an infernal radar?” One of Rafe’s golden brows lifts.
“Fucker, I know the inside of hell like the palm of my hand,” Zane grunts. “If there’s anyone who can tell who else has been in the pits, that’s me.”
Although he’s grinning, my stomach knots up. I know he’s been through some bad stuff as a kid, but he won’t let me in, won’t tell me what really happened.
Rafe nods, as if he knows what Zane is talking about. Maybe he does. This whole brotherhood is so screwed up, it hurts.
“What else did Tyler say?” I ask.
Zane drops his knife on the table. “Nothing much. Told ya, girl, you should talk to him.”
I bite my lower lip, suddenly angry again at Tyler for his disappearing act and for tugging at my heart strings without even being here, at my part in pushing him away and never getting a chance to turn back time. “Maybe. Will you give me his phone number?”
Zane frowns as he pulls out his cell and scrolls down the numbers. He seems to be turning something over in his mind. “He might be at Damage tomorrow afternoon, you know. If you wanna drop by.”
“He’s thinking of getting a tattoo?”
Zane’s slanted eyes darken. “No, but he really should.”
Chapter Five
Tyler
The cell rings as I come out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, frigid wind blasting through the open windows. Marlene’s name flashes on the screen, and I let the phone ring and ring as I grab clean clothes and get dressed. No idea why she’s still trying. I told her from the start I don’t do relationships. I don’t do love. I don’t bring flowers and chocolates. I don’t cuddle, and I don’t stick around after fucking.
My mistake was letting her talk me into hooking up for more than one night. To her it was apparently a relationship; to me it was a serial one-night-stand.
I shiver with cold, so I ditch the wet towel and grab my clothes. Pulling on my worn jeans—so worn they’re falling apart, but money for new clothes isn’t on the table right now—I sit on the bed and grab my boots. The damn phone has finally stopped ringing, but I see two missed calls on the screen instead of just one. Curious, I scroll through the calls, and I see James’ name, too.
James is the only person in the world I call a friend—and even that isn’t entirely true. I press ‘call’ and lean back against the wall, propping my foot on the mattress. After four rings, he picks up.
“Tyler? You bastard, where are you?”
I smirk. “Told you I was going away.”
“Thought you’d at least leave an address or something.”
