Inked Killer (A Tattoo Crimes Novel Book 2) Read online

  Harry looked at her sideways. “You all right, Nat?”

  “I’ve had a sour stomach lately. I’m fine, better after I burped.”

  “When was the last time you were at the doctor?”

  She sighed heavily.

  “And you want me to shut up,” he said.

  “I treated myself to a physical for my birthday last week.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “Yeah, a blast.”

  Natalie placed a bookmark in her book, set it on the nightstand, then shut the light off. She resituated her pillows and laid her head down, facing away from him.

  Harry pressed closer to her and wrapped his arm over her. He fondled one of her breasts.

  She lay still, not pushing him off, yet not encouraging him either. Okay, she had said her stomach ached. He dropped his hand back to her waist.

  “Sorry…if I was feeling better, I’d be all over you.”

  “Get some sleep. I know you’re not feeling well.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We don’t have to do it every night, Nat. I’m content just to lay here with you.” He hugged her tighter for a moment.

  “Harry?”

  “Uh huh?”

  She rubbed his forearm then weaved her fingers through his. “Did I ever tell you that I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

  Harry snorted. “I was an asshat.” Several months ago, he’d given in to his desire for her and asked her out. Actually, he kissed her in the front hallway of this house. She trembled almost as much as him that day. He thought it would feel odd to be with her, however, it turned out everything fit into place. Getting together was a natural progression of their twenty-five-year friendship. He never thought he’d love again after Annie passed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mikey

  Brayden slung his backpack over his shoulders and ran into Natalie’s house before Mikey and Grace got out of the car.

  “Obviously he likes Natalie,” Mikey remarked.

  “Either that or my dad,” Grace said. “Bray’s never had a grandpa, has he?”

  “You’re more right than I care to admit.” Mikey lagged behind while she followed Brayden into the house via the open garage door.

  He found his kid sitting at the kitchen table facing off with Harry. That wasn’t something you saw every day; a ten-year-old and a grizzled cop having a staring contest.

  Grace’s father said nothing as he took the lid off a box of chess, continuing to eyeball Brayden.

  The women’s voices carried down the hallway from one of the back bedrooms turned office. Whatever they talked about sounded like a good time, considering the amount of laughter.

  Harry set up the chess pieces on the board.

  “Best of three,” Brayden said.

  “All right, but don’t get upset when I beat you this time.”

  Brayden’s eyes lit and he smiled. “We’ll see about that, Grandpa.” His tone suggested ‘grandpa’ was meant as an insult.

  Mikey chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

  “Your move, kid.” Harry allowed Brayden to go first.

  Considering how serious the two of them were, Mikey was surprised not to see a timer clock on the table.

  Natalie and Grace came into the kitchen.

  “Ready to go?” Mikey asked Grace.

  She nodded. “We’ll pick him up in the morning around nine-ish, ten?”

  “That’s fine, you’ll probably find those two still playing chess when you get here,” Natalie said.

  “Be good,” Mikey told Brayden.

  “‘Kay, bye, Dad, bye Grace. Love you.”

  “We love you too.” Mikey ushered Grace out of the house because if he didn’t, he’d wind up not wanting to leave, even though he trusted both of them. Now that his ex-wife Cynthia was gone, he felt Brayden was more vulnerable. Mikey fought his irrational fear daily. He didn’t want to burden Brayden with it.

  * * *

  Grace

  The outside of the concert venue looked depressing and dangerous. Too many cars were packed into the tiny lot. Mikey parked his Ford on the end of an aisle. Another load of teenagers crammed their rusted beater between Mikey’s car and another. Grace didn’t think anything other than a motorcycle could fit. Mikey had to exit the car on her side. A group of leather clad men with chains hanging below their jackets walked past Grace and Mikey. After a couple seconds of near panicking, she realized the links were attached to wallets.

  She squeezed Mikey’s hand. “Are you sure this place is safe?”

  “Yeah. These are my peeps.”

  “Great. These are the people my father warned me about.”

  Mikey snorted. “Your dad warned you about me, remember?”

  A truck rolled by, sloshing slush on her shoes and pant legs. She shook off her feet.

  Mikey reached for the door handle and yanked it open. Warm air met her face. It smelled of sweat and tequila. Gross. She crinkled her nose. Everything was painted black.

  A big burly mountain man with more tattoos than skin showing on his bare arms gave Mikey a stiff nod as they approached a roped area and a box office.

  Two women dressed in wet-look leggings scooted around them. The mountain man stopped them and asked to search their purses. Afterward, the girls giggled past the rope, and he motioned Mikey and her forward.

  “Hey, man,” the guy said, clasping her fiancé’s hand.

  “Thanks again for the tickets,” Mikey said.

  “Thanks for the touch-up.”

  Grace drew her brows together. Touch-up? Duh, tats. She readied her bag for a search, except he waved them through.

  “All good, ma’am.”

  Oh, no, he didn’t. She didn’t look old. “Why does everyone call me ma’am?” she whispered to Mikey. “Do I look that old?”

  “What? No. You’re beautiful and sexy as hell. He was trying to show me respect.”

  “Well, that’s not very respectful to me,” she mumbled. Mikey hadn’t heard her. Grace felt like an old maid. Sure, she wasn’t 25 anymore, but still. Even Natalie didn’t get ma’amed. She was a petite woman with a youthful appearance and a shaggy pixie cut. No one would guess her real age.

  They entered the club proper. On her right was a long bar with a roped off line like one would find at an amusement park ride. Directly in front, a stage spanned an entire wall. Stairs led down to a floor in front of the stage. A large crowd had already gathered waiting for the concert to start. Several people stood on stage, tuning guitars and setting up a drum kit.

  Mikey ushered her toward a high two-top table overlooking the floor and stage. Grace glanced at a dance floor behind them. Random tiles were lit from beneath in red, blue, and gold, reminding her of something from the 70s.

  She took her coat off and draped it over the back of the chair, keeping her purse in her lap. Mikey moved his chair next to hers instead of across the table. He pivoted her chair so she faced the stage.

  He took her hand and kissed the palm. “Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t your favorite music.”

  More people poured into the concert hall to the point Grace wondered if the fire code had been violated. God, she was a fuddy-duddy.

  Chill, Grandma.

  The opening band hit the stage and after the first chord struck, Grace wished she’d brought earplugs. Brayden had suggested she bring some. When she’d asked why, the kid only laughed.

  Relief to her eardrums came when the band played a power ballad.

  “You thirsty?” Mikey shouted in her ear.

  “Yes!” she yelled back.

  “I’m gonna see if I can get us some water.” He left her at the table and disappeared through the crowd.

  Grace found herself singing along. She happened to know the song from the late 80s, or was it early 90s?

  Someone bumped her chair and she smiled thinking it had been Mikey. Unfortunately, she frowned too late, and her smile encouraged a man with a full-arm sleeve to chat her up.
He stood next to her leaning on the table.

  She tried looking uninterested, which didn’t deter him in the slightest. Where the hell was Mikey?

  “You look a little out of place,” he said.

  No kidding.

  “I mean you’re smoking hot, don’t get me wrong.”

  “Thanks.” Why had she responded?

  “Are you going to the after-party?”

  “Since I don’t know what that is, no.”

  “I can get you in.”

  Oh…my… God. Grace looked cross-eyed directly at the stage. She glanced toward the bar over her right shoulder.

  “I’m Cam, by the way.” He stuck his hand out for hers.

  Why was that name familiar? She shook his hand despite her apprehension. How could she get rid of this guy? She searched for any sign of Mikey. Did he get lost?

  She looked around and found Needles Ned from Ink Addiction heading toward her and Cam. She thought about pulling him over and pretending he was her boyfriend. He saw Grace too and zeroed in on her table.

  Confusion marred Ned’s expression. “You here by yourself?”

  “Mikey went to get some water.”

  “Eric,” Cam said, “her and I were talking, you feel?”

  Ned looked over the top of Grace’s head. “You may want to cool it.” He waved at Mikey. Cam swiveled his head.

  Grace realized why she knew the name Cam. He was Mikey’s new employee.

  “Hey, didn’t know you’d be here.” Mikey shook Ned’s hand then Cam’s. He set a glass of water on the table and kissed her temple.

  “Always up for some tunes,” Ned said.

  Cam’s face became a mask of I’m screwed, however, Grace had no intention of causing problems for the guy. Part of her was flattered at the attention, not that Mikey didn’t give her plenty. Cam mouthed, ‘Sorry’ to her. She waved him off.

  Mikey narrowed his stare on the exchange, yet didn’t say anything. A little more back and forth took place before Ned and Cam walked off.

  “So that’s the new guy?” she asked.

  “Yep. Why did he apologize to you?”

  “You saw that, huh? Nothing, no biggie.”

  “He hit on you, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but don’t fire him before he even starts.”

  “I won’t, just let me know if he ever does it again.”

  Grace smiled. “I don’t think he will.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Harry

  The alarm on Harry’s phone buzzed next to his head. 0900 hours had been the time he and Brayden agreed upon for their rematch. He hit the snooze button.

  “I swear, if you snoozed that alarm of yours one more time…” Natalie warned.

  “I didn’t. I swear.” He sat up and shut it off for real this time.

  “Uh huh, that’s what I thought.”

  Harry shoved his legs into a pair of pants and threw on a t-shirt. He shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen. Brayden sat at the table eating a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal. The chess board was set up next to him.

  “You know, Harry, I was thinking about setting up a game with someone from another country.”

  “How would you do that?”

  “There’s this website and you can sign up to play through email.”

  “You think you’re that good?” Harry winked.

  “I know I am. I beat you every time.”

  “I won a game last night.”

  “Only because I let you.”

  Harry smirked. “Oh yeah? And why would you let me?”

  “Because I wanted you to keep playing.”

  Didn’t this kid have any friends his own age? Harry had a feeling he didn’t relate well to them. “Do the kids at school ever pick on you?”

  Brayden’s eyes widened. “No. Why?”

  “Just wondering, because I can have a talk with them.”

  The kid’s jaw dropped. “No one picks on me. I’m the kid with the cool dad. Everyone at school knows me.”

  “Then why do you want play chess with an old—”

  “It’s fun and something grandpas do with their grandsons. Teach them stuff.”

  Aw, shit.

  “If you didn’t wanna play, all you had to do was say that.” Brayden picked up the board and slid the pieces into the box.

  “Don’t do that. You promised me a rematch.”

  Brayden sniffled. “You don’t want to play.”

  “Yes I do. Please,” Harry said, setting the game back up. He couldn’t believe he begged. This kid had such an effect on him. In some ways, it was much worse than the puppy-eyed look Grace gave him as a child. The nights when he came home from work late or the Christmas mornings he had gotten called to work, and had to leave his family. Guilt flooded his heart.

  Brayden looked up at him with watery eyes. Harry’s soul crushed under the weight of the kid’s stare.

  Natalie came into the kitchen and started making coffee. However, Harry sensed she had lingered in the hallway beforehand, listening.

  The doorbell rang.

  “My dad’s here,” Brayden announced, grabbed his backpack, and ran for the door.

  Harry followed making sure it was actually Mikey. Grace’s fiancé peeked through the side light and waved. Harry nodded in return.

  The kid swung the door wide, glanced back at the floor, and said, “Thank you.” Harry opened his mouth, but Natalie said, “You’re welcome anytime, Brayden,” before he uttered a syllable.

  The door slammed shut.

  Natalie put her hands on her hips. “He ran out of here awfully quick.”

  “I might have had something to do with it.”

  “I heard. He’s only looking for your acceptance. He’s never had any real grandparents, at least none that gave a crap about him.”

  Harry dragged his hands down his face. “I know, Christ.” Natalie was right. Brayden’s maternal grandmother couldn’t remember her own grandson’s name. At Cynthia’s funeral and when he’d driven the old bat back to her hotel she called him Brandon, more than once. The crazy woman hadn’t phoned or visited since and probably never would. Mikey’s parents were dead.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mikey

  Cam showed up to work early Monday morning. Mikey unlocked the glass door and switched on the neon ‘Open’ sign.

  He had a full schedule today, mostly repeat customers and one new client.

  “Hope there’s no animosity between us,” Cam said.

  “No, man,” Mikey waved him off, “don’t let it happen again though.”

  Cam put his palms up. “You don’t have to worry about that.” The kid took his jacket off and hung it in the closet.

  “Do me a favor, wipe the counter down. There’s glass cleaner and paper towels behind there.”

  Cam got to work without hesitation.

  “I have a few appointments today, so ask me if I have time for any walk-ins.” Mikey went back to his station to set up for his first client. “Oh, and call Needles for me, remind him he has a noon appointment scheduled.” Ned had been skipping appointments lately, telling Mikey he had forgotten about them. Getting a bad rep for screwing over clients wasn’t something he needed. He’d get rid of him before that happened.

  “No problem. My pleasure to wake his lazy ass up.”

  Mikey finished his eleven o’clock early, so at noon he laid down in his tattoo chair. He took out his phone and texted Grace.

  Mikey: Whatcha doing, beautiful?

  Grace: Working

  Mikey: Sounds boring.

  He added a yawning emoji.

  Grace: It is. Do you need something?

  Mikey: You

  Grace: Sorry, you’ll have to wait till 4

  The bells over the door jangled and Mikey glanced over. Harry sauntered in, his usual brisk stride absent. Needles came through the door behind him.

  Mikey looked at his watch. Needle’s twelve o’clock had been waiting ten minutes already.

  “I know I’
m late, got held up,” Needles said.

  “Hey, it’s your client, your money.” Mikey shrugged. Looking at Harry he said, “I didn’t do it.”

  Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Oh.” Mikey sent another text to Grace.

  Mikey: Gotta go. Luv u.

  Grace: Love u 2

  He put his phone away then crossed his legs at the ankles and his arms over his chest.

  “I’m here to ah…say I’m…uh, sorry. Yeah.”

  Mikey chuckled. “Wow, that was difficult, wasn’t it?” He had no idea why Harry apologized, but always looked for ways of torturing the man. Payback for being accused of murder. Although truthfully he respected Harry, thought he was a great man and good cop.

  “So I assume he told you. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.”

  Mikey raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Harry, I don’t—”

  “Listen, he’s a great kid and I—”

  “I’m sorry, this is about my son?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what? What happened?”

  Harry rubbed his forehead and sucked air in between his teeth. “I fucked up. I assumed something I shouldn't’ve.” The cop’s eyes darted around.

  Mikey stood. “What, Harry?” No wonder Brayden was so mopey.

  “I didn’t understand why he likes playing chess with an old bastard like me. I thought maybe he didn’t have any friends his own age.”

  Mikey snorted with exasperation and threw his hands up. “Did it ever occur to you that he likes you? Looks up to you? You saved my life, which we’re both grateful for, and the reason I’m not angrier. Come spring, believe it or not, you’ll be his grandfather. He already thinks of you that way.”

  “I know,” Harry mumbled.

  “You know what, he’s the one you should apologize to, not me.”

  “I tried.”

  “Try again. Make this right. He has so little family. All he has is me and Grace.”