I rolled my eyes. “Who the fuck is here to visit me?”
“A woman,” he said, his mouth twitching like he was fighting a laugh. “A pretty one.”
“Then she must have the wrong man.” I didn’t ever give women the impression that I wanted more than a quick fuck and they don’t usually seek me out afterward. We had a good time for a few hours and then went our separate ways.
“What the fuck ever man, just don’t keep her waiting.”
“Who is it?” I asked, curiosity burning every layer of my skin.
Falcon shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Go see what the fuck she wants.” With those parting words he left, and I went back to work.
She could wait.
The buzzing of my tattoo gun was the only damn thing I wanted to hear. I’d been working on this calf piece for the past four and a half hours and I was almost done. The dude in my chair was a goddamn champ, he hadn’t so much as twitched the whole time and aside from a few piss breaks, we were focused on this shit together.
He was the perfect client, and I wouldn’t stop until the work was done.
Twenty-five minutes later the piece was clean and wrapped. I stretched and gave aftercare instructions while he paid, smiling as if hadn’t been jabbed thousands of times by a fucking needle for five hours straight. He left a big tip, already talking about his next piece as he left the shop.
Rock music blared overhead and I knew there was no more delaying this shit. I spotted the woman in my periphery, but she hadn’t moved to make herself known, she just sat on the leather bench seat and waited patiently so I finally gave her my attention.
She stood but my gaze focused on the important parts first, the narrow waist that flared out to perfectly fucking feminine hips and thick thighs that held a man tight. She wore jeans and sneakers, a black tank top that showed off nice tits—I’m a good judge, so I’d say she was a D cup—and toned arms. Her hair was short, a jet black pixie that made her skin look creamy and pale. I catalogued sharp cheekbones and full pink lips, a small button nose and eyes the color of—
Shit!
My heart thudded against my chest in slow, painful kicks.
The sting of loss hit my subconscious before my brain filled in the blanks. I knew those eyes. Violet eyes that were rare and un-fucking-mistakable. “Holy shit!” I was knocked a step back as recognition dawned. “Macy!”
Her shoulders dropped, relief flashing across her face. “So you do remember me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Fuck. I mean, yeah.” I took a slow step forward, unable to believe what I was seeing. “It’s been a minute, but of course I remember you.” I took another step forward. Too close. She smelled like roses mixed with something citrusy. It was the same girl I remembered, but all grown up. More guarded than before but life had a way of doing that to a person. “Holy shit, Mace.”
I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. I pulled her in, hooking one arm around her waist while the other held her head. It was instinct, the way I’d always hugged her like she was everything to me. Because she was. Macy was stiff at first, but she always was. At first. A few seconds later she melted into the hug, sliding her arms around my waist. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I murmured into her hair.
She pulled back with a small smile that tried to hide the darkness behind her eyes, but it didn’t work on me. Never had. I knew her too well. “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered. “So fucking much.” She swiped away one lone, traitorous tear that couldn’t detract from the shadows if it wanted to. “I came back two months after my eighteenth birthday,” she said as if we were in the middle of a conversation. “I’d officially aged out and my foster family kicked me out, so I came looking for you and… you were gone.”
My stomach clenched. Hard. “Foster care?” I shook my head, shoving an angry hand through my thick red hair. “I looked for you every-fucking-where when you left because nobody would tell me shit. I spiraled without you, Mace. Got in trouble, too much fucking trouble and I knew where I was headed so I enlisted.” That time was a fucking blur of booze, fucking and tagging. “I thought maybe they’d killed you. After I joined up, I went to the cops.”
Her eyes widened. “You didn’t.”
I nodded. “I did and they said they’dlook into it.All this time, I thought… fuck.”
Her smile didn’t reach those violet eyes. “Not dead yet.”
That shit wasn’t funny, but I wasn’t about to argue over that. Yet.
“I hope this is okay?” she asked quietly and suddenly she was that same quiet girl with long black hair she used to cover the bruises on her arms and chest.
“You showing up here?” I shook my head, still stunned I had my Macy back. “Hell yeah, it’s okay. How did you even find me?”
“A couple of years ago, I saw a photo of you online. From some biker thing in the desert.” Her lips quirked. “I knew that auburn hair anywhere. But I was too chickenshit to reach out. And now…” She wrapped her arms around herself. A tell. Fear. Shame. “I kind of needed to.”
I swallowed the sudden tension that rose in my throat. “What’s going on?”
Her gaze flicked around the shop landing on everything and every person that moved. Including Falcon and Dagger, who watched too fucking closely. They watched and they smirked. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?”
“Go on,” Dagger called out, a smile in his voice. “We got things here. You don’t have any appointments left and I can handle walk-ins.”
