Page 135 of Deacon

I looked at Mason and found him watching Jude now instead of me. Staying suddenly felt like the wrong choice.

I pushed my chair back and stood. “Well, thanks for the coffee and the chat, Dr. Reid. I think we cleared up everything.”

Mason stood too, his expression harder to read than it had been a moment ago.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” I said, already reaching for my bag. Then I looked at Jude. “Have a nice day.”

His smile stayed exactly where it was. “You too, Lila.”

I left before either man could keep me there. Outside, the afternoon light felt too bright after the coffee shop. I crossed toward the construction site with the uncomfortable awareness of open sidewalk at my back and resisted the urge to turn around and see whether anyone was watching me through the window.

Jude could have a girlfriend in Bay of Saints. He could be house hunting. He could even be considering a transfer. Any one of those things made sense by itself.

Together, they were beginning to feel like something else.

36

Lila

The tattoo wasn’t the reason I almost changed my mind about going to Last Rites. That part made sense to me. Blue and Priest had fought their way through enough to earn whatever version of permanence they wanted, and if she wanted his name on her skin because loving him had become something she could finally touch, I understood that more than I wanted to.

The problem was the company.

Evan sat in the backseat in oversized sunglasses and enough attitude to power a small city. Blue rode beside me, rubbing her thumb over the inside of her wrist where Priest’s name would be before we left. She looked calm if you didn’t know her.

I did. “You’re nervous,” I said as I killed the engine.

Blue turned toward me, then glanced back at Evan. “I’m not nervous.”

Evan made a skeptical sound from the backseat. “That was so unconvincing it nearly qualified as fiction.”

Blue laughed softly and reached for the door. “I’m fine.”

“You are absolutely not fine,” he said, climbing out behind her before adjusting his sunglasses. “But that’s alright. We’re here as your emotional support team.”

I got out last and looked up at the black lettering across the storefront. Last Rites Tattoo and Piercing. Dark glass, clean lines, framed art visible beyond the windows. Serious without trying too hard, which seemed appropriate for a place that made permanence its business.

The second we walked in, Jackson looked up. Of course he did.

He stood near the front counter talking to a woman dressed almost entirely in black, one forearm braced against the glass. The look that crossed his face when he saw me caught somewhere low and inconvenient. He didn’t smile right away. That would have been easier to fight. He just looked at me like my being there mattered more than it should.

Blue caught it too. She pointed at him before he could say a word. “Don’t start. Today is about me.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Ain’t started nothin’, doc.”

Evan made a low sound beside me. “The sexual tension in here is deeply inconsiderate.”

I elbowed him. “Behave.”

Evan grinned. “Never.”

The woman behind the counter glanced our way, dark lipstick flattening with the rest of her expression as if she had already decided we were unlikely to improve her afternoon. Black clothes, silver jewelry, sharp eyes. She had the kind of presence that made me suspect stupidity rarely survived long around her.

Farther back, a dark-haired man looked up from a sketch, handsome in an absent-minded way that suggested he had never bothered to make use of it. He took us in, gave a small nod, then returned to his work. Another man came out of the back room with a bottle of water, quiet and broad-shouldered, carrying the settled stillness of someone who preferred doing over talking.

Then Ink appeared at the entrance to one of the bays, black gloves already on. His attention went straight to Blue. “You ready?”

Blue lifted her wrist. “As I’ll ever be.”