Page 17 of Ink

“Yeah.”

“God damnit, Sutton.” I pause as I turn around because he actually sounds mad. “You walkin’ tomorrow?”

Seeing as I’m not going to have the money to fix my pile of crap that’s dead in the motel parking lot in time for work tomorrow, yeah, I’m walking.

“Yeah.”

“I’m makin’ sure I don’t have plans right after work tomorrow and I’m taking you home. It’s not safe for a woman to be walkin’ the streets alone at night. You have my number?” I shake my head, and he’s holding out his hand while wiggling his fingers. “Hand it over.”

My hand reaches into my pocket, but I hesitate. Is this a boundary I want to cross? Gage seems to be my main source of contact with anything regarding work. Ink would be the last person I would want to talk to if I was having a situation. That risk alone seems worth it to me. Handing over my phone to Gage, I watch him quickly type in his name and number.

“Text me when you make it home just so I know you’re safe.”

My breath catches in my throat, making it hard to breathe, let alone talk. No one in my entire life has wanted to know I’m safe.

“Sutton?” Gage’s hand is still outstretched, waiting for me to take my phone.

“Sorry,” I say, tucking it back in my pocket. “I’ll let you know when I’ve made it. Thanks.”

Spinning on my heel, I head down the alley to start my walk home. I look for Madame Salem as I near the end of the random street vendors that set up again, but the spot that held her table is empty. I make it to the motel without any issues, counting down the days until I no longer have to call this place home. Home is a lie I keep telling myself to not make it seem so bad.

As soon as I’m in my room, I shoot Gage a text and immediately shower the day away and slip on the thread bare pajamas before slipping into the scratchy sheets. It doesn’t take long before my brain starts going into overdrive, replaying and analyzing every little thing about our day. I can’t help but go back to the reading with Madame Salem and wonder who in the world my soulmate could be?

Chapter

Eight

INK

“Why do you keep checkin’ your phone? I thought you broke it off with what’s her face,” I ask, taking a swig of my drink.

I’m not one to pry into someone’s personal life, but even a man can only take so much suspense. He’s probably checked his phone damn near twenty times since he sat down.

After storming out of the shop before I lost my shit, I found myself at DD’s. Shortly after that, Gage caught up with me and parked on the stool next to mine. It wasn’t my finest moment, but I can’t stand being lied straight to my face. She may not want to openly share why she’s here, but omitting information when someone asks is just as bad as lying.

What I want to do is tie her to a chair and interrogate her like I usually would until I get the information I want. Apparently, that’s for club business only. Or so Scotch says.

I can’t figure out why I care so much. It’s messing with my head and that’s a headache I can’t afford.

“Waiting for Sutton to text me,” Gage answers, taking a swig of his beer.

What the fuck?

A low rumble starts deep in my chest that makes Delaney stop shaking a drink mid-air and looking over our way, alert and searching for the fight I’m sure she’s assuming is about to happen.

“It’s not what you think, Ink. I just wanted to make sure she got home okay.”

“Why wouldn’t she get home okay?” My eyes narrow.

How close are these two?

Gage shrugs. “I’m not saying she wouldn’t, but her walking by herself at night isn’t the safest.”

“Have you already forgotten what happened to me?” Wren asks as she appears behind the rail with fresh ones for Gage and I.

Wren got into a freak situation a few months back. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that ended with a psycho trying to kill her. Ironically, after all of that, it ended up being the right place at the right time because she and Matteo are still going strong. They give Evan and Cain a run for their money.

“I don’t think any of us are goin’ to forget that, darlin’. I’m surprised your man hasn’t made you quit yet.” Matteo isn’t exactly the “make my woman work” type of guy.