Spider: A tattoo romance (Rough Ink Book 2) Read online

  Most often, I’d return to the haunting image of the pleading distress in her eyes as she silently begged me to help her. I was sure it would be with me for life. There was nothing I could do to shake it from my consciousness at that point; it was lodged in place, whether I was asleep or awake.

  If it came to me in a dream, I’d wake up covered in a panic-induced sweat, gasping for air, my heart beating almost out of my chest, just like it had when the gun had gone off that day. Even after I opened my eyes and reassured myself that everything was okay, that I was in my bed, and Emi was safe somewhere in the city—albeit, I had no idea where—I still couldn’t shake the worry that circled me like a snake around a branch.

  15

  Emi

  “What am I going to do? I’ve screwed up, and I don’t know how to fix it. How the hell do I get myself into these messes, and more to the point, how the fuck am I going to get myself out?”

  The silence was deafening.

  “Well, don’t you have anything to say? No sage words of advice, nuggets of truth, or amazing insights to offer my useless ass? I mean, what kind of person fakes a case of mistaken identity—or whatever the fuck I was doing—in a situation like that? He saved my fucking life. The least a normal person would’ve done was thank the guy when they ran into him, mere feet from where it happened, right?”

  More silence. So damn frustrating.

  “Instead, what did I do? I made him feel like he was some kind of crazy weirdo when really I’m the weirdo. Why do I think I don’t need therapy? Those are clearly the actions of someone who needs help. A lot of fucking help. I mean, wha—”

  “Mommy? Who are you talking to?”

  I turned to find a sleep-disheveled Noah standing in the doorway, his thick, inky black hair falling across his face in messy waves, a look of confusion on his face.

  “Um… nobody. Myself.”

  Smart kid that he was, Noah looked at me dubiously, saying nothing.

  “Okay, okay. I was talking to Hamela and Hams.” Hamela Anderson and Hams Solo were our pet hamsters. As usual, they’d been busy ignoring me throughout my angsty inquisition.

  Noah rubbed his eyes as though thinking he might still be asleep.

  “But, Mom, they can’t answer back.”

  “I know, kiddo, but that’s kind of what’s so great about talking to them. They listen but say nothing.” “Listen” was probably overstating the case a little. I’d never seen them do anything other than continue to nibble at their food, sleep, play with their toys, or trot around in their wheel during one of my “conversations” with them. The sad fact was that I didn’t have anyone else to use as a sounding board, so it was them or nothing, and sometimes nothing just didn’t cut it.

  Noah padded over to the couch and sat down next to me. I adjusted my position to hug him to my side.

  “Wanna do something fun today? Your choice.” I ruffled his hair, knowing what he would choose before he said it.

  “Really?” The look of glee on his face was heartbreakingly cute.

  I nodded. “Sure thing. Anything you like. Anything.”

  “The aquarium,” we said in unison.

  “Are you sure, buddy? You’ve been there like a thousand times before.” Marine life had been an obsession of his since he was a toddler, and the aquarium had fast become his favorite place on the planet to hang out since I’d taken him there for the first time when he was just two years old.

  I felt bad because as far as grand gestures or big adventures were concerned, it was pretty low key. It was close to home, didn’t cost a fortune, and required little effort or involvement from me. He could lose hours wandering from exhibit to exhibit and not even notice whether I was there or not. It was a lazy parenting option, but it also brought him more pleasure than a more elaborate day out elsewhere would, so it was sort of a catch-22.

  “Okay, but you know you can go anywhere or do anything, right? Doesn’t have to be there. We can always go another time.”

  “I know I don’t have to go there, but I want to. Please.”

  Never let it be said that I kept a future marine biologist from his work.

  Hours later, we stumbled back home exhausted but content. If Noah was happy, so was I, even if that meant staring at stingrays until my eyes bled. Judging by the mile-wide smile gracing his beautiful face, the day had been just what he’d needed.

  It had been for me too. The perfect antidote to the emotional turmoil of the night before. So much so that it wasn’t until we’d feasted on one of our favorite treats of Mr. Big burgers, fries, and thick shakes, and I had Noah tucked up in bed, still smiling wide, that my mind turned back to my predicament with Spider. Then the cheering effect of the day with Noah wore off, and I tumbled back into the emotional tornado I had been swirling in before.

  Sadly, Hamela and Hams again proved to be useless counsel, and I spent another sleepless night scribbling in my journal, this time while propped up on pillows in bed on the off-chance that sleep might visit my preoccupied brain. It didn’t, so at 5:00 a.m., I gave up the pretense and started my day.

  It was while brewing the second of what was likely to be many coffees that I decided what I would do.

  As I listened to the ringtone on the other end of the phone, I wished it would ring out and I’d be able to leave a voice mail.

  “This is Spider speaking.”

  “Hi, Spider. It’s Emi.”

  Silence.

  “Um… from the bar on Friday.” And the armed siege a year ago.

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn he emphasized the word remember. I couldn’t be sure, though. Maybe it was just the guilt and embarrassment playing games with my mind.

  “I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “If I couldn’t talk, I wouldn’t have picked up.” No doubt that time. He was frosty as fuck. Not that I could blame him.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I’m between clients.” His voice was softer that time, his tone almost conciliatory, with none of the edge it had just held.

  “Okay, well, I won’t take up too much of your time. I wondered if you would be free for a coffee during the day tomorrow. Before four?”

  I had the week off work so I could take care of some long-overdue errands and life admin. With Noah at school and after-school care, some of those things might actually stand a chance of getting done. But first and foremost, I needed to speak to Spider.

  The silence on the line was long and loaded. My level of embarrassment and discomfort rose with every moment.

  “I owe you an apology and an explanation. Let me buy you a coffee. Please.” I waited out another extended pause—the next move needed to be his.

  “There’s a cafe a few doors down from the bar called Give eeffoC. I can meet you there at eleven. Thanks.”

  “Okay great. I’ll see you then.”

  “Yeah.”

  I hung up the phone, not knowing what to make of the conversation. His demeanor surprised me based on what I already knew of him from our face-to-face encounters. He’d been nothing but friendly, approachable, and kind, but during the call, there had been a distinct cold vibe. Not that I didn’t understand his hesitation. I did. I wouldn’t know what to make of me in the same situation either.

  As I approached Give eeffoC, I got the joke in the name and felt an increasing sense of trepidation. I was nervous both of how Spider would behave toward me and of how I would feel seeing him again. I arrived five minutes early to find Spider already there, sitting at a table close to the door. Ready for a quick escape, maybe?

  He stood up when he saw me, and a bright smile graced his lavishly handsome face. Relief washed over my body. I wasn’t sure what to expect from him given the tone of our conversation the previous day, but I’d prepared myself for the worst. The smile went all the way to his eyes, and seemed genuine. It was a pleasant surprise.

  “Hey.�
� His voice was warm, with none of the awkwardness of the day before.

  “Hi. Thanks so much for agreeing to see me.” I met his eyes hesitantly, pleased to find them soft and reassuring, much as they’d been on the past two occasions we’d met.

  “Not a problem. If I sounded a little… ‘off’ yesterday, it was because I was surprised to hear from you after Friday.”

  Not as surprised as I was to be calling you.

  I nodded. “I can imagine. That’s part of the reason I wanted to meet with you.”

  “Hmm…. Oh, I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” Guilt crept over his face. I wasn’t in a position to criticize anyone’s manners, least of all his, given how things had gone down the last time I’d seen him. “Would you like to sit? Or maybe we can grab coffees and go to the park? There’s one just around the block. It’ll be pretty much empty right now, except for the ducks.”

  I wasn’t sure of his motivation. Was it just because it was a gorgeous late-spring day, or did he have an innate awareness of my desire for privacy? Either way, a walk to the park was a perfect idea—putting aside the rules of stranger danger, which I was sure didn’t apply to a guy who’d tried to save me on each of the two occasions we’d met.

  “The park would be nice, I think.”

  “Okay, great. What can I get you?”

  “Nothing. I mean, it’s my treat. I invited you here, remember?”

  “I remember, but you came out of your way, I presume, and I walked two stores down, so I’m not about to let you buy the coffee. Now, what’ll it be? Also, you should know that not only is Max a master barista, but he’s a mean-ass baker too. I can recommend the brownies and muffins. Also the cheesecake and the pie. Today’s special is black forest.”

  There clearly wasn’t much he didn’t recommend. I thought for a moment.

  “Just a coffee is fine, please. Americano with a dash of no fat, one sugar, please.”

  “You’re sure?” He flashed me a grin. “I’m in the mood for something sweet, but I’ll feel weird eating alone. I can’t tempt you to join me?” He was adorable.

  “I might manage a nibble. Surprise me.”

  The grin took over his face again. “Deal. Give me a few minutes.”

  When he returned, we walked to the park in a somewhat uneasy silence. It was weird, walking along the street with a stranger with whom I’d shared two uniquely terrifying and, in some ways, very intimate experiences.

  As we wound our way through the park, Spider spoke first.

  “If I’d thought about it, I would’ve grabbed a blanket or something, but there’s a small pond in the middle here. We can sit on the bench and feed the ducks while we talk.”

  I was in uncharted territory in so many ways it wasn’t even funny, what with the conversation I was about to have with him and the care he was taking over the details. I wasn’t used to guys paying me that level of attention. Not positive attention, anyway. Tommy had only ever focused on me for this long to find fault and ridicule me.

  “That sounds perfect.” It truly did.

  We strolled to the bench and sat down. I held on to my coffee for dear life while Spider unwrapped the sweet treats he’d bought.

  “I didn’t know what your jam was, so I grabbed a selection.”

  That was a vast understatement. Without having seen the contents of the dessert cabinet with my own eyes, I was willing to bet that he’d “selected” one of each thing they had.

  It was a small mercy that most of them were treat-sized—so Brooklyn. In Queens where I lived, each one would have been bigger than my head. There were three different kinds of brownies, cheesecake, apple and cherry pies, muffins, doughnuts, and some of the most elaborately decorated cupcakes I’d ever seen.

  He handed me a wooden spork. “Come on, dig in. Don’t leave me hanging.”

  I took the cutlery, gripping it so tight I was cutting off the blood to my fingertips. I needed to calm the fuck down, but I was more nervous than I’d been in a long time.

  “You may not want to break bread with me after you hear what I have to say.” I addressed the pastries.

  “Try me.” He spoke through a mouthful of brownie, and I smiled to myself. Something that I would’ve found gross on anyone else, including my son, I found endearing on him. Go figure.

  I stared out over the pond, watching an unfolding drama between the ducks. A fight over a drake, I suspected. I didn’t dare look at Spider. I still didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when he realized what kind of person I was.

  “I’m sorry about Friday night. You caught me at a bad time. No, scratch that. Every time is a bad time, but that was worse than most. The yelling and fighting kicked me into kind of a trance. It’s something that’s been happening since I was a kid when… when I needed to escape but couldn’t leave.” I wasn’t about to catalogue the many reasons I needed to flee my reality throughout my sorry childhood, but he seemed like the type of guy who could read between the lines easily enough.

  “When you approached me, it snapped me out of it, but I wasn’t ready to deal with the enormity of seeing you again. I’m still not if I’m being honest. I’m here because I owe you so much, but if it wasn’t for Friday, this….” I motioned between the two of us. “Meeting in person was never in the plan. I sent the cookies, flowers, and cards, which was lame, I know. But I wanted to let you and Kota know how grateful I was for what you did for me.” That was a vast understatement, but it was all I could deal with saying aloud.

  “Are you kidding me right now? It wasn’t lame. It was perfect.” The shock in his voice surprised me. “Fresh-baked cookies delivered right to the store? You couldn’t have picked something more appropriate if you’d known me for years.” He was humoring me, but it was still sweet as hell. Too sweet. It made me feel even worse for the way I’d treated him.

  “I pretended that it was a case of mistaken identity because I wished we hadn’t met. At least not under those circumstances. I was embarrassed and ashamed, but that’s no excuse. Lying was a low act, and I’m sorry.”

  16

  Spider

  I remembered to finish what I was eating before answering this time, though the damage was probably already done—I was sure she thought I was some kind of caveman.

  “I’m not gonna lie. I was worried about you and confused, then pissed off. But now I’m just kinda relieved you’re not a cyborg, or suffering from a rare form of amnesia.”

  Emi legit snorted. “What?”

  “Well, after our encounter, I told Harley, one of the other artists at the studio, what had happened, and those were some of his theories. Other suggestions were that you were an undercover agent or an alien. So in comparison to that, the truth is kind of palatable.”

  Apart from looking down to select my next snack, I followed her lead and continued to stare out into the lake. The bird saga was a welcome distraction, making me feel a little less socially stunted for not looking at her in the eye while speaking.

  “Tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to talk about it, but I have to ask. About that day, I mean. I tried asking Officer Roberts about you, but apart from assuring me you were safe and ‘okay under the circumstances,’ she couldn’t tell me much.” I tried to keep my voice gentle.

  I thought back to the police officer’s earnest and apologetic face. I knew looks could sometimes be deceiving, and there was a possibility that she was older than she appeared, but she seemed far too young and nice to make it in her line of work. I hoped I was wrong—God knew the world needed more decent people in roles like hers. But her manner just seemed out of whack with the harsh everyday reality of her job, and society at large. She looked like a workplace PTSD statistic waiting to happen.

  “I understood. Of course I did. For any victim, but more so for someone in your situation naturally they have to be careful. That didn’t mean I wasn’t more than a little frustrated, but most of all, I was worried half out of my mind about you. I’ve hardly been able to think of anything else eve
r since. Where you were, what you were doing. If you were okay.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. I’d said too much. Now I sounded like some kind of crazy stalker. Again.

  “That came out all wrong. I just meant I would’ve liked to know for sure that you were okay. I mean seen it with my own eyes, or spoken with you, rather than taking Officer Roberts’s word for it.”

  The silence between us stretched on for so long that I began to wonder if she’d even heard what I’d said. She spoke again just as I was about to call her name.

  “He’s a monster. I lived in fear every day for three years, but toward the end, it wasn’t just fear for my safety, but for my sanity, and my life. The day we came into the store, I was sure it was going to be my last.”

  Wow.

  Her voice was almost too low to hear, but I didn’t have the heart to ask her to speak up; I knew it was already so difficult for her to tell me this stuff, and I didn’t want to add to her obvious distress. Instead, I closed my eyes to block out distractions and trained my ears on her words as she continued, her voice cracking at points as she spoke.

  “He’d been getting more erratic and irrational as time went on, but in the lead-up to that day, it was next level. He wouldn’t let me leave the house unless it was essential—even having me call in sick from work so he could keep tabs on me all day—and then he was always with me, and had the gun either trained on me or somewhere prominent, and he endlessly threatened to use it if I tried to get away. I knew he’d make good on his promise—he wasn’t just bluffing. ”

  Jesus.

  It’d been clear from what happened at the store that the guy was a card-carrying psycho. And without any real information, I’d already jumped to my own conclusions about what the rest of their life together must have been like, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear her talk about it and have my suspicions more than confirmed.