“Shh… I’m trying to sleep.” Anna places a finger to my lips. Her hands smell like the lavender lotion she insists on putting in every room of the house and tattoo shop. I resist the urge to bite down and nibble on the soft pads of the tip of her pointer finger.
“We need to talk about the tattoo show. What are you going to do to bring the people into your booth? Should we spend the cash on extra advertising in the program? Should I get some of the guys to come in so you’ve got guaranteed clients? We could offer them another discount for word-of-mouth…” My mind has been one track since we’ve gotten back to her home. While she was buzzing around the kitchen barefoot, humming some song we just heard on the radio, I was taking notes and jotting down ideas.
I get this way a lot. My mind gets stuck on details. I like to know what the plan is at all times and to put those plans into action as soon as possible. I’m not a creative type like Anna. I don’t have it in me to just have a vision on the spot and to take my time to see it through. I’m too impatient. The clock in my mind is always ticking, always spinning. It presses me forward for even things as meaningless for me as some chick’s tattoo convention debut.
“Can we please just talk about this tomorrow?” Anna asks completely exhausted. She stuffs the downy pillow around her face and places her arms under her head. Looking straight at me, she smiles and adds tiredly, “You’re really ruining this for me.”
“Ruining what?” I ask, completely taken aback. “I’m trying to help your business succeed. You’d think a girl would be happy about that!”
She quickly takes the pillow out from under her head and slams it down on my face with a whack. I hold up my hands in defense, but she lands another on my chest and arms. As she swings wildly into the air, I grab her from around her stomach, forcing her down on top of me. Her legs straddle one of mine as our hips and chest touch. Rivets of blonde hair fall in front of my face and eyes. I push the waves to the side of her ears, letting myself touch the roundness of her cheeks with the inside of my palm.
To my surprise, she doesn’t shy away or back off. Anna stays put, her eyes locked square on mine. For a moment, it feels as if our breathing is hooked. I inhale with her inhale. I feel her body contract as she exhales with me. The small weight of her feels much more than it actually is, and the heat of her body warms through the thin layer of blanket between our skin.
I know I have a choice right here and now. I could kiss her, placing my hands on the side of her face, leading her towards my lips, tasting her from the inside out. Or I could laugh this off and push her to the side and pretend that this strange, heavy moment between us never happened. Neither are perfect options.
The kiss would mean leaving behind that semblance of professionalism and the wall I put up the first night we met. I don’t get involved with clients. I certainly don’t get attached to women like her with a bounty on their head. While I’ve had my fair share of women, it never went past the night. Even now, lying in bed with her at two in the morning is pushing my boundaries. None of those women ever got the privilege of sharing a bed with me unless we were naked and tangled in sheets.
There’s no control in attachment. There would be no way for me to say what feelings could come or go. Breaking through that physical boundary with her meant that I had to actually care about something other than myself and the club. And caring is dangerous. It puts everyone in my circle at risk. It means letting others in and adding to my list of responsibilities. Sure, I’m taking care of her now, making sure she gets home safe every night, but I try to do it without feeling, without attachment.
Letting go of her, on the other hand, would mean breaking whatever force is currently holding us in place. I can’t do that, not right now. I can honestly say that I haven’t ever felt this way before with other women. There was something more animalistic to my taking them—like a hunter and prey, or maybe cats in heat. There was almost never any romance, and whatever romance there might have been was almost always in service of… well, no other way to say it, of fucking—of that conquest, and the associated feelings of relief and power.
This, though? This is new, and I can’t deny how fucking fantastic it feels to have someone want it. This isn’t a quick fuck; it’s not for some shitty bragging rights or whatever fame and goodwill she could get from saying she had my cock in her. No, she wants it. Moreover, she wants me.
I close my eyes and count to ten, attempting to calm myself before placing my gritty, grimy hand on the back of her willing head. I wrap my fingers around the silky layers of her hair. With a little pull, I tug her downwards. She follows compliantly, almost eagerly. My lips part and wait, but she hesitates. I can feel her pause, and she sputters almost like a car not ready to start on a cold winter’s day. Here, even after everything between us with her inviting me to spend the night and our moments in bed, I thought she would be the one begging for this. I can see now just how wrong I truly was.
When she does kiss me, it’s off. Her lips barely part, despite me leaning upwards towards her head, giving her more pressure to ease up. But her body freezes. It doesn’t rock back and forth or move to mimic my motions or rhythm. It just takes what I am giving silently—not reluctantly, but not eagerly, and with the least amount of passion she can muster.
I can’t take it anymore. I pull back, my head falling back on the pillows. She slides off of me as quickly as she was pulled on. Her hips spin towards the side of her bed with her legs pulled up towards her chest. We both stay in our places, motionless and silent. In my head, a million thoughts run through a span of agonizing seconds where I consider what would have happened if I had just pushed her off like I had wanted to.
“Mack,” Anna finally says. I can tell by the way she says my name that she feels some kind of fault here. There shouldn’t be. This is how it works, isn’t it? I would rather have her simply go through the motions than pull what I expect will be a bullshit guilt-fest. “I—I have something to tell you. I should have told you two weeks ago, but I’m—”
“Wait,” I say in a rushed, almost nervous voice as I sit myself straight up in the bed. On the table next to me at the right side of the bed, my phone vibrates against the glass top. Only a few people are allowed to call me this far after midnight, and when they do, it’s never good news. Ever.
I hold up my hand to Anna, silently telling her to cut her shit for just a second. I truly want to hear her out, but getting a call this late means whatever this is is more important, especially now that it’s clear that there’s not anything physical happening between us.
I look at the phone. Zeke’s name flashes on the screen, and I press the green button below it. “This better be good, man,” I say as a way of answering the call. “You know how much I hate to be… woken up.” I have no reason for him to know that I’m still over at Anna’s house. I’m already hearing it from the guys on a daily basis, and while I can trust Zeke to keep it discreet, I’d rather him not think I’m becoming involved with someone we’re basically putting in our business fold.
“I tried knocking on your door, but you didn’t answer.” Damnit. I need a better way to keep what’s going on between her and me a secret. Now I can only imagine what the hell he thinks is going on. “I need you to come in to headquarters for this, Mack. And, if you’re with Anna, I need you to bring her too. It’s about the tattoos.”
“It’s nothing you can tell me on the phone?” I ask, annoyed. I really don’t want to do a walk of shame with Anna by my side so early in the morning.
“No, I would rather talk to you about this in person. We need to figure this out together and respond fast.” He doesn’t sound frantic, though he never does. It’s one of the reasons I trust him so much. You can lean on a guy who doesn’t show his cards in his emotions like a wuss. “Can you come in in the next twenty minutes?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Give me some time. I’ll meet you in my office.” I hang up and turn back to see Anna slipping on a different shirt over her bare back. Over her shoulder, she catches my eyes and blushes.
“The volume on your phone is really loud. Probably not smart for a guy like you and your line of work.” A joke. It’s actually refreshing to hear.
The small room seems to bind us together until we get back on the cycle and head out of the gate and towards headquarters. She holds on tighter than ever this time, her head rests against the back of my shoulder.
Zeke is pacing the hallway outside my office when we finally arrive. Anna follows behind me as we listen to him say, “You gotta hear about the phone call we got today, Mack. It has to be connected with this whole tattoo thing.”
As I hold the key to the door, I turn to him. “Wait, are you saying that you don’t know for sure if this has anything to do with her or the tattoos? Why couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow then?”
I unlock the door and take my place behind the desk, just as I had over two weeks ago when we first brought Anna in. She sits next to Zeke, her eyes not leaving me this time, even as he leans in with his arm draped over the back of her chair. I grab a pack of gum from the inside drawer and break off a few pieces for myself. Nervous tick.
“Earlier today, we got a call from Jason, our attorney and real estate agent.” He directly turns to Anna to explain the rest. “He’s the guy we use as a front. He’s a real professional, licensed and all, but he works for us in making sure our holdings look like they’re on the up and up.” After a pause for potential questions, he continues, “Anyways, he called about the tattoo shop. Some man wanted to know if the owners were interested in being bought out.”
I lean back in my chair with my head resting against my cupped hands. Irritated, I ask, “So what? She’s successful. The place is booming and booked out for weeks now. Of course there are investors interested in the place and competition ready to purchase it. Just say that we aren’t interested and move on.”
Anna coughs slightly and looks down at her hands as she cuts off Zeke. “Who was the buyer? Did they get a name or anything?”
“That’s the thing—the reason why we brought you both in tonight. The buyer called himself Riley. And I don’t know about you, but that name is a bit too uncommon for this to be a coincidence. The new President of the Knights goes by Riley too and is hunting down Anna over a tattoo?”
I quickly scan over to Anna’s face. She’s white as her bed sheets and visibly shaking. Something isn’t right. I stand up and walk around the desk, leaning up against the front of it. I want her to look at me. I want her to tell me whatever she knows before Zeke does.
Zeke looks us both back and forth before continuing on. “So, with Jimmy’s help, I got a hold of Anna’s old boss Ian and asked him about it. Turns out he knows Riley. He made an offer to buy out the shop over a month ago, but he turned him down. He turned him down because Riley is Anna’s ex.”
My jaw locks into place, my hands curl around the corner of the desk, and I can feel the blood drain out of me. “Leave us,” I order Zeke, my words pressing firm against the roof of my mouth. He tries to argue or say something on her behalf, but I don’t want to hear it. With a wave of the hand, he stands and walks backwards towards the door, his eyes straight on Anna, who continues to avoid making contact with me.
The door shuts quietly behind him, leaving us alone in our silence. With a whisper, she says quietly, “I tried to tell you. I should have said something earlier, but I tried to tell you tonight when Zeke called. It’s the reason why… why I didn’t kiss back.”
“Who the hell is Riley? I want you to tell me everything.”
“But—”
“Everything, Anna, or you’re in some deep shit. I’ve risked men’s lives over you. I put your needs and protection over the good of the club, put my sister’s business on the line if Riley would have attacked the building, and have defended you when anyone’s questioned your presence here. You fucking better start spilling or I swear to God, I’ll make you.”
My anger pours out of me like a fountain. I’ve never spoken to a woman like that, ever. It feels almost vile, but the rage inside of me, this unmistakable feeling of betrayal cannot be pushed down. She lied to me. She withheld vital information that could have ended this case a week ago. She could have been the key, but instead she went on living a freaking lie this whole time.
I give her a few seconds before I grow impatient. My fist slams on the solid wood side of the desk. She finally looks up, her head held high with her chin slightly quivering. “Riley and I dated for two years. He was a good boyfriend, a normal guy with a normal nine to five job. He hated that I was doing tattoos. I don’t know if he thought that I was cheating on him or that guys were constantly hitting on me when I was working… whatever it was, he got controlling, so I tried to break up with him a few times.”
She pauses as she looks past me towards the small, square window where an alley lamp post is shining through. “While I was trying to figure out how to end it once and for all, he started to really get obsessed with motorcycles. It was just about buying and restoring them at first. Normal stuff. Then he started hanging out late with guys who were just as crazy about them as he was.
“I didn’t think anything of it until I finally figured out how to break it up to him. He started driving around Ian’s shop and following me home. One night, he threw a brick through the window and the cops got involved. He told me that I was dead for that, and that he would find me. He always finds me. I was living at my mom’s because of that, but I knew it wouldn’t be long until he found me again.”
“So you knew when we said ‘Riley’ the first night I brought you in here. You knew it was him, or at least you suspected and you never told us?” My mind is completely numb. I can’t figure out if I’m feeling a different level of anger or if pity is winning over. From here, the sassy, headstrong woman I’ve gotten to know looks smaller and smaller sitting in my office chair.
“I did, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to think that I brought it on myself or that I was part of his… I don’t know… plan. You have to believe me when I say that I had no idea about the tattoos or that he was the President of the Knights. I couldn’t have known… I’m sorry, Mack. I’m so sorry.” She stands up and paces the floor, her finger to her lips as her head hangs low.
I slide off the front of the desk and walk towards her. She steps back. It’s the first time I’ve seen her afraid of me. I can’t stand this anymore. With two long strides, I force her back into the corner, her body planted up against the wall. She can only let out a gasp as I place my hands to the side of her head to lift her upwards. With one sweep, my lips find hers, pressing down their weight onto hers. Her lips part and everything disappears in the seconds and minutes that pass quickly over us.
My eyes slowly open as I come up for air gasping. We’ve traveled the length of the office back to my desk. I’m sitting in a chair and she’s sitting on my lap, cradled in my arms. How did we get here? It doesn’t matter. All that I can see is her face stained with tears and those small, delicate hands trembling in fear. I want to make this go away. I have to. It doesn’t matter what has happened over the past few weeks, what she has told me or kept hidden. All that matters is keeping Anna alive and finding the bastard that has broken her.