Sacrifice of Love (The Grey Wolves #7)(63)

"Jordyn?" he roared in his booming voice, hauling me in for a crushing hug. "Where you been, chick? My boy E has been on major freak-out mode. He keeps popping in to see if you've come by."
"Really?" I asked, confused. What kind of game Emrys was playing?
"Seriously. Something to do with you pulling a disappearing act or something. I'm surprised he even came here since, you know, you aren't exactly from around these parts," he said. Anthony seemed like the type who was careful enough to never ask any questions he didn't think he was privileged to know, especially with a mysterious friend like Emrys. "When I asked him why he didn't just call you, he said you were out of his range. Whatever the hell that shit is supposed to mean," Anthony continued.
"I've been around," I answered nervously. I tried not to look obvious as I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Emrys wasn't waiting to intercept me. "Has he been here lately?" I asked cautiously as Anthony closed the door behind us. He led us down the pitch-black hallway that had once freaked me out.
"You just missed him. He was here earlier today," he said, pushing the door open to his pristine living space. "Too bad, huh?"
I let out a quiet but relieved breath. "Right," I answered.
"Maybe not too bad after all?" he stated, sinking his hulking framed own onto the couch. "You two have a spat?"
I shrugged. What had happened between Emrys and I had been so much more. Lies, betrayal and a broken heart deserved a stronger word than "spat."
"You here for more ink?" he asked, obviously puzzled at what other reason I would have for a visit.
"Uh, I really didn't give it that much thought. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd swing by," I said. Of course, what he didn't know is that I arrived in the neighborhood only two minutes after lying on a sandy beach on a small island not too far from Tahiti.
"That's cool. So—maybe you're here to talk about my boy E?" he asked, sitting back against the couch with his hands folded across his wide stomach.
I nodded. Anthony wasn't stupid enough to believe I had just casually stopped by.
"Can't do that, chick. I like you and all, but I owe E. He's had my back for more than half my life," he said, looking at me with wise eyes. 
"Do you know what he is?" I asked, figuring we were past pretenses.
"Not exactly, but I've never asked. If Emrys wanted me to know his business, he'd tell me."
"He has secrets," I said bitterly, pacing in front of Anthony. I knew I had made a mistake in coming here. I wasn't going to learn anything new. Anthony's loyalties lay with the soul-sucking trader who had tricked me into believing I meant something.
"Any secrets Emrys has don't concern me."
"And you've never bothered to question why he never ages?" I inquired skeptically.
"I tried once, but he's a man of few words when he wants to be. I figured if he wanted me to know, he'd tell me. If that's why you're here, I can't help you out.
"It's not that. I know what he is," I sighed, perching in a hard white plastic chair. It was actually more comfortable than it looked since it was contoured to the planes of my body.
"Okay, then. Why are you here?"
"I know you feel he deserves your loyalty and you're probably right, but he's done stuff that will no doubt have repercussions," I answered. Emrys had failed to deliver me. Only he knew what kind of trouble that would bring.
"What does that have to do with me?" Anthony asked, studying me with interest.
"I need to know if Emrys has ever come to see you with anyone else. If he's ever mentioned the 'work' he does."
"You're the only person he's ever brought around in the twenty-some-odd years we've been friends. As for his work, the only thing he's ever said is he's a collector."
I laughed harshly at his description. "Collector" was one way to put it. I could think of a few other choice ways to describe it, like "backstabbing asshat leech."
"Is that wrong?" Anthony inquired, looking amused.
"I guess it depends who you're asking."
"What if I'm asking you?" he said.
"I'd say he needs to watch his step," I answered, standing up. "I think I've changed my mind. I do want a tattoo," I said. I felt suddenly inspired.
"Really?" He looked confused by the sudden halt in our conversation.
"Yeah. I want one here," I said, running my hand down my right side.
"I'm guessing by your expression you already have a design in mine?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. I could see the tattoo I wanted clearly in my mind.
"Let's do it then," Anthony said, leading me to his tattoo room.
This time I would get a tattoo where I could see it. One that would remind me of who I was and who I could trust. I climbed up on a padded table that sat against the longest wall of the room.
"You know, you're going to have to take off your shirt and bra for this one," Anthony said.
"Yeah, I uh, figured that, I guess," I answered, looking more embarrassed than he did.
"Chill out, chick," he laughed. "I'm kidding. You do have to lose the shirt, but you can keep the bra. Here, you can cover up with this," he said, throwing me a towel.
"Bastard." I smirked. After explaining what I wanted, Anthony got to work. Two hours later we were both admiring his skills. "It's excellent, Anthony. Thank you."
"No problem. It's interesting, I'll give you that, but hey, our ink says who we are. The butterfly still looks hot too. Damn, I'm good," he said, admiring his previous masterpiece on my shoulder.
"No arguments from me," I answered. "How much do I owe you?"
"You know what, chick? It's on me this time.""You don't have to do that," I said.
"I want to. I don't know when your birthday is, but consider this an early or late present, whatever. Just remember how I told you to take care of it," he said, smiling.
Anthony led me down the hallway to the alley outside his building. I thanked him one last time, giving him a kiss on the cheek before he closed the heavy door behind me. The visit wasn't a total loss for information. The fact that Emrys didn't know where I was explained a lot. Up until my visit with Anthony, I assumed it was only a matter of time before Haniel or Emrys came to collect me. Judging by what Anthony said, it would seem my powers had evolved to a new level. Obviously, I must be somehow shielding my whereabouts. This opened up a new world of possibilities. I could continue to travel and avoid detection as long as I wanted. I could start a new life. Problem is, it would be a life filled with loneliness. I didn't like to think about the look on Krista's face when I left her behind. I had been so angry and hurt. Now that I had some time to think things over, I was still upset, but I also knew I would have to see them again eventually.
***
The warm blue-green water at Manuel Antonio beach in Costa Rica could be bottled and sold for medicinal purposes. That's how wonderful your body feels after lying in the perfectly soft sand while the waves gently massage your muscles. Stepping from the ocean in a skimpy swimsuit I purchased from a local street vendor a few days back, I glanced down at the fresh tattoo that ran up my side. Unlike the butterfly on my left shoulder that I couldn't see, this one was hard to miss. I had to hand it to Anthony. Only he could make the words I had chosen to brand myself with this beautiful.
"Nice tattoo," a guy old enough to be my father (well, if I was human, that is) flirted with me as I sank down on the towel I had also snagged.
"Thanks," I said, not glancing his way. Hopefully, he'd take the hint and move on to someone more his type. I sighed when I saw him slowly strutting my way like he was God's gift to women. This is what I get for coming to a public beach. Being alone so long had begun to wear on me. I craved human contact. Not this dickbag's contact, but something that would ease my fear that I would be all alone for the rest of my life. However long that would be.
"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, indicating the beach bar behind us.
"Can't, I'm not twenty-one," I answered, trying to scare him away with my age.
"That's fine, honey. This ain't like the states. They don't care how old you are."
"So, me being eighteen wouldn't bother them at all?" I asked.
"Not at all sugar," he countered, sitting on the end of my towel without asking. 
"I'm not sure if my boyfriend would like it that I accepted a drink," I said, giving the jerk one last opportunity to leave somewhat graciously.
"Honey, if my girlfriend looked like you, I wouldn't leave her on the beach all by her lonesome."
"So, you have a girlfriend?" I asked. Not that I cared, but what a worm.
"Wife, but I'm always looking," he said, reaching out to capture a drop of water that was rolling down my arm. I reached out with lightning-quick reflexes that were as instinctive as breathing and grasped his hand. For a moment, his eyes lit up with triumph until I started to squeeze. I grinned at him as his face slowly lost its color.
"A word to the wise, Romeo. When a girl gives you an excuse to avoid buying her a drink, or asking her out or wherever else your perv mind was taking this whole thing, you take the hint. If we say no, we mean no. Got me?" I said, squeezing his fingers a little harder. I watched with satisfaction as his complexion took on a grayish hue. "Got me?" I repeated.