Tattoo(36)

She giggled and I took that as a yes. “Where else are you hurt?” I asked, concerned. I hadn’t been gentle when I threw her onto those stairs when we were being shot at. I knew I probably hurt her, but I couldn’t be sorry.

“Nothing major. A couple cuts and bruises.”

“Like this one,” I said, pulling my hand away from hers and lightly touching the side of her cheek where Snake hit her at the bank.

He was still at large. The police had an APB out for his arrest.

“Nothing a little makeup won’t fix.” Taylor pulled my hand away from the bruise and threaded her fingers through mine once more. “You’re a good hand holder.”

I grinned. “You think so?”

She nodded. “You fold your fingers around mine, like really tangle us together. It’s like you want to touch me.”

I did want to touch her. I wanted to touch more than just her hand. “Isn’t this the way everyone holds hands?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Every other guy I dated never intertwined our fingers. He always just kind of cupped my hand in his.” She made a face. “It was lame.”

“Sounds like you’ve dated a lot of guys,” I said, irritation clouding my tone. I didn’t want to think of anyone else’s hands on her.

“Not really. A few. My father runs most of them off.”

Suddenly her father didn’t annoy me as much.

She made a little sound. “I didn’t mean to imply that we’re dating,” her cheeks flamed a shade that matched her hair. “Obviously, we aren’t… I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” I grinned. I liked seeing her flustered.

“Will you hand me that water?” she asked, pulling back her hand.

I gave her the cup and watched her lips wrap around the striped straw. Once she had her fill, she lowered it and studied me. “Did they catch him?”

I knew she was asking about Snake. “No. He disappeared. But they’re still looking.”

Fear clouded her eyes.

“You’re safe,” I told her, taking the cup and setting it aside. I didn’t want her to be afraid. “They’ll get him soon.”

“So what now?” She leaned her head back against the pillow and looked at me.

“You get some rest and I get to do paperwork.”

“How long have you been a police officer?”

“About six years.”

“You’ve been in lots of dangerous situations before?”

“A few.” I hedged. My entire career was pretty much one big dangerous situation, but whatever.

“That tattoo,” she began. “The one on your back. It marks you as part of a gang?”

“Yeah. It was part of my cover for the last case I worked on.”

“Seems extreme to have to carry around a gang symbol for life for a temporary job.”

I shrugged. “The job might have been temporary, but it’s part of me now. Besides, I earned that tattoo.”

She nodded. I don’t think she knew what to say to that. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was proud of things I’d done to get this tattoo… Of course, I wasn’t ashamed either. I wasn’t like the men she was probably used to. I wasn’t black or white. I was the kind of guy who existed in the gray area of life… in between the bad and the good, kind of stuck being pulled in both directions.

She yawned, revealing her little pink tongue, and my blood pressure started to rise. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” I told her gruffly, remembering the way it felt to invade her mouth with mine.

“I’m glad you came by,” she said, her voice already drowsy.

I didn’t respond, but I did prop my boots up on the side of the bed and make myself comfortable. The papers at the station could wait. Silence settled over the room and I closed my eyes, thinking longingly of the hat I lost in the basement. It was always good for shading my eyes when I wanted to catch a few Z’s. I didn’t really want to leave. I liked sitting here with her. It was comfortable… It felt right.

Sleep wasn’t hard to find. In fact, it claimed me rather quickly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy to keep. The earlier events made me a little twitchy. I’d learned to become a light sleeper because sleeping in a house full of drug addicts and criminals was never a good place to let down my guard. Add that to the fact I had been shot and threatened just hours before, and you could say I was extra… cautious.

Okay, pissed off was more the term.

The door to her room creaked open and the sound of light footfalls approaching the bed stirred me awake. I didn’t move a muscle, just stayed reclined in the chair, listening. It was almost like they were creeping into the room, toward us, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand tall.