Hard Ever After, Page 2

“So how are you doing? How are you finding being back in the hospital again?” The doctor’s expression was carefully neutral, but Becca didn’t doubt for a moment that her reactions were being scrutinized.

  So she went for honesty. “I was a little nervous about coming in before I got here this morning, but once I was here, I was fine. As soon as the shift started, everything felt normal. So I think I’m doing pretty good.”

  Dr. Parker nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. Are you having any nightmares, anxiety, issues with panic, sleep or appetite problems?”

  Becca clutched her hands tighter. “I’ve had occasional nightmares, and for a while I was jumpy if someone approached me from behind, but I haven’t had any of the other issues.” Frankly, given everything that Nick’s team had faced during their investigation into the men who’d killed her father and abducted Charlie, Becca’s issues had taken a total backseat. And she’d been fine with that. Because she had been fine. And the last thing she’d wanted to do was distract or worry Nick by making him think she was anything but fine. Not when his life had been on the line—­so many times. “The whole thing could’ve turned out a lot worse than it did, so I mostly feel lucky.”

  “That’s a great way to look at it.” The doctor scribbled something inside the folder. “Do you have any concerns about being back to work?”

  “None,” Becca said. “I’m glad to be back.” And she was. She’d known she wanted to be a nurse since the age of thirteen, when her mother had died of an aneurysm. The feeling of helplessness Becca had experienced that night had made her determined to be able to help if something similar ever happened again to someone she cared about. She loved what she did.

  After a few more questions, Dr. Parker handed her a form. “I’m happy to clear you to return,” she said. “Just sign where it’s highlighted.”

  “Great,” Becca said. “Thank you.” She signed and handed back the form, and then it was time for her lunch break.

  Back in the staff lounge, she found a ­couple of ­people hanging out around the half-­demolished cake. She was glad for the company and conversation as she settled down to the turkey sandwich, chips, and yogurt she’d brought from home, and she was equally glad to find that no one treated her weirdly despite the fact that everyone knew what had happened to her that day. Even if you could keep gossip that juicy under wraps around there, which you couldn’t, the hospital had undertaken a security reevaluation and had implemented some new procedures and security mechanisms as a result. So her attack was no secret whatsoever.

  Still, as the day progressed and patients were admitted in a nonstop stream, she found it easier and easier to relax. Finally, seven o’clock rolled around, and a bundle of anticipation took root in her belly. She couldn’t wait to see Nick, and she really couldn’t wait for him to do her first tattoo.

  In the staff lounge, she collected her purse from her locker and gathered the flowers to take home. There wasn’t much cake left, and she figured the night shift would easily finish it. The balloons made the otherwise plain blue-­and-­white lounge more cheery, so she decided to leave them there. They wouldn’t fit in Nick’s sports car anyway.

  Not wanting to keep Nick waiting, Becca rushed across the room with her arms full. The door yanked open right in front of her, and a tall, bald man with dark brown skin stepped into the opening, looming over her.

  Becca nearly choked on a gasp. Tyrell Woodson. For a moment, she was sucked back into the past so thoroughly that everything around her disappeared.

  “Oh, sorry about that,” the man said, his voice deep and friendly.

  She blinked and swallowed hard. Not Woodson. Holy shit, not Woodson. What’s wrong with me? Becca forced a smile. “Oh, no. Not your fault,” she managed. “I wasn’t paying attention.” He wore blue scrubs, not a maintenance uniform. And the identification tag clipped to his pocket read Benton Tucker, Certified Nursing Assistant. She stepped back to let him in.

  He pointed at the flowers. “Are you Becca?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she said, her heart still racing in her chest. “How’d you know?”

  “The cake. I had a piece earlier. When it still said your name,” he said with a deep chuckle.

  She smiled. “Right. Glad you got some, because it’s almost gone. Free food never lasts long.”

  Another chuckle. “I guess that’s right. I’m Ben,” he said, extending his hand. “I’ve only been here for about a month.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ben,” she said, returning the shake and feeling bad for the way she’d reacted to him, which had been not only ridiculous but also embarrassing. Not to mention a little concerning. For a moment, her brain had been entirely convinced that Woodson had been standing in front of her, despite the fact that Ben bore only a superficial resemblance to him. While both men were tall and dark skinned, Ben’s head wasn’t bald, like Woodson’s, but was covered with closely trimmed hair. Ben didn’t have any tattoos or scars, whereas Woodson had been covered in them. Ben’s face was lean, and he wore a neatly trimmed goatee, where Woodson’s face had been round, his cheeks full. And Ben radiated an easygoing good humor, not the menace she’d gotten from Woodson. “Well, hopefully our shifts will overlap soon. Hope you have a good night.”

  “You, too, Becca.” He gave a wave and turned for the cake table.

  Becca pushed out into the hall. After she’d successfully battled back her nerves all day, freaking out just because a man had stepped in front of her made her feel defeated and weak and stupid. And that pissed her off. She was stronger than this. And she refused to let a little anxiety get the better of her. Woodson was gone. The Church Gang had been largely destroyed. And Nick and his team had exposed the corruption that had led to her father’s death and the team’s being railroaded out of the Army. They’d also gotten the justice they deserved.

  Everything was good now. The crises were all behind them.

  Outside, July heat wrapped around her despite the evening hour, but the only thing Becca cared about was the man sitting in the black car idling at the curb. She rushed across the plaza, the smile on her face growing when Nick noticed her coming.

  She couldn’t get in the car fast enough. “Hi,” she said.

  “Sunshine,” Nick said, the word filled with so much emotion it made tears prickle against the backs of her eyes. “Missed you.” His hand found the back of her neck and pulled her in for a long kiss.

  “Missed you, too,” she said. His presence chased away the last of her nerves and allowed her to take a deep, cleansing breath. She was fine. No big deal.

  He threw the car into gear and eased into traffic. “So, how was your day? Everything go okay?”

  “Yeah,” Becca said. “Everything went great.”

  Chapter Three

  “YOU MADE SLOPPY JOES,” Becca said with a big grin when they got home. The rich, spicy smell of Nick’s one and only specialty filled the whole loft apartment—­and the gesture filled her heart with so much affection. He’d made her Sloppy Joes the very first night she’d spent there at Hard Ink, back when everything had seemed so uncertain, back when it had seemed like she might lose everyone she had left.

  Nick grinned as he moved to the Crock-­Pot on the counter and lifted the lid. “I did. Thought you might enjoy something homemade after a long shift.”

  Becca came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his firm stomach. “You’re the sweetest.”

  He chuckled as he stirred the thick, meaty sauce. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Too late,” Jeremy said as he walked into the room, Charlie right behind him. The two of them were pretty much attached at the hip these days, which Becca found completely awesome. Her brother had been a loner for so much of his life. He deserved someone as special and fun and loving as Jeremy Rixey.

  Eileen loped out after them. Becca had rescued the three-­legged German shepherd puppy off the street near the hospital the fi
rst week she’d met Nick, back before she’d realized she’d never be returning to her own place again. At first, that was because it hadn’t been safe—­multiple break-­ins had proven that. Now, even though all their mysteries had been solved and threats had been neutralized, it was because her home was here.

  “Hey,” Becca said, bending down to pet the monster-­sized puppy. “You guys are just in time. We’re getting ready to eat. Wanna join?”

  Jeremy ran his inked hand over his short dark-­brown hair, which was still growing out following brain surgery just over a month ago. None of them had emerged unscathed from the investigation into the corruption that had killed her father and blackened his team’s reputations. Charlie had been abducted and maimed, two of his fingers cut off to try to make him talk. And Jeremy had been pistol-­whipped by a fleeing bad guy who’d attacked them at a funeral. But both of them were doing so much better now. “We already had some,” Jeremy said with a grin. “You know I wouldn’t miss Nick’s Sloppy Joes.”

  “Pretty much everyone else ate already,” Nick said, pressing a kiss against Becca’s hair. “Everyone” meaning the other four members of Nick’s team and their respective girlfriends, all of whom were crashing in temporary digs here until a huge-­scale rebuilding and renovation project was done, which would create six loft-­style apartments in the other half of the L-­shaped Hard Ink building.

  Peering out from between long strands of blond hair, Charlie nodded. “We’re gonna catch a movie.”

  After weeks of being on lockdown here, the idea of just going out to do something as casual and normal as seeing a movie still felt strange to Becca. “Oh, well, that sounds like fun.”

  “How was work today?” Charlie asked in that quiet way he had.

  She came around the counter to him. Sometimes she was completely overwhelmed by her relief that they’d managed to rescue him from the Church Gang. And by her love for him, her only remaining family member. “It was good. Business as usual.” Playfully, she pushed his hair back off his face. “I like it long, you know.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, his gaze a little shy. Even around her. “Me too.”

  “Me too,” Jeremy said in a loaded tone, waggling his eyebrows as he planted a kiss on Charlie’s cheek.

  Becca laughed and held up her hands as Charlie’s cheeks pinked, which was when she noticed the guys’ T-­shirts. Jeremy’s was white with a headless stick figure. It read, I need head. Charlie’s was blue and read, I’m Getting Real Tired of Wearing Pants and Having Responsibilities. Jeremy’s innuendo-­filled T-­shirt collection was legendary around here, and Charlie had been borrowing Jer’s clothes ever since he’d been rescued, although he usually picked the least dirty shirts Jeremy had. It was just another thing Becca loved about Jeremy, and about the way he loved and took care of her brother.

  “Speaking of responsibilities, how did things go with the construction today?” she asked as Nick passed her two plates. She placed them on the breakfast bar, then grabbed some silverware and napkins.

  Jeremy flicked his tongue against the piercing on his bottom lip and braced his hands on the counter. “Inspectors were out this morning and signed off on everything that’s been done so far. Contractor’s hoping to have the exterior shell totally done before winter. Fingers crossed.”

  “Considering a few weeks ago there was just a big hole out there, that sounds pretty good,” Becca said.

  “Yeah,” Jeremy said, something dark momentarily passing through his gaze. And Becca didn’t have to guess at what it was. There’d been a big hole because the arm of the building that had previously stood in that spot had been destroyed by a military-­grade explosive device launched at the building in a predawn attack by the enemies of Nick’s team. An attack that had resulted in the deaths of two of Jeremy’s friends, members of the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club, which had been helping protect them. On some level, Becca knew Jeremy blamed himself for that. “Well, we better go.”

  Charlie nodded and made for the door, where he paused for a moment. “Hey, Becca?”

  “Yeah?”

  For a moment it seemed like he struggled for words. “Have a good night,” he finally said, and then he ducked out, Jeremy right behind him.

  “Thanks,” she said, then turned to Nick. “Was that weird, or is it just me?”

  Nick shrugged as he pulled buns out of a bag. “I think he was worried about you being at work today.”

  “Oh.” The thought made her heart squeeze.

  Soon, she and Nick were seated at the bar together with overflowing Sloppy Joe sandwiches, some of the pasta salad she’d made over the weekend, and chips. Eileen curled up on the floor next to Becca’s tall chair.

  “This is the best dinner ever,” she said.

  “That’s because you’re easy to please,” he said with a smile that brought his dimple out to play. A man with so many rough edges . . . and a dimple. It slayed her every time.

  “So how was your day?” she asked.

  “Uh, good. Made a lot of progress on the new office,” he said. They were turning the previously empty first-­floor spot next to their tattoo shop into a high-­tech suite of offices for the new security consulting company Nick and his team were opening. “Kinda funny that Jeremy bought this old warehouse because it was cheap, and now it’s turned out to be the perfect space for all of us.”

  Becca smiled. “Yeah. I’m glad everyone is still going to be around here when all the work is done.” It had seemed so empty around the building when, earlier in the summer, most of the team had cleared out to return to their homes and pack up their lives to relocate here permanently.

  “Me too, Sunshine. This all feels right.” Nick wiped up some sauce from his plate with the edge of his bun.

  “Where is everyone anyway?” Becca asked. “It’s so quiet.” With six ­couples living out of two loft apartments, only one of which had a finished kitchen, it often felt a little like a college dorm around there.

  “Shane, Sara, Easy, and Jenna went out to dinner earlier. And I think Beckett, Kat, Marz, and Emilie decided to finish up some painting downstairs.”

  Becca leaned in for a kiss. “It’s weird to be alone.”

  Nick laughed. “Roger that.”

  “We could have sex on the counter,” Becca said, giving him a seductive look.

  He froze with a potato chip halfway to his mouth. “Is this something you’ve been thinking about?”

  “Pretty much if it involves you and sex, you can bet I’ve thought about it,” Becca said, grinning at the expression on his face, part dumbfounded, part aroused. “What can I say? You’re very inspiring.”

  He wiped his mouth and slipped off his stool, then he spun her around to face him, his big body surrounding hers. He tilted up her chin. “Right back atcha, Becca. But nothing is sidetracking me from getting my ink on you tonight. You hear me?”

  She rested her hands against his chest. “No sidetracking intended.”

  His fingers slid into her hair. “Uh-­huh. Now, you ready for your tattoo? Because I’m dying to get my hands on you.”

  WEARING ONLY HER bra and jeans, Becca sat in a chair in the middle of Nick’s tattoo room. Since the shop was closed while Jeremy focused on getting the construction on the other half of the building started, they were the only ones down there. The driving beat of a rock song played from the radio as Nick moved around the room getting everything ready.

  Cabinets and a long counter filled one wall, which was otherwise decorated with drawings, tattoo designs, posters, and photographs of clients.

  Becca had seen Nick work before and loved the dichotomy of this hard-­edged, lethal soldier having a soft, artistic side. He was really freaking talented, too.

  He handed her three sheets of paper. “I worked up a ­couple different fonts. What do you think?”

  She shifted between the pages. “This one,” she said,
settling on the cursive design that best interweaved the letters in the words Only, Always, Forever.

  “That was my favorite, too,” he said, giving her a wink. “How is this for size? Bigger? Smaller?”

  The total design as he had it on the sheet was about four inches square, the words stacked atop one another. “This looks good to me. What do you think?”

  Nick nodded and came behind her. He folded the sheet to focus on the design, then held it against the back of her right shoulder. “Yeah. This is a good size for the space. Gonna be fucking beautiful.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her skin. “Let me go make the stencil, and we’re ready to go.”

  A few minutes later, he cleaned her skin, affixed the stencil, and let her look at its placement before getting her settled into the chair again.

  He pulled her bra strap off to the side. “Ready?”

  “Very,” she said, butterflies doing a small loop in her belly.

  The tattoo machine came to life on a low buzz. “Just relax and let me know if you need a break, okay?” he said, dipping the tip into a little plastic cup of black ink.

  “Okay.” His gloved hands fell against her skin, and then the needles. Almost a scratching feeling, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as she thought it would. And just like when he’d drawn on her with skin markers, she was already dying to see what it looked like.

  “How you doing?” he asked in a voice full of concentration she found utterly sexy. Just the thought that he was permanently altering her skin—­just like he’d permanently altered her heart, her life, her very soul—­sent a hot thrill through her blood.

  “I’m good,” she said, relaxing into the sensation of the bite moving across her skin. “Is it weird that I kinda like how it feels?”

  He didn’t answer right away as the needle moved in a long line. He pulled the machine away and wiped at her shoulder. “Not weird at all,” he said, his voice a little gravelly. “Some ­people like the sensation and even find getting tattoos addictive.”

  “I can see that,” she said. He worked without talking for a stretch, and the combination of the quiet intensity radiating off of him, the driving rock beat, and the buzz of the machine was heady and intoxicating. She found herself breathing a little faster and wanting so much more of him to be touching so much more of her. If she thought he was sexy putting ink on someone else, it was nothing compared to how she felt when he was doing it to her.