Читать книгу: «Protective Ink»

Chapter One

“So, this investor guy…” Jackson Freeling let the sentence trail off as he tried for the twentieth time in five minutes to get comfortable.

“Would you please stop squirming? I’m going to nick you with the tattoo gun and you will not be happy. I guarantee it.”

While Lissa McLaughlin continued to set up her instruments of torture, Jackson repositioned himself again in the old barber’s chair. Lissa had gone all out in preparation for opening her first tattoo parlor. She’d worked in other people’s establishments for years, so when she’d made noise about setting up shop for herself, it had been his bright idea to recommend that she move back to her old hometown to do it so that she’d be close to him and Garrett. Which was why she’d offered to give him the inaugural tattoo at her new shop, Wicked Ink. He only had himself to blame. But it felt good to have her back in town. He hadn’t seen her in a long time.

While Jackson certainly trusted Lissa with that gun of hers, he hadn’t been inked in almost twenty years. Not since Lissa gave him his first mark right before he went into the military—the standard United States Marine Corps insignia with the eagle, the world and the anchor. Over his decade in the service, he’d watched all of his buddies smack girls’ names on their biceps and American flags on their chests, but he’d never been tempted to go back for round two. His best friend, Garrett Blackwell, local unsung superhero, had a ton of tattoos and had been trying to talk him into getting another one for the past five years. Even that hadn’t changed his mind. Hell, he had enough battle scars.

But then Lissa had called him, sounding so excited, and offered to give him this tat as a gift—one that would get Wicked Ink off to a good start.… And even though his brain had wanted him to say no, his mouth had said yes. Saying no to this woman had never been easy for him.

And so here he was, trying hard not to be a wimp. Getting a tattoo wasn’t any worse than pulling shrapnel out of his ass, but it wasn’t going to be a massage, either. He remembered that much.

Why hadn’t she answered his question yet?

“The investor guy,” he prompted again.

“His name is Cameron DiMaggio and he’s a perfectly nice man. He contacted me after I went to the bank for a loan. I couldn’t get the whole thing financed and the loan officer asked if he could give my name to a new investor in the area. Of course I wasn’t going to say no. You’ll meet him at my grand opening tomorrow night, you nervous Nellie.” She paused and he held his breath as the low-level buzz of the tattoo gun filled the small shop before it suddenly cut off. “Just making sure everything works. Now, hold still while I shave the area. Your skin will have to be smooth for the transfer to work.”

He immediately jerked in the chair. “Wait, hold on. What transfer? We didn’t talk about me getting one of your ‘special’ tats, Lissa.”

She threw back her head and laughed, making her button-down shirt pull tight across her chest. He forced his eyes to find something else to focus on. Still, he couldn’t help but notice how incredibly smooth and graceful her neck was when she arched back to let out the full throaty sound. Just because he hadn’t seen her in years didn’t mean he hadn’t thought of her. She was the one who’d gotten away. Actually, the one he’d never pursued. By the time she was old enough, he’d been put on Garrett-watch. Helping his buddy turn his life around had been a full-time job at first.

Shaking his head like a dog wouldn’t get the traitorous thoughts to go away—besides she’d just yell at him for moving—so he closed his eyes and willed himself to think of something else. It had worked for years, but for some reason it wasn’t working today. Well, shit.

“That’s not what I meant, scout’s honor. I just need to apply the design you asked for to your back with a transparency so that I can follow the lines with my needle. I tapped into your aura all those years ago and there was just Jackson, no extra abilities that I could coax out.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ve told you before, I have no powers. Garrett’s the superhero, not me. Now let’s get started with this tattoo thing. You might want to turn the heat up in here when you start working on other people, though, I’m getting goose bumps without my shirt on.”

Lissa had a strange ability…one he didn’t quite understand. She wasn’t quite a witch, but she had supernatural abilities—that was for sure—and her tattoos had given their friend Garrett the powers of a superhero. The ink she had carved into Garrett’s body had tapped into something latent inside him, giving him the ability to channel his tattoos into weapons—whatever he needed, whenever he needed. The only drawback? To use his power he had to draw in darkness, which needed to be expelled somehow—previously by enduring self-inflicted electrocution, but now with the help of his girlfriend Dory’s healing touch.

Though Garrett had initially used his new powers for dark purposes, Jackson and Lissa had helped him turn his life around, and now he was the kind of perennial do-gooder who showed up in comic books. Jackson was his second-in-command, his go-to guy, and he helped him use his abilities to rescue people. Jackson was okay with being the one in the shadows. He preferred it that way. So no super tattoos for him, thank you very much.

Lissa went to work with her disposable shaver, clearing the fine hairs on Jackson’s upper left shoulder blade. He’d chosen a Celtic knot with double threads in green. It was a warrior’s tattoo, and it suited him well.

Once the shaving was done, he felt the cool press of the piece of plastic being applied to his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of Lissa’s fingers even through the thin layer separating his skin from hers as she smoothed the design against him.

Think about the pain. Think about the war. Anything but the feel of her soft fingertips against you. There was no room for his libido in this room. Lissa was one of his longest-standing friends and someone he had no intention of losing because of sex.

Yeah, he didn’t need that thought either.

He had enough on his plate at the moment. A rash of violent activity around the city had made him and Garrett especially busy lately. His buddy had taken down the city’s top drug lord recently, and now other, newer ones were trying to assert their dominance. The situation made for all kinds of crime and in-fighting. Just the other night Jackson had been called on two occasions to help clean up a scene while Garrett continued to chase after bad guys who had gotten away, two swords in his hands spun from the tattoos on his biceps.

There didn’t look to be an end in sight to the violence, which was a big problem. Garrett might be superhero, but he was only one person. If the police in these parts had been smarter, the problems wouldn’t have escalated to this magnitude. But they just gave out more parking violations rather than dealing with the big issues.

“Are you ready for this?” Lissa asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yeah, let’s get it over with.”

“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for from my first client in my new parlor.”

He turned his head slightly to find her standing with her hands on her curvy hips. Her raven hair fell to midback and draped over her shoulders, the color almost blue in the recessed lighting she’d had installed in the ceilings. Her light blue eyes and pale skin would have haunted his dreams if he’d let them. But she was totally and completely off-limits to him except for as a friend. Anything else would ruin their dynamic, the strange, dysfunctional family they’d formed over the years as they each stepped in time and again to help Garrett. And this was going to make her happy. He wanted her to be happy, so he’d better buck up and smile.

“Sorry. It’ll be good. Your work is always good and I’m happy to be your first customer. My mind is just stuck on all this crime. I think Garrett is wearing himself out, and I don’t like it.”

One of her hands went up to cover her heart. “I don’t like it either, but he’s driven. He was my final job at the old parlor and I gave him a boost with the last tattoo. He’ll be fine.” She laid her warm palm on his right shoulder, away from the transfer. “And thank you, Jackson. This means a lot to me.”

“Well, at least you’re not a newbie,” he said, laughing as she hit him with the first series of thousands of needle pokes.

* * *

Lissa had held tattoo guns in her hands since she was fifteen years old and they’d never shaken like they were shaking right now. Slowing her heartbeat with a deep breath, she gave herself a stern talking to.

She had returned to the town where she grew up to get a fresh start, but she was still haunted by her past.… She’d used her ability to tap into people’s hidden potential several times over the years—fine-tuning an artist’s ability for the harp, increasing someone’s skills as a cardsharp, that sort of thing—but nothing the magnitude of what she’d done to Garrett. At least that now his life was on track, and he was using the powers she’d released in him for good, she could continue with the work she’d been born to do without the heavy weight of guilt. Though she loved helping people find their dormant gifts, she never again wanted to change someone’s life like she’d done to Garrett. The power was too great. The responsibility was too much for her to shoulder.

She sucked in a deep breath, grounding herself in the present moment, and braced her feet apart. Bending over Jackson’s back, she put the tiny needle into his skin to make the outline for the simple yet beautiful design he’d requested.

The vibration of the gun kept her rooted as she followed the outline she’d traced onto his skin. She didn’t freestyle because it led to too many messy complications. She made the first lines of the tattoo then went back to make them bold, her hand steady and her mind clear. If her thoughts kept straying to the hard muscle covering Jackson’s smooth back.… Well, there was nothing wrong with appreciating the beauty of what God had made, was there?

And one thing was for sure. Jackson was a whole lot of beautiful—always had been. The first time she’d met him, he’d been eighteen, with a crew cut, fatigues, a sense of humor and a serious attitude. She’d been sixteen—quite young to be working at a tattoo parlor—but her mother had convinced the owner to take her on because of her considerable talent. His smile had been infectious and she’d fallen head over the tips of her toes into a crush. Martin, her old boss, had been three years ahead of Jackson in high school, but they’d both played football, and Jackson had been moved onto the varsity team because of his skill.

That skill had seen him through boot camp and his first stint stationed at Twentynine Palms in California. He’d come back two years later, harder and firmer but no less funny, and it had made her heart jump into her throat when he remembered her name. She had been in the process of giving Garrett his first tattoo when she’d watched Jackson stroll into Martin’s shop in his dress blues. She’d seen his name on the books and had looked for him all afternoon through the small window from her assigned tattooing room. Even at eighteen, almost done with twelfth grade, she’d been drawn in by his magnetism. She had to swallow when she smoothed her hand over the middle of his back to encourage his muscles to relax. She had needed a break and a small breath of air then, and she needed both now.

“You doing okay? Want to stand for a minute or have something to drink?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Let’s just get this done.” His shoulders bunched, a play of muscle she’d seen a thousand times over a thousand tattoos, yet this time her stomach twisted.

“Well, I need to run to the little girls’ room. I’ll be right back.” Switching the tattoo gun off, she all but tripped over herself to get out of the small room and into the bathroom.

Once there she slammed the door behind her then gripped the white porcelain pedestal sink until her fingers turned white. “I need to stop looking at Jackson’s back like it’s a smorgasbord.” She took another one of those deep breaths and stared at herself in the mirror. This had only happened to her once in all the years she’d been tattooing—when she’d inked his last tattoo. Never since. Never. She was a professional, goddammit, and over the course of her career, she had seen more backs and chests and even a penis or two—when someone wanted a particular area tattooed—than she could count. Never had lust entered into the equation. And yet, here it was for the second time, hustling down the tracks of her brain like a freight train with disabled brakes. Another deep breath did not help. Neither did Jackson banging on the freaking bathroom door.

“You okay in there?”

“Yep, just had to pee.” My God, had she just said that out loud? Her reflection laughed back at her, breaking the seriousness of the moment. This was the guy who had taken in the lost soul she’d helped create. He had taken Garrett under his wing, making provisions in his military contract to almost always have Garrett move with him when Jackson was not in a war. She was grateful to him, indebted to him and not in lust with him.

Feeling like she’d regained her cool, Lissa splashed water on her face, washed her hands and jerked the door open. She didn’t even notice Jackson was standing in front of her, bare to the waist with his brawny arms crossed over his lightly furred chest. Nope, didn’t notice how perfectly defined his abs were and the way his jeans hung just below his navel. Nope, didn’t notice one iota as she shooed him back to the chair and got to work again.

The green she was using on his back matched his eyes almost perfectly. She kept herself in check while she finished the tattoo by praying to an ancient goddess whose name had been lost over time. She begged the goddess for help and asked for the strength to finish this job so she could go back to her regularly scheduled life—the one where she hardly ever saw Jackson and only talked with him when she was checking in on Garrett.

And then it was done. The final poke of ink, a swipe of green soap and a smear of antibacterial cream and it was…

“What the hell?” Lissa jerked her hand back and stared at…nothing.

“What? What hell? Tell me you didn’t mess it up. Am I going to have a crooked line on my back for the rest of my life?”

“I, um… No.” She bit her lip and backed up until she felt the solid metal of the filing cabinet behind her.

“Talk, Lissa.” The low growl wasn’t menacing so much as it was commanding, making parts of her tingle that absolutely, under no circumstances, should ever tingle when she was around Jackson. Especially since his voice was coming from thin air—or what appeared to be thin air. Holy crap!

“I’m not even sure where to start.” She fidgeted with the star ruby ring on her middle finger. He was not going to be happy. Not at all.

“The beginning is good.”

How do you tell someone you can’t see them? Sure, she had plenty of experience giving men the brush-off, but this was a whole different level of not seeing. “I’ll be right back.” And she ran to her office, hyperventilating all the way.

“I’ll be waiting,” he bellowed from the next room. Impatient man.

After grabbing her worry stone from a bowl on the tiny desk in her office, she headed back into the room, feeling more centered with the stone in one hand and a towel in the other. She could do this. She could tell him she’d accidentally tapped into a latent ability of his they hadn’t known about before, one that she hadn’t detected in his aura.

He was going to be incredibly pissed.

“So?” he asked before she had fully made it through the doorway.

“Don’t be so grumpy.”

“You swear and then walk out of here without an explanation after poking me God knows how many times with a needle…and I’m not supposed to be grumpy?”

“Look, you knew poking was part of the process.” Even if she couldn’t see him, she knew he could still see her, so she thrust her hands onto her hips. “And I’m being as gentle as possible.”

“All beside the point. Now will you tell me what’s going on?”

“I wish you’d stop yelling.” And perhaps reappear. Holy crap! She turned away and put her hand into her pocket, sighing with relief when her hand closed around the worry stone.

“I’ll stop yelling once you start talking. Now speak.”

“I’m not a dog, Jackson.”

“Right. Just tell me already. It’s not such a big deal if you made a mistake. You can fix it. Right?”

“I did not make a mistake. I’m very proud of all the work I do. Have I ever made a mistake?” Dead silence. She harrumphed. “On a tattoo?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“Well, this is not it.” She fiddled with the stone again. “It wasn’t a mistake, but you’re not going to be happy.”

“I’m not happy now, so out with it.”

“It looks like you have a power after all.” Like ripping off a bandage, it was better to just blurt it out.

“I what?” The growl was back and this one was kind of menacing, especially since she couldn’t see his face or his body language.

“You have, um, a power. Something happened when I put the tattoo on you and you have a power.”

“What exactly happened?”

Clearing her throat didn’t help this time, so she just came out and said it. “You blinked out. I can’t see you.”

“Come again?”

Plopping down into what she had fondly dubbed the “next victim chair,” she rested her chin on her hand. “When I finished the tattoo, you faded under my hand.”

“What the hell?”

“Exactly.”

She heard him rise from the chair and start pacing, his agitation obvious from the sound.

“How did this happen?” He stalked around the already small space, making it feel miniscule in the process, even though she couldn’t see him. “Did you do something to me when you started the tattoo? Put some mojo into it that you didn’t tell me about?”

“Now hold the hell on there, cowboy. I did no such thing! I may have tweaked a natural ability or two, but I haven’t ever done anything major without permission. People come to me for special tattoos all the time, sent through a friend of a friend, and I’ve turned down plenty of them. Why on earth would I change all that for you, you big lug?”

“No, sorry, you’re right. Sorry.”

But he didn’t sound sorry as he continued his stalking. He sounded pissed. Far more than she had thought possible.

“Are you sure you didn’t do this on purpose?”

“I’m positive. Jeez, I can’t just give out abilities like they’re candy, you know. It doesn’t work that way.” She occupied herself with arranging the things on her tray and tried to quiet the alarming fact that her first tattoo in her new shop had gone anything but well.

And then she felt his hand cover hers while he used his other one to tip her chin up.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” He toyed with the star ruby on her finger.

“Okay.” She removed her hand from his before she got those tingles for a second time. But then she didn’t know where he was until he spoke from the far side of the room.

“I’m invisible?”

“You and what you’re wearing. Like that Martian Manhunter guy from those comic books you and Garrett pore over.” She thought she might be sick. She’d enhanced him without even realizing it. What if he had to suffer like Garrett did for his powers? Making someone better at painting or enhancing their ability to spin a good yarn was one thing. An honest to goddess superhuman power manifestation was something else entirely…and she had never wanted to be responsible for another one. She had done the first with Garrett, naively thinking his mother was cool for wanting to enhance his ability to be a warrior. Her own mother had always encouraged her gift, wanting her to be the best she could be when it came to enhancing other people’s talents. So Garrett’s mother had come as a shock to her. She’d had no idea that the woman’s real motive was to turn him into a monster, or she never would have touched him the first time.

“But he’s green.”

Despite her morose thoughts, she snickered because of course that was the kind of detail he’d focus on right now. “And you’re not. At least he’s a good guy, right?”

“Well, shit. I guess so. In the Justice League and all…” He trailed off.

She had no idea what he was doing and could only guess as to where he was. How could this have happened, anyway? How could she have made such a glaring error? But then she realized she had been praying while doing his tattoo. Damn. And she had not tapped into him just to make absolutely sure she wasn’t messing with anything. Double damn. Two mistakes she knew better than to make.

She always mentally connected with a person’s energy before tattooing them. She’d avoided several bad situations that way. Once a woman had come in for a tattoo and the hate in her aura had been enough to set Lissa back on her butt. She’d taken extra pains not to enhance it in any way—the last thing the world needed was a hate-addled soul who had the power to turn people to stone with a look.

And to add a cherry to this sundae full of crap, she knew one thing for sure—Jackson her friend was hard enough to resist, but Jackson the superhero might be more than she could turn away from, especially now that they lived in the same town.