Temporary (Indelibly Marked #2) (14 page)

When did her brother appear? The professional who would walk
away rather than be embarrassed? Everyone stopped and stared in their
direction.

Sissy opened her mouth.

“Unless the next word out of your metallic mouth is an
apology I suggest you shut it and walk your runway.” Dillon’s tone was finally
that of a protective older brother.

Mark ran over. “What’s the matter? We have a show in less
than a minute!”

“Look at me!” Sissy held her arms out.

Silence took over the space as Mark looked between her and
Sissy.

Rather than anxiety and nerves about her job, she leaned on
her brother, literally and figuratively.

Mark elbowed Dillon. “What do you think?”

“I think she looks gilded.” He elbowed Mark back as if the
designer were nothing more than a good old boy. “What about you?”

“I think she looks like a finale.” Mark clapped. “Models get
in line!” As fast as he’d arrived, he left.

“Who are you?” Sissy went up to Dillon.

“The biggest brother of them all. The tattoos are under the
suit.” He stepped closer, towering over the already tall model. “I’m glad my
younger brother developed my impeccable taste.”

“Line up!” Mark yelled.

With a huff, Sissy lifted the hem of her skirt and stormed
away.

A small round of applause echoed throughout the room, and
almost like magic, the disorder and commotion died down into a line of orderly
perfectly coiffed models.

Emily hugged her brother.

“What’s this for?”

“I got my brother back.”

“Are you okay? What can I do now that I have my official
title back?”

She gazed up at him. Aside from her father, Dillon used to
be the bastion of safety. Behind his back no one would hurt her, but lately
someone else fit her a little bit better and he wasn’t an Elliott.

“Can you take me to the shop?”

Chapter
Twelve

Before his phone finished the first ring, Ivan answered.
“Where are you?”

“Down Sunset and I was going to stop by,” a man’s voice
responded.

“Who is this?” He squeezed the phone. He spent half the
night checking his phone, and for the millionth time he glanced toward the door.
With no sign of Emily, he balled his hand in a fist and waited for his customer
to return to the table to have his tattoo dressed.

“Dude, it’s Jake, Editor for
Inked Skin Magazine
,
putting all the news about the world of tattooing on glossy pages and the
Internet.” His friend lowered his voice to sound like an official reporter.
“Can I drop in?”

Ivan stifled a groan. Jake meant publicity. Publicity he
would have to undertake with Mr. Elliott out, but he had promised Miss Elliott
he’d do it. “Sure come on by.” At least Jake would distract him. “Later.”

He hit end and double checked to make sure he hadn’t
received any texts or messages from his missing girl. Not only did he not know
her whereabouts, but he worried about her tiptoeing on the line of anxiety. The
news of Mr. Lipson being the hospital would definitely trip her up. After he
received a text from James explaining the situation, he asked their lawyer not
to tell Emily. When the man didn’t respond, Ivan tried to intercept her with no
luck. He would deal with the latest news and take care of her. Emily couldn’t
handle any more.

“How about I finish your customer?” Tamsin tapped him.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Again, he looked toward the
door as if he could magically make Emily appear.

“Because I am, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.” As he stood, the bell on the door rang
followed by a flash of that perfect pink.

He started to rush toward Emily, but not wanting to alarm
her, he stopped.

Instead, she spotted him and charged for him. Her complexion
let him know she already heard the news.

“Come here.” He opened his arms and she crashed into his
chest, hiding her face in his shirt.

Once more the door opened and Dillon entered.

While Emily held on, Dillon approached and lifted his chin.

“How did you end up with her?” Not caring what Dillon
thought, he wrapped one arm around Emily and put the other in her hair.

“We were out.” Dillon crossed his arms and leaned back on
his heels.

“Who told her?” he asked.

Emily barely moved. She simply held on to him as if he was
the last life preserver in a flood.

“I did.”

He tightened his embrace. “Do you not see her? Look at her!
Why would you tell her?”

“She begged me to tell her what happened,” Dillon shot back.

“Has she eaten?”

“I’m not five, no one needs to check my plate.” Her voice
came out muffled from his shirt.

Dillon shrugged. “She’s an adult and she deserves to know.”

“Have you been with her every day?” No one, especially the
wayward brother, could tell him anything about the care and maintenance of
Emily Elliott.

“Well, apparently you have.” Dillon stayed put, not
retreating an inch.

“Yes, I have, and I will be the one to determine how
information is dispensed. Not you.”

“I am her brother.” Dillon squared his shoulders.

“I’m her—” He cut himself off and shook his head. Again, he
should be able to say what he was, but he didn’t know, or didn’t want to admit
it.

Dillon smiled.

“Get out of here before I throw you out!” He made a motion
as if to jump toward the man.

“Ivan, stop!” Emily attempted to push him back.

He caught his breath. “Emily, what do you want me to do?”

“Be the artist you are. You’re not a thug.”

The way she gazed up at him, he wanted to believe her.
“Dillon.” Before he could finish his statement the door opened again.

“Hey! Everyone’s right here.” Jake sauntered inside and
waved.

“Hey.” Ivan lifted one arm with a little less gusto than Mr.
Magazine Editor.

With his computer case in hand, Jake walked though the shop,
taking a second and a third glance at Dillon. “You must be the other brother,”
he said to Dillon as he reached forward, shook Ivan’s hand.

“What makes you say that?” Dillon asked.

“You don’t look like us, but you resemble her.” He pointed
to Ivan and then Emily.

Aside from the full sleeve tattoos, Jake looked like a reporter
with his neatly combed hair, glasses, dressed in jeans and a sweater.

“Guilty.” Dillon leaned back on the counter.

“What can I do you for?” Ivan needed to regain control of
the situation. With his arm around Emily, he guided everyone back to the chairs
near the light table. They took a seat and he fought the urge to place her on
his lap. She opted to sit next to him, sliding the edge of her chair over until
it touched his.

“You asked me to come and do a story, so I thought we’d set
that up.” Jake reached into his bag and took out a tablet computer.

“Do you need some touch-up work?” Ivan peeked over at Emily
rifling through her bag and fixing her makeup. Normally she was the first
person to spot something amiss, but he supposed all the recent drama had
interfered with her sensors.

“No, why do you ask?” Jake continued to type into device.

Ivan paused. His next question would come at Emily’s
expense, but for her, he needed to proceed. “Why did you come all the way here
to ask when you could have done it on the phone?”

Emily stopped her primping and turned to him.

Jake put the machine aside. “How are things at the shop
without Shane?”

“Everything’s fine.” The words left his mouth even though
nothing could be a bigger lie.

“That’s not what I hear.” Jake stared at him.

Emily pursed her lips. At last her antenna went up.

He remained silent.

“There are some rumblings that there’s trouble here.”

No reaction. Ivan willed his muscles not to move an inch,
using the same strength he found when Shane did the detail work on his ribs,
though inside he wanted to writhe. Truth be told, the lawsuit was much more
painful.

“What do you mean?” Emily’s voice lacked its usual bounce,
but came out more of a metered growl.

“You guys are known as the pristine shop, where everyone
from CEO’s to celebrities come for their tattoos. We’ve gotten word that things
aren’t as perfect as they should be.”

“Are you going to believe rumors like a little girl?” Ivan
squeezed his hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm. “What exactly
are you trying to say?”

“Ivan.” Jake leaned forward. “I’m here because of our
relationship.”

Ivan focused on the wall behind Jake. A piece of his art,
some crows flying away, hung next to a forest Shane created. Shane, his best
friend. Shane, his family. Shane, the man who built the shop and its
reputation.

“Remember who made your magazine before you proceed.” Ivan
hardened his voice.

“We had someone come to us about the lawsuit. I asked for an
exclusive on the story.”

“What?” Emily gasped.

“You jerk!” Ivan shot up out of his chair. “This is the
thanks we get! An exclusive at our expense!”

“Ivan.” Emily stood by his side.

Dillon joined them.

“Emily, what do you want me to do?” He wouldn’t listen to
another lecture about not being thugs. The reporter deserved what he got.

“Show him the way out before I do.” She pointed the way.

No one would give Emily more stress. He pushed her behind
him. “Gladly.”

“Wait.” Jake held up his hand and rose. “You don’t
understand what happened.”

“Are you calling us stupid?” Of all the people he thought he
would be killing today, Jake wasn’t even on his long list. He pulled back his
fist.

Jake stood his ground. “I got the exclusive so I can delay
it, and yes, I’m calling you stupid for not letting me explain.”

Dillon wedged in between the men. “Hold on. That makes
sense.”

Emily wrangled Ivan’s fist and pulled it down.

“Come on guys.” Jake leaned around Dillon. “Don’t you think
I know someone’s going after you?”

Dillon backed up.

Ivan inhaled and nodded. The way the lawsuit happened,
didn’t fit. Something was off.

“I can’t hold the story forever, but I can postpone it,”
Jake said. “That’s what I do for the shop that helped make my career.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you want in return?”

“An exclusive on your side of things and…”

“And what?” Everything came with a price.

“Your next celebrity scoop.”

Emily nodded.

“Okay. Deal.” With his free hand Ivan patted Jake on the
shoulder. “We’re trying to mediate, but we also are investigating on our own,
because something’s just not right.” Fine, he exaggerated a bit, but they
needed to take a stand for the media.

“I will do everything I can, just be straight with me,
okay?” Jake returned the gesture. “How about we make a date for a podcast now?”

Ivan’s stage fright didn’t matter. Emily, Shane, and the
shop mattered. “What do you want to shoot?” He could think of a few things, but
Billy wasn’t here.

Jake rubbed his chin. Of course Shane never provoked any
pauses. Shane came complete with his own media kit and cache.

“There’s only one thing to do with Ivan.” Emily came out
from behind him. “Most of his work is done all freehand and his style is true
art, it looks like a painting. We’ve only ever given you the best stories, and
Ivan’s talent is beyond.” She lifted her shirt.

“Oh man.” Dillon turned away. “I’m still the brother,” he
said, covering his eyes.

Always Emily, she always defended Ivan stood by his side and
even ran for cover behind him, the perfect blend.

“Whoa.” Jake bent down. “Shane is going to kill you.”

“Look at the art.” Emily stomped her foot.

“It does look like paint; I’ve only seen this kind of art a
couple of times.” He nodded.

Ivan tilted his head and admired his handiwork. The
intricate branch bending to her every angle, the flowers, each one with their
own meaning and the bit of sky he put in the background. “I have only one last
detail to add.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do for the podcast.” Emily let out a
dim excuse for a smile.

“Shane is going to kill both of you.” Jake stood up
straight. “Let’s do it next Tuesday.”

Ivan looked between them. Shane killing him versus the first
bit of light he gleaned in Emily’s face. “Fine.”

“I better get going.” Jake gave Emily a hug.

She let go, waved and without another word, walked away.

“Hey, thanks for everything…and for the time.” Ivan shook
his hand and watched her go to the storage room.

“Go.” Dillon tilted his head. “I’ll show Jake out.”

He found her in the corner putting away a box of ink. “You
don’t need to do that.”

“I don’t mind.” She straightened a row of the bottles. “It
needs to get done.”

He kicked the door closed and joined her. “How about I move
around my schedule tomorrow and you and I go take a cruise down to Redondo and
walk down the pier?”

“I have a million errands to do and you have that corporate
customer who was very specific about not being late.”

In all the years he’d known her, she had never turned down a
ride with him. “Then how about we take off early and we’ll do it all later.” He
came up behind her, setting his hands on her sides.

“How can we go out when that guy’s in the hospital?” She
rested her head on the shelf. “I feel guilty even worrying about the shop, but
I can’t help it.”

“I think you’re trying to do too much. I never see you stop.
We have to get through it.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and her stomach
rumbled under his fingers. “Have you eaten today?” Earlier at Shane and
Lindsay’s, he noticed she only picked at her salad and didn’t touch the
brownie. The last thing he saw her eat was on their date, and even then it
wasn’t that much.

“I’m not hungry.” She put her hand over his and traced the
outline of his fingers with her nail.

He gave her a light kiss on the back of her neck. “Do you
want me to make you the famous Harlow cornflake scramble?” Other than him and
his dad, Emily was the only one who would eat the mixture. The world was
missing out. “I’ll make sure the cornflakes are extra crispy.”

She turned to him.

“I think I even have sour cream.” He grinned. Actually the
meal sounded pretty good.

She pressed her palm to his cheek.

“How about we just go home?”

“Home?” She stared into his eyes.

If he couldn’t get her to eat, maybe he could get her to
sleep. For the first time he just want to get her back to his apartment and be
with her, nothing else. There was no going back to the old days. He cared too
much. “Yeah, let’s go.”