Temporary (Indelibly Marked #2) (3 page)

“You have been served.” He thrust a thick envelope in his
direction.

Reflex alone made him take the envelope. “Served?”

“Shane Elliott, you have been served.” The man nodded and
with a military precision turned and walked back to his car.

Ivan froze as he watched the man climb into a nondescript
grey sedan and drive away. Only when the sun hit him in the eye did he blink,
relock the door, and return to the counter.

In a daze, he stared straight ahead and opened the envelope,
took out the contents, and lifted the pages to his face. Although he only
skimmed the documents, the words
infection
,
negligent
, and
lawsuit
jumped out. They may as well have slapped him in the face, but the final
blow came when they named the artist. “Booker!” He turned to the back.

Billy stood and they looked each other in the eye.

Every nerve ending longed to run over and beat the crap out
of the man who caused such a fiasco.

It was either that, or he wanted to leave, throw in the
towel, get down on his hands and knees in front of his best friend, and tell
him he couldn’t cut it.

Before he made another move, or pounded Booker’s ass into
pulp, Ivan needed backup, someone stronger than either the pretty boy or even
him. He picked up the hated papers, stomped out of the shop, hurried to the
next-door over, and barged into Lindsay’s accounting office.

Lindsay’s
empty
accounting office.

“Emily Elliott!”

A loud boom from under the desk greeted him, followed by a
whimper.

“Em?” He dashed around the desk and found her underneath
with her hand on the top of her head. “What are you doing under here?” He
dropped to his knees and rubbed her head.

She tensed.

The avoidance game had run its course.

He continued to comfort her and at last, like erosion, she
gave in and leaned against him. “I banged my head.”

“I know that.” He wanted to laugh but couldn’t even manage a
smile. “Why were you under the desk in the first place?”

“I’m hiding, and it would have worked if you didn’t scare
me.” She swiped his hand away. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“Why are you hiding?” He finished his head rubbing by
combing his fingers through her hair.

She cupped her hand over her mouth.

Instinct born from years of being around the woman caused
him to lower his ear to her mouth. Even with no one else present, some things
were better said in hushed tones.

“If I hide, no one will find me, and then they won’t ask me
a question, or ask me how I’m doing, or bother me, and then I won’t have to
kill them.”

Her whisper sent shivers through him and he turned, their
faces not even an inch apart. Actually, Emily had the right idea, and he wished
he’d thought of such a simple solution himself. Under the desk would be a perfect
location for them, especially in an office with no one else around. With all
the stress, they both needed a distraction. He lifted his eyebrows.

“Don’t you do that.” She squared her jaw.

“Em-lee.” He crooned her name out the way she loved.

“Let me out.” She pushed against his chest. “Now.”

With a sigh he slid back and helped her up.

“Why are you here?” She put her hands on her hips.

“I can’t do it.” Rather than feeling relief at his
confession, his chest tightened. “Since I’ve taken over Permanent Tattoo, I
have yet to do any tattooing. I am too busy making sure that everyone else in
the shop doesn’t screw up. At some point we ran out of red ink. All I do is
deal with vendors, and media, and none of them want me, they want Shane.”

“How do you think I feel?” She opened the top drawer of the
desk and a bunch of papers escaped their confines. “Lindsay needs some forms
and every form here looks exactly the same to me. I broke the filing cabinet
when I kicked the drawer. All I do is run things back and forth to the point
where Shane told me to conserve gas and do it once a day. This place is very
boring, and today I pretended I didn’t speak English to someone from the IRS.”

“I win.” He held the papers out to her.

“Ivan, please.” She took the pages and gave them a quick
read. “Oh my God. Does Shane know?”

“No.”

“He can’t know.”

“Who he can not know?”

“Ivan, you have to take care of the shop.” Her wide eyes
stared into his, searching for an answer.

“What do you think I can do?” He didn’t want to be the human
mop, especially since he didn’t even have Shane for backup. He turned away from
her.

“I think you can fix it. I think you have to fix it.”

No matter what road he traveled in life, the Elliotts stood
by him. From seeing him through the death of his mother, employing his father,
and every other countless gesture, they were his family as well. In order for
him to succeed, he needed an Elliott. He peeked over his shoulder at Emily.
Emily Elliott. “I need you.”

“Like I told you, we’re not doing that anymore.”

“If I recall, you broke up with me.” Turnabout was fair
play.

“You said we weren’t even together, so technically we’re
nothing.” Rather than yelling, her voice lowered. “Now you want to leave us.”

Since the first day he walked into their home he had always
been part of the
us
. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Seriously, I
need you.”

Without a word, she crossed her arms.

“You’re right, Shane can’t know, Lindsay can’t know, I have
to fix it for them, but I need you with me.”

“What about the accounting office?”

“We’ll do everything together.”

“Damn it.”

“I’m not playing games, Emily. I’m not messing around.” He
reached to touch her but instead balled his hand in a fist. “Tell me what I can
do to make the situation better?”

“I need two things.” She grabbed his collar and pulled him
down.

Assuming the first item would be a kiss, he licked his lips
and said the magic word, “Anything.”

“First, I don’t want to ever hear you talk of quitting
again.” She thrust him away from her.

Okay, no kiss. He stumbled and caught himself on the desk.
“I had a momentary lapse.” While he stormed in wanting to leave, he never
could, never would. No matter what, he had to make the whole thing with Emily
right. “You know you’re my family.”

“Okay.” She inhaled.

“What’s the second thing?”

“If you’re one of us, I want to be one of you.” She stared
into his eyes. “I want you to give me a tattoo.”

“Are you trying to get me killed?” Sleeping with Shane’s
sister was one thing, but permanently marking her was something entirely
different. Her brother had always been adamant about her not getting inked.

“You said the same thing the day after we had sex the first
time. That didn’t stop you from doing it again.”

Whenever Emily referred to their bedroom activities, she
always called it making love, and he always shrugged, figuring it was a girl
thing. For the first time she called it sex. With no time or desire to analyze
her words, he shook off an unidentifiable hollow sensation that formed in his
middle.

“Fine.” He caved and held out his hand for a shake.

“Then let’s get to work.” Without touching him, she slammed
the desk drawer closed and kicked the file cabinet one last time before heading
for the door.

As he followed, he realized there was a name for the hole in
stomach. Loss. He prayed he’d fare better with the lawsuit.

Chapter
Three

After a quick peek over her shoulder, Emily bent down and
hugged the front desk of Permanent Tattoo. Oh, she had missed the shop with the
aroma of ink and leather in the air, the rock music, and the vibe of being in
one of the most desirable places in Hollywood.

The accounting office was capital D, for dull, especially
without Lindsay. Of course, unless Lindsay was with an account or doing some
heavy-duty calculations, she spent her time at Permanent where the magic
happened.

Aside from pulling an occasional file, she didn’t really
need to be at the accounting office, all she needed was the phone. When Ivan
came for her, Emily was only minutes away from a humiliating crawl back there.

Still, she wished she’d had to come on her hands and knees
licking the floor instead of dealing with an impending lawsuit. While Ivan set
up his station to get to work, she went over the schedule, organized the mess
the artists made over the last few days, and read the legal papers again.

At the moment everything stood at a standstill. Billy was in
the middle of an intricate tattoo, and Ivan’s appointment had arrived. Ivan
gave her two kisses on her cheek, thanked her, and practically bowed to her
before finally getting to work on his customer. He needed her. She shut her
eyes and hit her hand flat on the desk trying to force any feelings for him
away.

With nothing to do but wait for everyone to finish, she
tried to locate the files on the person who filed the complaint. After an hour
of searching to no avail, she decided to alleviate the knot in her stomach by
indulging a bit. She walked out onto the floor to watch the tattoos. Soon she
would play in their sandbox, and at last she would be a true part of the group
she’d hung out with her whole life.

She passed by a couple of the boys and stopped at Tamsin’s
station. “Hey.”

“What’s up, Pinkie?” Tamsin kept her head down.

“Just working.” She watched her add some color on an
old-fashioned anchor draped with chains on a man’s leg.

“What do you want to tell me that I’m not allowed to tell
anyone else?” Tam laughed. Her customer gave her a thumbs up.

Emily bent down to her ear. “Ivan’s going to give me a
tattoo tonight.”

“Are you trying to get Ivan killed?”

“It’s my body.”

“When Shaney’s away, Pinkie will play.”

“I’m going to finish my rounds.” She bit the side of her
mouth to stifle a laugh then stood to the side of Ivan’s station. He finished
up his tattoo on an arm conveniently attached to boobs and blonde hair.

“There’s no harm in making the first move with a guy.” Ivan
tilted her arm left and right, lifted his machine again, and added something to
the image of a heart with some detailed scrollwork around it. “We like it when
you girls let us know what you want.”

The woman giggled through her bright red lips.

“Take a look.” Ivan did one last wipe on the tattoo and
helped her sit up.

She lifted her arm and let out a squeal. “Oh my God! It’s
just what I pictured.”

Emily took a breath, fighting the urge to push her off
Ivan’s table.

“Will you take a picture for me?” The woman squirmed on the
table and pointed to her purse. “My phone is in there.”

“Are you sure I’m allowed to look in a lady’s bag?” He
pulled her phone out. “I thought that was no man’s land.”

“You are not any man.” The woman fluffed her hair out and
posed.

Talk about thorough! Ivan snapped a few pictures using both
the horizontal and vertical positions then returned the phone to her bag.
“There you go, beautiful.” He dressed the tattoo.

If the lawsuit didn’t kill her, Ivan’s molten sugar tone
would turn her to ashes. Emily crossed her arms.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” the woman asked.

Emily pursed her lips, waiting for his answer along with the
customer.

Ivan simply smiled.

“Are you seeing anyone?” The woman touched his arm.

Emily narrowed her eyes, deciding which one of them to take
down first. Hell, she could take them both.

He finished with the dressing then handed the customer an
aftercare sheet and some products. “Don’t take the bandage off for a couple of
hours.”

“Staying silent?” The little leech tilted her head, allowing
her hair to fall over her shoulder. “You just said guys like to know what we
want.”

“And you’re doing great.” He motioned her to the front.

Emily lagged behind, hating the way her body relaxed at his
words, or should she call it his brush off? The knot in her stomach tightened,
noticing Billy had also finished his tattoo. Ivan lifted his finger in her
direction and escorted his customer away.

With a grin like he got the hot chick’s phone number, Ivan
returned. Maybe he answered the floozy up front where Emily couldn’t hear.

“Guess what I got?” He rubbed his hands together and reached
into his pocket.

She gave him the one-eyed glare. “Just tell guys what they
want? They like it?”

“Tell me what you want, Em.” He lifted his eyebrows.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want?” Refusing to melt and
turn into a swooning pile of fan girl in front of him, she shot the question
back to him. Maybe one day he would answer.

“Let me show you something.” He started to slide his hand
out of his pocket.

“You said you needed to talk to me?” Billy joined them.

The smile lighting up Ivan’s face dissipated and her cheeks
heated.

Ivan held his arm out as if shielding her like a parent did
when they hit the brake abruptly. “Get back to the front.”

Billy’s focus shifted between the two of them and he turned,
taking slow steps.

She and Ivan followed. Before she had a chance to nicely ask
Billy what happened, Ivan picked up the papers and threw them at him.

“What the hell is going on?” He slapped his palms onto the
desk and got in Billy’s face.

Billy swiped the papers away, his eyes wide. “Lower your
voice.”

“Ivan!” She held one hand out to Billy and put her other
hand on Ivan’s back only to have her touch met with tense, tight, shaking
muscle.

“Permanent has never had anything like this, and then Mr.
Brooding Pretty Boy enters and we’re slapped with a lawsuit!” He lunged over
the desk.

Billy jumped back.

“No!” Somehow, she would never be sure how, she managed to
catch Ivan by his shirt and prevented him from ripping Billy into a million
pieces. Part of her wanted to kick him for almost causing another lawsuit, the
other part wanted to hug him for his instinct to protect the shop.

With his jaw jutted out, Billy took a couple of steps
backward. Ivan pushed back from the desk, but neither man took their eyes off
the other.

“Let’s calm down.” She stalked around the desk. While she
picked up the papers, she kept her focus on the two of them, ready to jump in
if they made any sudden move. “Please, fighting won’t accomplish anything.
You’re not thugs, you’re artists.”

“Remember your own words.” Ivan growled at her.

“I don’t even know what’s going on.” Billy bent down and
helped her.

“Stop looking at her.” Normally Ivan served as the voice of
reason, the open book who spouted advice in a few lines as he passed by. He’d
turned into Papa Bear awakened from hibernation and afraid his honey tree was
being threatened. In this case, the shop…and her.

Billy shook his head. “You’re insane.”

She returned to Ivan’s side.

He pulled her in closer and took a breath. “This morning the
shop was served papers for a lawsuit on behalf of one of your customers. They
are suing Permanent Tattoo.”

“What?” Billy wrinkled his nose and without the normal
strut, returned to the desk. “Who?”

Ivan picked up the papers. “Someone named Gary Lipson.” He
turned the page around to Billy.

“For what?” He shook his head.

“After the tattoo, he ended up in the emergency room and was
diagnosed with a staph infection. It got so bad he ended up in the hospital and
now his arm is all mangled or something.”

“He must not have followed the proper aftercare.” The color
in Billy’s face left, along with his attitude.

Since Billy’s arrival at the shop a few months earlier,
those were the most words she ever heard him speak in one sitting. Behind his
cover-model features and rebellious tattoos, he exuded misery. Though she
wanted to strangle him for the lawsuit, seeing his reaction made her almost
want to hug him.

“I can’t find his paperwork either,” she explained, choosing
to tell him everything.

“I had him sign the consents.” Billy stared at her. “He was
a last minute.”

Ivan sneered and took the papers back. “You’ve put this shop
at risk. Not only are you on probation, but I don’t want you to ink another
customer until those consents are found. That paperwork may just save us. I
already saw how shoddy you are with paperwork the other day.”

“And … no one can tell Shane.” She gripped Ivan’s arm. “Or
anyone else.”

Once more Ivan leaned over the desk toward Billy. “Say a
word and you will regret it, more than the accuser regrets having you ink him
in the first place.”

“He signed the consents. I remember.” Billy ran his hand
through his hair and walked away. “He signed off on the art and the consents.
I’ll find them.”

Silent, they watched him leave.

“You never told me what you wanted before,” Ivan whispered
in her ear.

Not caring about appearances or relationships, she took his
hand. “I want it to go away. What if Shane finds out, and then Lindsay finds
out,” she said and squeezed his fingers. “Then…the baby. I don’t want anything
to happen to the baby if they get upset.”

He took her by the shoulders. “Look, he will find the
consents, prove that the man signed off on the aftercare, and all will be
fine.”

“Do you think so?” She wanted to believe him.

“Yes. I just wanted to beat him up a little.” He gave her a
wink. “Now do you want to tell me you wanted?”

“I wanted you to tell me what you wanted.”

“I wanted to show you what I got.” He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “I got a tip and wanted to take
you to dinner.”

His charm always won her over. Soon they would be right back
in bed. “Well what I wanted was my tattoo.” She snatched the bill out of his
fingertips.

He took it back. “Wouldn’t you rather have dinner, maybe a
club, or a drive?”

“Nope.” A giggle escaped. “I think we should get back to
work and you need to think about what you are going to indelibly mark me with.”

He pursed his lips out. “Fine. I still have customers
though.”

“Go draw something then.” She shooed him away and glanced
back at Billy who was in the process of tearing his station apart. The color
had still not returned to his face.

She turned back to the desk and straightened out the papers.
The knots multiplied in her stomach, warning her that fixing the mess wasn’t
going to be as easy as Ivan said. It was a good thing they didn’t spend that
hundred dollars. They might need the money.

~~*~~

“I’m ready.” Emily took off her shirt, tossed it aside and
lay down on her stomach.

Ivan pulled his hair back in a ponytail willing his mind to
ignore the fact that she was only in black miniskirt and bra, and that her ass
was rounded like a written invitation for his hands. Ivan took a deep breath.
He was about to permanently mark his best friend’s baby sister.

Maybe he could somehow postpone the tattoo and go home to
take a cold shower? An idea sparked when he spied a notebook on the counter. He
picked it up and put the book of flash selections in front of her. “You never
told me what you wanted.”

“Are you serious?” Without even a glance at the book she
swiped it aside. The notebook fell to the floor and she turned over on her
back. “You are going to tattoo Shane Elliott’s sister with something maybe a
million other people have?”

Her boobs seemed to overflow out of her pink satin bra and
he rubbed his chin. If he wanted her help he needed to keep himself in check.
That meant he also couldn’t see other women, an interesting predicament that
only led down the path to blue balls and frustration. “I don’t know what to
tell you, you didn’t give me any custom art so I didn’t make a stencil.”

“You are known for your freehand work, do you think I want
some stencil stuck on me?” She rose up on her elbows. “You have been using my
body for over a year. Don’t tell me that, at least once, the idea of what art
you’d like to ink me with never popped into your mind.”

Something definitely popped anytime he was with her, damn
her if she didn’t know him. “Get on your side.” If nothing else, the vision on
his table would make for some great alone time material later that night. “Take
off your bra.”

“That’s better.” With her eyes on him, she reached behind
and unhooked the bra. The straps fell down her shoulders, but before she
revealed all, she turned to her side and dropped the bra on the floor.

He sat on his stool and slid up behind her before putting on
a fresh pair of gloves, and turning on the mp3 player. Their music filled the
room, one of the many alternative rock bands Emily loved—a band they listened
to when they made love, or had sex, or whatever they called it these days.

One night she’d fallen asleep, cuddled up at his side, and
he lay staring out the window of his apartment. He drifted into that perfect
place between sleep and awake and as Emily suspected, the idea of a perfect
tattoo for her entered his mind. As he shaved the area, cleaned and prepped her
skin, the image returned, crystal clear in front of his eyes.

Emily’s skin was always perfect and pristine, an ideal
canvas for any art. He picked up his skin scribe pen and drew, and she did him
proud by remaining perfectly still and silent while he worked.