Rome. Jay CrownoverЧитать онлайн книгу.
best interests.
“It’s not like I’m Captain America’s type anyway. Don’t worry.” I pushed the edge of the chair with my foot, making him twist away from me. “Besides, you know I’m holding out for Mr. Perfect and that guy is so far from it there isn’t a bridge on this planet that could get him from here to there.”
He planted his Vans-clad feet on the ground and pushed up so that he was standing in front of me. He bent down so that we were nose to nose and I couldn’t look away from those intense, pretty-colored eyes.
“There is no Mr. Perfect, Tink. You made him laugh, whatever that means. I haven’t heard him laugh one single time since he got back into town. Just watch yourself because no one county can have two rulers and neither one of you likes to give up control.”
I wanted to laugh it off, to brush off his warning as unwarranted and silly, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that Rome Archer was enigmatic and that I found him more interesting than anyone I had encountered in a long time. Not to mention I really did want to see what he looked like without his shirt on, which was something because my libido had been missing in action for longer than I cared to admit … Ack, it all had the makings of something that was indeed bound to get complicated and messy if I didn’t put a lid on it quick.
I sat back down just as Rule came back in the door. He didn’t look overly upset, but he didn’t exactly look very happy either. I was going to ask him if he was okay, but he waved me off and muttered that he didn’t want to keep his client waiting any longer than he already had. Since that was a valid brush-off, I let it slide and went back about the business of keeping the shop running.
I know it was often hard to believe, given my big mouth and unusual appearance, but I had a killer mind for business and was really only a few college courses away from finishing out a full-fledged MBA. My dad and I had a difficult and convoluted relationship, but I always wanted him to be proud of me, and he had given me every tool and every opportunity to be the best me I could be. It had just been him and me for as long as I could remember. My mom had decided having a baby and being married to a guy who was deployed all the time was no fun, so I bounced from naval base to naval base and spent ungodly amounts of time with a series of nannies, distant relatives, and eventually Dad’s girlfriends or live-in lady friends until I met Jimmy when I was seventeen and promptly decided he was my whole world.
Dad had eventually, after too many knock-down, drag-out fights, agreed to let me go live with Jimmy as long as I graduated high school and enrolled in college. I had no problem doing either of those things, and by the time I was a freshman in college, Jimmy had the shop open in Brooklyn and I was doing the same thing I did now for far less money. I had always had an interest in body modification, but I couldn’t even draw a stick figure, so it was just a natural progression that I learned how to pierce and do dermal implants from the guy at Jimmy’s shop. He was an awesome mentor and I liked having an actual skill that I could use in the world I lived in. Plus, it was fun to stick needles in people. What can I say, I’m a weird chick.
When things had gone south with Jimmy, my drive and ambition had taken a nosedive right along with my relationship. I barely finished my senior year and the damage done had a lasting effect on my GPA. I could go back and finish fairly easily but at this point in my career I made a good living at the Marked, I had a full life and generally was happy, aside from missing that magical connection with someone to make me a we instead of simply a me. I had been alone for too long.
Unbidden my thoughts went back to Rome and to that eerie and tight feeling I had in my chest when that girl had asked me to hand her number off to him. We were strangers, I was pretty sure I didn’t even like him very much, but there was no doubt about it: today, while we were in each other’s orbit, he got me to react. I wasn’t sure what to make of that yet. The last guy who had gotten me to react had also destroyed my world when he decided I wasn’t what he wanted. I didn’t do well as a leaf no longer attached to tree. I needed roots, a foundation to grab on to, and when my perfect guy came along he was going to be so solidly planted it would take a hurricane to move him.
The rest of the day was busy and I had two more appointments of my own to get through. I lost track of time and was busy cleaning up my piercing studio and hollering at the guys to make sure they turned off the lights on their way out when I heard the bell over the door ring. Since I had locked it after my last client, I knew it could only be Phil. I poked my head out of the door to tell him I would be out in a second and tried to remember if I had done the “cash out” in order to hand it off to him for the nightly cash drop.
Phil was as opposite to my very clean-cut, straitlaced dad as a man could get. He looked more like a biker than a successful businessman, but the two men had served together in their much younger days, Phil only staying in for a short four years, while my dad made a lifelong career out of the navy. I never really understood how they managed to maintain such a close friendship, considering they disagreed on everything under the sun. Phil was like a second father to me, and I treated him just like I did my own, so when I came out of the room snapping off my latex gloves, I frowned when I saw him sitting in my chair with his head in his hands.
Phil looked an awful lot like an older version of Nash; they had the same swarthy complexion, the same periwinkle-colored eyes, and the same stocky build. Phil had a riot of black hair that he wore pretty long for a guy his age, but with his sleeves of tattoos and neatly trimmed goatee, he pulled it off and still managed to be a babe even if he was in his late forties.
“What’s going on, boss?”
He was typically an energetic and vivacious guy. He lived life at a hundred miles an hour and was constantly taking in strays. I personally thought it was his mission in life to save every wayward soul from themselves.
He looked up at me and I was surprised to see how tired and worn he looked. He had bags under his eyes and his normally full cheeks looked slightly sunken in and hollow, like he hadn’t had a good meal in a few weeks. He rubbed his fists in his eyes and blinked at me.
“Just tired. I’ve been busy. I was thinking about opening a second shop in LoDo and that’s taken more time and effort than I thought.” He even sounded exhausted.
“I didn’t know you were thinking about opening another shop.”
“You guys are the best, but there is a lot of talent out there. I see way too many bad tattoos, too much messed-up work coming out of other shops in this town. I have the resources for it, and frankly I think Denver needs it.”
I went to the safe and pulled the cash dropout. There was definitely a profit to be made in having a second location. I was just surprised I had never heard a word about it before now.
“Have you told the guys about it?”
Phil took the bank bag from me and I frowned when I noticed that his fingers were shaking. Something was off here and I didn’t have a good feeling about it at all. He gave his head a little shake and pushed up from the chair. It looked like it took far more effort than such a simple act should have taken.
“No. Rule was busy getting a house and settling down with his girl. Nash would ask too many questions, want to be too involved, and I haven’t made enough firm decisions about anything yet. Jet ran off and got married, so we know where his head is at, and Rowdy …” A little grin tugged at his goatee. “Rowdy will just go with the flow. The others won’t be affected by it one way or the other, so I don’t think anyone needs in on it until I know for sure what I’m dealing with.”
I had the very distinct impression we were talking about something other than a second tattoo shop, but I had no clue what that might be, so I just stared at him hoping he would clue me in. When he didn’t I sighed and ran my hands through my short hair. I decided to change the subject.
“How well do you know Rome?”
He gave me a strange look. “That’s an odd question, Cora. Why do you ask?”
I tried to shrug nonchalantly but I wasn’t sure I pulled it off.
“Now that he’s back from Afghanistan, he’s around a lot. We don’t