Obsession (Steel Brothers Saga Book 2) (10 page)

“All right.” Wendy sighed. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you about the birth certificate.”

Thank God. I could at least go home to Marj with a tiny bit of information.

“Marjorie was born prematurely. At twenty-four weeks. She wasn’t expected to survive, so Daphne named her Angela Marjorie, Angela meaning ‘angel.’ Daphne was sure that Marjorie would be an angel soon. Then, when the baby survived, Daphne wanted the name changed. I told you she was troubled. She thought if the baby carried the name Angela, she’d become an angel.”

“I guess that makes sense in some convoluted way. Especially for a troubled woman. But how was Daphne able to have the birth certificate changed in the Colorado database? Normally, when you file a name change, your birth certificate doesn’t change.”

Wendy shook her head. “I don’t how that happened. Or why.”

She was lying again. She had a tell. She stroked her cheek with her index finger when she was lying or telling a half truth. Good thing I’d taken that course on body language in trial at law school.

“All right. The Steels obviously had an ‘in’ with someone who worked in the records office, and they were able to make changes in the database itself. Which might’ve had to be done manually back then. I’m not sure when the system became computerized. It was twenty-five years ago.”

“They were just beginning to computerize everything back then.”

Yup. She
did
know something.

“Look, Wendy, I care about Marj very much, and I care about her brothers. Is there anything else you can possibly tell me?”

Wendy licked her lips, seemingly lost in thought. Then, “Maybe it’s time. I did some things at Brad’s request, things I didn’t necessarily agree with, but I loved him and I wanted him happy. I can only tell you this much. Around twenty-five years ago, something happened in the Steel family.”

Twenty-five years ago. That was about the time of the five-million-dollar transfer that didn’t make any sense in the documents. “What happened exactly?” I asked.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds and then re-opened them. “Something abominable, appalling. Between my clout with the media and Brad’s money, we were able to keep it quiet. I didn’t agree then, because it meant a lot of sick people got away with some really heinous crimes, but I agree with him now.” She regarded me, her blue eyes sunken and pleading. “Please don’t dredge up the past, Jade. So many people will get hurt.”

T
he next day
I drove to Grand Junction to meet with Robert Prendergast, otherwise known as Biker Bob, who owned one of the top tattoo parlors in the city. Safe in a Ziploc was the photo of the tattoo that I remembered from my past. I’d put it in an envelope so I didn’t have to see it. Seeing it was…bad.

I had called Bob ahead of time, and he’d agreed to meet me at his shop. Of course, I’d had to promise to make it worth his while. Waive a few dollars around, and most people ended up exactly where you wanted them. Surreal.

This shop was state of the art, nothing like the little hole in Snow Creek. I walked in, and several artists were working in the back, their tattoo guns buzzing.

The receptionist, platinum blond and heavily tattooed, nodded at me. “Help you?”

“I’m here to see Bob. He’s expecting me. Talon Steel.”

She smiled and stood. “I’ll get him for you.”

The receptionist returned with a massive mountain of a man wearing a leather vest, a studded leather belt, and jeans. His hair was wrapped up in a do-rag, and a graying braid hung out from it all the way down to his ass crack, which was, unfortunately, visible when he turned to whisper something to the receptionist.

He held out his hand. “I’m Bob.”

I shook his meaty paw. “Great to meet you. Is there a place we can talk? Maybe get a cup of coffee?”

“How about a beer?”

I twisted my lips. “Even better.”

We walked a few shops down to a little Irish pub. When I found out they didn’t have Peach Street or Breckenridge, I ordered a Jameson. Biker Bob went Guinness all the way, along with an order of onion rings. It was early yet, so the place wasn’t too rowdy, and we could actually hear each other talk.

“So what can I help you with?” Bob asked.

“It’s about the tattoo parlor you used to own in Snow Creek. Toby Jackson owns it now.”

“Yeah, good guy, Toby. Talented artist, too.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You mean you’re a virgin?”

What the hell?
I must’ve looked as confused as I was, because he let out a guffaw.

“I mean a virgin body. No tats.”

“Nope, no tats.” And it was going to stay that way.

“I could fix you up. A good-looking guy like you, all those muscles. You got a special lady?”

I kept myself from nodding. “Nope.”

“Shoot. She’d love her name on one of those triceps.”

The way Bob was eyeing me freaked me out a little. My guts started to churn. “I don’t think so. And stop staring at me.” I looked away from him.

“Cool down. I’m a ladies’ man all the way. But I look at everyone’s body. It’s a canvas to me, ya know?”

Whatever. I wanted to get back to the subject at hand. “I was going through one of the books from your old place, and I found a tattoo that I remember seeing a long time ago. How long did you own the shop in Snow Creek?”

“About five years.”

Shit. Then he might not know who the hell this guy was either.

“But I worked there from the time I was eighteen and an apprentice.”

Eureka.

“Cool. So how long were you there altogether?”

“Fifteen years, all told. Bought it about ten years in, sold it to Toby about fifteen years ago.”

Thirty years ago. Interesting. The timing was right. I pulled the photo safely ensconced in its plastic bag out of my pocket. “Do you recognize this work?”

He pulled the photo out of the envelope and his eyes lit up. “Recognize it? That’s
my
work. One of my finest designs, if I do say so myself.”

My heart raced. “Did anybody else in the shop do that particular design?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Most artists don’t use other artist’s designs, unless someone comes in wanting that particular tattoo and the originating artist isn’t available. Kind of a professional courtesy. But I left copies of my work with Toby at his request, in case someone came in looking for something I was known for. It was part of our deal.”

That explained why Toby had the photo. “Do you remember the guy in this photo?”

“That was a long time ago, man. Lots of people loved that design. I used it a lot.”

“Did they all have it done on their forearm like this?”

He shook his head. “Most of them had it on their shoulder or lower back. Some on the upper arm. I’m trying to recollect…”

The waitress came by and took an order for another drink for each of us. Bob ordered another plate of rings.

“There was one guy who wanted it on his forearm. That might’ve been the first time I did this particular design. But then I think there was one other guy who wanted it on the forearm because the picture showed it that way. Obviously. Then there might have been another, too.”

And maybe another
. Was I wasting my time here? “Do you remember the names of any of the guys who had it done on the forearm?”

“Man, I wish I could help you. But it was a damn long time ago.”

“Have you come across this design anytime else in your career?”

“This exact design? Nope, can’t say that I have. I do keep it in my own portfolio, as well as the one I left with Toby. But the phoenix seems to have died out. They were real popular some twenty-thirty years ago. Got a new life a while back, with the Harry Potter craze. But since then, not much.”

I took out a Benji and slid it across the table to him. “Does this help you remember?”

He swallowed the drink of beer he’d taken and let out a raucous laugh. “I wish it did. But I’m an honest man, Steel.”

“Keep it,” I said. “I appreciate your time, Bob. If you remember anything, please call me.”

“I sure wish I did, because I could handle a few more Franklins thrown my way. I’ll think on it, but at the moment I sure as hell don’t remember much. I spent a lot of those early years stoned.”

I was pretty sure he was stoned now, considering how he was inhaling those onion rings.

I sent another hundred his way as I finished my second Jameson. “To jog your memory a bit.”

Bob fingered the Benji and laughed. “I’ll do my best. Stop by my shop anytime if you change your mind about the tat. I’ll be happy to hook you up.”

I chuckled. “Not in this lifetime.”

“How’d you come across that tat anyway? Just looking through Toby’s books? That doesn’t make a lot of sense if you had no interest in getting tatted yourself.”

“It’s a tattoo my—” The word “girlfriend” sat on the edge of my lips, threatening to eject itself of its own volition. But Jade wasn’t my girlfriend. And if I was honest, girlfriend didn’t begin to describe what Jade was to me. She was so much more…my everything, my soul. I cleared my throat. “A friend had. Or was going to get. She won’t be getting it now.”

“Why not? Great tat for a chick. Makes a nice tramp stamp on the back. I remember doing a lot of those.”

“She won’t be getting this one. Or any tat if I have anything to say about it.”

“What do you got against tats, boy?”

Invisible spiders crept up my neck and onto my scalp. My ire rose. “Don’t call me boy.”

“Hey, meant no disrespect. But seriously, why don’t you like tats?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Why are you so interested in that particular tat? Or should I say, why are you so interested in the person who
has
that particular tat?”

I pulled one more Benji out of my wallet and slid it across the table and into Bob’s meaty hands. “Don’t ever ask me that again. Just contact me if you remember anything about who you tatted that on.”

“Will do.”

I threw a few more bills on the table. “This should cover the drinks and rings.”

“Obliged.” Bob gave me a salute, downing the rest of his Guinness.

I turned and walked out of the bar.

My whole body trembled, itching, wanting to convulse. I sat down on the bench outside an ice-cream shop a couple of doors down.

And a movie began playing in my mind.

* * *

S
ometimes the bird
emerged on the walls of the cellar, most often at night, when they were closing in on the boy. The bird had become both a menace and a sanctuary. It gave the boy solace, something to focus on when the unthinkable was happening, but because it was representative of one who inflicted the horrors on him, it was also a plague that haunted him at night, jeering at him.

You’re worthless, boy. Insignificant. Meaningless. Trash to be used, abused, left to die…

Its flaming wings now gray and white in the darkness, the bird flapped to him, edging toward him along with the pulsating wall.

Worthless… Insignificant… Left to die…

But as much as the boy wanted to die, he never did.

P
lease don’t dredge
up the past, Jade. So many people will get hurt.

Wendy’s words haunted me as George dropped me off at the Steel ranch house. It was Saturday, so I didn’t have to go into work. I would tell Marj what I had found out about her birth certificate. I didn’t want to tell her, yet, about Wendy Madigan and the affair with her father, but she deserved to know about her name.

I paid George. Seemed like all my extra cash was being used to shuttle me back and forth from the ranch. I had to get a car.

I trudged up the long walkway and knocked on the door. Roger, Talon’s mutt, appeared behind the glass. He looked at me, cocking his head through the oblong window next to the door. He was such a cute little fellow.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and Talon’s muscular frame greeted me.

My body throbbed. Just being in close proximity to him affected me. As much as I wanted to interrogate him about the tattoo ordeal the other night, I knew it would be futile. I said simply, “Hi. I came to see Marj.”

“She’s not here. Cooking class, remember?”

Crap. I’d forgotten. Marj had signed up for a weekend cooking class in Grand Junction that met Friday night and all day Saturday.

“I’m really sorry. I forgot about that.”

“You want me to give her a message for you?”

I looked at him, shaking my head. Was he really going to stand there and pretend we didn’t know each other intimately?

Roger panted at my heels. I bent down to give him a scratch on the head.

“No, no message. But I will take a cup of tea if you have one.”

“Here’s a deal for you. I’ll make the tea if you make up a couple of your patented cheddar and tomato grilled cheese sandwiches.”

I couldn’t help a smile. “I’ll take that deal.”

I walked into the foyer as he shut the door behind me. I knelt down and let Roger jump up on me. He covered my face with doggie kisses.

“Funny. Other than me, you’re the one he’s taken to the most.”

“I love dogs. I’ve never met a dog that didn’t love me back. I think dogs just sense dog people.”

The late summer day was cooler, and I’d put on a pair of skinny jeans and a sleeveless pink sweater. Talon looked luscious in his boots, dark denim jeans, and a green T-shirt.

“I’ll get started.” I made my way to the kitchen and looked through the fridge. “I don’t see any cheddar in here, but there’s some Colby Jack. That’ll be good.”

I pulled out the cheese, grabbed a tomato from the basket on the counter, took a knife and cutting board, and started preparing. Once the sandwiches were in the pan frying, I turned around. Talon was sitting at the table, watching me.

“I thought you were going to make the tea.”

“Sorry, I was just enjoying the view.”

My skin heated. The view of him was mighty fine as well. He stood and came toward me, like a wolf stalking his prey. I knew he was going to kiss me before he was even close to me. And when his lips crushed onto mine, I nearly shattered then and there. I swirled my tongue out to meet his. Electricity sparked through my body. The kiss was unyielding, drugging, a kiss of souls meeting and joining.

We ate at each other’s mouth for a couple of minutes until I broke away quickly.

“Sorry, the sandwiches…” I walked quickly to the stove to turn them. “Oh, good. They’re brown but not burnt.”

Talon grabbed me from behind and pulled me back to him. “Fuck the sandwiches.”

“Talon,” I said against his lips.

But he plunged his tongue inside my mouth.

We kissed with intensity and passion, mindless and demanding kisses that left me breathless and yearning, anticipating, tightening the invisible coils that bound us.

Until I broke away again. “Sorry, but I really don’t want the smoke alarms to go off.”

Damn. That kiss alone could have set the things off.

I went to the stove, took the sandwiches off the pan, and set them on plates. I grabbed a napkin for each. “So where’s the tea?”

Talon didn’t answer.

I went to the fridge and pulled a couple bottles of water. “No worries. This will work just fine.” I set the waters and the sandwiches at the table. “Come on, sit. Eat your lunch.”

He grabbed the sandwich and was about to take a bite when I stopped him.

“Remember what happened last time? Let it cool a bit first.” I removed the bread from mine and let the smoke emerge from the hot cheese. Once it had cooled off, I took a bite. “Nothing like it. I may not be able to cook like your sister, but I make a mean grilled cheese.”

He tried his. “Yep, pretty good.”

Why did I feel like we never had anything to talk about?

Maybe if we weren’t in bed, ripping each other’s clothes off, we could actually have a conversation. I’d try a tactic, maybe find some answers.

“I found an interesting news article last week.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was about you.”

Talon’s eyebrows jerked upward almost to his hairline. He didn’t say anything.

“About when you got back from Iraq. Why didn’t you tell me you got the Award of Honor?”

“Where the hell did you find that?”

“In the local paper archives.”

“Why were you looking in there?”

I swallowed a bite of sandwich. I couldn’t very well tell him that Larry had told me to investigate him. “I was actually looking for something else on an investigation, and your story happened to pop up.”

He put his sandwich down, reached for his water, but didn’t take it. “They shouldn’t have printed that story.”

“Are you kidding me? They totally should’ve printed it. It should’ve been national news, Talon, not just a people piece in the local news of a small Western town.”

“I didn’t want anyone making a big fuss about me.”

“A fuss about you? You were a goddamned hero.”

“I wasn’t a hero, blue eyes. Trust me. I was never a hero.”

“You saved those people. At great personal risk to yourself. You could’ve been killed.”

He slammed his fist on the table. “Did you ever think about why I did it? Maybe I didn’t do it to be a hero.”

I eased backward into my chair, my tension rising. I was used to Talon’s outbursts by now, but still they affected me. “I’m sure you didn’t. I’m sure all you were thinking about were your fallen troops. Your adrenaline was probably in full force. You were thinking about getting your friends out.”

He let out a wry chuckle, his lips twisted into a shape I couldn’t read. “Trust me, I wasn’t.”

“Then what
were
you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about getting my ass
killed
, Jade.”