Permanent (Indelibly Marked) (Volume 1) (7 page)

Shivers overtook her. “D-do you do the piercing?”

“Absolutely.” He whispered in her ear before he stood and took her hand again. “Let me show you the back.”

All eyes were on her as they walked past the reception area into a large room with stations for each person. Again everything was spotless. “It looks like a doctor’s office in here.” At last she placed his indefinable scent. It was a mix of his soap and what had to be ink.

“We’re artists, not slobs.” He guided her through the room to a few doors. “Over here are our rooms for people who want to be anonymous, or those getting work done on private parts.”

At the visualization, she pursed her lip out.

“Sometimes people don’t want certain areas we’re working on to be exposed.”

Her mental picture of a tattoo shop completely contrasted with what he presented her, sort of like Shane himself. Not wanting to think about it, she lifted her list. “So now it’s your turn to be the client. Where’s your paperwork.”

Shane’s smile faded and the sparkle in his eyes dulled as they returned to the front. Behind the counter he took her by the shoulders, moved her back, and bent down. After a bit of a struggle he came back up with the entire bottom drawer of his filing cabinet.

She helped him put the drawer on the counter, grabbing his arm when a bunch of crumpled papers fell out. “What is this?”

“My accounting system.”

“Did you just shove everything in here?” A moot question because the answer overflowed right in front of her. She braced against him, standing on tiptoe to make out if the mess had any rhyme or reason, then she scanned the room for a computer.

“No.” He hung his head, resting it on her shoulder.

She took a breath. This had to be receipts or something. One drawer was doable, only a few hours work. “Well?”

“I shoved everything else in here.” He waved his hand over the entire cabinet.

“What?” The sting of bile stung her throat. Her stomach surged with nausea mixed with a slight tinge of excitement. “What do you mean?”

Shane motioned to the individual drawers. “Accounts payable, accounts receivable, paperwork and receipts.”

Unable to stop herself, she opened what he called accounts receivable, jumping back when more papers poured out onto the floor. “You never thought of using a file folder?”

“I thought about it.” He picked up the papers, forced them back inside the cabinet and kicked the drawer closed as if trapping an animal.

“Out of curiosity, what happened to that thought?”

“I knew I wouldn’t do it, so I just kept this system.”

“At least you didn’t set yourself up for failure.”

“Exactly.” He furrowed his brow and turned away from the cabinet.

“What have you done in the past to file your tax returns?” If he said he guessed, no doubt a vein in her brain would blow.

“I estimated with my old accountant.”

She moved her hand to her temple, pushing her vein back in. “You had an accountant?”

“Yep, he’s out of business now and relocated.”

Speechless, she paced for a moment. Part of her wanted to dig into the cabinet, tear it apart and take over. Another part of her wanted to run and tell him she didn’t sign up for this. This wasn’t her, not anymore. She was a corporate accountant who didn’t take on homespun businesses. And she didn’t play with bad boys because they were bad. She shoved her pencil in her mouth and spun back to face her new nemesis, the filing cabinet of horrors.

His phone rang. “Is the car fixed? Yeah, I know it’s only been a few minutes.”

All she needed was a strategy. When she observed his bill paying attempts, she knew this wouldn’t be an outpatient job. But this wasn’t her, she shouldn’t be there, and she stomped her foot.

While Shane talked about her car, she crept over to the cabinet and opened the top drawer. More papers and a shoebox greeted her. She chewed her lip, and unable to stand the suspense she knocked the lid off the box.

For at least a full minute she stared at the contents while the shudder running down her backbone subsided. She bit the end of her pencil hard and the eraser came off in her mouth.

“If you’re hungry, we can go down to Pete’s and get some rations.” Shane returned and took the pencil. With a fast examination of the writing tool he held his hand out.

She spit the eraser into his palm and covered her eyes. Was there nothing she wouldn’t do in front of the man to embarrass herself? She sucked in a breath when he glanced down at the eraser, tilted his head and popped it in his own mouth.

He chewed a moment, nodded and swallowed. “I think I would rather have some sushi.”

Only Shane could make eating an eraser something everyone would want to try. The only way to save face was to continue. She returned to the drawer and tapped the box. “What’s this?”

He glanced inside. “Accounts payable.”

“I can guarantee, that is not accounts payable.”

He curled his lower lip in over his teeth and bit down.

“Accounts payable is what you pay out.”

His eyes traveled to the box and back to her. “That’s not accounts payable.”

“What is it then?” She clutched the edge of the filing cabinet.

“Money.”

They stuck their heads in the cabinet and stared at the box full of crumpled cash.

“Where did it come from?” She grabbed his forearm to brace for his answer.

“I made it.” He faced her.

“Not on a printing press, right?”

“No. Lots of my customers pay me in cash.”

“And …” She prayed for more of an explanation.

“And I put it in here, and when I need some, I grab a handful.”

An odd warmth encompassed her. Was this what it felt like right before someone passed out or died? “There’s … there’s …”

“Take it easy.” He rubbed her back.

“There’s no record?”

“I have a list of clients.”

She tried a different approach. “Is this for when you need money for yourself or for the business?” She met him nose to nose.

“It’s my business, so isn’t that one and the same?” His voice lowered.

“No.” There wasn’t enough air in the drawer for the two of them, the money and Shane’s soap, and she backed away. “No, it’s not the same.” She took a deep breath to make the room stop spinning. “It’s not the same, and you have no record.”

“I’m in trouble.” This time he took her arm.

She covered her face. It was worse than the time her father found that lady’s mattress stuffed with confederate money, and more terrible than the man who paid one credit card with another, creating a circle of debt until he went bankrupt. “Oh … my … God.”

He pulled her into him. “Please help me.”

“Shane, I can’t.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do, but I can’t do this.” She pressed against solid chest, but she couldn’t push him away. Damn her for wanting to know what tattoo lay hidden beneath his shirt.

“Lindsay.” He trembled, but didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m begging. My family…”

“Oh no.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll find you someone, and I’ll check in with them.” This was a disaster of epic proportions.

He shook his head. “It can only be you.”

Weight, like bars of gold, settled on top her head. She was supposed to help straighten things up, clean up the IRS mess, and walk away, back to her side of the playground. His type never wanted her, only her help. She couldn’t do it again. “Why do you think that? You don’t even know me.”

“How can you say that? I know that you’re an accountant and you must be excellent.”

She shook her head.

“I know this because no one would import someone all the way from Ohio to work at a Beverly Hills firm unless they were phenomenal.” He moved closer. “Also, on the personal side, I unpacked you. Trust me when I tell you that you can learn more about someone from their possessions than from what they say.”

“Like what?” Now she felt exposed, almost naked.

He raised his eyebrows. “For someone brave enough to come to Hollywood on her own, knowing no one, you get paralyzed when you have to make a decision as simple as which side of the stove to put the salt and pepper shakers. Everything you own is brand new. You’re hiding something in the one box you wouldn’t let us unpack, and you have a terrible sense of direction.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist and turned her back to him. “Maybe I don’t know you well enough to do this.”

“Oh yeah, you don’t know me, but for someone who plans everything you handed a stranger your car keys, and you jumped into my arms when the arachnid showed its ugly face.”

She craved her pencil, but instead she bit her nail. Something about him made her want to do what he asked, but she was saved when Emily came bounding into the room with Ivan.

“Shane.” She made a beeline toward her brother.

Emily put her hands on her hips and looked him squarely in the face. “I know you’re giving Carson a lesson today, and I want to be the guinea pig.” Emily waved at Lindsay. “Oh, and I brought my stuff to do your makeup.”

She never remembered wanting to have her makeup done, and she couldn’t stay long enough to have it done.

“No.” Shane pushed her away. “No, you are not inking yourself.”

“That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?” Emily narrowed her eyes.

“As long as you’re my sister, you are not getting a tattoo and that is final.” He raised his voice, took her shoulders and spun her around.

“What if I wasn’t your sister?”

“One day when you are someone else’s responsibility, then he can make that decision, but until that day comes, you are under my jurisdiction and there will be no permanent marks made on your body.” He guided her to the back. “Go do Ivan’s makeup while Lindsay and I finish up.”

“No way, last time someone thought I was in the middle of a sex change operation.” Ivan slipped behind Lindsay. “Save me.” He gave her a friendly punch in the arm. “How are the finances going?”

Shane returned. “We’re discussing the details of our arrangement.”

“Sounds important.” Ivan laughed. “I don’t know if we’ve ever been in an official arrangement before.”

“The problem is worse than we thought.” Shane looked into her eyes.

His dark blue eyes grew darker when he was serious. Again she ran her mental ledger but kept forgetting the entries. All she knew was that being in a tattoo shop with these people wasn’t part of her plan. “Pack everything up and I’ll work on it at home.”

Shane shook his head.

She raised her arms. “Do you honestly care where I work as long as it gets done?”

“I want you to do it here.”

“I thought you trusted me.”

“You are the only one I trust.” He set his jaw. “But you need to be here with us and do the work here.”

“Yes, she has to do it here, so we can protect her from you.” Ivan squeezed her shoulders. “She’s one of us.”

“I thought so.” Shane’s gaze consumed her.

She was one of them? These men were experts at handing out the lines like custom drawn artwork.

“She even looks the part.” Ivan adjusted her collar.

“I think she looks perfect.” Shane put her collar back.

The inflection he used told her he wasn’t joking, and a strange heat radiated again, somewhere between getting sick or floating away. Not wanting either of them looking at her, she disengaged herself from Ivan and went over to the cabinet. Where did her backbone go when Shane Elliott was around?

He followed her. “What can I do?”

She took out the box of money. “Answer a question.”

“I already told you I would marry you.” He laughed.

She shut her eyes.

“We should go right away.” He kissed the back of her hand. “We shouldn’t waste any time that we can be together. I don’t think I could ever do any better than you.”

Convinced his words were not a compliment, she extracted her hand and tried to joke as well. “Well, I would never marry anyone who was in this sort of financial mess, so go do something while I figure out what to do.”

“Yes.” He took her into his arms and bent her back. “I only want to keep you in the lifestyle to which you’ve become accustomed.”

She licked her lips. Shane was like a rich fudgy dessert. Enticing, delicious and terrible for her health. Later, when he was all taken care of, she would be left with nothing but a stomachache and tears. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from taking a bite.

He looked into her eyes and smiled. “You had a question?”

She gave a half-hearted attempt to get out of his arms. Even she didn’t believe it. “How’s my car?”

“Do you need it?”

“Well, I thought I would go to the office supply store.” Also, she needed to get out of there for a while. Maybe she could stick to that plan. All her other plans failed worse than his finances.

“I shall drive you there, and on our way we’ll get lunch.”

“I can go alone.” She couldn’t spend any extra time with him. It was one thing to do the books, but another to go out with him for errands and meals.

“Well, alone is not in your future.” He winked. “Your car is sick and won’t be well for at least a few days. Looks like I’ll be your chauffeur.” He put his arm around her. “Don’t worry, I’ll run shuttle service to and from your work.”

Every muscle in her body tensed. “I can take a cab?”

“No. No cab, they’re not safe.”

“I’ll rent a car.”

“No.” He didn’t offer an explanation, but the no felt final.

“Then a bus.”

This time both Shane and Ivan shouted no, and she swore she heard Emily’s echo from the back.

“You will absolutely not go on a bus.” He pulled her in closer. “Now that you’re one of us, you will be under our protection.”

This time she managed to get out of his grasp. She was not one of them.

“Your chariot to the office supply store awaits you.” He held out his elbow. “What do we need there anyway?”

“Things like file folders and such.” She sighed. “That’s my system, so you’ll have to get used to it.”

He took a fist full of money out of the box and held it out to her. “I didn’t think you were a shove it in a drawer type of girl.”

She took the money. “I’m not.” She also wasn’t a tattoo parlor girl or the type of girl that got the shivers for the man with the Mohawk, yet here she was, but she couldn’t stay.