"Does he have a business card?" I asked, knowing I would never be able to get an original Hunter Mallick piece. Seeing as in no time at all, I would be half a world away.
And there was that dread again.
But this time it had nothing to do with completing a decade-long mission, with the worry of new customs, of learning new languages, of finding gainful employment.
No, this was something else entirely.
Then, before he could say something to make the feeling etch deeper into my soul, I turned to face him, running my hand over the half-sleeve of his arm. "Did he do all this work on you?"
"Some of it," he offered. At my raised brow, he shrugged. "Hunt took off for a while years back. He didn't want the lifestyle anymore, but didn't think there was a way out. So he just took off without saying anything. That's when he met Fee actually. But anyway, yeah, during that time period, I got a lot of work by another guy around here named Paine."
"Wait," I said, smiling, watching as he smiled in return. "A tattoo artist named Paine?"
"Yep. It's his legal name too. He did this arm," he said, gesturing. "And my back piece. The rest of this is Hunt."
"Is this your family coat of arms?" I asked, not really needing to seeing as it had his family name there, along with red feather supports, a phoenix crest, and the family motto on top of it all. "Vis nescia vinci?" I repeated, wanting the translation, wanting all the little pieces of him I could have to fold into my memories like a flower pressed in the pages of a diary to be taken out years later, bringing it up to your nose as if there was any trace of the real memory left. There wouldn't be. I knew that. But I wanted it anyway.
"A power ignorant of defeat," Mark supplied easily.
"That's quite the motto to live up to, huh?"
"That sounds like you are questioning my muscles," he said, looking mock-offended. "I have huge muscles," he added, flexing an arm.
"Yes, just massive," I agreed, patting him, smiling the whole time.
"So, not to ruin the moment, but, ah, I want a fucking apple flower damnit."
I laughed as I leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips before rolling off to the side of the bed. "We're going to have to reheat them. They're so much better right out of the oven."
With that, we both got re-dressed, half in the bedroom, then half back in the kitchen where the rest of our clothes were. We ate too many apple flowers while talking about our families, comparing our brothers, bonding way more than was smart seeing as I wasn't long for Navesink Bank.
In the end, that realization had me shutting down the opportunity to head back up to the bedroom. "I should be getting back before they start a search party. Believe me, they're not above doing that."
"Alrighty, don't want to get on their bad side, I guess. Let's get you home."
The drive, and the silence enveloping us during it, felt awkward.
"Hey," he said when I went to open my door, sliding an arm across my shoulders, and hauling me back toward him, making my stomach press against the center console in the process. "Not even going to give me a kiss for dinner and two orgasms?"
I smiled at that, liking how casually he could turn around uncomfortable moments. Then before I could ruin that one too, he pulled me tighter, and sealed his lips over mine.
Then he kissed me like there was no freaking tomorrow and I hopped out of that truck and walked up the path in a sort of daze.
I heard his truck rumble off as I reached to open the back door, taking a deep breath to brace myself against their likely interrogation.
Except that didn't happen.
Because when I opened the door and walked in, I found the shack cleaned, smelling strongly of bleach and Comet and Pledge. And I found my four brothers standing there, waiting for me, duffle bags in hands.
"Money is clean," Kingston supplied, giving me a regretful look.
"It's time to go," Nixon added.
It was time to go.
But just as there was no denying the way those words sent a searing pain through my system, there was also no denying the truth of them.
It was time to go.EIGHTMark"What do you mean she's gone?" Eli asked, sitting on my back porch, dutifully throwing a slimy yellow tennis ball for Coop who, as it turned out, was not only an ugly mutt and hard to train, but absolutely full-up of restless energy. Eli had started taking him on runs twice a day, then a long walk in the middle, riddled with intermittent fetching sessions. And he was still always on the go. The vet said it was likely just because he was a puppy, that he would calm down eventually. Especially after he got fixed.