The sound startles me, and I’m met with a scowling Agent Bea Harper at my driver’s side window.
“The fuck you doing here, Riggs?” She doesn’t mince words and cuts right to it.
“Just what you’ve asked me to do. Keeping an eye out.”
“Bullshit. She’s working right now. Leave it alone,” she says, and then turns away from my truck.
I move fast out of the driver’s seat and slam the door behind me. Four paces catch me up to her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She huffs and glances at me over her shoulder. “Exactly what I said, Riggs. You are to keep an eye out for suspicious interest. You have a list of names and faces you are being paid to be aware of and alert me. ME,” she shouts in my face. “If they pass through Strutt’s. That’s all.”
We both stop walking and continue the conversation around the corner of Main Street and out of eyesight or earshot. We are only meant to be acquaintances. She’s posed as Giselle’s Aunt Bea. And I am only supposed to know her that way, not as civilian support for WITSEC.
“Listen, Riggs.” She lights a clove cigarette and takes a pull. “You think you know her, but you don’t. The woman has been through hell and back. She doesn’t need a reminder of her life before. So, leave it alone.”
I bow my head. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here either. I know better.
“Now, do yourself a favor and stop. Keep this agreement we have working, got it? I don’t want messy. I don’t want to be called because someone can tie her to you. Maybe it doesn’t happen now, but you start something, then it snowballs, and she’s recognized by the parties we’re trying to keep her hidden from. Then, it’ll be a problem. For everyone in this town. I need you to be responsible here, or I relocate her.”
I nod again. She stalks off after giving me a warning look.
“See ya around, Harper.” I walk away, pissed off at myself for even being here. And then being called out on it. Pissed off at the authority that’s calling the shots in my life. Her life. I left town to clear my head, sort out the lines I need to stop myself from crossing with G, and then all it takes to undo it is her talking about finding trouble. The jealousy that ran through me the moment I thought “trouble” meant fucking around with someone other than me. Maybe she should be relocated. But as soon as I think it, I turn the corner and catch a glimpse of her smiling in the shop.
“If life were a little different, maybe I would have been a tattoo artist...”She got her do-over, even if she never wanted it.
It’s impossible not to watch her talk passionately. She makes people laugh and feel good about themselves. She’s a natural at being unforgettable. She looks like she may have found some happiness again.
“Are you fucking serrrrrrrriouss?”
“He better not be at that strip club with my brother. I’m gonna kill him,” the drunk dressed like a bride slurs outside of the tattoo shop. A second woman consoles her by taking selfies and saying something like, “It’s just tits… who cares if he sees other women’s boobs.”
“I love how this came out. She completely covered the initials. You can’t see any of it.” Two more women chat and admire the work Giselle has just finished. “Are we waiting for Eliza, or is she meeting us at the bar?”
One of them says, “She’s staying behind. She wanted a piercing too.”
I wait a few minutes for them to collect themselves. An older couple who just came from the diner on the corner passes by before I walk closer to the shop.
As I look through the window, I see Giselle speaking closely with another woman with long black hair. Their body language seems flirtatious. Small touches that have nothing to do with tattoos or piercings. It stirs something within me. Seeing her with someone that way makes me anxious. That’s my cue to leave or find my own distraction. But I don’t leave. My feet stay planted.
I watch Giselle throw her head back in a loud laugh that I can hear through the glass. I smile in response. It’s a knee-jerk reaction when I hear the way she giggles or barks out a sarcastic laugh. When she stands up to walk around the chair that she uses for piercings, she sees me.
I can tell by the way her footing stutters that she wasn’t expecting to see me outside the window, like a fucking creeper. I watch her and it’s something I can’t seem to stop—agreement or not.
She smiles and looks down, shaking her head, silently saying, “Of course you’re here.”
Moving back to the chair, she continues to talk with the dark-haired woman. She takes her time setting up her station with what she needs. Moments later, G pierces the woman’s septum. She hands the woman a mirror and stands in front of her, blocking me from view. Giselle leans forward and whispers something into the woman’s ear. I can’t see the response, but I can read people and situations very well. And I know that I’m a minute away from seeing something that’ll piss me off. I know when to tap out. Seeing her with someone else isn’t going to put my head right.
I make up my mind to leave. Already thinking about what, or who, I can do to tamp this feeling I get every time I see her with someone else. But just as I do, G turns and walks to her front door. She looks me in the eye the whole way there. I don’t move from the left corner of the window, her gaze pinning me in place. She keeps her eyes on mine and turns the lock. The sound of the click is enough to let me know I’ve worn out my voyeuristic stay.
She moves to close the black velvet curtains. I turn away, but a tap at the glass makes me turn back. She mouths, “Wanna watch?”
The right side of her mouth tips up, giving me the fastest snapshot of a smirk. But before she turns around, she bites her lip and looks at me with her big brown eyes. Silently asking again. Then she turns back to the woman in the chair.
What the fuck do I do with that?I’m not about to play into this situation. She’s a smart woman, and she’s either trying to piss me off or make me break. I won’t fuck her, so she’s going to make it as uncomfortable as possible. There’s no way I could watch her with someone else. I want her. Plain and simple, but I can’t have her. So now it’s time I leave. Put distance between temptation and a selfish decision.
I rake my hands through my hair and lean against the chilled brick wall that connects Hideaway Ink from the vacant storefront next door.
A moment later, I hear a large slam and crash. The clanking of metal hitting the floor and wall. Without thinking, I’m sprinting around the back of the building. I manage to tweak my ankle on something as I cut the turn to the door. I turn the handle, but I’m met with silence. I see a tray of her equipment on the floor, knocked over. No sounds. The quiet is almost deafening.