“He’s my brother. Of course I had to.”
“See? One of the good guys.”
I didn’t hate hearing that or the warm look he gave me, even for something that really hadn’t been a choice.
The tattoo parlor was only ten minutes’ drive. I glanced at the little store front labelledTattrue Coloursand didn’t think I winced, but Callum laughed. The humor transformed his face, and I couldn’t help staring.That man is gorgeous.
Luckily, he didn’t notice. “Ignore the name. River’s boss named the shop. Possibly while high. But I promise he does good work. Come on.” Callum jumped out of the truck and hurried toward the door.
I followed him, trying to ignore his incredible ass that strained the limit of those jeans. He pulled the glass door open and led me inside.
“Callum!” A tall, skinny man with a long blond ponytail and wire-rimmed glasses jumped up from the chair behind the counter. He grabbed Callum’s hand and pulled him into a hug, which Callum first resisted, then sheepishly returned. The man scrubbed a hand over Callum’s head, mussing up his hair. “My favourite redhead.” He turned surprisingly penetrating eyes on me. “And you must be my new client. Mr. Evans, yes? I’m River.”
“Call me Zeke, please.” I shook the hand he held out. His grip was surprisingly strong, too, for a slender-armed, willowy guy in a flowing cream-and-pink shirt and six necklaces, but perhaps working with his hands all day built some muscles.
“You’re early, but my last client went faster than expected. I have some paperwork for you to sign, and then we can check out your little problem.”
I’d dropped Callum’s name when I called, and told him I had a cover-up I needed done, but not what. I was very willing to put that off a bit longer. “Sure.”
River pulled out a tablet. “Scan through that, initial where the blue boxes are, sign at the bottom.” He handed me astylus. “And while he’s doing that, Callum, you can look at my sketches.”
I skimmed through the document, which was logical boilerplate about risks and consent and liability, while listening to them in the background. Callum seemed pleased with River’s work, if the murmurs of “Wow,” were sincere.
When I was done and pushed the tablet away, Callum waved me over. River’s designs were drawn on paper, and Callum had two side by side. “What do you think?” he asked.
Both were images of some kind of bird that looked like a cross between a hawk and a songbird, in one drawing perched on a stump with wings outstretched, the other in flight with mountains suggested in the background.
“It’s a kestrel,” Callum said. “My dad’s favourite bird. They’re not as common out here on the coast, and if we saw one, he’d always point it out.”
“I’m not going to tell you what ink to get on your body,” I told him. “Those are both great.”
He tilted his head, looking back and forth, then lifted his shirt to peer at his dolphin tattoo. I couldn’t help looking too. Not so much at the tattoo. After a moment, he dropped the hem and said, “The one with the mountains matches better.”
“You got it.” River stacked the other sketches and set that one aside. “Make an appointment and we’ll get it done.”
“Not today?” I asked, a bit disappointed. I wouldn’t have minded seeing Callum get worked on.
“Not unless the guy after you no-shows,” River said.
“I need to get together the cash, anyhow,” Callum added.
River turned to me. “Now what about yours? What are we working with. It would’ve been easier if you’d sent me a picture in advance.”
“Uh. Yeah. About that.” I held out my arm and peeled the tape off my skin.
“Oh.” River went still, looking down at my tattoo.
“It’s not what you think,” Callum jumped in. “He was working undercover, and it was part of his disguise.”
“Really?” River raised his gaze and I read cool skepticism. “You know, I’m all in favour of people seeing the light.Ifthey really have.”
“I’m gay,” I told him. “And I’ve never been that self-hating, even in my darkest moments. I can show you my badge. That tattoo might’ve saved my life once.” Or at least helped. As the skinhead played around with his Sig Saur, his finger on the trigger, his cold eyes on me, I’d raised my arm, brushing up my sleeve casually. I don’t know how much the tattoo had done to confirm my identity, but he’d looked at it and a minute later, he’d holstered the weapon. I wasn’t sorry I’d worn it then. I controlled a shudder.
River raised an eyebrow at my hair where my own skinhead was starting to grow out.
“Hey!” Callum said. “Don’t you fucking believe me? I’ve known Zeke since I was nine. He’s one of the good guys.”
“It’s okay,” I told him, though I appreciated his quick defense. “I know how it looks. That’s why I need the cover-up.”
