Page 23 of Warrior

Fucker.

My thoughts turn to Artemis. With her brother out of the picture—at least temporarily—she’s going to need more protection. Saint seems like a fine guy, but he doesn’t know what Gabriel will throw at them.

Neither do I, for that matter.

But if push comes to shove, I might hold some sway over the Cyclopes. I might save them from being dragged into West Falls and beaten… or worse.

My throat is tight, and I’m still in the same spot when Bobby returns with an armful of groceries. He gives a little start, as I’m still in the shadows, but recovers quickly.

“Hungry?” he asks.

I shake my head and brush past him. “See you around, Bobby.”

My options are limited, but I find myself in front of Starlight.

I’ve never wanted a tattoo before. And yet, Saint is covered in them. They frame his jawline, cover every inch of the rest of him… what I’ve seen anyway. I climb out of my SUV and try the door.

My biggest surprise is when it opens.

I step inside quickly, half expecting an alarm to go off, but instead there’s just the quiet hum of a tattoo machine. It cuts off when the bell overhead swings, announcing my arrival.

From his tattoo station, Saint wheels into view. A black cap sits backward on his head, his white t-shirt loose with the sleeves rolled up. The tattoos on his hands are blocked by black gloves. As soon as he registers it’sme, he scowls.

Rude.

I frown right back at him, then turn away and resume my examination of the wall of framed drawings. Saint’s signature is scrawled in the bottom corner of quite a few.

After a minute, the tattoo machine resumes.

I wait, because I don’t really know what else to do. I could round the corner and see who he’s tattooing—but I’m not some jealous monster who wants him to tattoo me and only me.

That would be neurotic, and I’ve done a lot of work to restrain myself in that regard. Possessive, lacks an ability to share, quick to anger… labels a therapist slapped on me when I was thirteen and acting out.

My attention catches on the trash bin. Black fabric hangs out of it, and I pull it out slowly. Nothing was tossed in on top of it, and there’s nothing under it either. Which is good, because the sweatshirt belongs to me.

The branding for the Cyclopes was obvious—and right in front of their faces the whole time. I had hoped that Artemis wearing my sweatshirt would keep her safe, or at least let her pass through the roadblocks in West Falls that Gabriel set up. He wanted to test the sheriff’s mettle…

And catch a golden girl.

I went about it in a different way, using the sheriff to funnel me information that seemed innocuous. Seeing if he’d break a little rule. Later on, he’ll be more likely to break a bigger rule for us.

Artemis being attacked, not once but twice, in West Falls should’ve been a clear sign that something else was going on. That Gabriel had marked her specifically.

My grip on the fabric tightens, until I’m white-knuckled grasping it. I force myself to breathe out slowly, releasing the tension and loosening my fingers one at a time.

An hour later, I’m reading one of the magazines that featured Saint for the second time, and he’s walking the client to the door.The girl sports a brand-new flower on her arm, and she bats her eyelashes at him at the door.

I cough to cover my disbelief, although he shoots me a look.

When she’s gone, he flips the lock and faces me.

“What are you doing here?” he demands.

“I want a tattoo.”

He rolls his eyes. “Not fucking happening.”

“I got Artemis out,” I can’t help but mention. “She?—”

---