Page 44 of Tragic Ink
Chapter 14
Abuzzing soundstirred me from sleep. The followingthudjolted me awake. I looked around, half panicked until I realized the sound was just a cell phone vibrating with an incoming call. Rhys looked up at me from the floor, where he’d rolled off the couch thanks to our still-entwined ankles. He blinked dazedly before reaching for his phone on the coffee table. I sat up and ran a hand through my tangled hair as I struggled to get my bearings. It was early—too early for sunlight judging from the darkness that framed the edges of the closed blinds. I tried to remember how we’d both ended up tangled and half-naked on the couch. Empty beer bottles littered the coffee table along with cartons of rice andnoodles.
Last night came crashing back to me in a renewed wave of heat, leaving my body tingling as I remembered the way it had felt with Rhys pressed against me, bared skin to baredskin.
“Yeah.” Rhys greeted whoever was on the other end in a gravelly voice that drew my eyes to his. He stared back at me as he listened, his dark hair wild from sleep. His hand reached for my arm and stroked lazily—until he suddenly stopped moving, all of his attention focused on the caller. “Are you shittingme?”
I glanced up from where my gaze had wandered down his bare chest. He frowned, the expression sending his brows furrowing. He listened for another moment and then grunted a goodbye before hanging up and tossing the phone back to the coffee table. It slid and bumped a Napoli’s takeout container before coming to astop.
“Who was that?” Iasked.
“Emile. The bar manager,” he said, and judging by his tone, I knew that wasn’t a good thing. He rose, fumbling through the pile of clothes on the floor and picking out his jeans. He tugged them on quickly, which only made me morealert.
“He was calling you now?” Iasked.
“He just locked up and left. Late night,” he added, when my eyes widened as I noted thetime.
“What did hesay?”
“He found something outside he thought we shouldsee.”
Before I could ask what it was, there was a sharp knock on the apartment door. Rhys jumped up, his jeans slung low on his hips as he padded down the hall. I listened as the front door to the apartment opened. Low voices rumbled, too quiet for me to make out more than a fewwords.
“Thanks, man,” I heard Rhys say before the door clickedshut.
A second later, he reappeared, a manila folder in hand. His expression was tight, and my stomach clenched at what could possibly beinside.
I waited while Rhys opened the flap and pulled out a handful of photos, fanning them out on his lap. My chest tightened, and my stomach dropped straight to my knees. I went still, staring at the photos as Rhys picked up each one and examined it for a longmoment.
“This asshole’s a real piece of work,” hemuttered.
I couldn’t believe he was so calm about it all. But then, it wasn’t his future on the line here. And maybe that made less of an impactsomehow.
I could only stare, openmouthed and speechless, as Rhys flipped through them all. A candid of me standing in Aelwyn’s backyard the night she died, Ethan peeling away from my skin, half-inked and half-formed as he took flight. Another of the hellhound, a shimmering, translucent monster, passing through the door of Rhys’s truck as it led us on the chase. And a third—this one showing Rhys and me locked in a heated kiss with me straddling him in the cab of histruck.
All of them were invasive and threatening in a different way. And all of them made it clear that whoever had taken them knew my deepest secrets. Not just my gift for ink, but my feelings. Rhys. They knew about Rhys. And the message was clear: they could get to me, to him, anytime they wanted. One way or another, eventually, they were going to hurtme.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” I clutched my stomach, willing it to settle against the churning panic. I rose, pacing and shoving a hand through my hair over and overagain.
“Calm down, Gwen. He’s just trying to intimidateyou—”
“Well, it’sworking!”
Rhysfrowned.
I blew out a breath. “He knows my secret, Rhys.” I gestured to the photo of Ethan. “He knows what I cando.”
“That’s why we have to show these to SheriffKasun.”
“Are you kidding? Hell, no. Forget the sheriff. If he sees these, I’ll be a suspect of totally different crimes. We need to handle thisourselves.”
“Gwen, they need to know whowe’re—”
“You show them those photos and the first thing they’ll do is lock meup.”
“Elsmedthen.”
I hesitated, part of me wanting to resist even that. But I nodded, knowing I had to give him something. “Fine.”
