better at explaining this stuff than any of my high school teachers were.”
The front door opened.
Smell hit first. Unwashed bodies and blood.
Smoky caramel spread on her tongue. Isa gasped.
“Isa.”
That strained, warm baritone brought her to her feet. Her chair clattered into the back hallway.
Troy’s tattoo machine clicked off. His stool screeched across the hardwood as if he’d thrown it.
Awareness jolted Isa with sudden, dizzy joy. Her heart thudded.
Tall, dark, and lithe Daniel Alvarez stood in her shop doorway. Except it wasn’t Daniel. Not anymore.
His expensive-looking black suit was rumpled and stained. He’d torn out one knee. The sterling silver clip that usually kept his shoulder-length black hair contained at the nape of his neck had disappeared. He supported a shaggy, semiconscious man.
“Son of a bitch,” Troy growled, stomping around the reception desk. “Nathalie! Call the cops!”
“Stop it!” Isa commanded, glaring at Troy before peering at Murmur. “What’s wrong?”
“The man who had you kidnapped and who forced a Live Tattoo on you is standing in your doorway,” Troy snapped. “That’s what’s wrong.”
“Help,” Murmur said, staring at her, desperation in his green eyes.
He looked like hell. Smelled like it, too. Something she didn’t recall from the hospital. Heart in her throat, she stepped around the reception desk.
“Isa!” Troy barked in warning. “Get away from him.”
“Help them,” Murmur said.
Isa examined the man he supported.
He was dressed in layers of ragged clothing so worn they’d lost their color. Caked, filthy hair covered his head and his face.
Blood covered his hands.
Murmur’s hands, too.
“Save them,” he repeated.
Them?
Isa started, already nodding. “Downstairs.”
“You can’t be serious!” Nathalie screeched. “Isa, he tried to kill you.”
She shook her head. “This isn’t what you think.”
“You’re seriously going to trot out that shit?” the piercing artist demanded. “He tortured you for six weeks. You still have the hots for him? You’re more fucked up than I thought.”
“Believe what you want,” Isa snapped. “In the meantime, there’s a man bleeding all over the floor.”
“He needs an ambulance, not you,” Troy said.
“He said ‘save them,’” she countered. “He has Live Ink.”
Troy flung a gesture at Daniel. “You keep saying he’s the best Live Ink artist in four states. Let him fix it!”
“I can’t,” Murmur growled. “And they’re dying.”
Humble words from Daniel’s mouth. Isa shuddered.
It should have tipped Troy and Nathalie off right away. This wasn’t Daniel.
Would she ever get used to hearing Daniel’s voice while knowing it wasn’t Daniel and never would be again? Her biology remembered the man who’d lived in that body hurting her for six interminable weeks. Muscles tightened. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
Knowing intellectually that man had died didn’t make it any easier to draw breath that didn’t tremble.
“Damn it,” Troy said. “I’m going with you.”
“Got your cell? I may need a 911 call,” Isa said, sidling up to the other side of the bleeding man. She pulled his limp arm around her shoulder. The stench of old sweat, long fear, and feces made her eyes water.
The wounded man flinched and groaned. “Save her.”
“Just a little farther,” she coaxed. She looked over the top of his head and met emerald green eyes.
The tight spot of fear between her shoulder blades eased. She could do this. Even if she and Murmur weren’t sharing the same body and psyche anymore.
Isa nodded.
Troy opened the basement door.
She and Murmur guided the half-conscious man down the stairs and into her containment studio.
“Troy? Plastic and paper drapes in that cabinet. Would you be so kind?”
Her burly business partner reconfigured the recliner into a table, spread the protective sheet over it, then laid the paper drape on top.
“What
The front door opened.
Smell hit first. Unwashed bodies and blood.
Smoky caramel spread on her tongue. Isa gasped.
“Isa.”
That strained, warm baritone brought her to her feet. Her chair clattered into the back hallway.
Troy’s tattoo machine clicked off. His stool screeched across the hardwood as if he’d thrown it.
Awareness jolted Isa with sudden, dizzy joy. Her heart thudded.
Tall, dark, and lithe Daniel Alvarez stood in her shop doorway. Except it wasn’t Daniel. Not anymore.
His expensive-looking black suit was rumpled and stained. He’d torn out one knee. The sterling silver clip that usually kept his shoulder-length black hair contained at the nape of his neck had disappeared. He supported a shaggy, semiconscious man.
“Son of a bitch,” Troy growled, stomping around the reception desk. “Nathalie! Call the cops!”
“Stop it!” Isa commanded, glaring at Troy before peering at Murmur. “What’s wrong?”
“The man who had you kidnapped and who forced a Live Tattoo on you is standing in your doorway,” Troy snapped. “That’s what’s wrong.”
“Help,” Murmur said, staring at her, desperation in his green eyes.
He looked like hell. Smelled like it, too. Something she didn’t recall from the hospital. Heart in her throat, she stepped around the reception desk.
“Isa!” Troy barked in warning. “Get away from him.”
“Help them,” Murmur said.
Isa examined the man he supported.
He was dressed in layers of ragged clothing so worn they’d lost their color. Caked, filthy hair covered his head and his face.
Blood covered his hands.
Murmur’s hands, too.
“Save them,” he repeated.
Them?
Isa started, already nodding. “Downstairs.”
“You can’t be serious!” Nathalie screeched. “Isa, he tried to kill you.”
She shook her head. “This isn’t what you think.”
“You’re seriously going to trot out that shit?” the piercing artist demanded. “He tortured you for six weeks. You still have the hots for him? You’re more fucked up than I thought.”
“Believe what you want,” Isa snapped. “In the meantime, there’s a man bleeding all over the floor.”
“He needs an ambulance, not you,” Troy said.
“He said ‘save them,’” she countered. “He has Live Ink.”
Troy flung a gesture at Daniel. “You keep saying he’s the best Live Ink artist in four states. Let him fix it!”
“I can’t,” Murmur growled. “And they’re dying.”
Humble words from Daniel’s mouth. Isa shuddered.
It should have tipped Troy and Nathalie off right away. This wasn’t Daniel.
Would she ever get used to hearing Daniel’s voice while knowing it wasn’t Daniel and never would be again? Her biology remembered the man who’d lived in that body hurting her for six interminable weeks. Muscles tightened. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
Knowing intellectually that man had died didn’t make it any easier to draw breath that didn’t tremble.
“Damn it,” Troy said. “I’m going with you.”
“Got your cell? I may need a 911 call,” Isa said, sidling up to the other side of the bleeding man. She pulled his limp arm around her shoulder. The stench of old sweat, long fear, and feces made her eyes water.
The wounded man flinched and groaned. “Save her.”
“Just a little farther,” she coaxed. She looked over the top of his head and met emerald green eyes.
The tight spot of fear between her shoulder blades eased. She could do this. Even if she and Murmur weren’t sharing the same body and psyche anymore.
Isa nodded.
Troy opened the basement door.
She and Murmur guided the half-conscious man down the stairs and into her containment studio.
“Troy? Plastic and paper drapes in that cabinet. Would you be so kind?”
Her burly business partner reconfigured the recliner into a table, spread the protective sheet over it, then laid the paper drape on top.
“What
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