“Told you she was hurt in the past.”

And I wasn’t? “You did. I’m not gonna hurt her.”

“You mean you won’t be wrapped around another girl at the wedding reception?”

“Dammit, Zane, no, I won’t.” I grit my teeth. “I didn’t know I was gonna meet her, all right? Meet someone like her. That she’d be different. For me.”

He stills in the process of preparing the ink. “Different.”

I eye him warily. “You also gonna tell me what a bad idea this is? Because, honestly, I’m all out of fucks.”

He looks startled, then he scowls. “She’s—”

“Okay, back off.” I lurch to my feet and turn to go. “Maybe she’s not as broken as you think. Maybe she’s just cracked and only needs a bit of glue to put her straight.”

Silence spreads.

Then Zane chuckles. “I like what you just said, fucker.”

I chance a glance over my shoulder. Asshole is grinning from ear to ear.

“You do?”

“Yeah. So what happened? She said she’s not interested?”

I rub my chest, where it hurts. “Something like that.”

“So fight for her.”

The fuck.

“This isn’t a fantasy movie, Z-man. I don’t have superpowers or anything.” Yeah, I’m off balance and defensive as fuck. So what.

“Shut up, man. Who needs superpowers?” Zane’s dark eyes narrow to the barest of slits. “Take her out, buy her a gift, show her she is the one. Convince her. You’re a charming motherfucker. You can do it.”

I blink. “You’re okay with it?”

“Fucker…” He sighs, turns back to his tattoo gun. “I used to be a manwhore, worse than you. Until I met Dakota, and then I changed, because she was it for me. If Amber does that for you, who am I to stop you from being happy?”

Happy. That word again.

I can try. Nothing to lose. “I’m not a quitter.” I wouldn’t be alive if I was.

“Never thought you were.”

“So I should… what, date her?”

“That sounds about right.”

I open my mouth, close it.

“And now we’ve solved the mysteries of love, let’s get to work,” Zane says. “Show me your drawings, and put on those gloves. Your next customer will be here any minute.”

Well, hell.

***

Zane pushes me to do another part of a tattoo on his customer’s back, and this time my hand is steadier and I’m more confident in my abilities.

But then he tells me he expects me to practice longer and finish his apprenticeship. He wants me to stop at least one of my other part time jobs to spend more time on drawing and practicing.

He’s right. I should. This is what I want to be—a tattoo artist. I love creating the pictures, inking them into the skin in indelible designs. Marking people like I marked myself.

Damage Control. This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? Dealing with the past. Finding peace.

One day I hope to find it for myself, too.

Amber…

Yet, leaving my part time jobs is another matter. I pretend to agree to everything Zane says, to agree I can’t juggle so many gigs and focus on my apprenticeship, too, and leave it at that.

He wouldn’t understand, plus he’d be pissed, and it’s frightening how much I want to stay. To learn more, have an income and a roof over my head, and almost believe I have friends, a family of sorts.

I’m a sucker for this illusion. It’s what’s kept me sane all these years, this dream that I’d have a home one day, and that I’d stay.

Which is why I’m saving money. I need to be ready for whatever life throws into my path next. For once, I want to stay on my feet. Is it too fucking much to ask?

It’s in the middle of my shift at the café when Jason calls me. I forgot I even gave him my new number, and the bad feeling churning in my gut when I hear his voice cuts clear through my worries about Amber and the future.

“J? You okay?” he yells into the phone, and I wince, pulling it away from my ear. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you. Calm down.” I put the cell back to my ear. “What’s going on? Why the hell are you shouting?”

“Sorry. I’m in the waiting room in St. Mary’s. It’s packed full of people, like you wouldn’t believe.”

“St. Mary’s? Why?” I glance at the tables and the few customers, then at Megan who’s leaning back on the bar, observing. I turn my back and head for the door.

“We got another one down. A girl this time, Mia. It was him. Simon Gomez.”

“You can’t know that.” Yet my stomach is knotting up.

“They saw him, man. But nobody will testify.”

Dammit. “Why would he do this?”

“Think, J. Why did he beat you up back then?”

“Crazy bastard said I was on his turf.”

“You know Kaia died right?”

The pimp controlling the neighborhood, the one that kept Simon back until now.

I stumble as I go down the steps to the street and barely catch myself before I fall. “What? When?”

“Ten days ago. The night Mikey was beaten. Then he caught Kyle, and now Mia. He’s got drugs circulating, and he wants us away. As you said, a crazy bastard.”

Fuck, fuck. “Mia should tell the police. She—”

“You should do it, J. She’s just a kid, and tomorrow she’ll be back on the street. Can’t afford it, but you… He won’t even know who ratted him out. I doubt he remembers you after three years.”

But maybe he does.

Jason doesn’t know the whole story. Nobody does but me. It’s personal all right. Simon wanted more than just vacation of the premises. He wanted me to join him.

And as a first step, he demanded I go down on him. When I refused, he tried to force me. I was exhausted from hunger and a bad cold that wouldn’t let up. But I fought back, and I have the fucking scars to show for it.

He didn’t get his way. For a man like him, that has to be something memorable.

“This is a shitty plan,” I mutter, “and you know it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the only plan we got, baby,” Jason drawls and disconnects.

***

Telling Mel to hold the taco fort and that I’ll be in late, I head to St. Mary’s.

Mel… is important to me. He used to feed me when I was hungry. I’d pass by late, and he’d give me his leftovers. I owe him, and even though the pay is damn low, I wouldn’t dream of leaving him without help.

Zane doesn’t know this. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about me.

On my way to the hospital, I feel an itch between my shoulder blades as if someone is watching me. Following me.

Which is laughable. I check over my shoulder, just in case, and think I see a shadow skulking away, but that’s bullshit. Why would anyone follow me?

St. Mary’s emergency room is packed when I walk inside. I see Jason the moment he spots me, too, and we move toward each other. He looks frazzled and out of place, dressed in his skin-tight, ripped jeans and silver tank top, showing off his tats and scars.

“Whatcha doing here?” He sounds brisk and gruff, but the relief is shining out of his face. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah well, here I am.” I shove my hands into my pant pockets. “Just because I don’t live on the street anymore doesn’t mean I don’t fucking care.”

He shrugs. I don’t think he believes me. “I’d do the same in your shoes, man,” he says. “Get out as fast as I can and not look back.”

Right. So much for getting through to him. “Where’s Mia?”

“This way. They’re about to discharge her. She’ll be okay.”

You wouldn’t think it by looking at her. A slight girl with short, dark hair and large green eyes, beaten black and blue. A bandage over her eye is hiding stitches, and the way she’s holding herself hints at bruised ribs.

Pressure is building in my chest. Rage. I have to do something about this. These are my people, no matter what Jason thinks. I can’t let this happen again.

But what the fuck can I do? How can I take them off the street and protect them from life’s blows? Even if I used up the money I’ve saved…

The money I saved for myself. To protect myself.