“It’s not a tat,” says Vi. “It’s a coverup.”
It’s a reminder that someone, somewhere, has already given an underage girl a tattoo. One she now regrets from the sounds of it.
“Boss.” Jonah looks awkward. “What do you want me to do?”
Vi stands, using her hand to push herself up. “Let me handle this. I’ll take her back to my station, have a look at what she wants done. Ask her, her age, then report back.”
Unlike me, the prez’s woman couldn’t appear less threatening if she tried. Certainly, a good idea to let her handle this.
“Might just be a small heart with a boyfriend’s name,” I tell Liz. “If she’s that young, maybe it wasn’t even professionally done. If she can get the right paperwork, maybe we can make an exception this once.”
“I don’t like this Mace. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve got a funny feeling about Shayla.” He taps his nose. “There’s a smell I don’t like.”
I know he doesn’t mean he’s taken exception to her perfume.
Lizard might have forgotten a lot of his time with the Marines, but he still retains his training to his core. I, too, am constantly on the outlook for trouble. You don’t spend time in the sandbox without looking over your shoulder and being aware of the slightest thing out of place at any time.
He fidgets, I pace. I’m hoping my innocent suggestion was right and we’re looking for problems where there are none. But when Vi returns, just one look at her face tells me I’m wrong to be optimistic.
Liz stands fast. “What is it?”
Vi looks stunned. “She’s young. Fourteen, fifteen? Sixteen at a stretch. Shayla’s trying to tell me she’s an adult,” she huffs. “No damn way.”
“The tattoo?”
I know something’s very wrong when Vi looks straight at me. She’s gone pale. “It’s exactly the same one as Shayla’s.” And in case we had any doubts, adds, “Same man.”
Fuck. Two identical tats? Two women wearing the same property patch? That sounds more like a fucking brand.
“Okay,” Liz starts, drawing out the word.
“It gets worse,” interrupts Vi, her eyes filling with tears. “She’s a nice girl. Pretty to look at. She’s quick to smile. Easy to scare—I moved too fast and she jumped. She’s also, she’s… mentally impaired.”
“Oh fuck no. We can’t do it, Vi.”
“Please Liz, please. Just talk to them. Please.” Vi’s close to begging. “There’s something really wrong, and we can help sort it out.”
“What’s up, Liz?” Ignoring Vi for a moment, I focus on him. His firm refusal sounding alarm bells.
My brother meets my eyes. “It’s against the law to ink anyone who’s not all there.”
“Since when do we care what’s legal?” I scoff.
“Since we run a legit tattoo business. Since we’ve moved to a good part of town and attract a better clientele. Since we have ‘nice’ women coming in from the hairdressers next door. You think they’re not suspicious enough when they see brothers around? They come because we’re good at what we do. They come because they dared themselves to walk among men like us. They come because they’d delight in finding we don’t walk the straight and narrow. One step out of line and we’d have the heat coming down before we could blink.”
I’m not fazed. “So, we do it off hours. Let’s at least talk to them.”
At his reluctant nod, Vi turns. Moments later, she’s encouraging Shayla and the girl into Liz’s office. I’ve positioned myself just in front of the door so she doesn’t notice me until I’ve shut it, and now stand with my back against it so she can’t run.
Shayla’s still talking to Vi. “I’m not sure this is necessary. I’m prepared to pay the full price for both. I don’t need a discount, so I don’t need to see your boss.” She sounds nervous. When her wary glance around the room shows me in my stance by the door, she pales. “Look, we’ll go somewhere else.”
“Sit down,” barks Liz.
Chapter Eleven
Lizard
I didn’t mean to snap, just need to get this situation under some semblance of control. Jonah and Vi were right. This kid, now sitting in front of me, isn’t even close to the age of consent.
I take a moment to steady my voice, needing first to stamp down the rage which had risen inside me. “Hey, honey, would you like some candy? I’ve got some in my desk outside we can get for you.”
The girl puts her thumb in her mouth and nods shyly. Vi goes to the door, Mace steps aside to let her out, then retakes his sentry position.
“What’s your name?”
The girl looks at the woman now seated beside her. The woman mouths something. The girl shakes her head. Then it’s Shayla who provides the information I asked for when she says, “Esme.”
“Esme,” I say, keeping my tone as gentle as I can. “That’s a nice name.”
Vi had told me she was pretty. When she smiles, it could brighten a person’s day. I’m not sure what it is, there’s such a look of innocence and joy about her. My hands clench. Only one reason a man puts a property patch on a female, and it’s not because she’s his daughter.
I move my gaze onto Shayla. Without preamble, I get straight down to what I want to know. “Who’s Major?”
A whimper draws my attention away.
“It’s alright,” Shayla reassures Esme, more confidently than I expected, as though she’s being strong for the girl. “He’s not here, okay?” Her face grows fierce. “I’m never going to let him hurt you again.”
Just my enquiry has upset the kid. She’s drawn up her legs so her heels rest on the chair, her arms are wrapped around her knees and her head is bent with her face hidden. At that moment, the door opens, and Vi walks back in. She sees Esme and glares in my direction, then spares another for Mace.
“Vi,” I decide fast, “can you take Esme back to your station? Perhaps she’d like to help you draw something?”
Shayla looks my way, summing up the situation fast. “No, no talking.” She starts to stand. “We’ll be on our way. I’ll pay you for what you’ve already done—”
“Sit,” I tell her again, almost surprised when she does. “Sounds like you and the girl both need work completed. I suspect you came to us as you thought we wouldn’t ask too many questions, and maybe you’re right. We give a shit about what we do and running a good business, but we also give a shit about keeping women and kids safe. You’re free to go, we ain’t gonna stop you. Just think about this. Any tattoo artist prepared to work on her,” I point to Esme, still rocking in her chair, “won’t be worth shit. Anyone good enough will be too concerned about the authorities.”
“But you aren’t?”
“We are,” Mace’s voice booms. “But we can work in devious ways. Do this shit off-site or off hours if need be. You think you can find anyone else willing to do that?”