Page 5 of Saved By the Rogue

Whatever it was they wanted her for.

Chapter Three – Star

I breathed hard, trying to ignore the throbbing in my wrist, as I listened to the door opening and a couple of men entering the tattoo shop. I knew I should have picked somewhere more out of the way, but when I saw this place, Dark Dog Designs, I had just felt this pull, like something in me was telling me to hop in and get this tattoo done.

The last few days, I had been staying in a crappy little motel on the bad side of town – nothing fancy, nothing special, just somewhere I could hide out while I waited for the heat to die down. I’d tossed my phone and spent what little money I had on a new one, and, between that and the room, I didn’t have a whole lot left.

But I knew I wanted that damn tattoo. Stupid, probably, but God, it just seemed like a chance to actually make a statement to myself - to them, to my parents, to anyone else who happened to be paying attention. That I wasn’t going to let anyone else decide how I lived my life, and I was going to do this all on my own terms, once and for all.

My father would have flipped his shit if he knew I’d gotten a tattoo. Even though he had a couple himself, he hated them on women, always told me they looked really trashy and only the lowest of whores would choose to have their skin marked like that. His words exactly. I had been racked my brain, trying to think of the biggest statement I could make to them, and it was the first thing that came to mind. A tattoo. Something on my skin that would make it impossible for them to see me as the same little girl they were willing to manipulate like they had before.

I had been mostly keeping myself to myself the last few days since I’d made my escape, but the few times I had snuck out of my room to grab some snacks from the vending machine at the end of the corridor, I had seen a couple of men hanging around outside. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, that there was no real reason for them to be here – but then, I noticed one of them peering at me, watching as I headed back to my room. I looped around the corridor, trying to throw him off the scent, my heart racing. Who had sent them? My parents? No, Lombardi, surely – my father had promised him something, and he wasn’t going to back down until he got it.

I couldn’t even think about my father without feeling a deep pang of hurt. I just couldn’t believe he had done what he’d done to me. I was his daughter, for God’s sake – daughter of Sal Salina, one of the most powerful men in the city. If anyone should have been safe here, it should have been me, but no, he had put me up for sale like chattel.

And now, these men had tracked me to the tattoo shop. I had no idea what the chances were that this random guy would cover for me – shit, if they offered him money, I got the feeling he would take it and sell me out. But there was something about the careful way he had touched me when he had been tattooing me that made me feel like...oh, I wasn’t sure exactly how to put it into words, but he made me feel like I was safe here.

"We’re looking for a girl," One of the men announced gruffly, as the tattoo artist slipped behind the counter beside me. He leaned on it casually and shrugged.

"No girls in here."

"We saw a girl when we walked past," the other man interjected. I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh, shit. I should have asked to be taken to a back room, where they wouldn’t see me, but it was far too late for that now.

"You really think this is the kind of place girls visit?" The artist chuckled, gesturing around. I peered up at him – he had dark blue eyes and slightly overgrown dirty-blonde hair, the muscles beneath his shirt flexing as he moved. Had he dealt with men like this before? He was talking like he had, with a cool, calm confidence that didn’t seem to waver in the face of whatever they were throwing at him.

"Look, man," One of the men interjected, leaning forward. I flattened myself against the counter, praying they wouldn’t catch sight of me under here. "We’re not looking for any trouble. We just want to find her. Make sure she’s safe. Alright?"

"What does she look like?" he asked, playing dumb.

"Blonde," he replied. "Early twenties. Blue eyes."

"Any tattoos?" he asked, smirking slightly. My eyes widened. What was he playing ay? He was flying way too close to the sun, he needed to pull back...

"None," the man replied. "You seen someone matching that description?"

"Nope," he replied, with a shrug.

Suddenly, the door behind me opened – and another man stepped out. He glanced down at me for a split second but didn’t show any surprise on his face.

"What’s going on, Jaxon?" he asked the artist who had tattooed me. "Who’s this?”

"They’re just asking around about some girl," Jaxon replied, waving his hand like he didn’t get what they were doing here. "You seen any girls around here lately?”

"Nope," the other man replied without missing a beat. Whoever these guys were, it was clear they knew how to handle a tense situation like this.

"I think I’d remember that," he replied.

"Exactly," Jaxon agreed, turning back to them. "So you guys can move along."

"Can we have a look around first?” One of my stalkers asked. A silence fell between the four men. I held my breath. There was no way they wouldn’t see me under here, it wasn’t exactly a decent hiding place...

"No," the older man replied. "This is our business. And we pride ourselves on our privacy."

Jaxon and the man glared back at the men on the other side of the counter, like they were daring them to take another swing at them – daring them to push this further than they already had. I squeezed my eyes shut. Please, please, please, just leave, just go...

"Fine," the man snapped. "But if you see anything, you call this number, okay?"

He pushed what I assumed was a card across the table towards Jaxon, who picked it up without looking at it.

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