Page 8 of Saved By the Rogue

Chapter Five – Star

I woke with a start, my eyes snapping open as I sat bolt upright. Shit! Where was I? I looked around, a grip of panic thudding through my system for a moment.

"Hey."

As soon as I heard his voice, I breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, right, of course – I was in that little room above the tattoo shop, and Jaxon was standing at the door, arms crossed as he looked down at me.

"Hi," I muttered.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you," he remarked, as he came over towards me. "You doing okay?"

"I think so," I replied, my voice still a little croaky from sleep. "What time is it?"

"Early morning," he replied. "About five."

"Damn, I slept for a long time..."

"You must have needed it," he remarked. I stifled a yawn. I felt like I could have slept for another hundred years. I hadn’t realized how badly I had been sleeping at the motel, tossing, and turning as I tried to trust that I was actually safe.

"Yeah, I guess so," I agreed, looking up at him, and scanning his face. I still didn’t know if I could trust this guy. But if he had left me to sleep without trying to...well, without trying anything, then I figured I was safe with him. For now, at least.

"I’ve talked to my boss," he explained, pulling up a chair next to the bed – the room was pretty bare, just a dresser and a chair next to a slightly grimy window, but it felt like paradise compared to the gritty motel I’d been in.

"And he said you can stay."

"Why?" I replied, my eyes widening. "I – I can’t give you any money, I spent the last of it on the tattoo-"

"Because you’re going through something," he replied bluntly. "And we’re not going to turn you out onto the street when you need help."

I propped myself up on the bed, staring at him. I couldn’t figure this out. I felt as though...I felt as though there had to be a catch, had to be a reason behind this that I just wasn’t seeing.

"Who are you guys?" I whispered to him. I barely dared to ask. I doubted they were up to anything above board, living in this part of the city, but if they were my only option, I would take it.

He sighed and pushed a hand through his blonde hair. It fell into his face, obscuring his deep blue eyes for a moment, and I noticed some stubble on his jaw that hadn’t been there before, as though he hadn’t had time to shave. Worried about me? I didn’t know. Maybe I was too self-obsessed...

"The Dark Dogs," he replied, scanning my face for some kind of reaction, like he thought I might know who that was. I stared back at him blankly.

"Is that meant to mean something to me?" I asked, and he snorted with amusement.

"Damn, I thought rich girls like you were meant to have manners," he shot back, but then shrugged. "We’re an... organization, let’s say. We do work around the city."

"What kind of work?" I asked, ignoring his jibe. I’d often gotten crap from my family about speaking my mind too clearly, but it always annoyed me; my older brothers, Jason and Harry, never got told off for being open, and I knew it was a total double standard due to my gender.

"Nothing that your father would give a business award to, let’s say that," he replied evasively. I shook my head.

"Criminal stuff?" I asked. "Like Lombardi?”

He bristled.

"Not like Lombardi," he replied. "He’s into sex trafficking. People trafficking. That’s not our shit. We just get the stuff people need to them without a fuss, no matter what that happens to be."

"Stuff like...?"

"Weapons," he replied. "Drugs. Nothing hard, just the low-level stuff. Keeps Atwood stocked."

"So, what, is the tattoo shop a cover?" I quizzed him. I figured it wasn’t going to do him any harm to come out and tell me the truth, given that I wasn’t in a position to bargain right now – who was I going to go and spill this to, without giving myself away in the process?

"Sort of," he replied. "We don’t make a living off it. But we do use it to...process our money through. And we do a few tattoos for other people who work in a similar line of work, too."

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