Page 76 of Mischievous Lies

“Yes. She wanted to know if it’s serious between you two.”

“It’s a thing,” I tell him, waggling my brows.

“Fucking hell, you annoy me.”

“Love you too.” I blow him a kiss.

“Do you love her?” he asks, glancing up at me as he pauses the tattoo.

“Yep,” I say without a doubt.

His brow furrows as if he’s surprised to hear me say that. I suppose I’ve never said that about a woman before. No one was like her.

“How do you even know that? Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure.” I nod my head.

“How?” he asks, running his gaze over the design he’s inking onto me. “You’ve never been in a relationship, let alone been curious about monogamy.”

I only think about that for a few seconds because I know my truth. It’s not rocket science to figure out how I feel about her. “I think I’ve always loved her in some way, but now that I have her, I know I’ll never let her go. She’s it for me. I look at other women now, and it does nothing for me. I just want to see her. I wake up, and I want to see her. I go to sleep, and I want to hold her. And I get this weird feeling in my chest and stomach when she’s near, like I have to touch her. I can’t contain myself.”

“Hmmm,” Ford hums as he concentrates on my tat.

“What? You think it’s fascination?” I ask, twisting to see him, and he glares at me.Fuck. I go back into my original spot.

“No. I always thought you two might end up together. You both are just slow as fuck.” He laughs then as he wipes excess ink and blood from my skin.

Ford always made comments when I was with a woman, saying it wouldn’t last, and I never really questioned it or cared about it. Hell, I didn’t want any of them to last. But now, when I think back, it’s like he always knew who I was going to end up with. I guess to end up with the right person, you have to go through the trenches first. Though I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t fun. I always have fun, no matter what. The only time I’m not having a good time is when it involves Ivy getting hurt or upset with me.

I hate having her mad at me.

“Hello!” Ivy calls out as she enters Ford’s house.

His eyebrows knit together, and I quickly explain, “I gave her a key and told her I’d be here.”

“Jesus. You just letting all the strays in my house now. Billie could’ve let her in.”

“In here!” I shout as Ford shakes his head and continues the finishing touches of my tattoo. I hear her heels click down the hallway. Then she opens the door and peeks in.

“I found a location on that guy, Dallas Rigger, your biker friend told us about. He actually lives in Springfield and—” Her words cut off when she looks up, and it takes her a second to figure out what’s happening. “What are you…? Oh, a tattoo?” She approaches and looks down at my chest. “Is that…?”

“Ivy,” I say, glancing down at the plant he’s tattooing on me.

“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” She shakes her head and takes a seat across from us.

“Billie is in the shower. Continue telling us what you’ve got on this guy,” Ford says, all business and it snaps me to attention as well.

“Right,” she murmurs, unable to stop staring at the tattoo. I catch a small smile as she glances down at her phone. “I’ve sent the information to Eli as well. I dug up some interesting stuff about this guy. He’s used to cleaning up after his messes; it’s just too bad that flying under the radar doesn’t work when he crossed me.”

My chest puffs up proudly as she says that. This asshole might’ve never been caught, or not anytime soon, at least if he hadn’t been unlucky enough to cross paths with my fierce goddess. She’s the brains behind the operation, and I’ll happily dole out the dirty punishments needed to bury them.

“I’ve narrowed it down to two locations where he most likely produces and filters his drugs, both in Springfield. He doesn’t move around much himself. He sends his little minions likeLester and Jared out. When I looked further into it, I suspect he might be starting a sex ring, too.”

Ford and I look at one another. We’re not good men, but we draw the line when it comes to women and children. These assholes are the worst kind. Ford and I both receive a text at the same time. We lift our phones in unison, and my smile curves as I’m guaranteed a blood bath tomorrow.

“Looks like we’ll be dealing with it tomorrow, lover,” I inform her.

“Eli doesn’t fuck around, does he?” she comments.

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