Page 11 of Seven Sons (Gypsy Brothers)

“A goddamned ghost just walked into my shop asking for a tattoo,” he says gravely. “Excuse me for needing a minute to deal.”

I look at the floor. “A ghost is someone who died. I didn’t die.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “But everyone in this city thinks you did.”

I sip on my beer as I study the intricate network of Elliot’s tattoos that reach from each wrist to shoulder before disappearing under his shirt.

“Why are you back, Julz?” he asks, studying me intently. My heart drops when I realize his hands are shaking.

“Hey,” I say, setting my beer down and putting my hands over his so we are both cupping his beer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Fuck,” he says bitterly. “The last time I saw you …”

“Calm down,” I interrupt him. “Nobody knows I’m here, I swear.”

I take the bottle from his hands and set it down next to mine, and shift seats so that I am sitting next to him.

“Remember the last thing we spoke about?” I whisper, taking his hands in mine. It’s been so many years, but it feels like it was five minutes ago that he was holding my hands like this and promising me vengeance.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Yes, you do,” I prod firmly. “You promised me you would make them pay.”

His eyes go wide as he finally understands what I’m here for. “Julz, no …”

“Elliot, yes,” I murmur. “It’s time. It’s time to make them pay for their sins.”

He pulls away from me and stands, walking over to the window. It is blessedly cool and dim in the apartment compared to the scorching heat outside. I look at my iPhone, aware that I am supposed to be at the clubhouse in four hours and require a tattoo that will take at least five. Still, I bear the moments as patiently as I can, worried that to push Elliot will make him refuse to help altogether. And, really, I can go to any tattoo artist and request a coverup for my scars.

But in a town run by Dornan Ross, I can’t risk showing his macabre handiwork to a single soul. Because if someone finds me out, I’m as good as dead.

And I still have so many things left to do.

“It should have been me taking them down, Julz, not you.”

I speak gently. “Grandma told me about your daughter.”

He seems startled, fear registering in his eyes.

“What I mean," I say quickly, “is that I understand why you haven't been able to do anything about…” I'm suddenly at a loss for words. “Well, you know.”

Elliott rubs his eyes, and I wonder how many sleepless nights he has had since we met in an Emergency Room decorated in beige and bathed in my blood six years ago. Or how many sleepless nights since he drove away and left me all alone, three years ago?

Elliot keeps shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he says. “You should have stayed away.”

I rise from the couch. “I have four hours to get a tattoo that covers these scars. I am doing this with or without you. Are you going to help me, or am I going to leave and find another tattoo artist to cover this shit up?”

He turns, seemingly shocked by my determination. “Dornan knows artists all over this city. You can’t show your,” his voice cracks, “scars around.”

“Elliot,” I say firmly. “I’ve dreamed about this for years. I’ve danced in the dark after the lights were switched off, teaching myself the things I needed to know. I’ve memorized every single thing about Dornan Ross and committed it to memory. I am doing this with or without your help.”

With my final outburst, I turn to leave. I am bluffing, but he doesn’t know that. I think of the last time we were together, three aching years ago, and I can’t bear to think about how he walked away from me.

It was hot and dusty. It was always fucking hot and dusty. It had been a year since I had “died”, since I had been smuggled out of a hospital room circled by men who wanted to kill me, and delivered to a safe house thousands of miles away from everything I had ever known.

Elliot was my one constant. He was gentle and kind. He listened to all of the demons inside me that were clamoring to smother me, to kill me. He held me while I cried. He wiped away my tears.

And then, inexplicably, he fell in love with me.

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