Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) (3 page)

Rich and looking for trouble, the two of them reminded me of the girl I was trying so damn hard to forget. But even though Ree had been so different when I first met her—privileged, afraid to live, broken—there had always been something real about her. Something true. Something these girls couldn’t even dream of possessing.

Sia walked into the room, eyeing the pair on their way out. “I’ve got another girl for you if you’re willing to hang around for a bit longer. Good money for this one.”

I groaned. “Let me guess, another stoned college student looking to rebel by getting a flowery tattoo? You promised you’d take the next chick. How about you send me a three-hundred pound biker or at least someone wanting a design that’s not straight out of one of our books?”

“You underestimate me, Dare.” She wagged her finger at me, shaking her long, straight, black mane of hair. “I’m bringing you something special.”

“Is that so? Keep talking and I might be able to stay an extra hour or so.”

“I know all about your phoenix obsession that our dear Vogel started,” she said as she handed me a worn-looking piece of paper. “It’s a pretty intricate design and the client is a tat virgin, so I told her she should come back tomorrow when you have more time, but she was insistent on getting started right away. I thought maybe you’d want to check it out and talk to her about the process and number of sessions it’s going to take.”

“Let me see this sketch. If it’s going to take a few—” I glanced down at the paper as I opened it.

NO.

I could feel the blood draining out of my body.

No.
Fucking
. Way.

Sia’s bright red lips were moving a mile a minute, but I couldn’t hear the words coming out of her mouth.

The paper scorched my hand.

Two parts. One whole.
The words—in my own fucking handwriting—burned into my vision under a familiar phoenix that blazed across the page.

My phoenix. No. Not mine.
Ree’s
.

“Where is she?” My voice was hoarse, sounded like it came from someone else.

Sia gaped at me. “Where is who, hun?”

I pushed past her, and strode out into the front parlor. A part of me hoped it was all a misunderstanding. That someone had somehow gotten their hands on my sketch. That was it. I would just say this phoenix didn’t belong to them and steer them to another design.

This bird didn’t belong to anyone anymore. The girl who used to own it had given up. Way too fucking easily.

But there was a tiny, insane, addicted piece of me that wanted it to be Ree.

It was that part I feared most.

The moment my eyes connected with a pair of stormy blue ones, my heart lodged in my throat. There was something sickening about having your greatest hope and worst fear confirmed at the same time. In the same person.

“Dare…” Ree breathed, my name barely a whisper on her lips. God, those lips. Those fucking kissable lips.

Get a grip, man. Get her out of your head.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I didn’t mean to sound so severe, but the words just shot out of my mouth, sharp as daggers.

A war waged inside me, a battle between my heart and mind. The wounded, irrational part of me wanted to scoop her up, crush her against me, and never let her go. But I knew I had to hold back or risk a repeat of New York and Paris. I had no intention of getting into WWIII with her family. Not after everything I’d overheard between her and that preppy, blond douchebag. Not when she wouldn’t fight for us.

“I don’t understand…” She looked around the shop, her gaze brimming with genuine confusion and surprise. “You work here? You tattoo?”

“Some of us have to work for a living, Princess. Unlike your fiancé, my dad didn’t leave me a cushy trust fund to fall back on.”

Hurt filled her eyes, and I immediately regretted my words. Fuck. No one but Ree was capable of making me lose my composure and spin out of control like this.

“He’s not my fiancé,” she whispered, taking a step toward me. “And I…I just didn’t know you did this.”

That sweet scent that was so very her wafted over me. It wasn’t something that came out of an expensive bottle, nor found anywhere else. It was just her. Pure Ree. Pure intoxication. One whiff and I couldn’t remember my name. My own personal drug of choice.

But, damn it all to hell, I was quitting her cold turkey.

I shrugged like I didn’t care that she was standing right in front of me, looking up at me with those big, watery eyes as if I was the answer to her prayers. What was that saying? Fake it till you make it? I was drowning in fake, getting suffocated by my pretend indifference.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I said.

That thought hit me hard. There were still so many things we didn’t know about each other, secrets she refused to talk about. Shit that was no longer my business. No matter how much I wanted it to be.

Fuck. Focus. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Her bottom lip quivered, and I stuffed my hands into my pockets to keep myself from reaching out to touch it. “I’m here to get a tattoo,” she said. “I saw the name of the shop and had to come in.”

I shook my head, waving the piece of paper in my hand. “I’m not going to ink this on you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t belong to you.”

Her eyes narrowed and her face flushed red. “Yes, it does. It’s
my
phoenix.”

“Not anymore, Reagan.” It physically hurt to call her by that name, but I had to keep reminding myself she was no longer my Ree.

She stared at me, her mouth gaping, steam practically coming out her ears as she geared up to ream me out.

At that moment, Sia walked up behind me and placed a hand on my elbow. “Do you two know each other?” she asked, sizing Ree up.

Ree’s eyes widened, her gaze falling to Sia’s hand, then quickly shooting back up to her face. Her head tilted to one side. “You—”

“I’m Sia,” she said, sliding her hand along my arm. Claiming me.

And fuck it all, I let her do it even though her touch was the last thing I wanted. Just to see the look on Ree’s face. Her eyes stayed glued to Sia’s fingers as they brushed my arm, pain eclipsing all other emotions in them. I knew that pain vividly, having felt the full force of it three weeks ago in my own fucking stairwell when I watched that pompous ass get down on one knee.

After a moment, Ree snapped out of it. “Sia?” Recognition flooded her face. “Dare painted you.”

Sia laughed. “I guess you DO know each other. Yes, I was his
first
nude.” She practically purred the words as she added, “We spent a lot of time
sans
clothing that summer. And I sculpted some very
intimate
pieces of him.”

“Oh.” Ree swallowed hard. Shit. It was too much. I’d let it go too far. I shook off Sia’s hand and shot her a look that I hoped to god she would understand as a very stern
back off.

Yeah, I was being an ass and hurting Ree. Still, that didn’t mean I’d let anyone else do it. A fucking double standard, but what of it? She’d hurt me and payback was a bitch, but there was a limit to how far I would go.

“Well, it’s nice to meet a friend of Dare’s,” Ree said, glancing up at my face. There was a question floating in the depths of her eyes, but she seemed unable to ask it.

She looked so…lost. Which fucking killed me.

I shook my head, once again reminding myself she wasn’t my problem anymore. “Look, I have to get back to work,” I said. “I have an appointment coming in soon.” Lie. “Maybe you can get your fiancé to take you to another tattoo shop. I’m sure he can afford to buy you whatever you want, Princess. Hell, he could even buy you your own fucking parlor.” I turned and began walking toward the back room.

Ree followed me inside, slipping through the curtain before I had a chance to do anything about it. “Stop it, Dare. Stop acting like this.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face her. And I let her do it. Her touch felt too damn good to resist.

Jesus. She was a drug. And I was gladly gulping it down. What the fuck was wrong with me? I needed to get away from her. Far, far away.

“This isn’t you,” she said. “This isn’t
us
.”

“It is now. You made your choice.” I took a step back, giving us some distance, getting away from the heat of her body. If she only didn’t smell so fucking good.

“I’m not with Archer. I never was. That was just my parents—”

“I don’t care,” I said through clenched teeth.

Another lie.

She knew it. She stepped forward, pressing herself against me.

“I came to Amsterdam for you.” Her chest rose and fell against mine, her breath warmed my lips.

“Why? Why the hell did you even bother?”

She stared at me, her waterblue eyes threatening to drown me. “Because I fucking love you, you ass. God, Dalia was right. You are an idiot.”

Dalia
again?
Man, my baby sister really needed to learn to keep her mouth shut about me.

“I don’t care.” Liar, liar,
liar
. “I’m tired of being sucked into your blue-blood problems,” I told her. “Pretty Boy was right. I have nothing to offer you.”

“That’s not true. You have everything I need. You ARE everything I need.” Ree reached out to touch my face, but I stopped her by wrapping my fingers around her wrist. “I love you, Dare Wilde. That’s why I’m here.” She pushed against me, sending us off-balance and tumbling into the table behind me.

And that was it. Her presence enveloped me, extinguishing my resolve.

She, too, was everything, and I was completely sunk in her, in us, in
this
.

To hell with it all, I needed her. Wanted her. Craved her with all that I was.

I wove my fingers through her hair and pulled her close, breathing her in. “I’m so tired of playing games with you, Ree.”

“I’m not playing.” Tears filled her eyes, making them shine. “I swear, Dare. This is the real me. Please don’t push me away. Let me be yours once and for all.”

With each quick, short breath, she moved closer and closer, parting her lips in anticipation. All I wanted to do was to taste her, take her, make her all mine. But something stopped me cold.

Her pupils were dilated, her eyes glassy, her lids heavy.

If I didn’t have so much experience with my mother and her relapses, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Because I would’ve missed the signs.

Clear as fucking day. And un-
fucking
-believable.

“Are you HIGH? Right now?
Again?
” Tightening my grip on her, I fought the urge to shake her. Shake some fucking sense into her. “Do you not realize what you’re doing to yourself? What the hell is wrong with you, Ree?”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Her façade cracked. Waves of anguish flooded her eyes. A whole tsunami of them. And I was the cause of it. Shit.

“
Everything
,” she finally whispered. “Everything is wrong with me!”

Then she tore away from my grip and fled the room, leaving me alone, stunned. And torn. She was a junkie—I already had one of those in my life, and one was more than enough.

But this was Ree.

Fuck.

I heard the bell jingle right before the front door banged close, and looked down to see the phoenix drawing still in my hand.

four

I
diot. Loser. Fuck-up.

Dare hadn’t said those words to me, but I’d heard them all the same. After all, it was who I was, who I’d always been my whole messed up life. I thought I had changed these past three years. I thought leaving my old life behind had meant something, that I’d come so far.

But it was all just a big fucking lie.

I was no different than before—same mistakes, same stupid decisions, same fears, same pills. Same Reagan McKinley. I simply had less money to throw around at my problems and probably one less friend. I hadn’t spoken to Archer since I’d not-so-graciously turned down his proposal.

People didn’t change. Seasons did, fashions and trends could, even mayors and governors. But not the people in my life. My family never would.

And obviously I couldn’t either.

Dare had made that painfully clear tonight.

All I wanted to do was pop more pills. Forget everything. Stop feeling.

Case in point—my first thought was to find refuge in the pills. Even though those little bastards were to blame for this situation tonight. For once, I was grateful the bottle was back in my flat rather than in my bag. At least I still had my—

Oh, shit.

I didn’t even have to search my bag to know it wasn’t there. I stopped cold on the sidewalk. Someone bumped into me, muttered something in Dutch, and glared as he walked around me.

The phoenix.
My phoenix
.

I didn’t have my bird. My anchor. My strength.

Oh, god.

Panic rose deep within me, shaking my soul loose, threatening to break me into thousands of tiny little pieces.

I crouched down on the ground and dumped the contents of my bag onto the cobblestones even though I knew the move was futile. My wallet
thunked
to the ground, a lip gloss rolled into a crack, keys jingled out. But no paper. No phoenix.