Same/Difference (The Depth of Emotion #4) (30 page)

“Paige, meet a friend of mine. Dee Sanchez.”

The man extended his hand as Falcon continued the introduction.

“Dee, this is my wife, Paige.” The man’s head jerked up.

“You didn’t tell me she was your wife, man. Congratulations!” He slapped Falcon on the arm. “Let’s sit down and I’ll show you what I’ve got.” We followed him to a small consultation area and Dee pulled out a sketchbook.

“Fal said you have some scarred skin that you might want to have covered up.”

I gave my husband a challenging look. “He did, huh?” I turned back to Dee. “He’s right; I do have some scars. I’ve had plastic surgery on them so they’re the best they can be, but to tell you the truth, I never thought about tattoos. I didn’t think you could tattoo scarred skin.”

“Sometimes you can’t; it depends on the skin. But I’ve done tattoos that covered some pretty nasty scars and my clients haven’t had any problems with it.” It was obvious from his tone that he was confident in exactly what he could or couldn’t do.

“I don’t know how much Falcon’s told you about me but I’m also a business woman and, unfortunately, there’s a certain stigma attached to tattoos.”

I didn’t want to offend the man, but I thought that laying out my reservations would be the best approach.

“That’s true.” Dee nodded. “But he also told me that you’re very good at covering them up by the way you dress. If that’s true, then you shouldn’t have any trouble covering up the artwork.”

Although a considerate gesture, I thought this was probably a waste of time. If plastic surgery couldn’t help, I didn’t quite understand how tattoos would. I didn’t want to hurt Falcon’s feelings. It meant a lot to me knowing that he arranged this meeting. I shrugged.
What did I have to lose?

“Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I sighed and leaned forward. Falcon placed a reassuring hand on my knee as Dee opened his portfolio. As he laid his designs out one by one, I sucked in a breath.

Sketch after beautiful sketch, my understanding of body art was expanded. Each piece of paper held a drawing of a woman’s body—different page, different angle. The first was a view of the back. A beautiful floral design in many hues trailed over shoulder blades, mid-back, and down into the curve of her backside. It looked like the branch of a dogwood tree. Some blooms were full, some closed, and some in mid-bloom in many shades and hews of pink. The detail was so amazing that the bark looked real.

“This is unbelievable.” I was so moved that my voice was a whisper. Dee smiled.

“I’m glad you like them.” He looked at Falcon. “He said that Dogwood’s were your favorite.”

Misty-eyed, I inhaled the loveliness that replaced the recent violence in my life. Falcon must have described to Dee the location of each of my scars. The drawings had different angles of a naked female. The side and neck area all held different twists and turns of the Dogwood branches and blossoms. It was beyond my comprehension how designs so intricate could be transferred to skin because I was completely ignorant to the field. When I got to the last page tears stung the back of my eyes. It was filled with butterflies. My favorite.

Some were drawn with wings fully expanded; some were positioned on the blossoms of varying flora, just as they would be if they were drinking nectar, and some were in mid-flight. They were stunning in blues, yellows, oranges and black. One even had a small tear in the wing. But what made them so beautiful was that the shading underneath them made them appear three-dimensional. I was speechless.

“I don’t want to get up in your business,” he said matter-of-factly, “but Fal said butterflies remind him of you.”

The stinging in my eyes graduated to pools and my throat tightened with emotion. I looked up into his eyes. “They do?”

He nodded. “They do. They start out as one thing and become something else. When they’ve matured. The same, but different. They have to go through something traumatic that changes them—and they have to fight to get out of their cocoon to become something else. There is beauty in the struggle, but eventually they become what they were destined to be—
Beautiful.

I felt the tears trickle as they spilled down my face and Falcon brushed them away.

“What do you think? Do you want to go for it?”

Daring to hope, I looked at Dee. “I don’t know if it would work on my skin.”

He winked at me and cocked his head toward a private room.

“C’mon in the back and I’ll take a look.”

I followed him while Falcon waited. It had only taken a few minutes for Dee to decide if the tattoo would work. We went back to the front where Falcon was waiting in the lobby.

“I’m going to do it.” I sounded a bit hesitant and it was obvious he noticed. He warmed my upper arms and shoulders in a very comforting way and his voice was so low that only I could hear it.

“Babe, this was just a suggestion. If you want time to think it over, don’t do it.” There was such tenderness in his voice.

“I do. I really do.” I paused to take a deep breath. “If he can make me look like anything better than what I see in the mirror, I want to do it. I don’t think anything could make it look worse.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Dee prepping his table and I turned back to Fal.

“He said this could take a while. Why don’t you go and I’ll call you when he’s finished?” He was concerned. His eyes became a rich emerald and, right now, that depth came from his concern for me.

“I’ll stay with you.”

I stood on tiptoe, my lips brushing against his. “I’m fine. I promise. Besides, I want you to be surprised.”

“Call me as soon as he’s finished. And if the pain’s too much, make him stop.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m not a little girl anymore and, unless he has hot oil in that thing, it’s nothing I can’t handle. But if it makes you feel better, I promise I’ll make him stop.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and he pulled me in.

Reluctantly, Falcon left and I occupied myself by watching Dee finish his preparations.

“Nobody will see me, right? It’s the scars…”

He smiled knowingly, having seen the extent of them. “Not a problem, love. Now let’s get started.”

F
alcon had collaborated with Dee through telephone and email and when he saw the sketches in person, the work looked extensive. Having sat for hours to get his own tattoos, he was a little concerned. There was no denying that Paige had gone through much but this would be her first work. There was no doubt that she’d be sore. Dee’s work was flawless and, as long as she was happy with the final product, he’d be content to keep his hands off of her while she healed. No matter. They had a lifetime to make up for it. Although he was hesitant to leave her, he went back to the hotel.

In a way, it worked out to his advantage. Although he’d spoken with the police about the shooting, there were things he wanted to follow up on. It was obvious that Paige was a bit desensitized when it came to attacks. Her altercation with Marisol was the most recent in a long line of them. It unnerved him that talking to the police was the norm for her. In his world, that was unacceptable. Little did she know that there were two undercover bodyguards watching her.

After the doctors released her from the hospital, the two of them went back to the hotel. While she showered, he ordered food and made several phone calls. He had informed his partners what had transpired. Though they were shocked at Blake’s death, no one seemed too sad about it. He found out from the autopsy that there was cocaine in his system at the time of his death. Both Carter and Marcus were following up behind the scenes. They all suspected that there was a connection between the Vallega’s, Blake, and the drugs. It was imperative that he find out the reason Blake was in Vegas. He believed there was more to the story and that Manny Vallega had the answers. There were too many coincidences.

When Paige told the press that she didn’t remember much—at least it was partially true. She didn’t fully trust the judicial system and she had good reason. After Marisol attacked her and Aria, she was supposed to be locked away for good and that didn’t happen. The whole experience left Paige jaded, and now he knew exactly why—because she told him.

Once Jorge picked them up at the hospital, she confided the truth of what she remembered and it was more than she had disclosed at the station. The details became clues; what the shooter said to Blake, how tall he was, the sound of his voice, and the sound the gun made when it went off. These details and the answers to his questions would possibly provide fodder for an investigation. There was no way he’d let her be hurt again.

As soon as he got back to the room he did two things; called Paige’s friend Liz so he could use her to get information from the tattoo shop and called the office to follow up with Marcus and Carter. It had been two days since the shooting. Because he didn’t want to alarm her, most of his communication was via text messages. A conversation was in order.

“Carter?”

“Hey. How’s Paige?”

“Better. What did you find out?” He reached in the drawer of the hotel desk and found a pad of paper and a pen.

“Something you’re not going to be happy about.” His serious tone weighed on Falcon’s mind. “Blake was distributing cocaine. One of the models was hysterical about his death and confided in Declan that he was her connection. We think Marisol was helping him to get it. We think Manny is the supplier. Of course, so far, there’s no proof.”

“Shit!” He threw the pen down.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. He was registered in a room right next to theirs. For all appearances it looks like they’re on vacation, but I did some inquiries. Seems the DEA suspects some coke dealing. They’ve been following the trail of a few thousand kilos.”

“Blake was involved. I know it.”

“I know where your mind’s going. I don’t think Paige knew anything.”

He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. “I don’t think so either. It would explain his aggression.”

“And it would explain his erratic behavior. You didn’t know Blake until my party. He was a pretty likeable guy. A little egotistical, but that’s normal in that business. I talked to Declan. The girl that told him about the drugs told him there were others that were getting it from him.”

“And the DEA is trailing Manny?”

“Yeah. For a while. I’m not sure how far we can go with this.”

“Dammit! This son of a bitch has got to have some loose end that we can trail. Maybe if we bait him…”

“Don’t do something stupid, Fal.” His tone issued a warning. “I’ll see if we can offer any assistance, other than that, we have to back off.”

I
t took him awhile after the phone call to compose himself. Something about the whole thing wasn’t sitting well with him but he didn’t want to give Paige a reason to suspect that anything was wrong. She was pretty intuitive, so he enlisted her friend Elizabeth to help him. Even now she was calling the tattoo shop to get updates for him. She called him with the first report right after he got off the phone with Carter. True to form Paige said that she was weathering the session well and was anxious for Liz to see it. Falcon asked Liz to meet him and they could go together to see the final product. By then, Paige would be engrossed in showing her tattoos to Elizabeth and he could get an update from the undercover cops. He only wished that he didn’t have to be so secretive about protecting her. If she knew he was having her watched, she would be pissed.

Frustration was still biting him when the elevator doors opened.

“
Well, well.”

He looked up and into the face of Marisol. With the new revelations, it took all the energy he had not to say anything to her. She, however, followed him with narrowed eyes and a sarcastic attitude.

“Are you trying to be this rude or does it come naturally?”

He ignored her and kept on going.

She shouted, her echo drawing attention. “I hear you have a new bitch and that her markings are…interesting.”

Son of a bitch!

That comment got his attention. Furiously, he turned around and glared at her. She smiled back.

“You can thank me for that.”