There You Stand (Between Breaths 5)

“That damn dog you inherited will be the death of you. Or something else will be,” he said, his eyes narrowing in collusion. “You see any heavy ammo at Jude’s place?”

My head snapped up from my roast beef sandwich. “What the fuck?”

Dex’s eyebrows rose. I always horsed around and normally went with the flow, so I could understand why my quickness to anger confused the heck out of him.

“Dude, I’m messing with you. Just want you to be careful,” he said and then lowered his voice. “Rumor has it that he’s got ties to that MC club.”

“The Disciples of the Road?” I said, rolling my eyes. “Those guys aren’t as scary as you think they are. Christ, you’re just as bad as everyone else.”

I hadn’t meant to get defensive, because who the hell was I kidding? Those MC dudes were intimidating as sin. I’d hate to get caught in their crosshairs.

But I’ll admit, my reaction to Dex’s question was a bit much. Believe me, life had kicked me in the ass plenty. Nobody should have to endure the wrath of everything brewing inside of me. So I tempered my anger.

“Sorry. It’s just that you’re talking shit and he comes in here to get ink from me. I don’t want to catch any hell from him or anybody else,” I said. “Just keep your trap shut.”

Dex backed away, his hands raised. “No need to say it twice.”

But I couldn’t help thinking about what I’d seen that night at the Hog’s Den. How he seemed to be stopping by for something more than just a friendly to-go order. I wouldn’t have thought anything more of it except that Jude never talked to anybody, so that interaction with the bartender had stuck out like a sore thumb.

I’d considered more than once whether Jude was involved with the Disciples in some way or in their business dealings.

What about the way he’d told me his fishing gear would be fine, how he’d looked around like he was being watched, and the distinct sound of a motorcycle I’d heard close by?

I wasn’t stupid. Even though it was never broadcasted, I knew this town was Disciples turf and they were kings. Dex had said he’d suspected they were involved in moving guns and stolen property. I kept my eyes averted and my nose clean at the bar because I just wanted a discreet place to chill out and talk motorcycles. Period.

I hadn’t laid eyes on Jude since he dropped off Chopper and I’d tried to avoid the park because my brain was all messed up when it came to that silent British boy. Especially since he’d seemed pissed that morning. Maybe it was my big mouth or maybe I had somehow touched upon the truth.

But deep down I was most unsettled about Jude York because in a lot of ways, we had something in common. We were both hiding, or in my case, not willing to face up to some truths.

I had gotten pretty good at deflecting. The only one who knew my real story outside of my Grandma was Dex, since he was also a transplant from my previous shop. I had dated David the entire time I worked there. But afterward, I had wanted a change. Besides, the owner was a dick, so after Dex had started working at Raw Ink, I applied for the openings there as well.

When Jude had noticed my back problem, I nearly became unhinged. Nobody had ever come close to zeroing in on my past. I had showed up to my first day of work at Raw Ink a new man. I was always pretty easygoing anyway, so despite Dex having witnessed the worst year of my life, he just went with it. And never brought it up again.

After my shift at the tattoo shop, I headed over to the shelter with Emmy.

“We need to hose out the cages today,” Emmy said, her eyes alight with happiness like they always were when she came here. She was one of those people who had a true calling to work with animals. And no matter how much I grumbled about her hoodwinking me into volunteering, just watching her in action always turned my thinking around. At least this place was a no-kill shelter.

Cleaning the cages was a dirty job but somebody had to do it. And if you took on Emmy’s sunny outlook, we were giving the animals cleaner and healthier living quarters. But just the idea of them existing in cages turned my stomach. So I pretended it was a temporary resting spot because I couldn’t allow myself to think that these dogs were going to be there forever.

Emmy was so into these animals they were like her babies. Especially where her favorite dog, Patch, was concerned. He was a black-and-white mutt, probably had some Australian shepherd in him, though it was hard to tell. I didn’t know who the hell came up with the name Patch, but I guess it stuck. I supposed he did look like some kind of rag doll, the poor pathetic thing.

Emmy loaded her pocket with treats and waved to our supervisor on duty, a guy named Tristan. Though she wouldn’t readily admit it, she had the hots for him. And based on the long look he had given her, he felt the same way. So why didn’t they act on it? Who knows, I thought to myself. Shit got complicated. Someone might ask the same thing about Jude and me.

The tension between us was palpable and had it been any other guy, I would’ve made my intentions known. I didn’t have time to dick around. If you wanted to fuck, then let’s fuck. If you wanted more, then let’s see where it leads.

But there was something altogether different about Jude that made me handle this situation with kid gloves. Not only did I not know for certain whether he was bi or gay, I also didn’t know much of anything else about him. Except that he had horrible scars on his back, he grew up in England, and had a remarkable gift when it came to skateboards and dogs.