Cruz (Dark and Dirty Sinners' MC #5) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,142

her nape.

I could feel her relief across the studio, and it prompted me to cautiously ask, "Indy?"

She didn't turn around, didn't even tense up. The bell above the door had clued her in to the fact that someone had entered the building, but she couldn't have known it was me.

Could she?

"I told him."

Her tone was somehow free from expression, yet loaded with it too.

"I saw him on his way out," I told her carefully.

"You should have seen him before." She twisted, so that she could look at me over her shoulder and murmured, "Telling him was never the issue. He was a big boy long before I was a big girl."

"You were just unsure about the shockwaves," I replied, understanding without her having to clarify further. Nyx, on a normal day, made a nutcase look allergic to peanut butter.

She dipped her chin as she moved to face me. "It's done now. He knows. I made him promise–"

Her voice broke off at that, and unable to stop myself, I surged forward, sliding my arms around her, encompassing her in me. Letting her know she wasn't alone. Reminding her I would do whatever I needed to in order to keep her safe.

Just like she'd said, Indy was a big girl now, she wasn't that same little girl, terrified into keeping secrets that no one should have to bear. She was a woman.

My woman.

She knew her worth.

Knew what she meant to me.

This was night and day to before.

"What did you make him promise?" I whispered, curious despite myself. Maybe that was something between brother and sister, something I shouldn't know about, but I wanted to be kept in the loop. Wanted to monitor Nyx to make sure that he didn't break a promise to Indy, something she wouldn't have asked of him if she didn't think it was necessary.

"To do what mom and dad never did for me, to be better, and to stop wasting his life on regrets that bloody the hands that will hold his child."

I rubbed my nose against the fragrant silk of her hair and whispered, "You saved his life."

She nodded, then burrowed her face into my throat. The throat that was loaded down with scars shielded by ink, flesh that bore the visible weight of the lives I'd taken, and which was cleansed by her tears.

The tears of an innocent who fell for this monster... That, one day, would have to tell her the truth.

And that day?

Had to be today.

This brave woman deserved no less than my brand, but I couldn't ask that of her, not until she knew exactly what I'd done in my life, the many mistakes I'd made, and the reason I’d been beholden to an FBI agent, who just so happened to be my mother.

Twenty-Six

Indy

Though he hovered around me the rest of the day, it was interesting how I never felt as if he was underfoot. He did his thing, and I did mine.

Having never lived with a guy since my brothers, never mind co-exist, I had imagined it would be annoying. Always being in each other's faces was my idea of torture but Cruz was like living with a walking shadow.

I barely remembered he was there, that was how quiet he was, which I'd admit suited me. Just because I liked him to take charge from time to time, didn't mean I needed a pushy boyfriend getting in my face. Christ, that was the last thing I wanted.

What I did need?

His control, his dominance, him when I was at my most vulnerable. But in my studio, I was the exact opposite–I was strong. In my career, I was happy. If anything, within these walls, I was invulnerable.

Though the day could have been a shower of shit, it didn't last long. I knew that I needed the normalcy of my regular routine, and my tattoo parlor always helped.

Business was good, I had a few walk-ins ask for a tattoo, and as they weren't all that difficult, I handled two of them immediately, did a mockup sketch of the third and rescheduled them for another day as they hadn't expected the complex ink to take that much time. Several clients came in on regular appointments, and it was just a business-as-usual sort of day.

Cruz worked at the desk, grumbling and muttering under his breath as he worked on the plans for the clubhouse. Whenever I watched him use a pencil and eraser, a ruler too, it reminded me of being back at school, but what