Rekindle the Flame by Kate Meader Read Free Book Online

without tattoos is invisible to the gods.”
    Were the gods looking down on him now, laughing at his torment? Giving him a taste of Darcy and what might have been, only to snatch her away from him again? He’d spent his whole life defying those fuckers’ plans for him. The gods could go screw themselves.
    Something glanced by his legs, and he dropped his gaze to an obese tabby cat that reminded him of another place and a time long gone. It rubbed against his jeans affectionately.
    Then it hissed.
    Beck’s eyes widened in recognition. That cat had always hated him.
    No way. No. Fucking. Way.
    “I’m looking for someone who lives around here,” he said, but he already knew he’d found her.
    She straightened, every muscle in her curvaceous body locking up tight. Carefully, she raised the machine from her client’s arm and placed it down on a tray like it was loaded. As she turned, hints of color peeked out above the edge of her left bra cup.
    The blinding realization that had crashed over him about ten seconds ago was just now catching up to make his skin buzz. Still, it was nowhere near enough time to adjust to this new information. He had known she loved to draw, but he never imagined this. Could never have connected the neurons to even dream it. Darcy Cochrane, tatted and dressed like she belonged here. Like this was her world.
    The Earth had flipped on its axis, dragging his brain along for the crazy ride.
    “How did you find me?” she asked, cool as the other side of the pillow.
    “I have my ways, princesa .”
    Long denim-clad legs swung off the chair behind her, and combat boots thumped the ground. A beast of a man towered over Darcy’s shoulder, boasting raw scar tissue on the right side of his face that gave the impression he’d road tripped to hell and made a few friends there. His protective stance sent a surge of fury through Beck.
    Darcy and . . . nah-ah.
    “It’s okay,” she said, looking up into her protector’s smoke-dark eyes. “Beck’s an old friend.”
    Old friend? Hell yeah, he was.
    With care and a slightly unsteady hand, she placed a wrap over her recent work, which looked like—was thata habanero pepper? Both of the guy’s arms were blanketed in ink, barely room to spare for a postage stamp.
    “I’ll stay while you lock up,” the brute said, one eye on Darcy, the other on Beck.
    “I’ve got this, Brady.”
    Brady crossed his arms resolutely and planted his feet.
    Seeming to arrive at a decision, Darcy pushed out a noisy breath. “Brady, Beck. Beck, Brady.”
    This dude was clearly important to her, not in a romantic sense, because if he was her man there would be zero debate about leaving her solo with another guy. But he was important on some other level, a realization that did not put Beck at ease. Darcy seemed A-okay with the situation, though. Her worlds had collided and she was figuring it out—with a lot more mental agility than Beck.
    Beck stepped forward and held out his hand, half amused because the situation had the ring of a hostage handoff in Berlin circa 1985. She’s safe with me, new scary friend. Brady acknowledged Beck’s outstretched hand with a look but refused to take it. Alrighty, then.
    Without further pleasantries, not even a “later” for Darcy, Brady headed out into the Chiberian night in short sleeves, ink as armor. Watch out, darkness.
    Beck turned back to Darcy, his surprise momentarily giving way to blatant curiosity. “Where’d you find him?”
    “Paris. Don’t take the handshake thing personally. He doesn’t like to be touched.” She clicked off the music with a remote control, and then with nimble fingers unhooked the needles from the tattoo machine and placed the apparatus in a box like a cube-shaped microwave. Entranced,he watched her, waiting for the wavy lines in front of his eyes to clear. On the off chance he was stuck in a crazy fever dream, he shut his lids, counted to three, and opened them again.
    Nope, still there.
    Darcy