"First," Angel held up a finger, "that clause has a twenty-five mile limit from the House, which isn't that far, all things considered. With my parents pulling up stakes and the way things have been going at work, I've been inspired to think long and hard about doing the same. There's nothing besides the House tying me to this area."

"What the h.e.l.l." Twist pushed away from the doorjamb he was leaning against. "You'd leave Chicago? For G.o.d's sake, why? You were born here, this is your f.u.c.king home. You don't just pull up stakes because you're p.i.s.sed off."

"Second," Angel went on, ignoring him as she put up another finger, "the non-compete clause says I can't be hired as a tattooist at another tattoo studio, nor can I start up my own brick-and-mortar tattoo studio. However, those are the only restrictions. I can still get a job as a graphic artist just about anywhere, as well as offer my services online for tattoo design-not as a tattooist, but as a straight-up designer. I'm now known internationally for my work, so offering designs of exclusive body art online is an idea I've been playing with for some time now, and I think I'd do very well at that. So much so, I've even put together a basic website for an online store."

"f.u.c.k," Twist muttered faintly. "You have?"

"And while I can't use designs I've already come up with for House Of Payne, there's nothing in my contract that stops me from creating newer, better designs and selling my services that way. Read the no-compete clause and you'll see I'm right."

"Remind me to update the contracts," Scout muttered, then shook her head. "You're really that desperate to get away from the House?"

"I..." Angel hesitated, and it took all her strength not to glance at Twist. The fact was, he was the one she had been desperate to escape, with his constant disapproval and daily lack of respect grinding her self-esteem down to a nub. But since he'd appointed himself her personal caretaker-an action that still made no sense to her-she'd discovered her single-minded determination to get the h.e.l.l out had softened. Maybe because she had started wondering if he really was the enemy she'd thought he was.

"Look," Scout said when she didn't go on. "I know what it's like to be so done with that place you want to set it on fire. Swear to G.o.d, I've totally been there. If you need time away, that's cool. Take it, please. You need to recover from your injury anyway, so now is as good a time as any for a vacation, yeah? Vacations are necessary to avoid burnout, especially for the creative personality, and I think that's what you're going through right now."

"This isn't burnout."

"Then what is it?"

Geez. "Did you get hit in the head as well? Or did it just conveniently slip your mind that Payne took an admittedly smarta.s.s story of mine about concierge tattooing, then proceeded to cut me out of it and what's bound to be a huge b.u.mp in pay?"

"You want a raise? I'm sure he won't have a problem with giving you one."

A low snarl escaped Angel, and she reached over to bang her mug down on the coffee table. "I'm not asking for a raise."

"Then what the h.e.l.l are you asking for?"

"I'm not asking for anything," she ground out, struggling to hold onto her temper. "What I would've liked was a little freaking respect somewhere along the way, but I learned a long time ago that respect isn't asked for, it's earned. So for years I kept the peace, pulled my weight and made a name for both the House and, yes, myself in the niche of fantasy body art, not to mention studying hard to become one of the best colorists around. All of which is great, except that when s.h.i.t was pulled at work, I was expected to swallow it. So I did, again and again. But I finally got so filled up with it, not another ounce of s.h.i.t could be swallowed. You can't be surprised by that, Scout. Everyone has a s.h.i.t-intake limit. I hit mine."

"So you're just going to take your toys and go home, is that it?" Twist stood on the other side of the coffee table and folded his arms, cords of muscle standing out in his forearms as if he were physically restraining himself from doing anything more. "You're throwing a fit because you can't have your way about the concierge gig."

Scout pointed at him. "Most of this is on you, so you can shut the h.e.l.l up."

"Toys," Angel muttered, pushing to her feet to go nose-to-nose with Twist. The heat they'd generated in bed earlier iced over and vanished as his words dug into a sore point that had been festering inside her for months-no, years. She'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd let it fester another second longer. "Throwing a fit. See? That right there. That's the lack of respect I'm talking about. And it's that lack of respect that's slowly but surely infected how everyone views me at the House, from Payne on down. I tried to fight it, I swear I did. I tried to hold my ground while holding my head up high, trying to believe I was too established as a professional to be viewed as some stupid little kid tolerated by the so-called real adults around me."

"Wait, Angel-"

"But I've had it. I'm done. You broke me, all right? You win. I can't fight to prove that I'm good enough to be at the House anymore, to be viewed as an equal or worthy or whatever, because it's never going to happen now. It's hopeless."

He flinched. "No, baby, that's not what I-"

"Even my quitting hasn't been taken seriously, so don't tell me I'm wrong on this. I mean," she added on a bitter huff of laughter, "who the h.e.l.l has this much trouble quitting a freaking job? When most people say 'I quit', that's pretty much all there is to it, but not me. No. You guys keep acting like I'm some overwrought child who doesn't know what she's saying, without even realizing that's the reason I have to leave. I can't tolerate being shrugged off and not taken seriously anymore. I deserve better than this."

"Oh, honey," Scout whispered, her eyes filling with the realization that there was a boatload of merit behind her words.

"You're dead wrong about not being taken seriously," Twist bit off, and his tight expression startled her. He looked as though something terrible was burning him from the inside out and he couldn't find a way to put out the fire. "Both as an artist, and as a person. The reasons Payne gave for keeping you out of the concierge service make total sense, because this is one h.e.l.l of a dangerous world. I can't believe I have to point that s.h.i.t out to you after you got mugged, but apparently it's necessary."

Dear G.o.d, this man... "My mugging doesn't prove anything I didn't already know. The world's a dangerous place for everyone. h.e.l.l, even Scout got mugged once for her phone, did you know that? But you don't see anyone rushing to put her under gla.s.s to keep her sheltered. Bad things happen, Twist. That doesn't mean you get the excuse to stop people from going out and living their lives. Nor do you get to try and control them because you think they're too incompetent to live that life as they see fit."

"And you don't get to overlook how people care so f.u.c.king much about you that they'll jump through hoops to look after you and keep you safe from all the s.h.i.t that's out there."

He had a point, but in the grand scheme of things it barely left a mark. "Pets are looked after. Children are kept safe. I'm neither."

"Jesus," he said, looking to the ceiling. "That's grat.i.tude for you, especially after I've busted a hump looking after you for days. Oh, and I should add that I don't see you as a f.u.c.king pet."

Scout sat up. "Twist-"

"If I had a pet, you can bet your a.s.s it would be better trained than you."

"Out." Shaking with a spike of towering fury and a fierce, piercing hurt she didn't want to put a name to, Angel picked up the box of donuts, shoved it in Scout's hands and marched to the door. "Both of you. As far as I'm concerned, we've said everything there is to say, except for one last word-goodbye."

Chapter Nine.

The sun painted the sky a silken orange as it sank in the west, but Twist was blind to it as he stepped onto the condo's gated, quiet pool deck. Off in a corner, an older couple sat chatting in a hot tub, but the pool itself-a perfect, glistening blue rectangle-was calm and empty. One of the umbrella-covered tables held a clutter of towels, bags and a book that he a.s.sumed belonged to the marinating couple. Only one of the many chaise lounges lining the side of the pool was occupied.

Angel.

A sigh whispered out of him. Unfortunately it didn't ease the tension that had his muscles drawn as taut as piano wire. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he knew where that tension came from. His gaze brushed over her p.r.o.ne body left mostly bare thanks to the red bandana bikini top and denim-look low-cut bottoms she wore. But even as he enjoyed the view, her words attacked yet again, sucking the pleasure of that view right out of him.

You broke me, all right? You win.

The h.e.l.l with this, he thought, moving around the edge of the pool to where there were a bunch of vending machines. Whether she was up for it or not, they needed to tackle this, because he wasn't good at stewing over problems any more than he was at communicating.

At this point, though, if he didn't get better at the latter, there was going to be a lot of the former in his not-so-distant future.

He just hoped she had enough patience to listen.

"I hope you didn't lock yourself out." His heart sank when she jumped like a stressed-out, skittish cat at the sound of his voice. Before she could open her mouth to tell him to f.u.c.k off or simply bolt and leave him in the dust, he sank onto her chaise at her hip and leaned one arm on its other side, effectively pinning her. It was dirty pool, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "I've still got your keys."

"I left the back patio door open." The big Jackie-O sungla.s.ses she wore made her tiny b.u.t.ton nose almost disappear, and she looked so d.a.m.n cute he nearly smiled. But the unhappy line of her mouth shot that urge all to h.e.l.l. "I'll take my keys so you can get out of here and back to your life."

In other words, f.u.c.k off and go away. "I know it's probably not the best moment to mention this, but I gotta say... there are times when I'm extremely grateful you were raised to be a courteous, well-mannered woman, and not the kind who indulges in screaming s.h.i.t fits."

"Wow, an acknowledgment that I'm a full-grown woman and not a little girl. I may faint." She held out her hand, continuing to emanate waves of unhappiness with such intensity it almost hurt. "Keys, please."

Gently he placed the cold bottle of water he'd gotten from the vending machine in her hand instead. "Do me a favor and hydrate, okay? I don't know how long you've been out here, and I don't want you to backslide on your recovery."

Her brow puckered behind the shield of her gla.s.ses before she pushed the bottle toward him in obvious rejection. "Busting more humps taking care of me? Thank you, but I don't need it. Like I've told you many times already, I can take care of myself."

"That was an a.s.shole thing to say." Ignoring the bottle, he watched surprise freeze her into statue-stillness. "You never once asked for anyone to look after you, much less me, so making you out to be some kind of ingrate was an embarra.s.singly whiny-b.i.t.c.h move on my part. I know you didn't want me around. It was my choice to hang out here and take care of you, not yours."

Though he couldn't see past her gla.s.ses, he had a feeling those big, doll-like eyes of hers were goggling at him. "I told you I was grateful-"

"And I told you I didn't want your grat.i.tude, then or now. And contrary to that dumba.s.s remark I made earlier, I still don't. I just... You're right. I am trying to control how things go here, because I need to make sure you're okay."

"Why?"

"Why?" For a moment that was so vivid it chilled his skin, he saw a ruined face, scarily unrecognizable, surrounded by curling black hair-the only thing he could identify. The smell of the blood mingled with antiseptic, and the hopeless despair that hit him when he heard not just his mother cry, but his father as well. Never had he felt so helpless. And never would he allow himself to be that helpless again. "Did you really just ask that?"

"Yes. From the time I came to in the ER, I haven't been able to figure out why you even give a d.a.m.n about whether or not I live or die. What do you hope to get out of looking after me?"

"What the f.u.c.k, you think I'm playing some kind of angle here?" When he heard the heat of his words, he struggled-hard-to rein it in. "Look, I'm not doing this for me, okay? I'm doing this, all of it, for you."

"Why?"

"Because if I don't know that you're okay-that you're eating the right things and getting enough rest while you recover from something that could have f.u.c.king killed you-then I'm the one who's not okay. So maybe you're right. Maybe I am taking care of you because of what I'm getting out of it. And if what I'm getting out of it is peace of mind that you're still breathing and happy, then all I can do is hope you won't begrudge me that." Then, as she continued to simply stare at him, he let out a slow breath. "Though I haven't made you very happy, have I? I've pretty much missed the mark on that goal from start to finish."

That brow of hers looked like it wanted to pucker again, but beyond that he couldn't read anything in her expression thanks to those d.a.m.ned gla.s.ses. "There's just a lot of history between us, Twist. A lot."

"I get that. But it doesn't mean that's all there can be. There can be other things."

"Like what?"

"Like a present. And maybe some kind of future." When all he saw was his own reflection in those gla.s.ses, his tenuous patience frayed. f.u.c.k it, he thought, and snagged them off her face. He was in so much hot water now he might as well go ahead and drown himself in it.

"Hey-"

"I like looking into your eyes more than anything else I can think of," he said, laying her gla.s.ses at his feet. "The one thing I don't like is having them hidden from me, because I can't read what's going on inside you."

"There's nothing going on inside me," she said, while the chaos of anger, stress and something that looked like misery churned away in those blue depths. His gut tightened at the sight, but he forced himself not to flinch away from it. All that upset was caused by him, so he had no right to look away.

"I'll never forget the first time I saw you," he said, keeping his voice soft so he wouldn't add anything more to that volatile mix. When she blinked at the abrupt subject change, he half-smiled and had to force his hands to be still. Being this close and not reach for her was tough, but that misery in her eyes-misery he'd put there-told him he had no right to even think about touching her. "You were in the Employees' break room with Maximo and Rocket, and I thought you might be one of those after-school kids that always seem to be hanging around tattoo joints, ready to offer up a living canvas for someone to practice on."

"Every tat parlor in the world has at least one hanging around, no matter what time of day it is," she said after a moment, though she sounded uncertain, as if she couldn't see what his point was. "Payne never allowed that at the House, though. From the time it opened its doors, the House has always been more of an exclusive modern art gallery than a tattoo studio where just anyone could crash."

"I know that now. But back then when I was first hired on, the second I saw you, my gut instinct labeled you as schoolgirl jail bait."

She shook her head, and there was simmering anger in the gesture. "I wasn't jail bait."

"You're not hearing me, Angel. I said, I took one look at you and thought jail bait."

"Yeah, I get it. You thought I was a schoolkid."

"A schoolkid I was instantly desperate to f.u.c.k." He couldn't stop from laughing under his breath when her eyes went wide. "There we go. Now you're getting it."

"You..." Again she shook her head, this time in disbelief. "No way."

"Yep. For real."

"But... no." She wriggled to sit up straighter, clearly doing her best to make sure she didn't come into contact with him. "The way I remember it, you only looked at me long enough to label my artwork as cartoony."

"I honestly don't remember what I said, because I was too busy processing what I felt. From the first moment I saw you, I wanted you. No," he interrupted himself, trying to be as accurate as possible so she would understand. "It was more than that. I craved you. Have you ever craved anyone before, Angel?"

Her eyes were wide and unblinking as they locked onto his, and in silence she shook her head.

"It's like... it's like getting hit with instant crazy," he said, struggling to describe that moment so many years ago. "I wanted to touch you. I wanted to bury my face in your hair. I wanted to taste you and breathe you in so I could memorize your scent. I wanted to strip you naked and discover every single inch of you with my eyes, then my hands, then my mouth. I wanted to give you pleasure and watch you as that pleasure made you smile, then moan, then gasp, then cry out loud, then scream the f.u.c.king roof off."

"Holy cats," he heard her whisper.

He smiled, desire winding its sinuous way into his gut while she absently fanned herself. "I wanted to do all of that to you right there in the break room, whether Maximo and Rocket were around or not. That's a bad thing. That kind of wanting that's so bats.h.i.t crazy you don't care about anything else... it's dangerous as h.e.l.l."

She was silent for a long time, looking as though she half-expected to find he was punking her. "Dangerous?"

"Geez, you're something." He tried not to laugh, but d.a.m.n, that was hard to do when she was determined to be so f.u.c.king adorable. "Out of everything I just copped to, that's the one word that sticks out for you?"

"What do you mean, dangerous?"

"I'm not the kind of guy who's capable of doing anything by half-measures, which means..." He sighed heavily and shook his head, remembering the event that had sent him to prison for four years. He definitely hadn't done anything by half-measures then, either. And it was that full-tilt drive inside of him that had landed him right where he now was-in the hopeless land of ex-cons who didn't know when to leave a princess well enough alone. "Bottom line, it means I sometimes lose my s.h.i.t. Rational thought gets buried by whatever I'm feeling and I get swept up in the moment. That's why I say it's dangerous, at least for me, because I can't always trust myself to do or say the right thing. So, when it came to dealing with you, I had to find ways of keeping myself on tight lockdown."

"Ways? What ways?"

"After our first meeting, it was obvious I needed to put up some mental barriers when it came to protecting you from me, to remind myself that you were way too delicate to be involved with someone... someone like me.

"Someone like you?"

"Someone who's not a prince." Or, if he wanted to put a finer point on it, someone with a rap sheet. "I'd constantly remind myself that you were just a pure and untouched kid compared to me-it's not the years, it's the mileage, is what I always told myself. And it's true, Angel. I've got a h.e.l.luva lot of miles on me, miles I earned going down roads I hope to G.o.d you never travel. Sometimes I look at you and I feel f.u.c.king ancient, but that has nothing to do with you. That has everything to do with how f.u.c.ked up I am."

For a moment she opened her mouth, then abruptly clamped her lips together. He didn't know which was worse, bracing for questions he wasn't sure he wanted to answer, or knowing she didn't trust him enough to put a voice to whatever was on her mind.

No, he knew what was worse.

If he didn't have her trust, he had nothing.

"So," she said after a moment, "all your references to my being childish have actually been your ham-handed attempts to save me... from yourself?"

He winced. "Ham-handed. Yeah, I'll be the first to admit that I suck at getting the right words out when I'm feeling pressured. And the attraction I felt whenever I was around you put me under some of the worst pressure I've ever known. But it was never my intention to make you feel disrespected, little girl. And before you say it," he added with a ghost of a smile when she opened her mouth, "calling you little girl started out as a reminder to myself that you were to be given a respectful distance. But it's now such a habit that I can't see me ever breaking it, so you need to find a way to be okay with it. And let's face it, you are on the little side, and I love how all girl you are."

Again she didn't say anything for a long stretch, so long he started to worry. Then she tilted her head. "I understand you wanted to keep your distance when you first met me. But why did you keep your barriers in place when you learned I wasn't underage?"

"I was a new hire, and you were a huge part of the House."

"So?"

Had he thought explaining things earlier was tough? No, this was the hard part, but she deserved to know it all. "I don't know if you're aware of this but... I had just been released from prison when I came to House Of Payne." The admission dragged out of him, because it was just about the last thing he wanted to talk about. He would never be ashamed of what he'd done, and if he had to do it all over again, he would. But it was crazy to believe a delicate Lincoln Park private school product like Angel would willingly be with a felon convicted of a violent crime without her being scared s.h.i.tless of him at some point. He could take a lot of things, but having her fear him wasn't one of them. "Landing a job at House Of Payne was like... I don't know. Better than Christmas. Better than being released back into the world. Better than having s.e.x for the first time. I don't have the words to explain how much it meant to me. It was the ultimate dream come true. Ex-cons fresh out of prison don't land jobs at places like the House. Even now there are times when I still can't believe it."

"You're a magnificent artist. I can't imagine you not getting a job anywhere you wanted." She kept her gaze steady on him, a preoccupied frown between her pale brows. Thankfully she wasn't watching him like he was a rabid dog, but she did look confused. "That doesn't explain why you treated me like... like jail bait, even when you knew I wasn't."

"In a way, it does. At that time, I was nowhere near what you'd call civilized. I went from a barred and locked h.e.l.l where every day could've been my last, to that quiet little break room at the House. I took one look at you and wanted to pounce on you like some G.o.dd.a.m.n animal, and I didn't even know your name. It shocked the h.e.l.l out of me, that response. That's not the man my parents raised me to be."

Again her eyes almost doubled in size. "You were really that hot for me?"

He didn't know whether to laugh or groan out loud. "Yeah, Angel. Really."