So Steady: Silver Daughters Ink, Book Two (Silver Daughters Ink Book Two) Read online

  “I just do.”

  Well, that was a good start. She tried again. “Do you read a lot of them?”

  “Couple a week.”

  “There are that many?”

  He gave a small huff. “Yeah.”

  Silence. More damnable silence.

  “Do you read?” There was noticeable strain in Noah’s voice, as though every word of small talk cost a day of his life. Which was especially strange, considering he’d just done such filthy things to her in complete relaxation.

  Nicole attempted a smile. “I don’t read as much as I want to. I’m halfway through Nine Perfect Strangers but I’m too busy to finish it.”

  He gave a small huff.

  “What?”

  “You’re not too busy. You just don’t know how to do anything unproductive.”

  Her face stung with embarrassment, but then the perfect comeback line swelled in her mouth like a liquid bead. “I just slept with you, didn’t I?”

  There was a pause. Nicole’s stomach plummeted.

  “I’m sorry, that was mean.”

  Noah’s mouth twitched and then he laughed. It transformed him. Suddenly, his heavy face was alive, a knotted tree swaying in the breeze, an old steam train rushing through the countryside. He wasn’t handsome, but he was beautiful.

  “You gonna bill me?” he asked. “For taking up your time?”

  His face was still bright with laughter and his voice was different, too. Like an Oboe she’d once heard being played on a frosty London street. “I could put it in my Google Calendar under ‘exercise?’”

  He grinned. “Not bad.”

  She leaned across, instinctively wanting to kiss him. She held back just in time, a lump rising in her throat. Stupid thoughts. Stupid feelings. “Why don’t you call me Nix like everyone else?” she demanded.

  “It’s too hard. You need something soft. Pretty.”

  He said it so easily, like it was nothing. The silence swelled again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She had the feeling he was waiting, letting her decide what to do next. She thought of her questions, but she didn’t want to ask them. So what did she want? Her stomach growled and the idea of dinner rose. Maybe they could order food and eat under his gorgeous painting. She could drink the rest of the wine and they could talk about her dad and the studio and maybe even The Rangers. And, because she wasn’t trying to impress him and he never said anything about anything to anyone, she could suggest fried chicken. Almost childishly excited, she opened her mouth and a loud ringing filled the air.

  Noah looked at the chest of drawers where a phone was vibrating brightly. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta…”

  “Go ahead.”

  He rose and picked it up. “You okay?”

  A woman’s voice, high and panicky. Nicole couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she sounded upset. Noah was silent, listening intently, then after a few seconds he stood up. “Be there soon.”

  He straightened his neck, letting the phone fall onto the bed. Nicole saw the word ‘Paula’ turn grey as the call disconnected. Her heart fell stupidly, embarrassingly far. “Who’s Paula?”

  Noah stooped, picking up a pair of jeans. “My housemate. She needs my help with—another long story.” Noah rubbed his forehead. “Look, I wouldn’t normally do this but….”

  Her heart sank. “You need me to leave?”

  “No, you can stay if you want, but I have to go.”

  “Oh, okay.” Nicole was amazed at how chirpy she sounded. “I’ll get dressed.”

  “No rush. You can have a shower if you want?”

  Ah yes, all the spit and the sex and general grossness of her body. She looked at her hands, willing herself not to cry or cover up. To hold on for as long as it took for him to leave.

  Noah knelt on the bed. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “Okay,” she said with all the fake brightness she could muster.

  Noah’s lips pulled tight and he stood, picking a t-shirt off the floor. “The door locks from the inside. Let yourself out whenever you’re ready.”

  And he left. Nicole listened to his footsteps.

  Come back. Don’t let that be it.

  His front door slammed, and she chewed the insides of her mouth trying not to cry. The shame hit her like a punch, deep and hard in her chest.

  Slut.

  She was such a slut. Her pussy twinged with a psychosomatic fear she’d almost forgotten.

  You slept with a biker. A stranger. Maybe a cheater—who was that girl on the phone? He doesn’t care about you, he’s just used you. You barely checked the condom; he could have taken it off. He could have given you something.

  Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes but she refused to blink and let them spill. Her brain could do what it wanted to, but she wasn’t going to let herself regret this. It was just sex, followed by an awkward goodbye. This was how single people lived. This was how Noah operated.

  “Get dressed,” she said aloud. “Get dressed and go get chicken on your own. This is not a big deal.”

  It felt that way though. Like a big deal. She had the gnawing feeling she’d done something stupid. Not the sex, but the penetration. She’d let Noah in and she hadn’t meant to and the resulting helplessness was awful. She stood and flicked the bedroom light on and gasped. Four stunning paintings hung over his bed. They showed the moon in various stages of waxing and waning, reflected in a garbage strewn lake. The surrounds were subtly different in each; greener, then ruddier then splashed with snow, then covered in flowers. Animals crept in shadows, kangaroos and native mice and possums, and in the furthest, a feral cat. They were the seasons, she realised, the collision of man and nature. Looking at them hurt her chest. It stole her thoughts clean away from the sex she’d just had.

  “Noah, who are you?” she asked the paintings, the room, the universe.

  There was no answer.

  Chapter 10

  Parking on Sydney Road was a bitch even when he wasn’t jumpy about Paula. Noah pulled into a fifteen-minute zone, praying he’d be in and out fast enough to avoid a ticket. He got out and walked as fast as he could without attracting attention, hoping Paula had managed to get to the front of the Brunswick RSL on her own.

  No such luck. She was in the corner of the sandstone building, but Shredder was standing over her, talking in a way that suggested a quiet disagreement. Paula was nodding, smiling; you’d have to spot the way the end of her cigarette was quivering to know how scared she was.

  Then why’d she fucking call him? What are we doing here?

  Questions for later. Noah squared his shoulders and strode toward the unhappy couple. Paula’s eyes lit up. “Hey! You made it.”

  “Let’s go,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Van’s in a tow away.”

  He hadn’t expected ignoring him to work, but it was still disappointing when Shredder caught his gaze. His face split into an ugly grin, showing yellow teeth and steel fillings. “Junior! Been a while!”

  He was fatter than Noah remembered him but the sneer was the same. So was the anvil tattoo he’d put on his neck five years ago. He felt a flush of fondness for his work before his internal shutters went down, sectioning off the parts of himself he’d die before letting Shredder see.

  “We’re leaving,” he told Paula. “Got your bag?”

  She nodded, but Shredder took her arm. “Not so fast. Let’s head back in and have a drink. Catch up. There’s a lot of things I’d like to know, Junior. Where you been living? How you been working since you turned your back on us?”

  Noah ignored him, taking Paula’s other arm. She shook off her ex-husband and came willingly, but her triumphant smile was as unpleasant as Shredder’s sneer. This was supposed to be over. Yet here he was, mediating another drunk confrontation between a bikie and his missus.

  “Heard from your old man?” Shredder said. “Seen him?”

  If Noah had it his way, he’d never have seen him. He’d have come out of the womb and into a Harold Newcomb-free world. He t
ightened his grip on Paula’s arm, lengthened his stride.

  “Oi!” Shredder bawled. “Turning your back like I didn’t half fuckin’ raise you. Come back here!”

  Passers-by stared but Noah refused to make eye-contact. His blood was burning, the rage that never went away churned through him like magma. ‘Never gone, only dead’, The Rangers said, but he’d been gone. At least, he had until Paula found him. He’d given her a chance and she’d dragged Shredder, fucking Shredder, back into his life. He clenched his teeth, refusing to let anger take the wheel.

  Breathe, Edgar used to say, and he breathed. He breathed like a fucking bull as he marched Paula up the street, his skin prickling for the punch that might be coming.

  “You fucking dog!” Shredder yelled. “You ungrateful little shit.”

  He relaxed a little at that. If Shredder was yelling, there wouldn’t be fighting.

  “He’s pissed,” Paula said. “He won’t chase us. He wasn’t that bad anyway. Just too drunk for any fun.”

  He didn’t smile. After everything Shredder had done, she’d called him, gone out with him, and now she was making his excuses again. For the first time in years he reached for the mantra that saved him when he thought he’d never untangle himself from The Rangers. Things do change. He repeated it to himself as he unlocked his van and opened the passenger door. Things do change, things do change, it seems like shit stays the same but it changes, you just have to wait long enough.

  Paula flicked her cigarette and climbed into the van. “I’m sorry about calling you. I didn’t tell Shredder where we live though.”

  “Seatbelt.”

  She rolled her eyes and buckled herself in. “I swear, he doesn’t know where I’m staying. That’s why he got angry. He thought he had a root coming, but I wouldn’t fuck him again. I promise. I just wanted to know how things are at home.”

  Noah nodded, but he didn’t believe her. She’d called Shredder, seen him again, and in doing that, she’d re-tied the thread that existed between her and The Rangers. That was a fuck of a hard thread to cut, and just like drinking, a relapse made you vulnerable to total collapse. He wanted to ask why she’d done it, but he knew why. Because she was lonely, because things back home were good once. Because she missed the life.

  Paula had called him four months ago, so drunk and upset he could barely hear what she was saying. Through sobs, he worked out Shredder had locked her in the house before leaving on a week-long trip to Perth, taking her wallet and phone with her—a long term punishment for flirting with one of the new blokes at the club; the short term being a cut lip and a fractured wrist. Paula had broken a window, hitchhiked to a friend’s and gotten his number from one of his ex-girlfriends—Noah never found out which.

  “You’re the only one who’s ever gotten out,” she’d said. “Help me.”

  He’d always liked Paula; she was loud and funny and switched on. She was also trapped almost every way a woman could be trapped. He’d left for Sydney that afternoon, brought her back to his place and helped her find a job. He knew he was taking a risk, Shredder was not the kind of guy who took theft, and helping his wife leave him would be seen as theft, lying down. But he owed Paula the same chance Edgar had given him. A stable place where a second chance could take root.

  Only, it hadn’t taken root. Nostalgia had pulled Paula past the bruises and bad times and back into her ex-husband's orbit. Now Shredder, and who knew how many other Ranger assholes, were in Melbourne, sniffing around his new life, threatening to fuck up everything the way only bikies could.

  Noah looked across at his housemate, a sulky fiftysomething teenager, pissed at how her night had gone. He didn’t think she’d hold out much longer. As Shredder’s woman, she’d had status, community, access to money and drugs. No matter how shitty life got, it made sense in a way living with him didn’t. But that was no reason to ditch the new for the familiar. Things changed and they could change for the better. Edgar taught him that.

  “You shouldn’t go back,” he said. “You know what’s there.”

  She lifted her chin. “What’s there?”

  Petty rivalries, violence in every shade of red, black and blue, never painting, never reading, only tattooing the ugliest shit on the ugliest men, having his old man’s heel crushed into his neck every day of his life. “A world of bullshit.”

  Paula laughed like she wished what he said was funny. “Don’t be a drama queen.”

  “Fine, but if you’re gonna keep seeing him, you can’t stay with me.”

  “You chucking me out?”

  “No, I’m warning you. I’ve got a life here and I don’t need Shredder or any of the boys around fucking it up.”

  Paula’s upper lip curled. “It’s none of your business who I see or what I do!”

  “It is when it’s Rangers.”

  “Why? I told you, I didn’t say where we live.”

  “Don’t play dumb. I’m being honest with you, be honest with me. You know they can figure it out and now I’ve picked you up, Shredder's got every reason to try.”

  “So? They don’t give a shit where you are. You’ve been gone for years, the club’s moved on.”

  She said it defiantly, as though it might hurt.

  Noah’s hands tightened on the wheel. “They’ll give a shit that I helped you ditch Shredder. They’ll give a shit if they find out I’m tattooing.”

  “Why would they—”

  “They’re the ones who trained me up. Paid for my machine. Got me my reputation.”

  “So?”

  He didn’t answer. Paula wasn’t in the mood to listen. She was going to keep picking fights, talking herself into calling Shredder for reassurance and he’d be damned if he helped her do that. He wasn’t angry anymore, instead a powdery exhaustion was setting in like concrete dust. Why was it so easy to repaint the past with rose-tinted homesickness?

  He still felt it sometimes, that longing to ink patches into sun-damaged skin, to ride behind his old man, to go to parties like the one he’d described to Nikki.

  Nikki…

  Paula’s situation had driven thoughts of her clean away, but now they were back with a vengeance. The van hit a red light and Noah closed his eyes, remembering the look of pained excitement as he fucked Nicole’s perfect little tits.

  Jesus fucking Christ, that sex.

  He’d never fucked like that before. As though the world would end if he didn’t blow her mind. He’d been so blindsided, so horny, he’d barely known what to do with himself or her. They needed more time, all the time.

  Paula flicked his arm. “Green light, go!”

  “Shit.” He opened his eyes and accelerated to catch up to the Suzuki in front of him.

  “Worried about Shredder?”

  But he wasn’t. Thoughts of Shredder and Nicole didn’t seem able to coexist in his head. His mind was back in his bedroom, feeling her skin, listening to her moan. He’d only been gone forty minutes; could she still be at his place?

  She wasn’t. Sam’s car was gone from the front of his house when they got there. Feeling even more lethargic, he parked the van, wondering if this was payback for all the times he’d wished one night stands would evaporate. His music was still playing inside. A$AP Rocky, LSD. God, the way she’d felt around him, tight as a silk and wet as rain. Could he call her and ask her to come back? He’d sound desperate, but fuck it, he was desperate. Seeing Shredder had wrung him dry and Nicole’s body was the only thing he could think of that would take him from a three to a ten. He wouldn’t be selfish. He’d give her everything she wanted in the sack, eat her pussy, make her come as much as she wanted. They were so fucking good together—surely, she’d felt that? Surely once wouldn’t be enough for her either? He wandered to the kitchen, debating whether to call. Paula followed.

  “Hello, hello.” She pointed to the pinot on the table. “Since when do you drink white?”

  Noah smiled, remembering how Nicole had chugged half the bottle before she could look him in the eye
s and admit she wanted to fuck.

  Paula laughed. “I know that stupid look. You had a girl over, didn’t you? Is she pretty? Do you love her?”

  Irritation prickled the back of his neck. He collected the glass and poured the remaining wine down the sink before placing it in the dishwasher. He thought of Nicole’s mouth, the oak-y sweetness on lips so small and soft and eager they belonged to a fairytale princess. All of her was like a fairytale princess. She looked like one of the elves from the not-sexual fantasies he’d had before his hormones hit overdrive. Fantasies where he, the best knight in the kingdom, saved Tolkien’s elf princesses and received invitations to go to their bedchambers and do things he didn’t understand.

  When he’d first seen Nicole, it felt like someone opened a door to one of those fantasies and let the elf princess come to him. He’d stared at her, confused by how clear she was, this woman built from his daydreams about Liv Tyler and Terry Brooks novels. Then he’d noticed her gaze skimming his tatts, the distrust in her blue eyes, and he’d remembered this wasn’t a world where chubby little bikie brats got their wishes fulfilled. The elf princess was Sam’s twin and she didn’t like, trust, or want a bar of his ex-con ass.

  Or so he’d thought.

  He had slept with her, the elf princess. And no amount of nostalgia was going to make the memories of fucking Nicole to an orgasm any glossier than they already were. He headed for the hall, some stupid part of him hoping she was still there, naked in his sheets.

  “Sleep well!” Paula called. “We’ll talk about this girl tomorrow.”

  Noah didn’t say anything. He felt shitty about it, but he doubted he could talk to her about anything without letting his resentment spill out, much less Nicole. After all, if Paula hadn’t been out re-confirming her ex was a prick, he might have still been in bed with the girl of his literal dreams. His bedroom was cool, the smell of sex not gone from the air. He lay on his sheets and replayed what he and Nikki had done from start to finish.

  What had she told him when he gave her a lift home from the bar? That she wasn’t sexy. What horseshit. In the beginning, she’d been stiff; playing sexy for an invisible camera. But once she relaxed it was hotter than a bonfire. She’d fucked like it was a revelation, her eyes closed, her lips curling into a secret smile. When she said she wasn’t sexy, she must have meant she didn’t feel sexy, and whose fucking fault was that?