Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [97]
Hannah cocked her head to one side as she always did when she was thinking. “Walker’s used to having women fall all over him, unless I miss my guess. Probably Marquise never quite got over him.”
“So that’s why she ran to his ranch every time she got into trouble?”
“A good guess.”
“What about the sister, Maggie? How does she fit in?”
“Now, there’s an interesting glitch,” Hannah said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully and the tip of one polished nail tapping her front teeth. “Woman’s intuition tells me that she’s in love with him.”
“With Walker?” He’d sensed it, too, didn’t like that particular kink in this already-tangled case. He preferred things more straightforward. Trouble was, they never were. Christ, he could use a cigarette.
Hannah nodded, her smooth brow creasing at the implications. “Yep. Unless I miss my guess, Ms. McCrae’s got it bad. Real bad. For her twin sister’s ex-husband.”
Chapter Thirteen
Leaning against a counter in the small storefront, Becca eyed the tattoo artist warily. The woman was so skinny she looked like a walking skeleton. With frizzy bleached blond hair, tanned skin, and too much eye makeup, she didn’t come across as the kind of person to trust with your body. But she believed in her art because she had hearts and flowers decorating one arm and a flaming cross with a banner that said Jesus is Love on the other.
“Okay, doll, what’ll it be?” the woman asked around a wad of gum as a cigarette burned unattended in an ashtray. There were other artists as well, seated in cubicles with their clients, gloves on their hands as they used equipment that looked like electric pens to trace patterns on different body parts. The place was clean enough, the floors gleaming, the walls decorated with pictures of tattooed bodies.
“Get one of those Chinese suns,” her cousin Jenny said, urging her on as a paddle fan slowly turned, moving the stale air typical of greater Los Angeles. Jenny was fairly beaming. Dressed in the short skirt and sweater of her cheerleading outfit, she looked as out of place as Becca felt. “The ones that mean something. Or your sign of the zodiac, that would be cool.”
“When were you born?”
“In April, but…I was thinking more like a hummingbird.”
“No problem.” The woman took a drag from her cigarette and reached upward to the wooden shelves where there were stacks of books. “Let’s see…birds, I got birds here somewhere…” She found a thin-leafed book, flipped through it, then frowned. “…nope, oh, here it is.” She pulled down a pattern book that had seen better days and placed it on the desk in front of Becca. Refusing to be intimidated by the woman or her cousin, Becca riffled through the pages. “This one,” she said, pointing to a ruby-throated hummingbird hovering in midair.
“Nice. Where d’ya want it?”
“Umm. I was thinkin’ on my ankle.”
“Awesome,” Jenny said. “I wish I had the guts to get one.”
“Do it,” Becca urged. It would be so much cooler if Jenny did it with her.
“I…I can’t. I hate needles.”
“Not much pain involved.” The woman leaned forward, eyed Becca’s bare legs, and nodded. “That’d work.”
“Great.” Jenny was more enthusiastic than Becca. Her brown eyes glinted with mischief. “How much?”
“Depends on the size and the difficulty.” The woman thought long and hard. “We’ll discuss price when your mother gets here.” She straightened, frizzy blond hair falling back into place.
“My mother?” Becca’s heart dropped.
“Or your dad. Or a legal guardian. Whatever. You know that I can’t do this without your guardian’s permission.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, honey.” The woman smiled sadly. “You’re gonna hafta do some big talkin’ to convince me you’re eighteen.” She popped her gum, took a final drag from her cigarette, and shot smoke out of the side of her mouth. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a driver’s license or a passport or some kind of document with your age?”
“No, but—”
“Didn’t think so.” She offered a kind smile. “Well, unless you come back here with your guardian, I can’t help you out.”
“But—”
“Hey, I don’t need that kind of trouble.” She pointed a