Page 16 of Inked Desires

ANDREW

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asks again.

I sigh. Whatever they pumped into my IV knocked me out cold. I still feel drained, but the pounding in my head has dulled.

“Better, I guess. How long was I asleep?”

He nods, checks my pupils with a small flashlight, takes my pulse, and lifts the blanket to inspect my bandages.

“You slept all day yesterday. Do you remember anything?” he asks.

“No. Nothing at all.”

He starts asking questions: my name, my age, my parents’ names. I can answer all of them without hesitation. Those things are still intact—except, of course, for my new last name. I only know it because he told me: Benton. I still can’t wrap my head around it.

“Good. You’re progressing well. But you’ll need to stay here a few more days. We want to keep monitoring your concussion. Also… the police would like to speak with you,” he says, finishing his exam.

“The police?” I murmur.

Where were my papers? Were they in order? Was I even supposed to be in the U.S.? How long have Jace and I been married? God, I hope we did everything right.

“You disappeared several weeks ago, Mr. Benton. Then you were found injured at New London station. The police have questions,” he explains, adjusting his glasses. “Also, you’ll need a report from the local police to cancel your death certificate.”

I nod slowly. That makes sense, but the thought of speaking to the police fills me with unease. Too many unknowns. If I was undocumented and Jace hid me, I could be deported. There’s no way I’m going back.

Run? Impossible. I’m hooked up to an IV, and if I pull the heart monitor leads off my chest, the alarm will blare. I couldn’t sneak out. Plus, I have no idea where my clothes are. Wandering the streets in a hospital gown would just land me in psych.

“Is my husband here yet?” I ask.

The words burn in my throat. It’s strange to imagine Jace as my husband. Saying it out loud feels even stranger.

“I want to see my husband!” a voice shouts in the hallway.

A smile lights up the doctor’s face.

“That must be him. I’ll go calm him down and send him in.”

My head snaps up. Every muscle in my body goes rigid. The air feels thinner. My fingers grip the blanket. My limbs won’t move.

Slowly, I realize—I’m having a panic attack.

But why?

Jace is here. I should be happy. I love him, don’t I?

Then he appears in the doorway. His stunning face is lit up with a smile, a single tear streaking down his cheek.

“Baby! You’re alive!” he cries, closing the door behind him.

But something feels off. He looks genuinely happy to see me. He walks toward me slowly, still smiling.

Usually, I love his smile. It used to radiate warmth, always accompanied by a teasing glint in his eyes. But this time, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

He stops at the edge of my bed, and I finally understand.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes because his eyes are cold. That blue used to shimmer with emotion. Now it’s icy. Lifeless.

He leans down. One hand slides behind my neck, gripping tight and lifting me slightly. Every muscle in my body tenses. The scar on my stomach aches, and the pressure in my head returns.

“I don’t buy your little act for a second, sweetheart. Amnesia? Really?” he growls.

“Jace?” I croak.

His smile vanishes. He leans in and presses his lips to mine—hard, fast, one second. He doesn’t give me time to respond.

His hand slides from my neck to my throat.

Tears fill my eyes.

“You’re scaring me,” I whisper.

“That’s the point, my pretty little traitor,” he hisses. “You stole from me. You ran away. And you fucked someone else. Because of you, the feds are tearing apart my business. You destroyed everything. Did I not treat you right? Didn’t I buy you the finest clothes? Feed you like a king? Fuck your tight little ass whenever I wanted? What the hell were you missing, huh? And you still betrayed me?”

Fear becomes panic. The monitor beside me spikes—Jace can see how fast my heart is beating.

This man… isn’t the man I loved. He’s a stranger.

“I don’t remember anything,” I whisper, grasping his hand around my throat.

He tightens his grip.

“You’re hurting me, Jace,” I plead, trying to pry his fingers off.

“Before I leave,” he murmurs, lips brushing my ear, “I’m going to make sure you never remember anything again.”

A sickening shiver spreads through me.

“What does that mean?” I manage to ask, just before he squeezes hard enough to cut off my air.

“I wish I had more time with you. Maybe I would’ve fucked you one last time. Too bad we’re in a rush.”

My eyes widen. My arms flail. I finally grab his forearm, but he’s immovable. I fight, gasping for air, but nothing comes.

My vision starts to blur at the edges. Everything dims.

He stares straight into my eyes, waiting.

And that’s when it hits me—of course he’s waiting.

He’s waiting for me to die.

Jace doesn’t want to scare me.

He wants to kill me.

I look desperately toward the door.

But it stays closed.

No one comes.

I only remember the boy who used to stay up late helping me learn the language of this country. I remember a Jace who took me to dinner and walked me to my door like a gentleman.

Now he’s become a monster.

I let go.

Everything fades to black.

I die.

Again.

AReS

After an endless debate, we finally hit the road toward South Dakota in the late afternoon. We agreed to scout the area before finalizing our plan.

Behind us, over eight hundred miles and fourteen hours of driving—because those idiots insisted on stopping to eat. We could’ve saved an hour if this team of soft-hearted cowards hadn’t acted like such wimps.

The closer we get to our destination, the more restless I become. As far as I’m concerned, the best plan is still to walk into that damn office, point my gun at Jace, and shoot him right between the eyes. Kiran calls it a “suicide mission.” So what? At least I wouldn’t die for nothing.

The car comes to a stop. Ahead of us, a hill. Behind, nothing but endless plains. A second car pulls up beside us.

“We climb the hill. From up there, we’ll have a view of the boxing club,” Kiran says as he gets out of the vehicle.

Connor opens the passenger door and steps out first. Travis and I follow, sliding out from the backseat. Kiran joins us, and Aaron and Kev get out of the second car. Kiran gives a sharp nod toward the hill. Together, we climb in silence. Just before reaching the top, we drop to the ground and crawl the last few feet.

What I see below sends a chill down my spine.

“What the fuck is the FBI doing here?” I growl at Kiran.

He’s just as stunned as I am. Boxes are being hauled out of the building, and no one’s stopping them. The entire site is crawling with agents. No sign of Jace’s men anywhere.

“You were supposed to check the situation!” I hiss, furious.

“When I came by, there wasn’t a single goddamn cop around,” Kiran snaps back, tension in his voice.

“Fuck!”

I roll onto my back and stare up at the sky, searching desperately for a solution.

“What now?” I ask, not expecting an answer.

Two options. Either the FBI got to Jace, which only solves the problem temporarily—he’ll get out eventually. Or someone warned him, and he slipped away. If that’s the case, we have to find him. And when he does resurface, he’ll blame Andrew and come after him even harder.

“You need to find out where that bastard’s hiding,” I tell Kiran.

He always finds a way to get intel. How? I don’t want to know. What matters is that he delivers.

“They’ve spotted us! Get down!” Connor shouts, snapping me out of my thoughts.

We immediately drop into the dry grass. The sharp stalks scratch at my scalp. I hold my breath, waiting for footsteps. But nothing comes. The silence becomes unbearable.

A vibration in my pocket shatters the stillness. Shit. I pull out my phone.

“Turn that off,” Travis orders.

I glance at the screen. Blocked number. I have to answer. It might be Jace. My only shot at tracking him.

“Hello?”

Groans rise around me. No one answers calls during a stakeout—I know. But this isn’t an official op. Worst case, the feds tell us to leave.

“This is Special Agent Robert Davis with the FBI. What are you doing on this hill?”

A joyless laugh escapes me.

“That was fast,” I remark.

“You underestimate us, Clark,” he snaps. “We know your little crew. And we know your connection to Jace Benton.”

I swallow hard. Shit. They’ve been watching us. How long?

“What are you implying?”

“I’m saying you’d better stay in your lane… if you want Andrew to stay alive.”

“Where is he?”

A sigh on the other end. Then the line goes dead.

“Get in your damn cars and go back where you came from,” says a voice suddenly behind us.

I jolt and turn to see the man I was just speaking to. Five seconds ago.

How the hell did he get up here so fast without anyone noticing?

“Where is Andrew?” I demand.

The agent steps forward. A cold authority radiates from him, his green eyes shining with intensity. His dirty-blond hair is slicked back with precision. Broad shoulders. Perfectly tailored suit. At least he’s not just another desk jockey.

“Get in your car and take your ass back to the tattoo parlor,” he orders. “That’s an order, soldier.”

My question goes unanswered.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Kev interjects.

The others get to their feet and pull me up with them. I want to stay, to wring more answers out of that asshole, but Kiran grabs my arm and drags me toward the car. The guys shove me into the passenger seat and slam the door. Breathing hard, I glance in the side mirror. The agent is still standing there, waiting for us to leave.

My fingers wrap around the door handle, ready to jump out again, when Kiran’s voice stops me cold:

“Don’t even think about it. You stay in that seat. If this asshole finds out you want to kill your lover’s husband, you’ll end up in jail—and then you won’t be able to help anyone. We need more information, A.C.”

Furious, I kick the dashboard. It doesn’t even crack. No one says anything about my outburst as Kiran steers us away from the hill.

My phone vibrates again—this time a text.

Glove box.

I don’t hesitate. I yank it open and burst out laughing. That bastard. While we were lying in the grass, listening, he was rigging our damn car.

I pull out a prepaid phone from the compartment and slam it shut. Right on cue, the device starts ringing in my hand.

“Yeah?” I bark.

“Stay away from that building,” a voice replies. “We’ll handle it.”

“Where is Andrew?” I demand, the only question that matters.

“At the hospital,” he finally answers. “For now, his identity hasn’t been confirmed. That’s the only thing keeping him safe.”

The hospital… So something happened to him, and I wasn’t there.

Fuck! I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected him.

“Is he okay?” I press.

“As much as he can be, given the circumstances. I had to stab him myself to get him admitted as a John Doe.”

“You son of a bitch!” I scream inside the car.

“Calm down, Clark,” he hisses. “It was the only way to make Andrew disappear. Even the FBI has leaks.”

“What hospital is he in?”

“I’m not giving you anything,” he snaps. “Jace got away, and if too many people know where Andrew is, he’s in even greater danger.”

A faint shit echoes on the other end of the line. The kind of curse that only means one thing: something just went terribly wrong. My stomach knots. I feel it in my bones.

“What’s happening?”

“Jace found Andrew,” he tells me.

“God damn it! Tell me he’s under protection!” I shout, making Kiran jump beside me.

“No. No one’s supposed to know it’s Andrew. We embedded a guy as a nurse.”

“What hospital?” I repeat, relentless.

“New London Hospital. But it’s too late, Ares. Jace vanished again, and the doctors are fighting to save his life,” he says, then ends the call.

Too late.

No.

As long as they’re fighting, it’s not too late.

“We need to get to New London. Now,” I order.

“That’s in Wisconsin,” Connor argues from the backseat. “It’ll take thirteen hours to get there, Ares. Let us at least stop at a hotel for a few hours of sleep before we hit the road.”

“My man is bleeding out in a fucking hospital,” I growl. “Drop me off at the airport. You can go book yourselves a spa weekend for all I care. I’m catching a flight to Wisconsin.”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Kiran says, trying to ease the tension. “We’ll charter a plane. Try to get back as fast as we can. Then everyone can do whatever the hell they want.”

I knew it was a fucking mistake to rely on this team. This whole trip was pointless. I should’ve left days ago. Alone.

Maybe then I could’ve put a bullet right between that bastard’s eyes myself.