Color Photographs, Chapter Five

A/N: This is a picture of the tattoo I tried to describe below. I find it an awesome design I want to share with you all.

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Sadie woke several times throughout the night to Meyer shaking her. She was glad he woke her from the dreams she didn’t want to have. One time she woke on her own, only to find the bed empty and the weak early morning sun starting to light her room. She heard hushed voices in the next room.

Sadie rolled out of bed, realizing she was still wearing her jeans and tee shirt from the day before. She didn’t care. She picked up the blanket from her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, then silently walked into the living room. She stood in the doorway and listened to Karson. “You really think that’ll work? Sounds a bit risk—hey Sadie.”

She frowned at him. She didn’t know what Meyer’s plan was, but she wasn’t happy that Karson felt the need to keep it from her. Usually when these two got secretive, it meant they had a really stupid idea—especially when even Karson wasn’t convinced it would work.

“Hey.” Meyer instantly stood up and neared. “You feeling any better yet, Babe?”

“Slightly,” Sadie’s voice was so soft even she could barely hear it. She looked at the Meyer’s tattoos when he stopped just a step away from her. His entire right shoulder and arm was covered in ink that made it look like he had a metallic arm, complete with metal “muscles” etched into his skin.

Just below his collarbone on the left side of his body he had steampunk lettering that said “Live Fast” with “Die Hard” just below it. That tattoo had been a part of Meyer’s life longer than she was. She’d thought it was endearing when they were dating; a tough tattoo for her tough man. Now she just hoped he didn’t get his fool self killed.

“What are you going to do?” She asked, stepping closer to Meyer. She lightly brushed the tattoo of her name on his ribs, a few inches below the other letters. He got that one just before they eloped.

She’d told him he was an idiot for tattooing her name on his body when she could leave at any time; he’d insisted she wasn’t going to leave him. He bought a little black dress and drove her to Vegas. She missed the days when their idea of crazy was getting married on a whim.

“Go to work,” Meyer answered. He waited until she wrapped her arm around his abdomen to put his arm around her shoulders. “Resnick don’t know that I know what he did. I don’t want to tip him off until I’m ready to make my move.”

“And then?” Sadie pressed. Her eyes travelled to the roll-top desk in the corner as she wondered if the folder was still there. She glanced back at Meyer’s tattoo of her name. He’d been right. She’d never left him for more than a few hours at a time, and she wasn’t going to leave him now. They were in this together, regardless of the truth behind the folder.

“Then we’ll probably need to look for a new place to live,” Meyer answered. “How do you feel about the Caribbean?”

“It’s fine,” she said, unwilling to be distracted. “What’s your plan, Mey?”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Why?”

“Are you going to kill people?”

“Do I usually kill people?” He countered.

“That was my next question.” She pulled away from him. “Do you kill people?”

“What in the world makes you ask that?”

“Stop avoiding my question,” she said firmly, glaring up at him. It hurt to glare with her swollen cheek, but it was worth it.

“Do we really have to do this now?” He sighed.

“You’ve been wanting to do this for days,” she retorted, pulling the blanket around herself tighter. She knew it offered no protection, yet she still found a certain sense of security in having it around her shoulders.

“What are you talking about?”

She strode swiftly across the room and opened the top of the desk. She pulled the folder from where it was still wedged between the dictionary and thesaurus and held it up. “I’m talking about this, Meyer. What is this?”

Her eyes searched his face. His expression was one of surprise mixed with anger, and he was silent for several long, agonizing moments. Karson’s eyes flicked from the folder, to Meyer, then landed in his lap and stayed there. He obviously didn’t want caught in the middle of this fight.

“What makes you think that folder means I kill people?” Meyer’s voice had lost its warmth, and his eyes got suddenly cold as he walked toward her. She felt fear bubble up inside her as he neared, but she drew herself up and stood her ground. She took a shaky breath as she looked at his now tense muscles, arms crossed as he loomed uncomfortably close to her.

“Well you’re in a hell of a lot more trouble if you have a folder full of other girls’ pictures for any other reason,” she said after a long pause.

He glared down at her for another moment, then she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. His muscles relaxed as his body shook with a sudden bout of laughter. “What are you now, my crazy-ass girlfriend?”

“Wife,” she corrected with a smirk. She lifted the folder a moment, then tossed it back down on the desk. “I may have to go slut-hunting myself, if they’ve got their eyes on my man.”

“I love you,” Meyer said, still laughing. He pulled her into a hug as she started laughing, too. She didn’t know why she was laughing—maybe it was stress. Or the relief of finally having an answer. Somehow the thought of her husband being a hitman wasn’t nearly as bad as the thought of him keeping secrets from her.

Her laughter suddenly stopped as his arms tightened into a bear hug that sent an agonizing wave of pain through her whole bodyShe gasped, her breath catching.

“Sades? What’s wrong?” Meyer released her. “Are you okay?”

“Side, ouch, prick,” Sadie muttered, clutching her side.

“Sorry,” Meyer said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Not you—rich prick,” Sadie said between gasps.

“Gee, thanks, Sweetie,” Meyer said flatly. His face was flooded with concern once more.

Sadie started giggling in short, sharp bursts alternating with whimpers. Gradually the laughter won out, until she was bent over clutching her side, giggling hysterically. Meyer looked at his wife, wondering what triggered her fit of laughter. They’d both been known to laugh at inopportune moments, such as a few moments before, but he didn’t see anything funny now.

His wife was hurting, and she seemed to find something funny about it. He looked to Karson for support, and was glad to see that his friend looked just as confused as he was. “I think you need more sleep, Sweetheart.” Gradually her laughter slowed to intermittent giggles.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “I feel better… about everything.”

“Well, they say laughter’s the best medicine,” Meyer said flatly.

“Yeah,” she answered again, stepping forward and resting her forehead on his chest. This time he didn’t pull her into his arms, but rather looked down at her disapprovingly. She might’ve thought it was funny, but he could still see her pain in the awkward was she stood and he didn’t see anything funny about it.

“I want to see what marks are left.”

She was suddenly somber once more, as she started tracing one of the mechanical veins tattooed on his chest with her fingers. Her voice was nearly silent when she finally spoke. “I don’t think you do.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You don’t,” Sadie insisted.

“I do.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she muttered.

“You wouldn’t have married me if I wasn’t,” he answered. “Literally.”

She thought for a moment, back to the day they had eloped. It’d taken him quite a bit of talking and several shots of whiskey to convince her that she wanted to marry him. She was glad he’d made the effort. “And look what that landed you—”

“A hottie.”

“A bunch of trouble,” she corrected.

“I’m looking at the bruises… unless that would be violating you, after… well…”

“You’re my husband, you’re allowed to see me naked,” Sadie said. She knew there was no point in arguing with him, and she really didn’t want to be forced out of her clothes a second time. She took Meyer’s hand. “Karson’s not, though.”

Meyer looked up, seeming startled once again to remember that Karson was awkwardly sitting on the couch, face starting to turn slightly pink. “He’s like my brother.”

“Mine too,” Sadie said pointedly.

“Ooh, you’ve done been seen to the 7th circle of friend-zone,” Meyer said, leading his wife to the bedroom. Once the door was closed Sadie let the blanket fall to the ground around her feet. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and started to pull it off, but inhaled sharply as she got it halfway off and pain ran through her abdomen.

Meyer stepped forward with his hand outstretched, silently offering to help. Sadie relaxed, allowing Meyer to gently pull her shirt off. He stepped forward, reaching his hands around her to undo her bra strap, bending to kiss her neck.

Suddenly Sadie was back in the car, Resnick straddling her legs as he kissed her neck. Fear flooded into her body and her hands started trembling. Sadie put her hands against Meyer’s still bare chest and firmly pushed him away. “Stop!”

Meyer instantly stepped away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

Sadie took a shaky breath, starting to collect herself. “It’s fine.” She swallowed hard and shook her head slightly. “I don’t know… I just… I don’t understand why that bothered me.”

“You had something very bad done to you,” Meyer answered, looking into her eyes. “Resnick took what wasn’t his to take. It makes sense you wouldn’t want some other guy getting… I was being a jerk.”

“No,” Sadie said, frowning. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re my husband, you just did what you usually do… and I never minded before… and you didn’t hurt me.”

“But I scared you…?”

“I guess so.” She glared at her hands. She’d been married for three years now, and she knew exactly who’d violated her—it wasn’t like she was a virgin that some strange man kidnapped and raped.

“That’s reasonable.”

“No, it’s not!” She was getting frustrated. Her own husband’s touch should be comforting. She wished she could forget Resnick’s groping hands. “I’m sorry… I… I just felt Resnick when you… I’ll get back to normal eventually.”

“Take your time, Sweetheart. I’m concerned about you feeling better, not how long it takes.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He stepped over to the night stand and flipped the light on. “Now let’s take a look at those bruises.”

In the living room Karson sat awkwardly for several long moments before leaning over various pieces of a semi-automatic .45 Colt and assembling the pistol quickly. He slid a clip in the gun. Meyer suddenly emerged from the bedroom, still pulling on a black tank top. He slid a pistol into the front of his pants as he strode toward the couch and took the gun Karson held.

Meyer racked the action, chambering a round, then slid the pistol into the back of his belt.

“Mey, wait.” Sadie stumbled out of the bedroom. “It’s not that bad. Don’t do something stupid.”

“I know what I’m doing.” He put on a pair of work boots near the door.

“Meyer! I need you.” She grabbed his hand as he jerked the door open. “Come back to me.”

“I will. Promise.” He bent and planted a kiss on her forehead.