5. Derek

CHAPTER FIVE

Derek

I 'm a good man. I have strong willpower and a decent sense of right versus wrong. I believe in karma and do my best to make sure I don't fuck with it. But right now, I know I deserve whatever karma has in store for my ass for the erection I got after what happened in the break room yesterday.

Indy's skin was so soft and warm under my hand. I tried so fucking hard to remember she was in pain and in need of my help. I thought I'd done a good job keeping myself in check, but once I pulled away and stood to leave, it hit me. And then it hit my dick. I left the break room, stumbling over myself like a goddamn teenager before hiding in the fucking bathroom while cursing and berating my traitorous cock until it went back down. I refuse to acknowledge how difficult it was not to jerk off in the shower last night or on the couch before I slept or this morning when I woke up. I won't do it. I refuse. I will not open those floodgates. There is zero chance I will jerk off to the thought of Indy, ever.

Fuck! All I can do is think about her, and it's pissing me off. My stupid ass sat on my couch late into the night thinking about how I have zero steps, and she could live in one of my rooms. Me… with a fucking roommate. Christ, I need to get back on my regular schedule. I'm getting too close to these fucking people. To her.

Speaking of her, where is Indy?

I watch Stevie walk her client up to the front, and I can see she's paler today than usual. I go to ask if she's alright but stop myself because why would I ask that? Why would I care? Though if she's sick, I don't want to catch whatever the fuck she has. Maybe I should ask.

"Stevvvviiiiiieeeeee!" Atlas sings out in his annoying way. Stevie stops her retreat to her area and raises a brow.

"I already told you, Atlas. I'm not piercing you."

"Am I not good enough for you?" Atlas feigns hurt as his bottom lip quivers. "No, I was wondering if you've talked to Indy? She's supposed to be modeling my shirts today for the website, and she isn't responding to my texts, and trust me, I've sent a few."

I pretend not to listen to their conversation as I straighten my already straight ink bottles. So she was supposed to be here today and didn't show up? Did the pain get to be too much yesterday?

"Well, gee At, did you ever stop to think, maybe she's just not that into you?" I glance up and notice Atlas' flat expression.

"No," he states simply. "I'm a fucking delight. Everyone says so."

Fox snorts as he continues to work on his client. "No one says that."

"Well, they should!" Atlas huffs indignantly. "I'm a fucking treasure!"

Oh, for fuck's sake. "No one gives a shit about your morning words of affirmation," I grumble, wanting Stevie to talk more about Indy, not Atlas stroking his already overly healthy ego.

"You, sir. You cut so deep," Atlas whimpers. He harrumphs before spinning on his heel and walking away. Perfect, now there's zero chance of finding out about how Indy is.

"Oh my god." Fox nearly drops his machine when Janie walks through the front of the shop wearing a green dress with a very tight corset. Fox instantly turns to me, and I'm smart enough to be staring intently at the side panel of my glove box, finding the information to be the most fascinating thing in this universe. Definitely far more interesting than Janie's massive chest spilling out of the top of her dress.

"Where is Indy?" she pants out.

"Babydoll, she's not here. What in the fuck are you wearing?" Fox blatantly asks her tits, which only seems to further Janie's annoyance.

"Really, Fox? You're going to objectify me like this in front of Derek and a customer?" she scolds. The apparently dumb client chuckles.

"Sweetheart, this is the best view I've had since I've been here." I can feel the rage rolling off Fox. Fox is a very possessive man. Most of the men here are. Atlas and Ash are a lot calmer about it, though. They're fine with their girls dancing and being social, and as long as nothing happens, they stay calm. But Fox is one of those look-at-her-and-die types. And this poor bastard just signed his death certificate.

Fox chuckles. "Probably best not to stare at the wife of the guy tattooing you, my friend." His tone is a low warning, and I can't help but snort when Janie swats Fox's arms.

"Stop being a caveman. Now, where's Indy? I was supposed to help her at the children's hospital today, but the dress she left me is obviously hers, and I'm sure the parents wouldn't appreciate this."

The dumbass man continues to poke the bear that is Fox. "I can tell you I would."

"That's it." Fox drops his machine on the tray and stands up. "You've got three seconds to apologize and get the fuck out of my shop, or I'm going to beat you and throw you out."

"You can't leave me with a half-done tattoo!" The man huffs as Fox removes his gloves.

"Can and did. Now, which option?"

"Hey Derek," Janie approaches me, hopping on my table.

"I just cleaned my table, Janie," I mutter, even though I know she doesn't care.

"Where's Indy?"

I give her a half-shrug, "Haven't seen her." I turn to look away from her, pulling out my sketch pad.

"What do you think of this design for the shirt?" Janie's trembling hands take my pad as she looks over my piece.

"Oh Hecate!" She beams. "Awesome choice. I love the design, but I think it would be cool to add—" she grunts as she struggles to inhale. "Fuck, this corset is uncomfortable. Hecate has three heads, so what if your sketch is the main, bold foreground? Then you add the other two heads in the background, and we can lower the transparency on them."

I scratch my head. "I don't know much about digital art, but I can definitely add that. Maybe the triple moon, too?"

"Oh! That would be good! Look at you!" She playfully smacks my arm, and I groan. Janie makes it hard to stay out of her circle. She has a compelling way about her. She wants everyone at Hel's to be a big, happy family, regardless of some people's feelings on the matter.

"You really haven't seen Indy?" She asks before the red-faced and pissed-off Fox comes over and helps her loosen the corset.

"Not since she was in the break room yesterday. She mentioned something about getting a hotel." Fucking hell, I'm going to have to start skipping breakfast if this heartburn doesn't let up.

Janie reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out her phone. She taps the screen and puts the device to her ear. I watch as her frown deepens with each passing second. She looks at her phone and taps it again, turning it on speaker this time. After two rings, Ash's fiancée, Sunday, answers.

"Hey, babe."

"Sunday, I'm sorry to bother you, but have you heard from Indy? She's not answering her phone, and she went to stay at a hotel because of the steps at Stevie's." Sunday groans, and there's shuffling and muttering before a frantic Ash gets on the phone.

"Janie," he breathes. "Where are the guys?"

"Fox and Derek are right here. You're on speaker." Janie barely gets out the sentence before Ash starts talking.

"I need you guys to go to Sky Point Hotel. It's about five minutes away. That's where I booked her the hotel room. It's room 109. If she doesn't answer, break the fucking door down. I need to know exactly what's happening as soon as you do."

I get up and grab my keys. Fox follows me out to my vehicle, and we drive off.

This fucking place. The annoyance I feel toward this hotel is beyond overwhelming when we walk inside. It's not a by-the-hour hotel and seems relatively clean, but the fact that two massive, tattooed men could storm down the hall to find a room without being stopped or questioned bothers me. Indy is tiny and too bubbly and trusting for her own good. Fuck, did she even remember to chain the door? What about a safety bar?

"Here it is," Fox says as we locate room 109. He knocks loudly before calling through the door. "Indy? Come on, girl. I need you to answer me, or this door is coming down." There's no response, and I'm done waiting. I move Fox out of the way and kick the door with all I have. The frame cracks, and I drive my shoulder into it, breaking the locks but not the chain because she didn't fucking lock it. I'm mildly aware of someone yelling at us from down the hall, but I don't focus on them as I barge in.

My heart drops when I look in the bathroom, and suddenly, everything feels surreal. "Oh my god," I breathe, shocked at the sight before me. "C-Call an ambulance!" I yell once everything begins working in my head again, and I run to the small unconscious body on the bathroom floor. Indy's only covered by a cold, damp towel and the shower curtain she must've taken down when she fell.

"Fuck!" Fox growls as he walks into the bathroom.

I gently place my hand on her neck and find she has a pulse. "Thank fuck," I exhale when I feel the small little thud against my fingers. "I don't think I should move her, but we can't let them take her out like this." I stare at Fox, who nods and walks away before returning with a robe.

"We could put it over her front." We both look at each other as if wondering who will do it. I snatch the robe since he's making zero moves to volunteer.

"You get to call Ash," I grumble while removing the shower curtain and towel, refusing to look anywhere but her face. As I toss the towel to the side, Indy lets out a small whimper, and her little heart-shaped face scrunches. She opens a hazy eye and blinks.

"Derek?" she manages weakly, and the relief I feel hearing her voice causes a lump to form in my throat.

"Hey, darlin'," I try to sound light even though it isn't something I'm known for and in this situation especially, I'm feeling anything but light.

"Oh nooo," she groans weakly. "If you're being nice, I must be dying." I can't help the surprised laugh that escapes me. It startles not only Indy but me as well. "Laughing too? Yep, definitely dying." She moans.

"Probably going to wish you were dead," I mumble as I finish slipping the white robe over her shivering body. "Your brother is freaking out, and I'm sure he's dying to turn his frustration on you."

"Oh god. This will be what he uses against me," she winces when she tries to move. I hold her still while giving her a stern look.

"Girl, you've been unconscious for god only knows how long. You ain't moving." Did she just stick her tongue out at me? "Real mature," I mutter as the muscle at the corner of my mouth twitches. Weird.

The paramedics finally arrive and lift Indy onto a stretcher. As they're about to wheel her away, her small hand reaches out until it finds mine.

"My stuff," she whispers. "There's a purple bag. Please don't let anything happen to it. Please, Derek." I nod and squeeze her hand as they wheel her out of the room, leaving Fox and me to find her belongings.

"Ash is pissed." Fox sighs while pulling his long hair back into a bun. "I don't know what he's going to do."

"Nothing he can do," I mutter, looking around for the purple bag. "She's an adult."

"An adult that can't live alone, he mentioned something about assisted living."

I scoff while grabbing some of her belongings, still looking around for the purple bag. "The girl is what? Maybe thirty?"

"Twenty-five," Fox corrects. Fuck, there's no two ways about it, I'm a dirty old man.

"Whatever," I mutter while trying not to think about our twenty-year age difference. "Point is, she ain't going to assisted living. She'll fight him tooth and nail on it."

Fox gives me a shrug. "I don't know if there's much other choice. Atlas and Ash's homes aren't set up for her. There are steps going up to the house and steps to get to the bedrooms. My home is one level, and I could have her stay with me and Janie, I guess. The guest room is small but functional. There wouldn't be a lot of privacy, but it's better than this."

"You have stairs, too," I state as I find her purple bag halfway under the bed. "Got it."

"Yeah, but I can take her up and down the steps when I'm home. Although, then she's stuck waiting on me. Fuck. I don't know; maybe assisted living is the best, considering there's no other option."

The implication isn't lost on me, and I feel dread and anxiety creep up my body.

"You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?" I groan as we start our way down the hall.

"Say what?" Fox asks innocently.

"That clueless puppy thing only works for Atlas; it looks stupid as fuck on you." Growling, I run my hand over my face in agitation. "Goddamn it, I don't want some girl living in my house! I like being alone."

"Derek, your house has no steps and a spare room you don't use with a walk-in shower."

"I'm aware of the amenities in my house, Fox. I enjoy that they're in the same condition they were when I remodeled them. I ain't even got furniture! Where's she gonna sleep or sit?" I'm not losing my house. I refuse to lose my home. It was one thing for me to have these thoughts while alone in the middle of the night, but for Fox to speak them out loud? To make my crazy thoughts that much more valid? No, I can't and won't allow it.

"The guys and I will get some furniture," Fox offers, and I envision myself punching him in the throat. "Come on, Derek, we'll all pitch in and help you. I'm sure Ash would even give you rent money. We're a family—"

"Oh no!" I laugh and shake my head. "You almost had me for a minute, but that right there just cost you the deal. Y'all ain't my family. I work with you." I smirk inwardly, feeling triumphant as I walk away, only to have Fox call to my back.

"You're really going to be this fucking cold? To Indy?" I halt my steps and spin to glare at him.

"Indy ain't special. I'd treat anyone else the same fucking way. In fact, I'll tell you the same thing I told my siblings about our sick father being on his deathbed. You need help paying for something to assist her? Fine, I'll pitch in. That's all you'll get out of me, though. You tell me where to send the money and how much and leave me the fuck alone. Also, this shit," I point over his shoulder toward the hotel room. "Ain't never happening again. I'm a tattoo artist, nothing else. Now get in the vehicle."

"Fuck you," Fox flips me off, and I throw my hands in the air.

"Fine, fucking walk back. I'm out of here."