Chapter 14

Armed with facts about tattoos and the shops that Raven had suggested, Noelle parked her car in front of the Ink Shop and turned off the engine. The time she'd spent with Jonah last night had soothed her battered nerves from yesterday's truth session and his near-fatal encounter. No one had ever treated her the way he had. Working side by side, fixing dinner for her, and snuggling on the couch while watching a movie had her off balance—unsure how to process the evening.

"Before we go in there, thanks for last night."

Jonah flicked off his seatbelt and shifted to face her. "You don't have to thank me. I enjoy your company."

"It's…" How did she say it without sounding stupid? "I don't know how to do this relationship thing."

"You're doing it just fine." He brushed his knuckles along her cheek. "There's no right or wrong. There's only what works for us."

Thirty-two years old and she'd only had one date and one kiss in her life—until this week. She'd missed out on so much because of the creep who'd planned to kill her.

"We'll go slow. I refuse to rush you into more than you can handle. If hanging out and holding hands is your limit, then that's what we'll do. I'm too old to care about what's normal. We do us." Jonah cupped the sides of her face and kissed her forehead. "Come on, before you overthink things."

Her mind scrambled to process his words. She shook off the disorientation. "Wait there. Let me make sure it's safe." She exited the car and scanned the area for threats. Once satisfied, she skirted the vehicle and opened his door. "We're good."

Jonah stepped onto the sidewalk and slipped off his sunglasses. "You take the lead. If you want to switch, give me a nod."

"Thanks." It couldn't be easy to be a take-charge man and let a woman protect you. Not that Jonah was sexist, but he was a protector, and she could see the struggle written on his face. "Let's go."

They entered the shop and moved to the counter. Designs lined the walls—everything from skulls to crosses, including a wicked-looking devil that gave Noelle the creeps.

"May I help you?" A man with a full-sleeve tat of angry clouds that started at his shoulder and merged with lightning bolts streaking down his arm, ending at his wrist, interrupted her perusal of the artwork.

"I hope so." She retrieved her phone from her back pocket and swiped to the photo of the Chinese symbol. "Do you have or have you had anyone that might have done this ink?"

The man studied the image. "Not much to go on." He scratched the stubble on his jaw. "Can't say it's any of my artists." He straightened. "Sorry I can't help."

"Thank you for trying."

The man pointed to her phone. "If you're interested, I can do that for you."

His offer sucked the air from the room. Noelle's heart rate spiked. The idea of the needle and another tattoo on her body sent bile churning in her belly.

Jonah's hand rested on her lower back. The warmth grounded her in the moment.

"I'm good. Have a nice day." She strode to the door. The urge to run—overwhelming. But she held back. She had a job to do. "Stay here for a second while I take a quick look around."

The pressure on her back, a silent acknowledgment.

She stepped from the building and swept the area with an experienced eye. Less than a minute later, she motioned for Jonah to join her. "All clear from what I can tell." She escorted him to the car and stayed by his door, scanning the area. Once he was safe inside, she moved to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. She closed her door and started the engine.

"Are you okay?" Jonah placed his hand on her forearm.

She nodded. "The guy's question caught me off guard. Yesterday affected me more than I care to admit." She inhaled and released a long, slow breath. "What's next on the list?"

Jonah had taken Raven's suggestions and mapped out a plan for the day. "Forever Inked." He rattled off the address.

"I guess it was too much to ask for our first stop to be the right one."

He chuckled. "That would be a bit optimistic."

"Here's praying it's the second one." She smiled at him.

His brow furrowed, and he looked away.

"Jonah, what just happened?" She pulled into traffic and followed the GPS on her dash to their next location.

He sighed. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Pray."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. They'd talked faith and beliefs in the past. How had she missed his uncertainty? "I thought you believed in God. I'm gathering you don't?"

He shifted and angled himself to face her. "Oh, I do. I believe He is very real."

"Then why the question about prayer?" She glanced at him and then returned her focus to the road.

"Let's just say He and I aren't on speaking terms."

"That's too bad." God had been and still was her lifeline.

"So I ask again. How do you pray after all that's happened to you?"

She clamped her mouth shut and thought about her reply. She had no intention of brushing off his question. Her answer mattered.

"Noelle, I didn't mean to upset you."

"That's not it. I don't want to give you a flippant response." She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Where should she start? "I grew up in church. In fact, I found my faith and friendship with Jesus when I was twelve. I can't say that everything I experienced in church was positive. Sometimes I wonder how people claim to know God and act the way they do."

He laughed, but it had no humor in it. "I hear you on that one."

She glanced at him and smiled. "But you know what I decided?"

"What?"

"That we are all human and respond with human actions." She shrugged.

Jonah rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I've never looked at it that way. Human nature tends to make us view the world through our own lens and not always God's."

"Exactly. But to answer your original question, it was all I had to keep me sane."

He straightened in his seat. "While you were being tortured." His whispered response was more of a statement than a question.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She adjusted the air vents, even though her body's response had nothing to do with the temperature. "You see, as I sat there in pain, with blood dripping from the cuts on my body, I knew the only person who could hear me was the same person who had any idea how I felt at that moment."

"Jesus."

"Yes." She swallowed the boulder-sized lump in her throat. She'd never admitted that to anyone. "So I prayed. It started out with begging to get me out of there. Then over time, it turned into a conversation. I didn't feel alone. And my panic faded. Oh, I was still scared, but I knew no matter what—alive or dead—I'd be okay."

"Are you?"

"You mean okay?"

He nodded.

"Most of the time. But I do have my moments when I'm not." She relaxed her grip. The hard part was over. "I'm alive. I have friends. I enjoy my life. Do I have insecurities? I think you know that answer. But I'm not that frightened teenager anymore." She pulled into the parking lot of Forever Inked. "I'm taking it you don't pray."

He shook his head. "Not for a while now."

She had a choice to make. Continue their conversation, or do what she referred to as a drop-and-run: give him time to digest what she'd said, and come back to the conversation later.

"Let's see if anyone inside can help us." She exited the car and came around to open his door.

"I hate this," Jonah grumbled.

She attempted to hide her grin but failed. "Come on, cowboy."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

They strode to the entrance.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She froze.

"Something wrong?" Jonah's gaze swept from left to right and back.

Her hand slipped behind her back and under her shirt. Her fingers slid around the grip of her Glock. She searched the street. Nothing appeared out of place. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. She shook her head. No, she refused to dismiss her instinct.

"Come on. I'll feel better once we get inside." Whoever had Jonah in his sights had her rattled.

* * *

The hanging bell on the door jingled when Jonah entered the second tattoo shop of the day. Noelle's reaction had his nerves sparking like live wire. He shook off the foreboding sensation and focused on the mission to find the guy who'd hurt Noelle.

He examined the interior of the shop. Similar to the first one but had a classier impression. The same types of images lined the walls, except Forever Inked sported happier artwork. An abundance of flowers and hearts dotted the wall alongside the traditional skulls and crossbones.

"Am I imagining it, or does this place seem a little more reputable?" Noelle whispered in his ear.

Before he responded, a woman who appeared to like butterflies, if the four he saw on her arms and neck were any indication, approached them. "Welcome to Forever Inked. What can I do for you?" Her cheery tone—a huge contrast to Mr. Serious at the last place.

Noelle stepped forward. "I'd like to know if you have any idea as to the artist who did this." She presented the image on her phone.

The woman tapped her lips with her finger. "The swoop at the bottom looks a bit familiar, but I can't say for sure."

"Do you have a name?" Jonah asked.

"No. It's only a sense." She took one last look then lifted her gaze. "Sorry I'm not more help."

"That's okay. It's a long shot anyway."

"None of my guys have that signature, but we've only been around for a few years. I don't know all the artists in the area. Maybe try Body Murals. That shop has been in Savannah for twenty years or more. The owner is an old guy in his mid-fifties."

Jonah bit back a laugh. He supposed to someone in their early twenties, fifty did seem old.

Noelle elbowed him. "Thank you. We appreciate your help."

"No problem. Come on back if you ever want a tat." The girl tilted her head and studied Noelle, then smiled. "I think a cross with a spiral of butterflies fits you."

Noelle stiffened. "Why do you think that?"

"You have a strength, yet you have a newness about you. Like you're flying for the first time." The young woman shrugged and walked away.

"That was…weird."

He clutched her shoulders and spun her to face him. "No. She's right."

"Are you trying to tell me she's psychic?"

"Not at all." He tapped her ear. "You're wearing your cross earrings."

"Oh. Yeah, I kinda forgot about that." Her sheepish grin was adorable.

He chuckled. "Plus, you do have a certain happy glow to you." He leaned in next to her ear. "I'm hoping I have something to do with that."

She smacked his chest and gave him a gentle shove. "You're a dork."

"But I'm your dork."

Her eyes widened.

Great. Had he messed up?

A smile spread across her lips. "Yes, you are."

His pulse raced at her admission. He wanted to throw his arms around her and kiss the living daylights out of her. But he refrained. Not only were they in public, but she reminded him of a deer. Ready to bolt at the slightest movement.

"What do you say we get out of here and check out Body Murals." He guided her to the exit and allowed her to do her job before he joined her outside.

Once in the car, she programmed her GPS. "Ready?"

He buckled his seatbelt. "Yup."

Halfway to their destination, Noelle reached over and squeezed his hand. "Tell me why you quit praying."

He jerked his gaze to her. "What?"

"I want to know why you quit praying."

His mind traveled to the past—to his ugly failure. Noelle had opened up to him; he owed her an explanation. "I've told you about the accident that killed my wife. I tried with everything in me to save her, but I knew deep down it would take a miracle. So I prayed for one. I prayed hard. Begged, even." Emotion thickened in his throat. "But God didn't listen."

Noelle's mouth opened, but he stopped her.

"I know. It's not that He didn't hear me. It's that he chose to let a different outcome happen. But I'm not going to lie. It hurt. I felt abandoned. Like He didn't care about me." Jonah pinched the bridge of his nose. "It became easier to not pray than to accept that His way wasn't mine. If that makes sense."

"Sure it does. Chalk it up to human nature. We want what we want. It doesn't matter about a bigger picture."

"True. I guess at first, I wanted to hang on to my anger. Then it became easier to blame God for not listening." Her words settled in his heart. He hadn't talked with God in a long time due to his stubbornness. And he hated to admit it, but he'd lost out on the comfort and peace that went with the relationship. "I'm beginning to rethink my stance."

"Good. Life's a whole lot easier when you can talk with your best friend."

"That's how you see Him, isn't it? Not as God, but as a friend you can chat with."

"I believe that's what He really wants. He wants us to reach out to Him. Wants a friendship with us."

He spotted the shop up ahead and tucked her bit of wisdom away to ponder later. "There it is, on the right."

"Got it." She turned into the parking lot and found a spot in front of the entrance. "Fingers crossed we get a lead."

"Thought you did prayer." He smirked.

She rolled her eyes. "Ever hear of something called an expression? Now, come on."

A minute later they stood inside Body Murals. Unlike the last two places, chairs and tables filled the interior. The buzz of the tattoo guns hummed in the air, several clients in the middle of a tattoo.

A burly guy that reminded Jonah of Popeye stalked toward them. Jonah leaned close to Noelle. "This could be fun."

Noelle backhanded him in the stomach. "Knock it off."

"Morning, y'all. How can I help?" The man's easygoing tone shocked Jonah. He'd expected the guy to be grumpy, or at least brusque.

"We'd like to see if you recognize the artist who did this Chinese symbol." Noelle held out her phone.

The man gripped her wrist and lifted for a better look. The gesture had Jonah ready to defend if the guy moved wrong. "Hmm. Looks a bit like Vincent's work."

Now they were getting somewhere. Jonah leaned his hip against the counter. "Does Vincent have a last name?"

"Nah. That's his artist name. As in Van Gogh."

"Oh." The defeat in Noelle's tone was noticeable.

"His given name was Richard Nelson."

"That helps. But you said was."

"Yeah, the guy walked out of here about eight years ago and never returned. Left all his gear here, too. Oddest thing."

"Why wouldn't he take his things?" Jonah flipped the information around in his mind.

"Not sure. The equipment is expensive."

"Where is it now?" Noelle slid her phone into her pocket.

"I stored it in the back for six months, then sold it. Kept the cash for another three months, but when he didn't call or come by…" The guy shrugged.

"I get it." Jonah straightened. "Thanks for the information."

"Anytime."

Energized for the first time all day, Jonah and Noelle headed to her car and got inside.

"We finally have a name." The smile that graced her face made his insides turn to mush.

"It all fits. The timing. The artwork. We might just solve your cold cases yet." He couldn't help but share her enthusiasm. Her delight was contagious.

The atmosphere in the car as they drove through the backroads heading to the main part of town had changed. Happiness replaced the intensity that had overwhelmed them both.

"Call the team and let them know." Noelle slipped her phone from her pocket—not an easy feat considering she was driving—and handed it to him.

He tapped on the screen to open her favorites on the phone. "I'm hoping they've made progress too."

Her eyes darted from the rearview mirror to the side mirror and back.

"What is it?" Jonah glanced over his shoulder.

"A truck, coming up on us fast."

Jonah huffed. "I knew the peaceful day was too good to be true." A long horn blast jerked his attention to the road ahead. He grabbed the armrest on the door. "Noelle. There's a train crossing on the tracks ahead of us."

"I see it."

"What are you going to do?"

"I can't flip a U-turn. There's not room. The road's too narrow. And even if there was, he'd T-bone us before I could get the car turned." She slowed the car a bit.

"What are you doing?" His voice rose an octave.

"Giving us space. He's going to ram us, I can't stop that. But by slowing down—" The truck slammed into the rear of their car.

Jonah whipped forward and jolted back. The seatbelt caught across his chest and knocked the air from his lungs. The momentum pushed them straight toward the train.

Jonah grabbed the handle above the door and pointed at the tracks. "There's the end. Can you keep us from colliding?"

"Hold on." Her knuckles had turned white gripping the steering wheel, and her eyes flitted from one mirror to the other, then to the train.

He braced a hand on the dash at her command, searching for any outlet on the road that she could take. None existed.

She hit the brakes hard. The tires squealed and black smoke rose around them. A second later, she jammed the gear into reverse and hit the gas.

His head hit the passenger window. He blinked away the black dots exploding behind his eyes. Their forward progress slowed, but the truck pushing them toward the train had the advantage.

Noelle's gaze was pinned to the rearview mirror. "How much longer?"

He did a quick estimate in his head. "Twenty seconds."

"That's about five seconds too long." She practically growled.

"Don't let up!"

"As if!"

"Fifteen," he called out as the last railcar approached the crossing but remained too far away for his liking. The distance between the front bumper of the car and the fast-moving train diminished at a rapid rate.

Her eyes moved from the mirror to the horror in front of them. "Any ideas?"

She couldn't be serious. "None. You're the professional. Ten seconds." He stole a glance at her and witnessed the moment a plan had formed. "Five."

"Hang on!" She slammed the older model sedan into drive and ripped the steering wheel to the left.

The idea was a good one, but it didn't give enough room for a clean getaway. The metal cattle guard of the rear-facing engine scraped the back quarter of the car, sending it spinning through the crossing-gate arms on the other side of the tracks.

A scream split the air. His? Hers? He had no clue.

He flung his hand to the center console and braced for impact.

The car crashed into an electrical box and flipped nose first. Glass exploded. It skidded along the pavement on its front hood and came to a stop.

He hung upside down, his seatbelt holding him in place. The ringing in his ears, along with the headache blooming, had him wanting to let go of consciousness. But what if the assailant hadn't driven away and decided to confirm he'd finished the job? Noelle. He forced his eyes open and rolled his head to the side.

Noelle's blonde hair floated down, covering her face from view. Her arms hung limply from her upside-down position.

His heart pounded at the lifeless sight.

God, I know we haven't been on speaking terms lately, but please don't let her die.

His first prayer in years and he had to choose another life-or-death situation with a woman he deeply cared for. He'd laugh at the irony if God's answer didn't terrify him.

He braced himself and released the seatbelt mechanism, hitting the floor—ceiling—ground—whatever—with a thud. He sucked in a breath and held it as he placed his fingers to the side of her throat.

A pulse. But was it his or hers that thumped against his skin?