Free Thin Lives (Donati Bloodlines #3) by Bethany-Kris Page B

Pulling it out, Calisto swiped his thumb across the screen and typed in the four-digit passcode to unlock the phone. His old phone had been practically ruined in the accident, and wasn’t even capable of being turned on. Still, he kept it at his place on his desk, in case he ever wanted to take it in and have whatever was on it put onto a thumb drive.
    Pictures, contacts, videos and that sort of thing.
    He just hadn’t found the time. He had kept the same number for his new phone.
    A message from an unknown number filled the screen. It looked like a notification of some sort.
    Nick’s Ink. One year notification for touch-ups. Respond with yes or no by text message for an appointment.
    Calisto read over the message five times before it began to sink in what he was seeing. The rosary tattoo down his arm that led to the intricate cross inside his palm was in a particularly sensitive area. He’d looked up some information on tattoos on hands, and found that he would need to have his touched up on a six month to one year basis, but again … he hadn’t found time to do so.
    Briefly, he wondered if the tattoo artist might have some kind of information on Calisto’s tattoo beyond just the date he had gotten it.
    Like maybe why he had it done in the first place.
    “Tiny, do you know a place called Nick’s Ink?” Calisto asked.
    The enforcer passed him a glance in the rear view mirror. “Sure. Just a couple of blocks away.”
    “What street?”
    Tiny rattled off the address. “It’s a good shop. That’s where I told you to have that rosary done, but you probably don’t remember.”
    “No, I don’t,” Calisto said heavily. “Sorry, man.”
    “It’ll come back.”
    Maybe …
    Calisto glanced down at the message again, and had an idea. He wanted to know more about his tattoo, and the artist might be able to provide him with the information he needed.
    “Tiny?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Not late yet, right?” Calisto asked.
    “Nope.”
    “I could run a couple of blocks and meet you up there when traffic finally makes it down, yeah?”
    Tiny shrugged. “Probably.”
    Calisto opened the back passenger door, unclipping his seatbelt at the same time. A car honked a horn as it moved past their SUV at a slightly faster speed. He ignored it.
    “What in the hell are you doing?” Tiny asked from the front.
    “Nick’s,” Calisto said. “I’ll see you when you make it there.”
    “Why?”
    Answers , he thought.
    He needed answers.
     

     
    A bell jingled as Calisto pushed open the door to the tattoo shop. He wasn't entirely sure what he expected to find inside, but the clean atmosphere, leather seating and walls decorated with art was a good start. He didn’t exactly think a tattoo shop in mid-Manhattan would be filthy, but it was hard to say sometimes.
    This place was clean and inviting.
    A young couple sat on a leather loveseat, flipping through a book and chatting quietly to one another. Calisto passed them by to speak to the black-haired woman at the counter, her arms covered in sleeves of intricate and beautifully done tattoos.
    “Hey, Calisto, right?” she asked when he approached.
    How many times had he been here?
    “Yeah,” Calisto said. “That’s me.”
    “You here to see Nick? He just left for lunch.”
    Shit.
    “Nick was the guy who did this?” Calisto asked, lifting his arm up.
    The girl’s brow furrowed. “I mean, yeah. He designed it. You came in for like two meetings beforehand to check out his sketches and approve them, and it took two sittings to finish it up. Your hand was the worst, so you came back for a second sitting.” She stared at him for a while longer and then asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
    “Like what?”
    “Like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
    Calisto swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Because I don’t.”
    He quickly explained his accident, leaving out how he had been run off the road and shot at. At the word “amnesia”, the woman