Read Online Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) by Victoria Green, Jinsey Reese - Free Book Online Page A

wished I could be by her side every step of the way. She felt too far away, too inaccessible.
    A high-pitched giggle drew my attention toward Dash and the dark-haired girl he was kissing goodbye at the front door.
    Once she’d cleared out, my brother pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. “That was Anouk,” he said with a wicked grin. “Or maybe Aya?”
    “Trying to fuck someone out of your head, too?” I threw the remainder of my toast down on the plate and wiped my hands on my jeans. “You know that doesn’t work, right?”
    He shrugged one shoulder and scratched at his chest—right at the spot of his newly inked wren tattoo. “Sure. But at least it’s hell of a lot of fun to try.”
    But when he said it, he looked like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
    It had to be a girl. For the four years I’d known him, I’d never seen him like this.
    “What did she do to you, anyway? The wren, I mean.”
    His jaw tightened as he broke eye contact. “Nothing,” he said. “She’s off limits.”
    Christ. We shared DNA, but sometimes it seemed like not much else.
    “How’s Ree?” Dash said, changing the subject.
    I shrugged. “I have no fucking clue.” I ran a hand over my face and sighed. “They insisted on no contact and no visitors for the first two weeks.” Detox from everything, they’d said.
    Detox . I knew all too well the havoc that could wreak. The girl I loved was going through hell right now. And there was nothing I could do to help.
    “I get to visit tomorrow,” I said. Finally.
    The problem was, a single day felt like an eternity right now. Twenty-four of the longest fucking hours of my life. Every second was dragging so slowly I was pretty damn sure I was never going to make it through this day.
    “Fuck it.” I pushed away from the table with a growl. “I’m going to work.”
    Dash cocked his head to the side and arched a dark eyebrow at me. “Aren’t you off tonight?”
    “Not anymore,” I said. “I need the distraction.”

    “Just like Vogel.” Jasmine shook her bright red dreads when I showed up at the shop unannounced. “Living life one heartbeat at a time.” For a lady in her sixties, she could still rock the hippie look.
    “I need to work tonight,” I said. “Give me whoever you’ve got.” I didn’t care how many girly butterflies she threw my way. I just needed something to do.
    If I’d had a place to paint, I would have gone there instead. For the past two weeks, my hands had itched for a brush, my senses had craved the feel and smell of paint and turpentine.
    If I could paint, I could lose track of time. I wouldn’t spend every minute wondering whether the phone was going to ring for me. And the remaining two weeks of rehab could fly the fuck by. But I’d left all my stuff at my apartment in Paris. I’d been so intent on being a total jackass and getting away from the woman I loved, that I hadn’t brought any of it with me.
    Served me right.
    Tattooing was as close to my art as I could get right now. I didn’t have a brush, but a gun. And human bodies were my canvases. Paint and ink became one and the same.
    Somewhat.
    “I’m on my way out, darling,” Jasmine said, coming around her table and blowing me a kiss as she walked by. “It’s been slow for a Friday and Sia is the only one left at the show. Maybe she needs a hand with something.”
    Ever since I’d been here, Sia had needed a hand with something. As long as I was at work, I had a shadow. I’d kept my distance as best I could—I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea just because we had a history.
    Now, as I wandered back to her station, I saw her bending over some guy, adding color to the sleeve covering the upper half of his arm.
    When she glanced up and saw me, her entire face lit up.
    Once that would have meant something to me. When we’d first met at Rex’s studio in Brooklyn, she’d been this tough chick from the Bronx who’d grown up in foster care and