Tattooed Read Online Free PDF

through the doorway of the apartment.
It was small. It was bare. It was his.
He could do whatever he fucking wanted to do in here.
His heart began to race.
“Will do, boss,” he drawled and closed the door on Lovett’s ugly face.
The next morning, he woke up at 5:04 a.m. He grimaced. It was early even for prison time.
He buried his face in his pillow. He had wanted to sleep in to celebrate his first day in his new life.
But neither his mind nor his body had made the leap yet.
He jumped up from his mattress, unable to stay still. He would make a cup of coffee, write a list of things he needed.
Half an hour later, the list was two pages long and frustration made his body tight. At the wage Lovett paid him, it would take at least a year to earn enough money to afford everything he needed.
And wanted. Like a professional tattooist’s kit.
He put on his running shoes. He didn’t have any gym clothes, so his jeans would have to do. He slipped into the hallway, locking his door—pushing down, down, down the memory of the thousands of times that he had watched a CX lock him up—and headed to the parkade.
Lovett had given him the keys to a company truck. It was navy blue, parked in a corner, easily identifiable with the large gold logo of Lovett’s real estate company: Lovett Group Limited.
The vibration of the V8 engine dug pleasantly deep into his bones as he drove across the bridge and headed to Cole Harbour. Fifteen minutes later, he turned down Bissett Road—snorting at the religious exhortations on the billboard of a local fundamentalist church—and drove to the turnoff for Rainbow Haven beach. He sensed, but could not yet see, the ocean in the distance. He turned into the parking lot. His tires crunched, the truck’s engine a low throb in the hush of near-dawn.
He was the sole visitor. He jumped out of the truck.
Sea air—tangy, damp, invigorating—brushed his face.
He broke into a run, savoring the air on his skin, empty space all around him.
He jogged past the canteen and change rooms. His sneakers made a hollow thud on the wooden boardwalk. It took only a minute to arrive at the beach.
He stopped. The sweeping majesty of sand, water, sky made his chest feel hollow. His heart pounded.
Quiet.
When had he last heard quiet?
As he stood, he became aware of the soft roar of the tide, the muted call of a seabird, the wind confiding in his ear.
The waves were low today. When he was a teen, he had surfed on white, foaming breakers that carried the energy of inestimable particles of water. They had been some of the best days of his life.
He let his gaze wander down the long, sandy beach.
Sea foam, a dead crab, pebbles worn by a hundred thousand waves.
Dawn imbued the sky with a luminous gold. It moved under his skin, seeping through his cells, injecting light where there had been gray for as long as he could remember. Color bloomed through his blood.
For the first time since his incarceration twelve years ago, tears tightened his throat.
He put his face to the wind and began to sprint down the beach. He eventually slowed into a steady run, only stopping when the frantic energy in his muscles had subsided to a manageable buzz.
Just over an hour later, he climbed into the truck, his body sheathed in sweat, eager for another cup of coffee. He switched on the radio and found a station that played classic rock. By the time he reached the bridge leading to Halifax, he was singing at the top of his voice.
The hope had been short-lived. As soon as he walked down Spring Garden Road, ready to throw himself into the bustle of one of Halifax’s main shopping districts, his muscles tightened. Became twitchy.
There were eyes watching him, all the time. He stood at the intersection, waiting for the light to change. He glanced over at the girl who stood just behind him, in a tiny tank top and cutoff shorts. He had been all ready to smile at her, but she edged away.
He hurried into the drugstore. He needed a razor and shaving gel. He took