Текст книги "Lovestrong"
Автор книги: Nikki Groom
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 11 страниц)
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Acknowledgements
Spike and Lottie’s story was a journey for me. I went through a tornado of emotions with these two and this story would never have been written if it wasn’t for one person…
My secret squirrel. Zoë Lowdon. You were the nagging voice that brought Spike and Lottie back to me, that chewed my ear off wanting their happy ever after and that made me listen to those crazy voices in my head. Thank you for being a pain in my arse!
To my hubby, thanks for putting up with not seeing me for weeks, and also for my iMac, it’s a dream to write on even if I can’t always remember how to start a new document or where the hash key is!
T-Bird, NJ and Squirrel, don’t ever leave me. I almost don’t want to tell the world what wonderful, dedicated beta readers you are as I want to keep you to myself.
Hang Le. Your creations. My covers. Perfect. Every damn time.
To Mandy Smith, for ironing out my terrible punctuation. Brenda Wright for being so patient and clever! Natalie Catalano for organising reveals and blitzes. I’m lucky to have you ladies!
To all the bloggers and readers, thank you for reading, sharing, and loving this crazy book world with such passion.
To everyone that has embraced the world of The Kingdom stories so far, and that has encouraged and supported me along the way. Every whisper of belief and excitement makes me want to push harder and write more stories.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Other books in The Kingdom series.
(Available to read on Kindle Unlimited)
Holding Aces – The Kingdom #1
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Ff0HNS
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1hBrF0X
High Stakes – The Kingdom #2
Amazon US: http://amzn.com/B00OSDWCPG
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00OSDWCPG
Other books by Nikki Groom
Against the Tide
(Also available on Kindle Unlimited)
I was happy until I met him.
I was content until I met her.
That's a lie. I was lonely.
That's a lie. I was incomplete.
He was nothing but a handsome distraction.
She was nothing but a pretty pastime.
That's untrue. He changed my life.
That's untrue. She altered my world.
I blame him.
I blame her.
I blame myself. He wasn't to know.
I blame myself. It wasn't her fault.
I don't want to need him.
I hate that I want her.
There's no easy solution.
There's no going back.
“IF YOU’RE not ready in ten minutes, I’m leaving you here,” Damien yells up the stairs of his three story townhouse. It’s not the first time he’s called up to me and I’ve managed to ignore him until now. “Megan!” he yells louder.
“Alright,” I yell back with annoyance. “Keep your fucking hair on.” I huff and mutter expletives under my breath, he’s only been back an hour, barely gotten through the door and already he’s ordering me about like I’m one of his monkeys. I take one last look in the mirror and decide I need another blast of hairspray to keep my mane of hair in place for the whole evening. I also want to make him wait and antagonise him a little more, because at the moment he pisses me off that much. We’ve been together for five years, college sweethearts. He was the quiet, unassuming geeky kid that sat at the back of the class, and I was the loud, mouthy girl that didn’t study hard enough and fell for his shy, untouchable persona. Little did I know that I wouldn’t need a ton of A+ grade exam results to find my dream job as a tattooist’s assistant and chief piercer in the Skin Deep studio in the heart of Brighton city centre. I also didn’t know that there was a drug dealing, megalomaniac control freak underneath Damien’s quiet exterior. It took a couple of years for that person to rear his ugly head. I actually think it happened by chance but by then we had lived together for so long, and I had adapted to him and his ways without seeing the road we were stumbling down. I don’t even know when it really happened. We morphed from a young couple in love with our future ahead of us, to what we are now. I don’t know how long it can go on like this, going nowhere. Something is changing, maybe it’s already changed.
I spray my hair in place, gloss over my lips with a rich red stain, and take a deep breath before grabbing my leather jacket from the hanger and slipping in to it as I walk downstairs.
“Fuck me, girl. You take longer to get ready every fuckin’ week,” Damien grumbles as I negotiate the narrow stairs in my five inch spiked heels. He has showered and is ready to go in just a half hour. He’s dressed in his trademark jeans, shirt and a blazer. His blonde hair is styled so the top falls over to the side, and he’s so cleanly shaven, his skin looks softer than mine. Despite being pissed off with him, I can’t deny that he’s pretty damn gorgeous. Such a handsome exterior with charm to match, but I can't deny that I don't get those tingles in my belly when I look at him anymore. I don't feel the flutters that I used to when he says my name.
“Well, you’ve been away for three weeks, so I’ve got a lot of nights out to make up for,” I mumble bitterly as I walk. When I’ve touched down at the bottom of the stairs he grabs my waist and pulls me to him, pushing his face in to my neck and inhaling deeply.
“Jesus, Megan,” he sighs. “You look fuckable. It feels so long since I was inside you. I want to mark that perfect pale skin of yours. Who cares if we’re late?” He growls and bites my neck hard enough to make me wince. Pushing away from him, I pull up the collar of my jacket in an effort to cover at least some of my skin. He’s high, and when he’s high, he’s rough with me. It’s usually cocaine. The purest cocaine he can get his hands on, uncut of course. He wouldn’t take something that was mixed. Cocaine is a clean drug as he would call it. Clean, pure, uncut and the best shit you’d find throughout most of the country. Unlike the ecstasy and ketamine he has his minions selling. Who knows what the fuck is mixed in with that. As I walk away, he laughs to himself “You wanna line before we go, baby? Might take the edge off that shitty attitude you’re giving me.”
I stop with my hand on the door frame and sigh, part of me loves to stay sober and watch what goes on around us. He loses some of the control he likes to have when he’s buzzed, he doesn’t know it, and it’s the only time it happens, but the other part of me can’t handle a whole evening of him high and arrogant and rough, without being buzzed too. I stride back toward him and snatch the rolled up fifty out of his hand. “You know, I wouldn’t be so shitty if you hadn’t been gone so long,” I huff, scowling at him. He responds by lifting the mirror off the side cabinet and holding it up for me with a cocky smile. He knows I’d struggle to resist. I press my finger to my nostril and sniff sharply, moving along the pure white line of oblivion, savouring the last piece of total control I have over myself this evening.
The taxi pulls up outside The Cabin nightclub, our usual haunt, and Damien exits before extending a gentlemanly hand to help me out. My fingertips are already sensitive as the cocaine works its way through my veins, seeping out to the rest of my body and as I place my hand in his, the touch of his skin sends shivers up my arm. My body hums. I’m warm and tingly, and shit … that was good stuff.
Damien nods at the head doorman and enters ahead of the crowds. There’s always a huge queue here but luckily the boys on the door know us well, and we walk straight through.
We head for our usual table in the VIP area. This is the first time we’ve been here in a month and you can guarantee we’ll be greeted with the same faces as usual. Damien has been away with the boys for three weeks, he also takes care of some ‘business’ while he’s gone, whatever that entails. I have a pretty good idea, I’m not stupid, although I don’t ask. Drugs. Money. Whatever, it’s all illegal. I would rather not know the ins and outs, I can’t lie if I don’t know the truth. All I know is I’ve had three weeks of bliss. Quiet time, movies, PJ’s and no one nagging. I’ve worked, been to the gym, shopped with my best friend Jamie, and maxed out my credit cards (all of which will be cleared by Damien as he feels guilty for leaving me for so long) and I’ve danced around the house like no one’s watching. It’s been liberating, but I try not to admit to myself that I’ve also felt lonely and isolated. Damien is all I have. I’ve pushed away anyone I was ever close to because of him, because he didn’t like to share my affections with anyone else, because I naively believed that he was all I needed. But as much as he annoys the shit out of me and I sometimes wish he would disappear, I love his smooth, arrogant self in a strange fucked up way, I think.
“Get me a drink, babe,” Damien orders, which instantly makes me stiffen. I throw it off by taking a deep breath and reminding myself that he’s been away, probably been waited on hand and foot, and it’ll take a few days for him to settle back at home. It will also take some time for me to adjust to him being around all the time again.
“Sure,” I answer flatly, holding out my hand for him to give me some cash. He pulls out a folded wedge of notes, peels off a fifty and hands it to me. Flashy bastard. I snatch it out of his fingertips and ask, “What do you want?”
“Sweetheart,” he says patronisingly, placing his fingertips under my chin and pushing my gaze up to his. “I can’t have been away so long that you’ve forgotten what I drink. Do I ever have anything different?”
“Well, no, but−”
“Jack and coke, not too much ice, and easy on the coke.” He looks at me with cold amusement daring me to argue. “Please.”
I smile smoothly, but it’s not a genuine smile and he knows it. I roll my eyes at him so he knows I’m not impressed with his cocky attitude toward me, never the less, I don't argue. It's not worth it, but he knows I'm not happy with him especially as he left me for weeks on end to sun himself on a ‘deal’. He thought a diamond studded Rolex was going to win me over? Wrong. It’s been a long time since I’ve been impressed by money or gifts. They mean nothing to me any longer.
I turn to go to the bar but I obviously don’t move fast enough and before I can step away, he grabs my elbow, pulling me sharply to him and catching me in his lap as I lose my balance.
“Baby. Why don’t you just tell me you’re pissed off? Yell at me, tell me what an asshole I am. Just get it out of your system. I know I left you, and I’m sorry. But you also know I had to do it. How do you think I can afford to give you the platinum cards, and the jewellery and the exotic holidays? I’m doing it for us, baby. ” He searches my eyes desperately trying to find a weak spot in my armour. “Kiss me,” he instructs, tilting his chin up. I give him a quick peck on the lips and pull back but his hand grabs the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair and holding my face just millimetres from his. “No. Not like that. Kiss me like you missed me. Kiss me like you love me. Kiss me like you want to fuck me, Megan,” he demands against my lips, pushing away my resistance.
A CRAZY buzz works through my veins.
I love it.
I hate it.
It makes me nervous, but strangely liberated too.
The conflict of emotions ramps up the anticipation of how I’m going to feel once I get safely through these doors and past the bouncers that stand almost half as tall again as me, and twice as wide. I’m well and truly in the shit if they find it. Not for the first time do I question why I am doing this. It’s a buzz that I can’t get from anything else. It’s an oblivion that I crave, to take me away from my own head and let me have some respite from reality every now and then.
The line of people waiting to enter The Cabin is long, and although we haven't been standing here for long, my anxiety makes it feel like hours. It’s our usual Saturday night out with the boys, and Kyle, Harley and Marc all queue in front of me, laughing and joking, with no idea of the conflict of emotions going through me. Kyle knows though. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows. They get patted down one by one by the gorillas on the door, it's usual practice but my heart jumps, and my nerves jolt even more when I see the bouncer hover at Kyle’s shoes and run his finger around his heel. Shit, they’re being thorough this evening.
Kyle shoots me a look over his shoulder. He’s aware that I have a couple of E tabs wrapped in a cigarette paper, nestled uncomfortably under the arch of my foot. I’m hyper aware of them now that I know they’re inspecting so closely. I curl my toes then stretch them out again as if the action will magically make them vanish.
Just breathe. Act normal.
By trying to act cool, am I drawing attention to myself? Do I look like I’m trying not to get caught?
I lift my arms, stand with my feet shoulder’s width apart, and wait.
He’s taking longer with me than he did with the others, isn’t he?
He pats down my left leg, sticking his finger down the side of my shoe before moving to the right leg and doing the same. As he touches my ankle bone it takes all my self-control to stop my leg from twitching and pulling away from him.
He stands up, nods and slaps me on the back to go through.
Panic over.
Same feeling, different weekend.
“Whose round is it?” I yell to try and make myself heard above the thumping beat of the music. I clap both my hands on Harley's shoulders as we approach the bar, “Harl?”
“Your round, my friend. After my shitty week at work, I need a good few drinks.”
We all know what it means when Harley has had a shit week. He’s a police officer, old bill. A bloody good one at that, and when I think about how hard he works and how dedicated he is, I get a stab of guilt for my intended actions this evening. In fact, I feel it every weekend that I manage to get through the doors with those pills. Harley is also my house mate, my best mate too. If he knew … But he won’t, and he doesn’t need to.
Everyone puts their order in with the cute bar girl that Kyle already has his eye on. He’s such a ladies’ man. Always chasing the skirt, and with his pretty face and honed body he usually gets what he wants. I order beers and a round of vodka chasers just for good measure. It doesn’t take long for the boys to grab up their glasses and slam them back without a second thought. I wince at the burn that trails down my throat, I should have had a couple mouthfuls of beer to ease me in but, who cares? Tonight I’m gonna get trashed and have a fucking good time.
“I need a piss,” I announce to no one specifically.
“That’s nice,” Harley replies sarcastically, “needed to know that.”
I ignore his comments and push my glass toward him. “Watch my drink.”
“Come on, man,” Kyle pleads quietly over my shoulder as I turn to walk off. “You’re not honestly thinking about dropping those pills with Harley out with us, are you? You don’t need that shit. Let’s just have a few more shooters and feel the buzz from there, yeah?”
“Quit with the lectures, mate. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself,” I retort, grabbing my crotch to prove my point. Fuck it, I’m being a cocky asshole and I know he’s right. I know I shouldn’t do it. But that makes me want to do it more. It’s the rebel in me. I can’t help it. Or maybe it’s the weakness in me. I’m not strong enough to fight the urge and I don't want to. It won’t fucking kill me, it hasn’t yet anyway.
“It doesn’t make you big or clever, Finn,” Kyle comments, shaking his head as he turns to walk away from me. He doesn’t normally voice his opinion to me. He’s the guy that just lives and lets live. The one that is a lover, not a fighter. He’s made sure I’ve gotten home safely on many occasions when Harley is on nights and I’ve had a heavy session, and he rarely makes his thoughts known. This time I see the disappointment in his eyes. I feel his disappointment and it hits me deep in the gut. So I concede.
Marc calls for more shots right about the same moment I scan the VIP area and my eyes lock on to her. After three weeks of not being around, she’s here. The girl that’s got me all kinds of flustered. Always with that guy who looks like a total wanker with his floppy hair and pretty boy face.
Who is she? Why can’t I look away?
I’ve been waiting to see her since the last time she was here. I've looked for her. I’ve wanted to feel the electricity that fires off her when she holds my gaze, and every week that she’s not been here, I’ve been disappointed. We haven’t spoken, haven’t even exchanged smiles. There’s just something there. It’s like we seek each other out and I don’t know why. It’s turned in to a habit I like more than the ecstasy I take.
“Hey Finny boy, tequila, you in or you going for a piss?” Kyle calls out behind me loading his question with the silent search of my intentions for this evening.
I glance back at him, answering mindlessly, “Yeah, man.” When I look back, she’s still there. Looking. Just looking. No smile. No scowl. Just looking at me like there’s something compelling her to do so. The light catches her lip ring and my eyes roam the length of her body like a hungry man that’s been starved for weeks, no, months. She gives off something that makes my hormones run rampant, like an unbalanced teenager. Only I’m fully aware that I’m a grown man and I know exactly what I want to do to her. God, what I would do to her. She’s dressed in a little black dress, and I mean, little. It’s simple, but the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. It hugs her tiny, perfect waist, and only just covers her arse. Her legs, her perfect legs, which, even though she isn’t tall, look just long enough to wrap around my waist …
“Here.” Harley nudges my arm and hands me a shot of tequila. I take it mindlessly, all the while still locked on to the enigma on the other side of the room. Then she does something that floors me. She nods, winks, and raises her glass to me across the room. For a second, I’m stunned at the action. We’ve been watching each other for weeks, no words, no actions, just the silent knowledge that we both know we are looking at each other. Now she’s broken the silent pact, what does that mean?
Not really knowing what else to do, I nod my head in acknowledgement, then throw back the tequila. The burn doesn’t register this time. She smirks like she knows what I’m thinking and turns away, taking another drink from the blond guy that she’s with.
“You just need to do her already,” Kyle comments, making me turn in response. I am met with smirks from Kyle, Harley and Marc, who clearly all think it’s highly amusing that I’m so taken with this girl.
“What?” I answer sharply. I don’t like that they saw us looking at each other. It felt like it was just the two of us, everyone else faded in to the background and for that moment it was just us, in our own world, getting in each other’s heads. Which is a ridiculous notion in a nightclub full of people. If I got in to her head, would I find the same thoughts as mine?
“You and that chick. You’ve been eye fucking each other for weeks. She goes away, wherever, whatever, and now that she’s back, you’re both at it again, but this time, it’s more intense, man. You gonna make a move or not?” Kyle’s observations are right on the money. He might be a man of few words, but he sees more than I give him credit for.
“Not,” I grunt, pushing past him to get to the bar.
“Oooh, tetchy. That means you like her,” Kyle teases.
“How fucking old are you, Kyle?” I snap, turning back in his direction.
“Hey man, no harm.” He holds his hands up at my sharp reply. “All I’m sayin’ is, you’re twenty seven years old and you haven’t taken a girl home in, how long? How long has it been since you dipped your wick?” he asks nonchalantly with a chuckle, encouraging a chorus of laughter from the other guys.
“Look,” I answer, stepping toward him, “just because I’m not sleeping with half of Brighton and being the local manwhore, doesn’t mean I’m not getting any. It just means I’m not advertising the fact that I’m a slut like you, sweet cheeks.” I smirk and tap him on the cheek before taking a swig of my beer. The guys around us are quiet while they assess the possible situation that’s unfolding. They know I can be a moody bastard and they make allowances for that and ignore my moods half the time, but the fact that Kyle hasn’t answered me yet makes me wonder if I’ve gone too far this time. I’ve been pushing and pushing him lately and I don’t know why. My subconscious tells me it’s because I’m jealous of the intimacy he shares with all the girls he takes home. It has been a very long time since I was intimate with anyone and I don’t mean sex. Meaningless sex is easy to come by, even though I’ve not looked for it recently. All I seem to do is work, eat and sleep. The Saturday nights out with my boys are the highlight of my week and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t craving a deeper connection with someone, sometimes. I open my mouth to voice an apology and Kyle starts to laugh, hard. He grabs me around the neck with one of his big ropey arms and crushes me to him.
“You’re lucky I love you, man.” He chuckles, releasing me and proving my point by taking a place at the bar. “Watch and learn, my friend. Watch and learn.” He flashes his pearly whites at the bar girl he’s got his eye on and she smiles coyly. He places an elbow on the bar, rests his chin on the upturned palm of his hand and crooks his finger in her direction. Calling her to him in the most seductive way possible, and of course, she finishes serving her customer and comes straight to him, skipping the other customers that have been waiting patiently. We all laugh and leave him to it. He certainly has charm.
“Hey bro.” The voice from behind me takes a second to register, or maybe I just don’t really want it to be my sister, Lizzie, that’s just given me a freakin’ heart attack.
“Liz, what the fucking hell are you doing here?” I know I’m overreacting, she’s nineteen and well within her rights to be here but I’m carrying illegal drugs and it’s the last thing I want anywhere near my little sister. She’s had enough shit in her life, and has still got the weight of the world on her shoulders. It’s my job to try and keep her away from it all. I never take drugs to the house, and I make sure she’s never around if I going to be doing them. I don’t want that shit tainting my sister. The Cabin is a rave club, and there are plenty of illegal substances passed around here and I don’t want her caught up in anything. It’s also known to be a bit of a cattle market and some of the guys that hang around here just to pick up girls are far too pushy for my liking.
“I’m here with Jess and Tracy.” She waves her hand in their direction and they both give a nervous little wave.
“Who’s with Mum? How is she today?”
“Same as usual.” She shrugs, a wave of sadness passing across her innocent face. “Annie’s there for the evening. I’m staying with Jess. What’s up? Why you so tetchy?” she questions.
“I’m not …” I frown and take a deep breath. Taking myself down and realising that if I make it a big deal, it’s going to be a big deal, so I need to chill. “I was just surprised to see you here, is all. You know I hate you coming to places like this. You girls should be at one of the more upmarket bars on Princes Street or something,” I suggest, casually trying to get her to change her mind.
“Bro, you don’t make any sense, you know that? A club that’s good enough for my brother is good enough for me. Besides, I can have a good night with Jess and Tracy without worrying about getting hit on by arseholes with you and your friends here, can’t I? Anyway, Jess’s boyfriend dumped her yesterday, by text.” She props her hands on her hips and continues, “Can you believe it? By text, the cheap fucking wanker. We came out to cheer her up, you gonna buy us a drink?” She smiles sweetly and flutters her eyelashes.
I huff out a breath, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll buy you a drink, Liz.” I hook my arm around her shoulder and pull her in to me for a hug, kissing the top of her head. “Barman!” I call, “Three lemonades please, mate.”
“What? Lemonade? Finn!” she squeaks at me.
“Yep, that’s right. Lemonade … Or did you want a lime and soda?” I question, pinning her with a look that asks if she’s going to challenge me.
She’s my responsibility. Our dad fucked off long ago and I took that job on as my own.
“You’re a fucking arsehole.” She pushes both her small palms hard on my chest and angrily stomps away from me. “I’m not a little girl, Finn. I’m nineteen years old for fuck’s sake! I’ll buy my own drinks if you won’t buy them for me. Wanker!” She marches off back to her friends, her blonde soft curls bouncing as she goes. She is far too innocent and naïve to be in a place like this, and now I’m gonna be like a cat on a hot tin roof all night keeping every prick out of her way instead of unwinding and letting loose with my mates.
“Was that your sister?” Kyle asks over my shoulder.
“Yeah, man.” I puff out a breath feeling torn between wanting to just go home and pretend tonight never happened, and wanting to stay and keep an eye on her.
“Fuck, she’s like … all grown up.”
“Don’t even think about it, Kyle. Keep your hands to yourself and your dick away from my sister and her friends. You got it?” I jab my index finger in his chest and get up in his face.
“Hey hey, I never meant anything, Finn. Chill the fuck out, would ya?” he says throwing his hands up in mock surrender, before patting me on the shoulder.
“Sorry, mate, it’s just … you know how I get about my sister.”
“Yeah, I know. You gotta let her grow up though, man, or she’s gonna hate your arse for embarrassing her like she’s twelve years old.” He’s right, of course. I need to chill out.
“Hold my beer,” I say, shoving my glass in to Harley’s hand. I don’t wait for him to answer or acknowledge my request before I’m weaving through the busy crowds to get to the toilets.
I lock myself in a cubicle and dig the pills out of my sock, dropping them in the toilet bowl before pulling the flush hard. Frustration pushes up through me and with no control over my thoughts, I punch the stall door with a crack. It rattles on its hinges but doesn’t break. Instead the skin peels back from my knuckles letting the blood seep out. I need to get a grip. Yes, Lizzie is precious to me. In fact, she’s the most precious person in my life. I take my job as her older brother seriously. But she’s growing up, and I need to let her spread her wings. She’s right. I can’t look out for her every moment of her life, and due to my teaching, she’s capable of doing that herself. Hell, she’s a damn sight more capable than I was at that age. Nothing’s going to happen to her with me and the boys to keep an eye on her, and now that I’ve calmed down, her being here is no reason for me not to have a good night. I wash my hands, cleaning my knuckles with the hope that no one will notice the damage. As I push out of the toilet door, the music is really starting to get pumping. Time to go and apologise to Lizzie, grab another drink, and start the evening over.
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UK– http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00W0IJZI8