Twisted Love, Copyright © 2019 Stacey Marie Brown
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and her crazy friends. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It cannot be re-sold, reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
All rights reserved.
Published by: Twisted Fairy Publishing Inc.
Layout by Judi Fennell at www.formatting4U.com
Cover by Jay Aheer (www.simplydefinedart.com)
Developmental Editor Jordan Rosenfeld (http://jordanrosenfeld.net)
Edited by Hollie (www.hollietheeditor.com)
ALSO BY STACEY MARIE BROWN
Contemporary Romance
Buried Alive
Shattered Love (Blinded Love #1)
Broken Love (Blinded Love #2)
Paranormal Romance
Darkness of Light
(Darkness Series #1)
Fire in the Darkness
(Darkness Series #2)
Beast in the Darkness
(An Elighan Dragen Novelette)
Dwellers of Darkness
(Darkness Series #3)
Blood Beyond Darkness
(Darkness Series #4)
West
(A Darkness Series Novel)
City in Embers
(Collector Series #1)
The Barrier Between
(Collector Series #2)
Across the Divide
(Collector Series #3)
From Burning Ashes
(Collector Series #4)
The Crown of Light
(Lightness Saga #1)
Lightness Falling
(Lightness Saga #2)
The Fall of the King
(Lightness Saga #3)
Rise from the Embers
(Lightness Saga #4)
The Monster Ball:
A Paranormal Romance Anthology
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other Books by Stacey Marie Brown
About the Author
Dedicated to all the Gypsies in search of their
Tarzan… or… Jane
Chapter One
Darkness and shadows.
Frozen. I tried to move, but my veins and muscles were filled with lead.
Fight, Stevie. Scream.
But nothing came.
Helpless.
My stomach swirled with terror and bile scorched my throat.
A sharp, metallic taste coated my tongue.
The more I struggled, the more each limb grew heavier.
No! Please, no.
Suddenly I was by myself on a street. Headlights burned my retinas and I squinted. New York license plate, a horse symbol on the grill of the car. My eardrums filled with music; a piercing horn and screeching tires bashed together like a cymbal.
I experienced the car collide into me. And I felt…
Relief.
Smoke twisted and wound in a graceful cloud, gliding out the open window into the sticky summer air. The humidity already coated my skin, even though it was before any reasonable thing, including the sun, should be up. Not long ago I would just be sliding into bed at this time.
Sleep had not been my friend lately.
I took another drag, hating myself for breaking my seven-year cigarette-free streak. As a punk-ass teenager, I picked up the habit, trying to be cool with the older crowd. My dad’s cancer stopped that habit in its tracks, and I hadn’t touched one again. Until now.
The smell and taste made me gag, but the nicotine relaxed my muscles enough to let my mind and body calm down. My lids had opened at dawn, and I couldn’t stay in my bed a minute longer. I paced my three-hundred-and-twenty-square-foot studio apartment. Sadly, I could barely afford it on my own. My mom helped me when I was going to school but had cut me off after graduation, probably hoping I’d run back home. No fucking way. I should be finding a roommate, but the thought of sharing a studio with another person with screens as dividers was less than appealing. Especially with my extracurricular activities lately.
My gaze drifted to the sleeping form spread out across my bed, completely spent and dead asleep. Irritation bubbled up into my chest, and I took another drag, staring past the fire escape to the brick apartment building across the way. The sun spread over lower Tribeca, igniting the water tank on top of the opposite building in glaring light. Horns and trucks woke up New York’s late risers like a brash alarm clock. Nothing about New York was gentle or relaxed. It was like being bashed over the head at night and waking to an air horn in the morning. It was rude, nonstop, aggressive, loud, and I loved it. The energy made me feel alive. I could never imagine tiring of it.
Except I couldn’t shake this feeling…if I could only put my finger on it. This sense of wanting to peel out of my skin or run away tapped at my spine constantly. Was it boredom? In my own city? Who could tire of New York? There was always something to do: friends to hang with, new bars to check out, endless men and women to hook up with.
“My god, Stevie, you were amazing last night….and earlier this morning.” A woman’s husky voice spoke into my ear. I jumped and shifted my numb ass on the windowsill, panic shooting up my back. I didn’t even hear her get up.
The nude girl snatched the cigarette in my hand, took a slow drag, and straightened up, watching me salaciously. She was tall and curvy with short black hair. Not as pretty as the double shots of gin in my martini last night might have suggested she was. And hypocrite or not, it grossed me out that she smoked. This was a one-time thing.
Stress. I blamed stress.
“If you come back to bed, I will show you my thanks.” The smoke curled around her, a carnal smile tugging at her mouth. She handed the cigarette back to me, an eyebrow curving up as though she were taunting me with chocolate cake.
Now cake I could make love to this morning, but I just wanted this girl gone.
“Sorry.” I shook my head, stubbed out the cigarette, and moved around her. “Have to meet my friends for brunch.”
“It’s seven a.m. on a Saturday.”
“Yeah. So?” I went to the tiny fridge, grabbing orange juice, irritation sparking in my words.
“Who goes to brunch at that time?”
Shit. “I meant breakfast.”
“It’s still early for that too.”
She was right, normally people in our age group were so hungover we didn’t make it to breakfast until eleven. Brunch was an afternoon thing. But I wanted her to leave.
I took a slug of OJ, shrugging.
“I can go with you.” She prowled up to the counter. “Then for lunch I c
an snack on you…” Overfamiliar, she once again took the item from my hand, her eyes glinting as she took a drink straight from the container.
Okay. That was it.
“It’s time to go.” I had tried to be nice, but no more.
“What?” She jerked back, setting down the juice and dropping the sultry act just like a theatre curtain. Shock rounded her eyes. “You want me to go?” She said it as if it were the first time it ever happened to her. “Me? Are you kidding?” She was all right in bed, but honestly most of the night I barely remembered. Nothing earth shattering.
Not like…
I shoved out the thought before it could fully develop. No. Those thoughts were not allowed. Ever.
“Not kidding.” I crossed my arms. “It was fun. But now it’s time to go.” This was why I didn’t want to bring people home. It was so much easier to slip out in the middle of the night than get someone to leave. For some reason…okay, probably because I was pretty damn good in bed…guests never wanted to go. Ninety-eight percent wanted a repeat. The other two percent were only in town for a night.
The girl huffed, turned around, and stomped to where her clothes were strewn on the floor. She hurriedly got dressed and grabbed her bag. She hesitated by the door, plucking up her chin.
“You’re missing out. The things I can do… You’re going to totally regret not getting my number,” she said before stomping out my door and slamming it with extra force.
“Doubt that,” I muttered, placing my elbows on my minuscule counter and rubbing my face. I scoured my fingers deeper into my skin, as though I could scrub away this strange feeling.
My cell vibrated on the table next to me, so I pulled my hands back and peered at the number. I wasn’t in the mood for my mother this early.
A jolt of happiness eased my face into a smile as I took in the number.
“Hey, Whiskey, what’s up?”
“Wait a minute…” She tapered off with surprise, teasing in her voice. “I must have the wrong number.”
“Funny.”
“It’s Saturday. Early,” Jaymerson said. “Normally you yell if I call before noon.”
That was true. Normally, I didn’t function until after three cups of coffee and it was well past lunch.
“Up early.” I started pacing in my sad excuse for an apartment, my bare feet brushing the worn wooden floors.
“Have you been to bed at all?”
“Not really.” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the kinks under my skin. “The reason just walked out of the door, thank god.”
“Oh, that good, huh?” Jayme mocked. Jaymerson Holloway was the only true girlfriend I had. I wasn’t good with girls as friends, but from the moment she walked into physical therapy, I felt bonded to her. Maybe because both of us had gone through something a lot of people didn’t understand.
She had been in a terrible car accident that killed her boyfriend, Colton. Colton’s twin, Hunter, and Jaymerson survived the crash, but just barely. I had been hit by a car in a crosswalk. The driver did not even bother to slow down or stop and see if I was all right. It took months and months of rehabilitation to walk without pain or a limp, though my hips and back would never be fully right again. They ached when it was really cold, which made me feel I was seventy, not twenty-four.
She also understood the internal scars didn’t go away, and merely because you looked fine to everyone else on the outside, the nightmares didn’t stop because your bones healed. Whiskey knew more about me than anyone, and still there were things she didn’t know. Truths I couldn’t tell her.
“Let’s just say she left in quite a huff.” I brushed my long white-blonde hair back. The hair beneath was dyed black. Like my soul, I thought with a laugh.
“Ste-vie.” I knew she was shaking her head, both humored and exasperated by me. Yeah, join the club. “Was this a Princess Jasmine or a Snow White?”
I blinked and blinked again.
Holy. Shit. I hadn’t even bothered thinking about a name. Not once.
I had the habit of nicknaming my “conquests” after Disney characters. They wouldn’t stay long enough for me to learn their names, but I always, always, gave them a moniker.
Shit. I didn’t even remember naming the last three. I couldn’t even recall what they looked like…
“Uhhh…” I bit down on my lip, tasting the nasty tang of tar and chemicals. Yuck. That was another mistake. I was hitting zero and the day hadn’t even started yet. “Don’t remember.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. This was why I didn’t have really close friends; they could see through my bullshit. I had a crazy group here from art school and my job at the record store, and we went out a lot, but it was mostly superficial. We never talked deeply about feelings.
“Stevie, what’s going on?” Jaymerson asked softly.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
“Hey, wasn’t it your man’s birthday yesterday? Shouldn’t you be recovering from sex with him and not bothering me?” I chuckled. I took some credit for getting Jaymerson and Hunter together. It might have happened anyway, but when everyone had been against them, I saw they were meant to be together. For almost a year now they had been living together in DC, which I visited as often as I could. Hunter’s career making customized motorcycles was taking off. The shop he worked at was in talks to star in a new reality TV show.
Jaymerson sighed. She knew what I was doing but let it slide.
“I wish. It’s been hectic since we arrived. You know Hunter and I are back home for Emlyn’s baptism yesterday and then the party. Well, Krista called us earlier asking Hunter if he could watch Cody. She needed to take Emlyn to the ER. I guess she was having a little difficulty breathing this morning.”
“What?” My eyes popped open. “Is she okay?”
“I hope so…” Whiskey paused. “Krista said it’s happened before, and the doctor told her it was most likely allergies.”
I didn’t care for those squishy, pooping things, but I understood how scary that must be.
“Are you still contemplating coming home?” Jayme said sounding hopeful.
My mom had been on my ass to come visit since college graduation, but I avoided going home at all costs. I would only go when I knew Jaymerson would be there as well.
“Even Doug and Jones asked where you were last night.”
“Really? Why would I be invited to Emlyn’s baptism?” Krista was nowhere near what I called a buddy, nor was her bitchy friend, Megan, but they were part of the group I had gotten to know really well. I had gone to school with Doug before he dropped out. Always thought he was a cool guy but hadn’t really known him well. Now he, Jones, and Hunter had become good friends of mine.
Someone else in the group baffled me. He wasn’t a friend, but he was far from a stranger.
I quickly shoved out thoughts of him, slamming the wall down on him.
“I don’t think so. I work all week, and there’s an event next weekend at the record store.” I tapped at my lip, hearing the hesitation in my voice.
“Okay. We just drove up to Krista’s. Hunter’s giving me that look.”
“Hey, Stevie,” Hunter called out. “She’ll call you later.”
“Happy belated birthday, hot ass!” I yelled out, though I knew he couldn’t hear me.
“Stevie says your ass is old and not as hot as it used to be,” Jayme yelled to Hunter.
“What?” Hunter exclaimed.
“Nice, Whiskey.” I groaned. “Now when I see him, he’ll spend the whole time sticking his ass in my face, forcing me to feel it and reconsider.”
“I know…” She sighed happily. “Makes my life more entertaining. Plus, I know you both secretly love it.”
“I do. I really do.” I couldn’t lie; Hunter’s ass should be fondled and appreciated. It was seriously one of the best asses I had ever encountered.
Well, it was up there in the top three…or four.
No. That ass
is no longer in consideration.
“Talk to you later, Whiskey,” I said before we hung up. My mood had lifted. A little swig of Whiskey always did that to me. I moved to my bed, wrinkling my nose at the stench of sex on the sheets. Could I just burn them? Without a laundry facility in the building, I usually pushed it until my three IKEA bags were full and I was out of underwear.
Tugging the laundry bag from my tiny closet, I started to strip the bed, shoving the sheets to the bottom, my lighter mood already shifting dark again. What was wrong with me? Sex always put me in a good mood. It was my version of going to the gym and releasing those happy endorphins. So why did I feel the opposite?
I was even more restless than before the call with Jayme. Knowing she was back home, with our group, felt like a hook, tugging me back. I was highly aware she left out a name from the people asking about me, which slithered irritation down my spine.
Good. Not as if I give a shit.
I had planned on visiting Mom next month. If Whiskey wasn’t there when I visited my mom, the world wouldn’t end. But the idea of taking off now nagged at me. My soul and feet wanted to get on the train and watch the city disappear in the distance.
Chapter Two
“Stevie, that design is sick.” Liam came up behind me, his hand gripping the stool I sat on.
“Thanks.” I clicked the mouse, added another layer of smoke billowing off the record that turned into the name of the store.
“That’s going to be on the home page of our website.” He leaned in closer, taking in all the detail I had added, his face a little closer than was polite.
Liam was a cool dude. He was in his mid-thirties, my height, with a beard, round face, and a little beer belly. He was cute in a man-boy way. He considered walking to work a workout. He ate crappy food, smoked both cigarettes and pot, and drank beer like it could make him forget he was barely scraping by.
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