Blue (Love in Color Book 2)

by S. M. West

  Table of Contents

  Also by S. M. West

  Dedication

  Blue Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Blue (Love In Color Novel)

  Copyright © 2017 S.M. West

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover Design by:

  Cover Couture

  www.bookcovercouture.com

  Edited by:

  Leanne Rabesa and Editing by C. Marie

  Proofread by:

  The Editing Guy

  Interior Design & Formatting by:

  Juliana Cabrera of Jersey Girl Design

  www.jerseygirlandco.com

  Red

  Made to Love

  Love Happens Anthology – Hitch

  To those who color my life.

  Listen On Spotify

  “Demons” – Imagine Dragons

  “On Hold” – The xx

  “Ho Hey” – Jon D

  “Over You” – Ingrid Michaelson feat. A Great Big World

  “Broken Crown” – Mumford & Sons

  “Sweet Child” – Alex Cruz, Gabbie Lieve

  “Crazy in Love” – L’Orchestra Cinematique

  “Everlong” – Foo Fighters

  “I will follow you into the Dark” – Death Cab for Cutie

  “Sex and Candy” – Marcy Playground

  “Home” – Edward Sharpe The Magnetic Zeros

  “Jealous” – Labrinth

  “Do I wanna know?” – Arctic Monkeys

  “One” – Ed Sheeran

  “Sonnet” – The Verve

  “Don’t Speak” – No Doubt

  “You’re my best friend” – Queen

  “Never tear us apart” – INXS

  “I thought I knew what love was” – Tom Odell

  “Marry Me” – Jason Derulo

  “I was made for loving you” – Kina Grannis, Gardiner Sisters

  “Made to love you” – Dan Owen

  “She” – Elvis Costello

  “Without you” – Eddie Vedder

  “Boyfriend Jeans” – Grace

  “This town” – Niall Horan

  “Somebody Else” – The 1975

  Find some inspiration for Blue on Pinterest

  Blue. The color of devotion.

  CARYS WOLFE is my heart.

  Mine, always. Leaving her nearly killed me.

  I thought it was the only way to keep her safe.

  She’s moved on, and I want her back.

  §

  EVAN HART is my heart.

  Loving him is my destiny. I waited my entire life for our time,

  for us to finally be together, only to have him leave.

  Now he’s back.

  Though my mind can’t forgive him, my heart can’t forget.

  Blue. The color of devotion.

  Only her, my sweetness.

  Always.

  From the vast ocean depths,

  To the boundless cerulean heavens,

  Each beat,

  Each breath,

  Pure,

  Steadfast,

  True blue.

  Only for her.

  Three years ago

  Evan ~ 32 years old

  HIDDEN IN THE DARKNESS of the alley outside the bar, I wait. My mind is at war, hoping the impending confrontation is futile but unable to deny the internal tug that says it isn’t. I’ve never questioned the details around the death of my parents and my best friends’ father—a bloody drive-by that not only ruined the sanctity of a place we considered safe, but also significantly altered all our lives.

  We were told it was a mistake.

  Yet while inside the bar tonight, I overheard a drunk share a story that was eerily familiar. It awoke a slithering serpent of truth low in my gut. Their deaths have never made sense, and his telling of the hit explained things. The snake’s long, cold body twists through me, chilling my bones and sparking a rage I buried long ago.

  The older, overweight man—the braggart who callously spoke of killing like he was talking about what he had for dinner—stumbles out of the club. He’s alone. Perfect.

  His uncoordinated steps head my way, oblivious to the fact that he’s my target, and I grab him by the shoulders. He’s unaware, and I effortlessly jerk him into the shadows. His back slams against the brick wall and his cries momentarily satisfy my thirst for justice.

  While his arms flail haphazardly in a pathetic attempt to hit me, my forearm presses into his windpipe. I further incapacitate him by yanking his arms in front of him while my body pins his lower half. I’ve easily got half a foot on him, if not more.

  “Who ordered the hit on The Waters and who was the target?”

  “Get off me, you fucking asshole.” His voice is strangled. “I’ll kill you.”

  Chuckling at his empty threat, I push down on his airway again and he wheezes. This fucker needs to get the memo—I’m not kidding.

  “Look, asshole, answer my questions and it’ll be like this never happened.”

  In another attempt to strike me, he raises his knee for my balls, his tenacity impressing me, given he’s three sheets to the wind. Before he knows what’s happening, my fist jabs his flabby gut and he sucks in air on a jagged groan.

  Rapidly losing my patience with this joker, my aggression ticks up and I violently flip him. His face kisses the hard, rough brick, and like a baby, he cries out as I lean into his ear.

  “Last chance, motherfucker, then you’ll really know I mean business. I’ve obviously been too nice. Who ordered the hit?”

  Lenient and sloppy, that’s what I am right now. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was the one who was drunk. I’m roughing him up less than twenty feet from the entrance to a nightclub. My only defense is that it’s almost four in the morning. The chances of being spotted or someone
calling the cops are slim, but I’ve got a hell of a lot to lose. Why the fuck am I being reckless?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His pleas are gruff and shaky.

  With another ruthless cut to his torso, my fist does the talking.

  “Okay, okay.” He coughs. “I don’t know who ordered it. All I know is that it came from Angelo Gatti’s crew.”

  “Gatti?” The name sounds familiar; it’s mafia, but which outfit?

  “Cavallo,” he says reluctantly. Confusion swirls within me at the confirmation that it was one of the biggest mob families in the city.

  “And who was the target?” Pressing into him, I leave no room for him to fight or stall.

  “Ciaran Hart.”

  My father’s name fires out of his lips like a bullet to my chest, ripping through my heart as chills run down my spine. Why the hell would one of the most powerful and ruthless mob families in New York City want my father dead?

  Was any of my childhood true or real? My world tilts as everything I’ve ever believed comes into question. Where do I even begin to figure out why they targeted my father? Did I even know him? Is this jackass’s intel even true? Making sense of this, figuring out what is real or not, will be hard.

  “Why?”

  “Fuck, I don’t know, man. I’m not paid to ask questions. I just do a job.”

  “You did the job? Killed three people?”

  The air between us shifts, slow and heavy, tightening around both of us like a boa constrictor. He may be intoxicated, but he senses the deadly change and its significance. As if I have a gun to his head, he stills, his breathing now rapid and shallow as he swallows hard.

  “No, I lied inside. I didn’t do anything. I only know of the job.” Without me having to drill him for further details, he spills like a piñata smashed open. “Manny was one of the guys. There were two, Manny’s dead, figured I could lie.”

  Why he lied is easy. He’s a little man in more ways than one, and he took the chance to look like a big shot. In the club, he was boasting about ruthless exploits that weren’t even his. He’s a worthless piece of shit, which only fuels my fury.

  “You thought you’d take credit for murder? Why? Because you’re a cockless cocksucker who never amounted to shit? Tell you what, this can all end here if you tell me who the other guy was.”

  “I-I-I d-d-on’t know man, I s-swear.” A tinkling sound causes me to glance down at our feet. Growling, I inch away from him in disgust. The idiot pissed himself.

  While he might have more information, he’s not worth the risk or the effort, and I’ve had enough. I can find out the rest on my own. Besides, I’m good at sizing people up quickly and my gut tells me this guy doesn’t know much. I’ve likely gotten most, if not all, that there is to get out of him.

  “You breathe a word of this to anyone and you’ll wish I’d killed you.”

  Slipping my arm around his neck, I hook his throat with my other hand behind his head, putting him into a sleeper hold. He tries squirming and protesting, fearing I’m going to snap his neck. The thought is tempting, the rage at learning my mother and Carys’ father were murdered because of my father is enough to send me over the edge.

  As he passes out, I carefully lay him out on the concrete, in his piss. It’s small consolation, but I’ll take what I can get.

  After a quick scan of the area, I step into the open, casually walking down the street. Fishing my car keys from my pocket, my fingers graze cool metal and smooth stone—the engagement ring. Earlier, I took it out of the box and stared at it like a lovesick fool.

  I slip my finger through the platinum band until it can go no further, barely halfway, and the ring sparkles.

  It’s only been three days with the ring in my possession, but that’s three days too long. I’m going to ask her any day now. I’m finally going to marry the woman I love with all my life.

  A niggling unease claws at my insides, even with my uncontrollable desire to propose. Why does tonight’s discovery feel dire, like it changes everything?

  Now

  Evan

  “SWEETNESS.”

  My tone is gruff; her name sounds strange to my ears, despite her constant presence in my mind. I swallow with difficulty, thanks to the bowling ball of nerves lodged in my throat. Fuck, my palms are sweaty.

  Her dark hair—so black it’s almost blue-tinged—fans as she twirls to face me. After two and a half years apart, it’s unfathomable how close we are, so close I could touch her. Clenching my fists, I fight the fierce urge to hold her, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate my bold gesture. To satisfy my craving, my eyes drink her in, every inch of her. I can’t help but stare. She’s breathtakingly beautiful.

  Surprised aquamarine eyes nail me as she sucks in a jagged breath and drops the empty tray from her hand. The loud crash and subsequent reverberating clatter has all eyes in the bar on us. We’re at the family bar, The Waters, and while it’s not busy, just a handful of people eating lunch, it’s more than I would prefer. Alone is how I want her.

  Doing this here wasn’t my preference. There was never going to be a perfect time. I’d been preparing to come back to her, trying to figure out how to tell them the truth. But now, I couldn’t delay it any longer.

  The asshole forced my hand. He got her a ring, a fucking engagement ring. I may not know his plans or timing, but I couldn’t let him propose. No. Fucking. Way.

  Time is of the essence. I’m in act now, deal with the consequences later mode.

  “Evan.” Her voice quivers and she sways, grabbing the bar to steady herself.

  Stepping in my direction, she hesitates, the hint of a frown clouding her features. It’s only a second, but time slows, practically stopping as a myriad of emotions skitter across her face. Is she feeling it too? The memories of our past hitting her in the chest? Memories of when we were together? When I left her, then when she was alone? Fuck, she’s gonna kick me out.

  Without warning, Carys hurtles at me, arms and legs hugging me, as she buries her face in my neck. I cling to her slender frame, one arm under her rear and the other around her back as her muffled sobs echo within my chest. I can’t tell if they are tears of joy or sorrow.

  Fuck. Holding her after all these years feeds my starved soul, fills my ravaged heart. It’s heaven. Finally, I’m able to breathe — I’ve got my girl in my arms.

  Her subtle coconut scent invades my senses, reinforcing my regret about what I had to walk away from. My cock twitches, happy to have her where she belongs. I can’t smell coconut without getting hard. It’s the same shampoo she used years ago, and both the familiarity and the newness comfort and excite me.

  Before I’m able to truly relish her body crushed against mine, she wriggles to get free and I reluctantly help her to the ground. She inches away, her head down, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

  I wait, reminding myself that I created this situation, and as much as I fucking hate it, I need to wait her out, be patient. Eventually, she faces me with her lips pinched, cheeks flaming, and brow creased as she swallows uncomfortably.

  “Sweetness,” I try again, taking a step toward her as she holds up her hand to stop me.

  “Evan.”

  From behind me, someone interrupts. “Carys, you okay?”

  She glances his way, then back to me. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Brushing a stray lock from her face, she inhales deeply. “How are you?” Her voice wavers.

  “I missed you.” I’m not able to contain my emotions.

  All I want is to have her back in my arms. She needs to know that I missed her and shouldn’t have left her. At the time, it was for the best, but now that I’m through to the other side, I see that perhaps I could have done it another way. Either way, I fucked up. I fucking need her back in my life.

  “Are you back? For good?”

  Her questions are more clinical than caring. Like her words, her body takes on a rigidity I’m not used to. The strong woman I know and love is very much present, al
though she’s also holding back. She’s likely remembering that she’s pissed at me, and soon, she’ll end our conversation. I need to move fast.

  “Yes, and we need to talk.” I step closer and she edges behind the bar. It’s now a barricade between us. I couldn’t get to her even if I wanted to, and it’s obvious she wants it this way. I hate it, but I get it.

  “We don’t have anything to say to each other. Last time we spoke, you made it perfectly clear that we were over.”

  “Sweetness.” She visibly recoils at my name for her. “Please talk to me.”

  “We have nothing to talk about.”

  Despite her attempt at apathy, the pulse point in her neck flutters rapidly and her cheeks are the prettiest shade of pink. I’m aroused, knowing she’s rattled and I’m to blame. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t react like this.

  “Sweetness…”

  “Do not call me that.”

  Her bitter tone matches the anger rolling off her, and it physically hurts. Each word pummels me like a heavyweight champion’s punches, but I take it. I deserve it, but I won’t honor her request. She’s only ever been my sweetness, and she always will be.

  “Sweetness.”

  With a low growl, she darts through the swinging doors into the back of the building. I follow her into the family’s personal space.

  “Hey,” the onlooker who interrupted before calls at my back, but I keep going.

  She’s halfway up the stairs and I’m on her heels when the guy grabs my shoulder from behind.

  “Fucking let go.”

  I’m being an asshole to the guy and normally, I wouldn’t. At the very least, I’d thank him for looking out for her, but that’s not gonna happen when he’s in my way. Carys turns to see me forging ahead, with the guy trying to stop me.

  “Derek, it’s okay.” I hate that she speaks civilly to him but will barely even glance at me. “I know him. We’re just going to talk.”

  “Are you sure?”

  His grip tightens as he eagerly waits for her to say the word. This guy has no clue who I am. He has no idea how fast I could take him down, have him unconscious, or worse, end his life without batting an eyelash. I wouldn’t do it, but I could.