by C. J. Pinard
Ellis cut his eyes down to the desk, unable to look at the judge. As much of a hard-ass as he’d become, he still hated that he’d hurt his mother.
“Answer me, boy!” the judge roared, pounding his fist on the large oak desk in front of him.
His eyes darted to the judge and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, I’m going to do you a huge favor today.”
Ellis, his mother, his attorney, and the entire courtroom were silent, hanging on every word coming from the judge’s mouth.
“Instead of prison, you are to enlist in the United States Marine Corps, effective immediately. You want to play with guns and pretend to be a tough guy? Let’s see how you handle the toughest boot camp in the world, and maybe a deployment or two.”
Ellis’s eyes got big, and he bit back a curse. “But—”
The judge cut him off. “Shut up, boy, I’m not done.”
Ellis’s jaw ticked with defiance, but he just simply nodded.
“If you do not complete four full years of active enlistment, you will be brought back here to Orange County, where you will serve a term of no less than seven years in a state penitentiary of my choosing.”
Ellis’s attorney raised a hand. “Your Honor, the boy is only seventeen, and has not finished high school. I don’t believe the military will accept him without a high school diploma.”
The judge nodded. “Right. He will take a G.E.D. test, which he will pass, and that will satisfy their enlistment qualifications. If he doesn’t pass it, this one-time get-out-of-jail-free-card is null and void, and he will be off to prison—where, by the way”—he looked at Ellis—“they make you get your G.E.D. anyway, so keep that mind, boy. You hear me?” The judge narrowed his eyes at the defendant.
“I do, sir,” Ellis eked out, swallowing hard.
The judge pounded his gavel and shook his graying head. “Court adjourned.”
Chapter 1
Present Day
Ellis
If pain is weakness leaving the body, then what is it called when pain leaves the heart?
The fact that the gang I’d joined when I was seventeen had called me “LT” turned out to be a sort of twisted poetic justice. The “leader”—if you could call him that, Ripper, had said Ellis was a stupid name and said LT sounded close enough. Then he made me “First Lieutenant” of the OAB. A title, at the time, I was proud to have.
Now, it just confused people—or it did during my eight years in the Marines. LT is the nickname for ‘lieutenant’ there too, but I hadn’t been a lieutenant in the Corps. No, those were the college-educated types. I’d started out as a grunt and made my way to First Sergeant by the time my tenure was up. Yes, the judge had sentenced me to four years, but by the grace of God, that judge, to whom I owed my life, had known what he was doing. He had seen something in me that not I, or even my mother, had seen in me: Potential. Instead of being the bad kid with the pretty face I’d appeared to be on the outside, I was actually a good kid just in with an ugly crowd. A sadly typical story, one that, fortunately, did not have a tragic ending. So I ended up serving another four years because I wanted to, not because I had to this time.
Well, some might say it could still end that way, but not me.
My past sins had definitely come back to haunt me. Not the sins of my teenaged youth; no, not those. Petty theft and robbery were nothing compared to what I’d done and seen during my awesome, wonderful, sad, horrible, and terrific time in the United States Marine Corps.
The horrors, the triumphs, the defeats, the victories, they were all wrapped up in one big confusing ball of memories and nightmares. The places I’d seen, the people I’d met, the women I’d loved and let go, the brothers and friends I’d loved and lost… all worth every moment. Even if I did come out of that part of my life scathed, scarred, broken, put back together, and then broken again.
There were times, when I was alone, that I fought against the memories, battled against a breakdown at what I’d been through, and then five or ten minutes later, I was laughing like an idiot at a memory. Something that really wasn’t funny, it was just amusing to me, forever burned in my brain.
I had scars on the inside and the outside, and you know what? Thank you, Judge Perkins, because I wouldn’t have traded them for an easier life. The mark that dug the deepest, though, wasn’t one you could see. The one she left on my fucking soul.
Out of all the horrible battle scars I’d endured… the cuts, bruises, gashes, abrasions, torn muscles, and sprains, the most softest and gentlest of the species had left the harshest mark, the largest ache, the most gaping wound. It was the most comical contradiction on the planet, and if I could have taken it back, I wouldn’t.
Talia
Strength is more than muscles and brawn. It’s the resolve to say “no” with your mouth when your heart and the rest of your body want to say, “Yes, yes! God, yes!”
I stared at the customer, a fake smile plastered on my face as she looked down at her smartphone. Growing tired of her ignoring me, I kept the painful smile on and said, “Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to order, or else I can take the person behind you while you decide?”
She looked up from her phone, her perfectly manicured finger paused over the screen. “Oh, sorry,” she bit out with her annoyingly beautiful red lips. I watched as she pursed them together, and I rubbed my palm against my green apron to keep from balling up my fist. She looked up at the menu board behind me, and then back down at her phone. “I’ll take a chai latte, no foam, no sugar,” she finally said, not even bothering to make eye contact.
I punched her order into the register computer with more annoyance than I meant to and said, “That’s three-fifty-two.”
Not sure she heard me, and while smiling in apology to the customers waiting behind her, I looked back at the stupid blondie in front me and repeated, “Ma’am, that’s three-fifty-two.”
She looked up, bright blue eyes piercing me with irritation as if I’d interrupted her text. “Oh, sorry.” She looked back down at her phone and stabbed a few buttons, and then slid the phone under the scanner to pay for the drink with her app.
Damn yuppies. I hate them all.
“Do you need a receipt?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek ‘til I could have sworn I tasted blood.
She dismissed me with a wave, her attention still on her phone, and walked to the other side of the counter. I looked at the screen to find her name from her payment information and wrote it on the cup. I set it on the counter with her order written on it. I purposely misspelled “Jennifer” just to piss her off.
I took some calming breaths in order to be nice to the poor customers who had been just as much a victim to Jennifer’s rudeness as I had.
Thankfully, the shift passed quickly and without any more asshole customers. When nine p.m. finally rolled around, I yanked off my apron and hung it up in the back room. I couldn’t grab my purse and call out a goodbye to my coworkers fast enough. I got into my little car and drove toward home.
As I reached my apartment complex, my phone chirped with a text. I killed the engine and looked around the parking lot before checking my phone.
Ellis: You home?
I sighed. I knew what Ellis wanted. He wanted to come over and bring some wine and beer and maybe a pizza and pretend to want to watch movies all under the pretense of a casual night inside. But I knew what would happen, we’d barely touch the pizza, have too much to drink, and he’d pierce me with his sky-blue eyes and then run his fingers through his short black hair and then kiss me. Then he’d tell me he how hot I was, and I’d giggle. Then he’d do it again, and soon his talented and wandering hands would find their way under my shirt. This was all a prelude to a long night of sweaty, mind-blowing sex, which would end in the morning with him gone before sunrise and me wondering what I had done wrong, questioning everything about myself. Then I wouldn’t hear from him for another week or so.
That was a vicious cycle I’d lived for over six months
, and I most certainly wasn’t going to repeat it, no matter how damn hot Ellis Anderson was.
I gazed down at his text, contemplating not replying, but that never worked either. If I didn’t respond, he’d just show up.
If I replied and told him to come over, he would be here in ten minutes.
If I told him I was busy, or tired, or had to be at class early tomorrow, he’d show up anyway.
So I tried a tactic I hadn’t tried before. I didn’t want to resort to this, but the guy was relentless—and aggressive.
Me: I’m not alone. Sorry, guy. Maybe some other time.
I gazed at my reply, mustering up the courage to hit ‘send.’
“Ah, screw it,” I said, pressing the green icon to send the text. I shoved the phone in my purse, hoping its battery would die before I’d have to suffer the repercussions of his reply. A small grin bent my lips as I imagined his ridiculously handsome face twisting into surprise when he read my reply.
Screw him. He’s a user. My heart can’t handle his games.
I put my key into the lock of my meager apartment and sighed in relief. My cat, Misty, immediately wound herself around my legs, meowing for food. I bent down and picked her up.
I threw my purse on the coffee table, scratched behind her black pointed ears, and popped her on her white nose with my finger. “You miss me today, girl? Huh?”
I carried her over to the kitchen where I pulled out a can of cat food and pried the top off, dumping it into her food bowl. I then filled her water dish to the brim from the tap and set it back down. Misty went to town gobbling down her food while I went into my room to change.
Smiling as I heard my phone chiming with texts, I changed into some loose white shorts and an oversized orange and white T-shirt which read NOT A MORNING PERSON, and went back out to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I spied some leftover Italian food. I quickly dumped it onto a plate and shoved it into the microwave, starting the thing up and waiting for it to do its job.
I sighed at how tired I was. Why the hell was that stupid coffee shop open ‘til nine p.m. anyway? I had to be at my morning class by eight a.m. and that sucked, since I had a test in the morning and hadn’t studied yet.
When the microwave beeped, I pulled the plate from it and plucked a water bottle from the fridge, setting both down at my dining room table. My backpack was on the floor and I pulled out the big History book. Thumbing to the appropriate page, I began reading, trying my hardest to absorb the information for the Civil War test I had tomorrow.
My phone chirping again broke my concentration. With my noodles paused at my lips, I sighed in annoyance and set my fork down. I got up and yanked my phone from my purse, not wanting to read the texts but doing it anyway.
Ellis: I know you’re lying. U don’t have some guy over there.
I laughed at that one. Of course I hadn’t responded in 2.2 seconds so he’d sent another: You’re just trying to make me jealous.
I laughed again.
The next one read: I’m coming over, and if there is some guy there, I’m gonna throat punch him, so he better be gone by the time I get there.
Geez! What was his problem?
Ellis and I had met at my coffee shop. It was set right outside the largest military base in Tampa, and we got all kinds of servicemen and women in there. The day Ellis walked in, my breath had caught in my throat, and I’d found it hard to concentrate on the other customers and their orders.
There were three people in front of him in line. He was wearing jeans and a fitted red USMC T-shirt that hugged his every ridge and muscle. His crystal-blue eyes were studying the menu board, his arms were folded over his hard chest, and his black hair was cut into that short military style. He stood perfectly still and I was having a hard time giving the other customers my full attention like they deserved. My palms were sweating by the time he reached the front of the line.
“Hi,” I said. “What can I get you?”
His eyes drilled into mine. “Just a black coffee, sweetheart.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. I swallowed hard at the sound of his deep, sexy voice. “Do you need room for cream?”
His lips twitched in amusement. “No. No cream in my coffee.”
My pale cheeks burned red at the innuendo and I tried my hardest to plaster on my professional smile. “You got it.” I remember winking at him, and at the time, thinking about how uncharacteristic it was of me to flirt like that.
“That’s a dollar-eight-five,” I had told him.
He handed me two one-dollar bills and when I handed him his fifteen cents in change, our hands briefly touched, and I suddenly got tingly at the connection. He tossed the coins into the tip jar and shoved an additional dollar in while not breaking eye contact with me.
So flustered, I had forgotten to ask him something important as he went to walk away. “Uh, what name?”
“LT,” he’d answered.
I nodded and wrote L.T. on the cup. I also put my name and cell phone number underneath it in yet another uncharacteristically bold move on my part.
LT was the name the barista had called out when his order was ready, and it didn’t go unnoticed by me that a lot of the patrons of the store looked up when they’d called out his name. They had all stared at him in curiosity when he’d picked up his coffee.
Before leaving the store, I watched as he squinted at what was printed on the cup. He grinned in amusement and lifted it in greeting to me before exiting the store, rumbling out of the parking lot on some loud motorcycle.
So hot.
Chapter 2
Ellis
Rage was burning a hole in my stomach. She better not have anyone over at her place. I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill him. Nobody touches Talia. Nobody but me.
My car came to a screeching halt in the parking lot of her apartment complex. I got out, arming the alarm and charging up to her door, knocking with more force than necessary.
It felt like an eternity until she opened the door. In the meantime, I was ready to break it down. My teeth ground together as I waited for the door to open. As soon as I saw her, all my rage melted into a warm puddle in my chest. Her long, red curls were sitting to one side over her delicate shoulder, and she wore a thin orange T-shirt with an obnoxious saying on it. The short-shorts she wore showed off her creamy, long-stem legs.
“Don’t you take a hint?” she said, her lips in a firm, grim line, but her light brown eyes glittering with excitement and amusement.
I pushed the white door open and heard its smack against the plaster of the wall.
“Well, why don’t you come in?” she murmured dryly.
My gaze darted around the apartment, coming to land on the empty plate and fork set next to the large textbook perched on her small dining room table. Her cat, Misty, meowed at me before curling herself around my legs.
I looked down at the cat, knowing that if anyone else was in the apartment, she’d be coiled up in his or her lap, as she was the most emotional, needy cat ever.
“Why you wind me up like that, T?” I asked, my arms folded over my chest as she rested her luscious ass on the edge of the dining room table, her arms matching my posture across her chest.
I used all my willpower to keep my eyes on hers. “Answer me.”
She snorted and waved her hand, pushing off the table and making her way around it to go sit down in front of the textbook.
Annoyed, I crossed the distance between us and grabbed her hand before she could sit, pulling her to me and pressing her soft body against mine. “Not so fast. You haven’t answered my question.”
She scoffed and pushed away, although I noticed a hesitation for a split second. “I don’t owe you shit.”
“Dammit,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair. “You can’t do that to me. Just tell me you want to be alone or something.”
She threw her head back and laughed, sitting down at the table. “Yeah, right. I’ve tried it all, Elli
s. You don’t listen and won’t listen. You’re a stubborn-ass mule.” She shook her head.
I shoved my keys into my jeans pocket, the red and gold USMC lanyard dangling out. “The fuck that’s supposed to mean?”
She sighed and shoved the pencil behind her ear. It was a sexy-as-hell move and I tried to ignore it as I stared into her defiant eyes. “You know what it means. You want me when you want me, but when you don’t, nobody else can have me.”
I cocked my head to the side, confused at her words, because I wanted her all the time. “What are you talking about?”
She narrowed her eyes and bit her cherry red lip. “Just go, Ellis.” She gestured around her small apartment. “As you can see, there’s nobody else here. I’ve got a big test tomorrow, and I don’t need you keeping me up all hours.”
I stared at her incredulously. “You’re not serious.”
Her teeth still had her bottom lip hostage and it made my cock twitch in my pants when she did that. “I’m very serious.”
“Can’t I just stay for a little while?” I threw her my sexy smirk and pleading eyes.
A look I couldn’t quite decipher passed over her features. It bordered between annoyed and turned on. She must have seen my expression and looked down at her book again. She pulled the pencil from behind her ear and put it to her mouth. “Just go, please.”
I stood there for a few long seconds, staring at her, but she wouldn’t look up. Giving up, I left her place, quietly closing her door behind me and getting into my car.