Mad Love (Guns & Ink Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  We ate until we were bursting and started a second movie. At the end of that comedy, she mentioned ice-cream, and I shrugged. I had no room in my stomach left for me, let alone for ice-cream. But she went into Klay’s kitchen anyway, and brought out a gallon of chocolate chip cookie dough ice-cream with two spoons.

  “Anything you want to watch?” she asked, licking chocolate from her spoon.

  I loved movies. I’d had no problem watching the mobster ones with my dad, or the kid ones with Georgy. But if I picked, I’d pick a movie I already watched. That would remind me of all I had seen. And lost. “No. You pick.”

  “Want to watch something scary?” She looked around at the darkened room and started waving her arms while saying “Wooooo.” We hadn’t turned the lights on after the sun set, and the entire house was dark.

  “Real scary.” I curled up on Klay’s blanket on the floor and held my too full stomach. “Go ahead. I don’t mind.” I’d faced a monster far scarier than a bunch of adults in a cabin. I managed to fall asleep half-way through, my thoughts fading to nothing.

  I was bolted awake by a bang. I sat up immediately to find the door open. It was still dark; the TV was off. And light from the outside spilled in, outlining a large male body. He groaned, knocking something off the counter as he struggled. Everything inside of me seized. He’s back. My heart hammered and horror made me nauseous.

  “Shh,” Cat soothed, hugging me to her. “It’s only Klayton’s drunk ass.”

  The lights came on, and there he was. Klayton, eyes heavy-lidded. Body waddling as he stood. Dark blue eyes barely visible. He spotted me and closed his eyes in misery. Or at least that’s what it looked like as I tried to find my breath again.

  “Shit, sorry, Mad. I tried to be quiet.” In response, he walked into his kitchen table, banging his knee. “Damn!” He grabbed at it, dropping his keys on the floor.

  “Ugh,” Cat groaned. “You okay?” I nodded quickly, wanting to hug myself.

  She got up to help him. She grabbed his bicep and tugged him over to the couch, giving him a shove. He landed with his face close to mine. He gave me a large grin, showing me his teeth. His top eye tooth was sharp and crooked, but the rest of his teeth looked straight. The old Madi wanted me to notice his cheekbones as he smiled, or how his eyes gleamed, or how that one lone tooth made the rest better somehow, but Mad told her to shove it up her cardigan.

  “What’s up, Mad?” he asked softly.

  I shook my head at him.

  “Ohh,” he said, reaching like a zombie in front of me. “Chinese.”

  I grabbed the noodles and my chopsticks and handed them off to him. He ate it like the cookie monster, dropping half of it all over himself.

  “You smell like whiskey and perfume.” Cat stood over him, glaring in disgust.

  He stuck his tongue out at her, making his tongue ring shine in the light from the kitchen. I studied it before he put it back into his mouth. Then I brought my knees to my chest and waited for Cat to blow.

  “Who paid tonight? Your slutty friend?”

  He handed me the food. “Next.”

  I gave him the chicken.

  He cookie monstered that too. “I paid. I’m a damn gentleman.” But he laughed darkly, like he wasn’t a gentleman tonight at all.

  “Ugh,” she ground out, punching at his groin.

  He bent his legs up and dropped his smile. He looked scary. Mad. “What’s your problem?”

  “Aren’t you going to apologize to me? You were an asshole.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Next.” He handed me the empty carton.

  I gave him the rest of the rice, predicting a mess.

  I was right.

  He dumped it right into his mouth, getting it everywhere. “Cat, I’m not in the mood.” He looked at me. “Is that ice-cream?”

  I bobbed my head.

  He winked. “Give it to me, Mad.”

  I gave it to him.

  “Relax,” he whispered, looking right into my eyes. “I’m not a monster.” Something dark and uncomfortable entered his gaze. He looked … wounded?

  Had I hurt his feelings? I didn’t understand how, but the look in his eyes immediately made me feel horrible. “I know you’re not. I know.” I checked where Cat was, finding her locking the door and picking up the chair he knocked over. Then I put my hand on his face and touched his stubble covered jaw. A bolt of panic went through me, but I had to show him what I thought of him. “I know you’re not a monster.”

  His eyes closed and he moved into my touch, rubbing his cheek against my palm. “Thank you.”

  I removed my hand and sat back, trying to breathe through my fear and emotions. He opened his eyes, gazing at me with an unguarded look. He wasn’t angry or annoyed. He was feeling something, though.

  “Let’s go to bed,” Cat grumbled. “Let this drunk prick sleep off his night.” She kicked at his boots and then started gathering his blanket.

  “Don’t go to bed yet.”

  He grabbed for me, but I moved so quickly from his hand that the backs of my legs hit the table. He knew better, I thought. Don’t touch me! The unguarded look in his eyes shifted back to anger.

  “On second thought, maybe you should.” He flung his arm over his eyes, sticking his tongue out and playing with the piercing in it. He knocked it against his front teeth. Tink, tink, tink.

  Each time he did, I paused. Step, tink, stop. Step, tink, stop. By the time I made it to his bedroom, I could hear the tink of his tongue ring in my brain.

  Chapter Seven

  Klayton

  My head pounded.

  I sat up in a haze, the light from the sun making my head scream. My stomach turned immediately, and there was food all over me. Empty Chinese takeout containers littered my body and the floor. A set of chopsticks were stabbing into my side. I dug them out and flung them across the room.

  The sound of a smirk grabbed my attention. I found Cat dressed, showered, and wide-awake drinking coffee in my kitchen. I couldn’t remember anything after hooking up with Lynda in my truck. I must’ve driven home like this. But I didn’t get the feeling that I had. Shaking my head, I swung my feet over the edge of the couch.

  A mug of hot coffee appeared in front of me. I grabbed for it, grinding out a “thank you,” before bringing it to my lips.

  Cat sat beside me, putting her feet on my coffee table. She was wearing one of my flannels tied around her waist and a pair of jeans that were so tight I could see her front bump.

  “Why are you wearing Mad’s jeans?”

  She rubbed her thighs. “Sexy, huh?”

  Truth be told, Catherine was gorgeous. Onyx black hair, deep brown eyes, and a body that was endowed and curvy—she was hot, and she knew it. I’d never been into her that way. It had a lot to do with how I met her. That girl was much like Mad, and there was no way I’d cross that line when I knew that was the last thing she needed. She was four years younger than me, which had made her seventeen when we met.

  I’d just opened Guns & Ink; she’d been walking past the shop like a ghost. I was twenty-one. Opening the shop saved my life and kept me out of prison. Those first years were hard. There were many nights I went to sleep hungry and lived without necessities so my shop would work. She was part of the reason I made it. She was my first tattoo artist, and she was still the best I had.

  So, in my mind, I never saved Cat. Cat saved me.

  “You know I love you, right?” I sounded barbaric; I cleared my throat of the gruffness.

  She looked at me in surprise, and then her dark eyes softened. At that moment, we were good, solid, the same things that kept us together. “I love you too, prick.”

  I leaned down and kissed her hair. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Thank you for taking care of Madison.”

  Madison. Something about last night nagged at me. Something about her looking at me guiltily, but I couldn’t remember the rest. I scratched my left cheek; I needed to shave my growing beard
. “Where is she?”

  “Getting dressed. She said you’re training her today.”

  “Shit,” I hissed. “That’s right.” I ran a hand down my face and then chugged my coffee. “Go down and open, please?” I checked the time. It was eight. “Corey and Wayne can help. I’ll pay you hourly overtime since you’re not supposed to start until noon.”

  “Woot!” She pumped her fist and shot to her feet. “Plus ninety-five percent of my jobs today.”

  Damn, that was a lot. I kept the cut sixty/forty for all my artists, but no one knew that Cat usually got seventy-five. Giving her all her profits for the day would be a hit, plus overtime, but I didn’t have a choice. Normally, my job came first. Lately, I’d been slacking. I had a feeling it was because of my houseguest and an even deeper feeling that I didn’t mind as long as Madi didn’t look at me like I was a monster.

  “Fine,” I gave in.

  She gave my arm an excited squeeze and then rose on her tippy toes to give me a kiss on my nose. “We’re in the money!” she sang, kicking her feet like a dancer as she headed downstairs to the shop.

  “Dweeb,” I muttered, heading in the back to shower.

  “Ask Madison who’s a dweeb.” She put her hand over her mouth before closing the door. “She used to have cardigans, dude. Like in all sort of colors.”

  That made me laugh in a way I hadn’t in a long time. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Really.”

  “On another note, I can see your pussy and ass in those jeans. Remind Mad not to take jeans back that you didn’t wear underwear with.”

  She looked down at her front bump, and cupped it, showing me the outline. “Awesome. Pee you later.” The door slammed shut after her.

  I continued down the hall. When I passed my room, I heard a soft voice say, “What’s wrong with cardigans?”

  I grinned to myself as I showered. I put off a shave and tossed on a pair of jeans and a tank top with Guns & Ink on the front, plunging a palm-full of gel into my hair to tame the mess. I slid deodorant on my pits and then sprayed my cologne on my chest.

  The effects of last night didn’t hit me until I came into the living room and my stomach rolled. The clock said it was twenty-five after eight. I had no idea when my first client was. I liked to open and get everything going before I relaxed enough to vibe out. I hadn’t drawn anything, so I’d be starting fresh this week.

  When I went to get another mug of coffee, I stopped, finding Mad flipping three grilled cheese sandwiches in a pan. She had on a pair of dark blue jeans I’d bought yesterday, but one of my t-shirts. Her jeans weren’t as tight as they should be, but they looked far better than the baggy ones she’d been wearing. Her hair was in a pony-tail, and her bruises around her neck and face were almost nonexistent thanks to her makeup. With her hair pulled back like that and her bruises hidden, she looked beautiful. More human, instead of the broken bird she’d been when she came to my shop. Her new black Converse’s squeaked on my kitchen floor.

  “Look at me,” I ordered.

  She looked up in surprise. “What?”

  Thank you. Her gray/blue eyes were rimmed in liner and her lashes were longer and fanned out. Her eyeshadow was black and smoky, making the cool color of her eyes bore into me. She didn’t appear to have on any other kind of makeup. I bit down on my tongue ring in a way that hurt, keeping myself from telling her how good she looked. She wouldn’t like it.

  “You ready to work?” I grabbed for my mug and filled it up. “You have coffee?” Shit, she’s gorgeous. “Are one of those for me?” I spun around and stared at the food in the pan. I blew out a breath and met her confused eyes. “Did you really wear cardigans?”

  She rolled her eyes and turned around, not answering me.

  I drank my black coffee, not wanting to give my mouth time to talk. It was one thing to control my hands and lips. That was easy. But my mouth too? I never controlled my mouth. I zoned out long enough for her to put the sandwiches on a plate for me. One for her. She sat at the table with what looked like water. Beside me, the tap dripped.

  “Mad?”

  “What?” she said quietly.

  “Did you have a bad night?” I guessed.

  She shrugged one shoulder. That meant yes.

  “Is that tap water in your mug?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and nodded timidly. “Yes …”

  Instantly pissed, I marched over and grabbed her mug. I tossed the water out. I opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of orange juice. Then I cracked some ice from the freezer into her glass. I topped it off with orange juice, and then stomped back over to her. I bent to catch her startled gaze. “You drink from the tap like a dog one more time, and I’m going to tell you what I think about you this morning. Trust me,” I stressed, livid. “You don’t want to hear it. You got it?”

  She looked wide-eyed and scared, but this time I didn’t budge. She couldn’t keep treating herself like she was a burden.

  “I got it.” For some reason, she looked at my mouth and then at my right cheek. “Thank y—”

  I leaned forward and kissed her to shut off her thanks, to punish her for breaking the rules, for going against what I warned her. But mainly because her lips were so damn pink and full, I wanted to feel and taste them. The kiss lasted a second, maybe two. I didn’t want to push her, just warn her. I pulled away and glared.

  “The next time you thank me, I’ll have this wrapped around your tongue.” I flicked my piercing against my teeth in warning. “You got it this time?”

  She was too stunned to respond. Her eyes were both terrified and shocked. Her cheeks were the color of the red I’d seen when she drank from the tap like nothing. And her lips looked like they were throbbing from mine. Her eyes flashed to my tongue ring before she pulled in a strangled breath.

  I grabbed my plate and settled onto the sofa without waiting for her reply. She got it. I didn’t understand why I did.

  “Why did you do that?” she exploded. “Don’t touch me!”

  I ignored her shouting. If she lived with me, she’d better get used to me pissing her off.

  “I don’t want you to touch me.” She was in front of me suddenly. “Don’t touch me!” Her arms flailed. Her small fist connected with my right eye in a way that killed. I jumped up and grabbed her wrists, dazed from her blow. I’d taken hits from men four times her size, but their hands were also four times larger, and they weren’t able to get my entire eye under their knuckles.

  “Stop touching me!” she screeched, trying to fight my grip with all her might. “Why do you touch me?” She pulled free and seethed, her chest rising, her rage the strongest it had ever been. She pointed at me. “Men do not touch me, you hear me? Not even you, Klayton. Not even you!”

  Part of me was glad I’d gotten to kiss her once. I’d never get the chance again. I fell on the couch and clutched my eye. I couldn’t believe how badly it hurt. The pain radiated in my jaw and cheek, sending shards of pain throughout my face. I bent my head between my knees, waiting for the pain to subside.

  “Klayton?”

  The pain sent a bolt of nausea into my gut, aggravating the feeling that was already there. I tried to get up, but I was so dizzy I had to clutch the couch’s arm to stop from falling.

  “Klayton? Oh, man, I’m sorry.”

  I headed for the hall bathroom, getting the lid up in time to puke. The pain was disorienting. To make matters worse, Mad was on her knees sobbing in the bathroom, whispering “I’m sorry,” repeatedly, rocking back and forth as I almost passed out from the pain. I couldn’t even open my right eye. When I tried, there were two Madison’s sobbing, and they were both blurry.

  “Stop,” I snapped. I tried to stand. It took me two attempts to get to my feet. “I’m going to the emergency room. Go tell Cat to take over. Don’t,” I growled, when she got up from the bathroom floor, “say anything.”

  “I want to come.”

  Yeah right. I couldn’t even see. Shit. “Go get Cat.”


  She took off down the stairs. A few minutes later, she returned with Cat. “I’ll drive you. Wayne’s here. He can run it.”

  “No. Wayne’s an idiot. I’ll drive myself. Just keep the shop going and cancel my jobs for the day.” I grabbed my keys off the counter. I forced my eyes opened, and then groaned in pain. I couldn’t drive. Not like this.

  “I’ll take him.” Someone took my keys from my hand.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Mad grabbed my arm, but I pulled it free. I was never touching her again. That’s how she wanted it. She hiccupped. “I’m sorry, Klay.”

  I struggled to the door, and then Cat helped me downstairs into my truck.

  “You know where the hospital is?” I heard Cat ask as I leaned my head back with my eyes closed.

  “I think so,” Mad answered.

  “Go. Here’s my cell. Call the shop if you need me.”

  A door closed, and then my truck started. I fought to get my tank top off, and used it to cover my eyes. The light was making it hurt ten times worse. Five times she apologized, but I didn’t say anything. I had never been more pissed off in my life. The rage was so intense, if I opened my mouth, it wouldn’t be nice. I wasn’t so far gone that I forgot what she’d been through. I asked for it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed about what it got me.

  “There’s going to be so many people here,” she whispered shakily.

  “Go home. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  “No,” she insisted. “I want to stay with you.” The truck stopped and then her door opened.

  I fumbled to find the parking brake she forgot to engage as she opened my door. It took me a long time to get to the emergency room, and even longer for them to see me. The entire time Mad shook beside me. I couldn’t see anything at that point, but I knew there were men in here. And not all were good.