by Ace Gray
But here we were. Mick was walking Horse through his role—security and assistance—before slithering up to Elle. “You, my pretty, are going to make me money.” He bent down and shoved his hand up into Elle’s hair to pull her head within an inch of his lips. “Lots and lots of money.”
She fought against him but he kissed her full-on anyway. The heels of her palms shoved against him and her fingers curled wildly. I was desperate to shove them apart. I even flinched, clipping Horse’s shoulder. He looked over with a snarl before I stopped short and remembered myself.
Mickey’s hands roved up her body, rucking up her sweatshirt and exposing pale, peachy flesh. My hands grew a life of their own, grabbing out. I wasn’t close enough to find her but I did grab Horse. I squeezed on his forearm before I realized. His hand clasped down over mine. For a split second it was tender and loving but then he dug into me. I kicked him in the back of the knee as soon as he latched on.
Elle’s hands went crazy against Mickey’s chest until the moment he pulled away. Mine dug into my palms hard enough that I thought I’d break skin. Horse watched me close enough that I forced myself to stay perfectly still.
More of Elle’s body showed as Mickey lifted her sweatshirt, giving me a full view of her soft skin and nothing but. My snarl was right at the base of my throat. Horse stayed far more still than me except for the fury rippling off him in waves.
Maybe he’d kill Mickey with his bare hands.
But he didn’t. He stayed stock still until Mickey pulled away. Then he moved to catch Elle. I for my part stepped back to my seat and away from them. I had to or I would have reached out for my shaking Ladylove.
Shit.
“Awe my little tasty treat.” Mickey flopped into his throne and stroked his noticeable erection twice. “Let’s put those talents of yours to work.”
3.
Elle
Was it terror or was it simply tension choking my throat as I struggled and gasped for breath outside of Mickey’s house? I couldn’t tell but my body was reacting wildly as I crumbled. Of course Horse caught me.
“Shhhhhh,” he cooed. Shhhh, shhhhh, shhhhh,” he continued as my weak body crumbled beneath his fingers.
“He tried to kill me,” I sobbed into his chest.
“No, Elle, he didn’t.” Horse blew out an equally loud breath that rustled my hair. “I know that Cole and if he wanted you dead, you would be.”
“He had a knife to my throat, Horse,” I sobbed.
“But he didn’t slice it.” He planted a kiss on my forehead as I curled my hands into his chest.
“What did I do?” I whispered the question against his shirt as a warm patch spread beneath my cheeks. “Tell me Horse, tell me!” My voice choked off replaced by fat, messy tears again. “What did I do?”
“Oh Tart…” he said softly as his big hand rubbed the back of my head. “This isn’t on you. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not on you.” His big arms enveloped me and he rocked side to side.
“He told me I was everything. He told me that he loved me and then he disappeared!” I crescendoed until I screamed at him there on the sidewalk and let my fist fly against his chest.
He grunted but otherwise didn’t reply. He didn’t have an answer. No one did. The man I loved, the one I’d given up everything for—including a stain-free soul—had been obliterated. I’d thought it was just his body but in reality, it was his very being.
Horse shepherded me into the car then split away from me to get to the driver’s seat. The second he wasn’t keeping me together, I shattered. My insides split as I twisted and balled up in my seat. My tears wouldn’t stop. They couldn’t. Not even when he slid back into the car and started rubbing on my back.
I opened my eyes just wide enough to catch Cole’s suited figure flying out the door in a rage, his blazer whipping behind him. He snatched his gun from his artfully hidden holster and aimed it. His harsh bellowed FUCK! rang out just before he unloaded two shots into the rusty old metal of a trashcan. He followed it up with a violent kick to the assaulted metal then stormed down the street, black jacket still flying in the wind.
A whole new wave of desperation slammed into me. Tears poured down my cheeks, running my mascara and turning my cheeks as black as my soul. Horse revved the engine and pulled away from the curb. The rumbling engine wasn’t the reason that I shook head to toe.
I couldn’t still myself, even as we pulled up to the curb in front of Horse’s house. The house that Conrad sat on the front stoop of, anxiously tapping his fingers against his cheeks before stretching his face into a horror mask then letting it flop. It contorted his painfully good looks and highlighted his sharp cheekbones, his surfer blonde hair fell into his eyes.
“What happened?” he asked as he rushed to my car door, whipping it open and scooping me up. “Did Martha Stewart get to turn in her murderous pearls or do we need to hide another body.” My muscle bound best friend scooped me up and cradled me to his rainbow-clad chest.
“The only body I’m worried about is hers,” Horse mumbled.
“Did he hurt her?”
They were talking over me as Conrad carried me inside but I couldn’t make myself care. Hell, I couldn’t make myself respond.
“Which he?” Horse couldn’t deny I’d broke.
“I’ll kill him. With my own two hands.” Conrad blew out a deep breath. “Chop his fucking tattooed body up and lay it into concrete.”
My insides churned at the idea of hurting Cole. Even the black-hearted monster was better than a corpse.
“That’s rather savage of you, Conrad.” Horse’s voice went husky. “It’s hot.”
“Yeah?” Conrad set me on the couch then turned toward Horse. He curled his hands into Horse’s shirt and used his grip to press him back to the wall beside the couch. It was muscle on muscle, two Hulks against each other. Conrad’s bright tattoos rippled and flexed against Horse’s tanned skin. “Tell me what else you think’s hot.”
Horse’s hand flew to Conrad’s throat and he squeezed.
“You know damn well what I like.” Horse’s voice was fire now where it was a day old coal with me. The smolder was too much to take. It reminded me of the way things used to be.
Horse was stripping off his shirt after forcing Conrad to his knees. Conrad’s hands were busy at Horse’s fly as he wet his lips. Only one person had ever made me feel that kind of hunger. And if he were here, he’d be the one directing. His mouth would hang open in anticipation. His cock would be popping out, not Horse’s. God only knows whose mouth would be waiting to catch it. But when he found eyes to stare into, they’d be mine.
Glowing green meeting blazing blue.
I shot up from my spot on the couch. Somewhere along the line, I’d started absent-mindedly tracing the letters inked on my forearm. I kept stroking as I bolted toward the stairs and away from the sexual moans of my friends? Lovers? Roommates?
“Tart,” Horse called after me. “Stay and waaahhhh…” His words cut off.
And honestly, he didn’t need to finish. No matter what he said, I couldn’t bring myself to sit there. I mean, they were hot. Conrad’s big hands over top of Horse’s even bigger muscles was mouthwatering. The way they bent each other was equally delicious. Men that big and brawny weren’t usually melting beneath one another. The way they crumbled was as bewitching as the way they started to sweat when they really got going.
But nowhere in the mix would bright pine eyes look up and find mine. No buttery smooth and husky voice would command me. All I had left of him was a hand drawn Ladylove.
And a sketch.
When I remembered that, I took the stairs two at a time, leaving the ragged moans behind for the solitude of my room. And the sketch.
Cole had drawn it when I was gone. I’d stumbled upon it in the shop months ago and should have gotten rid of it but just couldn’t. I mean, what girl didn’t want to see themselves that way? The way someone that was falling in love saw them.
I’d shoved it in my pocket a
nd forgotten about it. Now I had it shoved in between my mattress and wouldn’t forget about it. I plopped down on my bed and pulled it out. With a deep breath, I unfolded the well-worn paper.
The thin graphite lines danced on the page. Cole’s talent was obvious but it was also his adoration. I think that was the real reason I’d kept it. It proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had loved me once if nothing else.
I hugged the sketch of myself, captured when I first put my feelings on display and rolled back. The tears started without me really thinking about it. They mixed in with the boisterous moans from downstairs. I cried myself to sleep before the boys splattered each other’s perfect dips and valleys with cum.
“Hey Tart.” Horse’s voice was rich and warm, satiated, as he flopped onto my bed. Where he bounced, he crunched on the paper I’d apparently slept with. “What’s this?” He reached and even though I scrambled over his mountainous body, I couldn’t stop him.
“Elle…” he scolded when he unfolded it. “Why do you do this to yourself?”
“Because I don’t have a Conrad.” I yanked it from his hand and folded it back up. The image was so much harder to look at in the light of day.
“You do have a Conrad.” My best friend sauntered and flopped down on the opposite side of me, effectively making a man meat sandwich. “He’s just more interested in what kind of lacy underpants you’re shopping for than muff diving into them.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead.
“She also has a job to get to, otherwise we’d get into all the reasons that calling a perfect pussy a muff is wrong. As is the idea of diving into it.”
“What do you mean?” I pushed up between them and looked over at Horse.
“You heard Mickey yesterday. You’re gonna make him money. You’re gonna use the shop to do it.” Horse’s fingers moved to trace the word on my forearm. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with him.”
“I hate that I’m stuck with him, too.” After all, Cole threatened to smash anything left of my insides to smithereens with his cold heart. “That’s not the real issue though. I need tools. And lots of them. I owned them but they were in my place when it was burnt down. Buying replacements all at once could look suspicious.”
“I have something I’m supposed to do today, but I’ll figure it out, I’ll get there, okay?” His hand moved from my arm to rub on my shoulder and dance in the ends of my hair.
“Can I go on record and say this is a bad idea? We should go out and enjoy Chicago today.” Conrad reached up and pulled Horse’s hand from me, lacing his fingers instead.
“The last time we went out all hell broke loose.” I shuffled off the bed and over to the closet.
“Siobhan turned out all right in the end.” Horse tried to reassure me.
“I prefer to call her concrete myself. I wave when I drive by.” Conrad giggled from his spot on the sheets.
“Get out.” They were making my head hurt. Well, making the thump that came at the idea of being back in the tattoo shop with Cole amplify. “I have to get ready.”
“I’ll help you pick something out,” Conrad offered. “Something positively man-eater of you.”
“Go away, Conrad.” I sighed.
“I’ll help you pick out a burka,” Horse countered.
“Both of you, out.” I stomped my foot and pointed toward the door.
“ElleBelle,” Conrad whined.
I let any hint of strength I had melt away and the real hollowness of my insides show. Both of them wordlessly pushed up from my bed and shuffled out of the room. It wasn’t lost on me that they found each other’s hands and held on tight as they left.
They were enough to destroy me.
Them and Cole…
Fucking Cole. Fucking sick sadistic Cole. Fucking sick sadistic, monstrous, love of my life Cole.
I was supposed to be getting ready but I found a ballpoint pen and started tracing the lines of my faux-tattoo. By the time Horse bellowed up the stairs I’d done little more than make the lines bleed and go blurry on my skin. I whipped on jeans and the nearest t-shirt, a wholly Notorious B.I.G. see-through thing, then slipped into cheap flip-flops and snapped down the stairs.
Horse’s eyes lit up and Conrad let out a low whistle. “Well now that’s perfect,” he said with a smirk.
“Put on a bra, Tart.” Horse didn’t find the same humor.
“I just want to go and get this over with.”
“I can think of someone who’s gonna wanna get over this.” Conrad quirked his eyebrow.
“Get in the car…” Horse’s eyes went dark and he jerked his chin toward the front door. “You writing today?” He stayed back and his hands wandered across Conrad as he asked.
“Yeah. I’ve gotta go into the paper.” He sagged into Horse and I closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath as I trudged out the front door. His faint, “You come home safe, you hear me?” had me slamming the car door as I flopped into the front seat.
“You trying to kill him?” Horse asked when he finally slid into the front seat next to me.
His big hand came up and palmed my breast and kneaded. He watched transfixed as my nipple poked out and tented the whiskered fabric of my tee.
“No.” I couldn’t hide the tremble from my voice. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“That’s why you didn’t cover this?” His finger traced down the exposed ink scrawled on my forearm.
I pushed his hand out of the way and covered up my mark. I twisted as best I could in the seat and stared out of the window.
“I thought you missed him, too?” I mumbled, watching the city speed by.
“Yeah…” He trailed off and the doubt in his voice had me turning toward him. “But yesterday he did something that makes me think…” My eyes went wide when the confusion plastered itself across Horse’s face. His eyes met mine and I think he saw what I’d barely let myself feel—hope. “Never mind.”
“No. Tell me.” I shoved my face up in his. I held his gaze as starkly as I could while we drove. His eyes darted between me and the road in front of him. Finally, he blew out a deep breath and closed his eyes for the briefest second.
“His asshole mask dropped for just a second. I think anyway.” His whole face crinkled up. “What if this is an act?” he snarled with barely contained fury but something long dormant in me thudded. “What if he’s been putting us through this for fucking nothing?” Horse pounded on the steering wheel.
Fury rippled off Horse at the idea but I couldn’t get upset. At all. A mask? I mean I’d toyed with the idea when Cole first went dark but telling myself he was going to come around just made my heart teeter on a ledge. Well, that was a lie. I was always on the brink, now hope was the thing threatening to shove me off the cliff.
It was also what shoved me straight out of the car the second we pulled up to the curb in front of the tattoo shop. Horse bellowed after me a few times but I barreled at the door, desperate to see if I could find cracks in Cole’s mask.
“Tart!” he called sharply. “Fucktart, stop right now!” When he used my full nickname, I pulled up short. I shot him a look and his face pinched further. “Don’t let him in. Not even for a moment. He’ll ruin you.”
My heart thudded roughly and I couldn’t tell if it was foreshadowing or just an emotional coincidence. I decided on the latter because when I really thought about it, hadn’t I already hit rock bottom?
“In case you haven’t noticed, Horse. I’m already ruined,” I shot back then turned on my heel and shoved on the shop door.
The small bell tinkled over the door and the sound snapped me home. I scanned the room and almost immediately realized that it wasn’t the warm blanket it had been in the past. Instead it was stark and clinical and my heart fell. The well-worn furniture had been repainted and looked shiny and new. The sketches had disappeared, replaced by framed classic tattoo art—it wasn’t even his.
And all the little horse figurines were gone.
My heart shuddered and I started inadvertently
tracing on my forearm. Whether I meant to or not, I’d started hoping on the sidewalk outside. And this shop was proof that it had been in vain. Every trace of life, every trace of us—of Horse and me—was gone.
The sound of the sink in the back brought me back to the room and the reality of seeing the monster hit me hard. Any moment the black villain would round the corner and bring with him the tidal wave of realization that nothing had changed. That nothing would.
All my breath left me and I sagged against the door. The wood creaked and flexed behind my back and for a moment, I prayed it would splinter and stab me, ending it once and for all. Too bad there was nothing left to stab, just flesh and emptiness.
He was adjusting the roll of his tailored dress shirt as he rounded the corner. His perfect forearms flexed and rippled. The mixture of ink with his suit was enough to obliterate my sex each and every time. His shiny asshole shoes clicked along the tiled floor for a moment but then he stopped cold.
Cole looked me up and down with his bewitching green gaze and I swore something flashed in his face before he simply grunted in acknowledgment and turned toward his desk. He’d rearranged that too, now as starkly simple as the rest of the room. He looked like a businessman sitting at the office, not the artist straddling two different worlds.
I couldn’t move. He’d flattened me. Not only to the door but inside. Again.
“What’s that on your arm?” Cole’s gaze bored into my forearm; I hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t focused on the Mac in front of him.
“Nothing,” I murmured back as I stood and shoved it behind my back. “Nothing at all.”
He closed his eyes and sucked in a giant breath. He held it for a minute then blew it out, all without opening his eyes to look at me again. When his eyes did open, they looked past me at the sailor heart on the wall.
“When I’m tattooing, you sit here…” he nodded toward his computer. “Pretend you’re a secretary or some shit.” He blew out another breath and then raised his hand up to rub on his temples, once again shielding his view of me. “When it’s just us, you can use the back desk.”