Tangled Love (Chaotic Rein Book 1)

by Haley Jenner

  I shake my head, pulling myself back to the moment, forcing myself to remember why I’m here.

  I blink slowly, purposefully pushing my tongue out to wet my lips. Her focus drops to my lips, as silently instructed and I let her gaze run along my mouth, my teeth chewing my bottom lip.

  Clearing my throat, I massage the back of my neck heavily, feigning nerves I don’t feel.

  “Walk past this place every day, ain’t ever seen you before.”

  She pulls her eyes from my lips, reluctantly, and I mentally fist bump myself.

  Success.

  “I’ve never seen you either, handsome. Worked here for a few years too.” A quiet flirtation dances in her tone as her eyes skirt around the shop before settling back on me.

  “Kickin’ myself I haven’t laid eyes on you sooner.”

  She ducks her head, working to hide the shy smile on her pretty face. When she lifts it again, her pleased embarrassment shows in the shaded blush lightening her creamy complexion. She lets her eyes track over my body; my bulking biceps visible under my short-sleeved shirt, along the ink decorating my arms down to my hands, now tucked deep into the pockets of my jeans. Her eyes drop to my heavy boots, then back up to my face, absorbed interest peaking as she drags her gaze along the bruise of my eye socket, the generous graze along the line of my jaw.

  “That so?” She finally speaks, her palms leaning onto the counter as she leans toward me.

  I force my fake as fuck grin onto my face and she buys it, returning the gesture. I don’t answer her question. It’s unnecessary. My smile does that for me.

  “So, you come in here to tell me that or you buying somethin’?”

  I glance around the small store, across the limited displays of clothing and bark out a laugh. “I ain’t buyin’ anything.”

  She bites her bottom lip, hiding the pleased smile that crosses her face and I rock back on my heels as I watch her.

  “You got a man?”

  She startles at my question, laughing awkwardly. “Umm…. Not sure that’s a question you dive right into, handsome. You don’t even know my name.”

  I lift my shoulders in dismissal. “Just need to know if I need to kill anyone before I ask your name.”

  She laughs then, her face turning to the side as the sing-song sound echoes into the sparse space. “You don’t need to kill anyone.”

  I wink at her and she shakes her head, amused by my strange behavior.

  I wait another moment, watching her silently. Content that I’ve planted myself firmly into her intrigue, I turn on my heel, walking on heavy feet to the door of the shop.

  “That’s it?”

  I pause, hand outstretched as I reach to push on the glass. Looking over my shoulder, I wink. “For now.”

  She coughs out a laugh, shaking her head in disappointment. “You’re not even gonna ask me my name?”

  Hand on the glass, I push, a small bell chiming overhead. “Nah, ain’t no fun in that, Sugar.”

  “No fun in what?”

  “Knowin’ too much too soon,” I throw out, walking my feet through the door and letting it close behind me. Without looking back, I walk toward home with a confidence that might be presumptuous. But fuck, this is gonna be easy, far simpler than I thought, and a whole lot more fun too.

  Throwing my keys onto the entry table, I scratch a hand down my face.

  “We close to locking this down?”

  I turn at Rocco’s rough statement, irritated at the demand in the sound.

  He’s shirtless, body rippling with just-used muscle, his skin slick with a thick sheen of sweat. He seems calm, well Rocco type calm and I surmise he’s just been boxing, working to relieve the tension that coils tightly in his body. Anger. Everything he does is driven by cold hard fury. Revenge. I get it. I do. I understand his want for blood. For vengeance. It doesn’t overtake my body and mind in the way it does him. But I still feel it running through my veins. Shit, our father made sure of that.

  I nod, answering his question and his head moves up and down in appreciation, the hard lines around his mouth giving slightly. “Good.”

  “Listen,” I start, and he watches me expectantly, one thick eyebrow raised. “I was thinking if you’re cool with it, I might play with her a little while. Can’t hurt to have a bit of fun first,” I shrug.

  He doesn’t say anything, not straight away, but after a moment’s pause, a sick, twisted smile forms along his face.

  “There’s hope for you after all. She’s hot,” he states, both eyebrows rising this time in playful appreciation.

  I cough out a laugh. “Fuck yeah, she’s hot. Thought, why not? May as well taste her brand of sweet before she goes to ground.”

  He nods as I speak, eyes focused elsewhere in contemplative thought. “This’ll change our plan. People see you around, we won’t be able to deny the connection.” He pauses, cracking his knuckles to focus his mind. “Probably can’t be as brutal or as obvious as we initially wanted.”

  I cringe internally at whatever brutality Rocco was considering but work to keep my face neutral, not wanting him to doubt my commitment, my thirst for revenge.

  “I’ll think about it, but I like this idea better. Like the fact that you’ll use her up.” His face lightens with excitement, his eyes dancing with his psychotic thoughts. “When are you seeing her again?”

  Using my thumbs, I push down on my index fingers to hear the crack of my knuckles. “I don’t know,” I throw out. “I’ll show up again tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Not sure yet.”

  He growls, nostrils flaring as he steps closer. Our height is on par, but he’s bigger than me. Easy. Result of countless hours in the gym or the ring.

  “Ain’t a game, Park. You can have your fun. But not for long. Don’t drag this shit out, we’ve waited long enough.”

  I push his chest, not intimidated by his festering anger. “You look like Codi Rein, you get every fucker from here to Cali vying for your attention. I’m gonna play a different game.”

  He backs off, his eyes skeptical as he waits for me to continue.

  “Do I look like the type of guy that walks into some rich bitch shop asking for a date?”

  A smile quirks at his lips as he takes in my bruised face and I shake my head in amusement. “You need to fuckin’ chill, Roc. I told you, I’m in on this. Just thought, playin’ with her for a bit, we’d get a little somethin’ extra. Well I’d get the extra.” I smile and he shakes his head on an amused sigh. “Trust me when I tell you, Codi Rein, right now, I’m all she’s thinkin’ about.”

  He steps back into my space, his large inked hand grabbing my jaw roughly. “Ah, that pretty face has to be good for somethin’, huh?”

  I push him back again. “You’re just jealous I pull more pussy than you.”

  His neck tips back, bringing the flames inked into the side of his neck into full view as he laughs. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, dollface.”

  I flip him off, moving toward my room, my Xbox calling. Plans to lose myself in hours of mindless blood and violence a temptation too good to pass up.

  “Yo, Parker.” I stop when I hear Rocco’s voice, glancing over my shoulders to meet his eyes. “You got good inside you, kid. Don’t let that fuck with your mind. We have a plan, don’t let this bitch’s dimples play on your conscience.”

  He doesn’t wait for my response, disappearing down the hall of our loft without another look in my direction.

  “Bitch doesn’t have fuckin’ dimples,” I mumble to myself, irritated in his lack of belief in my ability to actually pull this off.

  I get it. He’s the psycho. The brother fueled with rage after living in the hell our dad rained upon us. Him definitely worse than me. Doesn’t mean I’m weak. And it sure as shit doesn’t mean I don’t have the guts to pull this off.

  Dominic Rein will feel pain like he can’t imagine. He will know what it feels like to have his heart ripped from his chest. He’ll know what it’s like to try and fight to survive in the c
old, hard depths of hell.

  Only he’ll lose.

  Two

  Codi

  I curse myself again for looking at the glass, trying to catch a glimpse of the handsome stranger that’s been plaguing my thoughts. He shouldn’t be. I know that. I’m not stupid. I know he’s dangerous. If the blackness dancing in his gray, wolf-like eyes wasn’t a giveaway, the tattoos and bruising most definitely should’ve been. He was so, ugh, I don’t know, magnificent, in his menace. Don’t get me wrong, he was pretty. So very pretty. Dark lashes surrounding his predatory eyes, dirty blonde hair styled in a way that makes it obvious he takes pride in his appearance. Shaved short along the sides, longer on top, his fringe tickling his forehead. His body was big; tall, broad, but lean enough to downplay his bulk. Almost every visible inch of skin was decorated with colorful ink; down his arms, on his hands, up his neck. I wanted a closer look. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Don’t get me wrong, associates of my father’s have tattoos, but not like this. Not so artfully placed on their bodies.

  My eyes hit the glass again and I growl in frustration at myself. This is ridiculous. Why my thoughts seem completely derailed by this man, I have no clue. I’m smarter than this, Jesus, he didn’t even ask my name. He didn’t ask or say much of anything, really. He just kinda stood there, staring. It wasn’t creepy though. More confusing, maybe a little intriguing.

  “Excuse me?” I turn my head, plastering on a smile to the customer standing in front of me. “Would you have this in a smaller size?”

  I glance at the black mini-dress held within her hands and rid my mind of the dangerous stranger. Pushing away from the counter, I walk toward her, hands reaching for the dress. “Let me check.”

  She smiles her thanks, moving back toward the fitting rooms. Having handed her the next size down, the door chimes in its sing-song declaration that someone has entered the store and I move in that direction to greet my customer.

  My feet stumble when I see him, an awkward stagger before I catch myself, smoothing my skirt to hide my embarrassment. His arms are crossed over his wide chest, eyes scanning the immediate space in search of me. He smirks at my misstep, not amused, more pleased at the reaction he seemed to have caused.

  “Hello, Bob.”

  A fleeting glance of shock cloaks his features before he schools it, letting his indifference once again stare out. “Bob?”

  I shrug. “You wouldn’t give me your name, so I picked one for myself.”

  He tries hard to camouflage the smile once again twitching at his mouth. “And Bob was the best you came up with?”

  Again, I shrug. “Humanized you a little.”

  He turns his face to laugh, a delicate rose tattooed on the column of his neck taunting me with the threat in the sound. “Sugar, trust me, best you consider me for the monster I am.”

  I’m taken aback by his words. At his belief in the words he just spoke.

  “I don’t see a monster when I look at you. I see danger, sure. But no monster.”

  “You ain’t lookin’ hard enough then.”

  I blink at him slowly, trying to read his intention. He’s here. A purposeful act to see me again, but he’s what, warning me off?

  “Agree to disagree,” I dismiss him, moving to a display of clothes to readjust unnecessarily.

  “Parker.”

  His voice is coated with a rough gravel, and I gift myself a moment to turn back and look at him properly. His bruising has subsided in the few days since I first saw him, his eye socket and jaw now tarnished with a faint yellow hue.

  “Sorry?” I ask.

  “My name. It’s Parker.”

  “Hmmm,” I nod thoughtfully. “Suits you better than Bob.”

  We share a smile and I giggle internally, happy that I brought a genuine grin to his face. Sure, he’s smiled a few times, but there always seems to be a falseness behind it. An act. A portrayal of someone he’s trying to be.

  “Lookin’ to buy somethin’ this time,” he states and I raise an eyebrow in shock. “For a girl,” he continues and my happiness dissipates, disappointment filtering inside me at reading his signals so wrong.

  I school my features, plastering on the smile I’ve been trained to offer and his eyes settle on my face, his brow furrowing as he focuses on my mouth. “Don’t do that.”

  My smile falters. “Sorry?”

  “Your smile. That one was fake. Don’t smile at me like that. I only want your real ones.”

  I cough out my embarrassment, uncertain at his strange statement. He looks much the same. Pushed off-guard by his own demand.

  His head twists and turns, his eyes scanning over the space of my workplace. “You wear shit from here?”

  I don’t answer. Not purposefully. Confusion seems to have consumed my mind and I struggle with piecing words together.

  His intense stare falls back onto me after moments of silence and an eyebrow rises in question.

  Readjusting my blouse, I clear my throat. “Sorry, what?”

  “You do that a lot. Apologize unnecessarily. You should stop that. I asked if you shop here yourself?”

  I stutter. “Ummm… No. I, ah, sometimes.” I nod blankly. “They have cute dresses every once in a while, but mostly I feel more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt.”

  He assesses my outfit; my tight-fitting pencil skirt and white blouse.

  “Dress code,” I fill in unnecessarily with a shrug.

  The girl I’d been helping moments before Parker’s untimely arrival steps into the space and freezes awkwardly.

  “Better?” I direct my full attention to her, turning my back on Parker.

  She glances to Parker, then back to me. “Much. I’ll take it.”

  I gesture at the counter and she moves toward it without looking at us again.

  “Have a look around for your girlfriend, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he speaks to my back. My feet falter again and I miss a step, recovering it quickly. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Serving the customer, I work my hardest to ignore the penetrating stare of the dangerous man suffocating my workspace. My cheeks feel flushed and my hands shake.

  Waiting for the young girl to leave the store, I push out a breath, turning back to Parker. I begin to smile but stop, his words dancing in the forefront of my mind.

  Don’t smile at me like that. I only want your real ones.

  “Show me something you would wear,” he steps into my path, a little closer than comfortable as I move out from behind the counter.

  I’m more than a little confused as to what’s happening right now. First time I met him, he spoke in riddles, making me read into signals that clearly weren’t there if he’s in here buying clothes for a girl that’s not yet his girlfriend.

  He considers me for a drawn-out moment, stepping farther into my space. “You haven’t told me your name.”

  My forehead creases in confusion. “You didn’t ask for it. You basically told me you didn’t want to know it.”

  He tsks me, a grin forming on his pretty face. “Never said I didn’t want it, Sugar. Said it would be more fun this way. It worked, you’ve been thinkin’ about me?”

  I lift my chin in defiance, refusing to answer his question.

  “Take that as a yes,” he leans in on a whisper, his warm breath tickling the skin on my neck.

  I swallow loudly, heat rising along my cheeks. I inch backward, trying to force space between us, but he moves in time with me, making certain he remains as close as possible.

  “You didn’t give me your name.”

  “We have a new selection of dresses that are quite cute. I would wear them. Follow me.” I ignore his mixed cues, walking on hurried feet toward the selection of dresses that only arrived this week.

  He follows me without pause, but his eyes remain fixed on me, not the dresses I’m gesturing toward.

  “She’s your size. Pick whatever one would be your favorite.”


  I swallow heavily. “Skin tone?”

  “Like yours.”

  I roll my eyes, turning completely toward the dresses. Without second guessing myself, I pull out the red backless dress from the rack, handing it to him.

  “It’s modest in its sexiness. It has long sleeves and sits an inch or two above the knee, but it has no back. It’s sexy as all hell.”

  Once again his eyes don’t touch the material clutched in my hand, eyes remaining fixated on me. Finally, he nods, turning his back without another word and stalks to the counter.

  I pause for a breath, closing my eyes as I pull air in through my nose. Straightening my shoulders, I follow him.

  I complete his transaction silently, but he doesn’t push me for further conversation, his stare lingering on my movements. He passes his credit card over, balancing it between his index and middle finger.

  “Parker Shay,” I read from the card, finalizing the sale and I could be certain his whole body locks solid as his name rolls off my tongue. He watches me expectantly, almost readying himself for something ugly.

  I raise an eyebrow, handing his card back the same way he presented it and he looks to my hand as I will it not to shake. Finally, he retrieves it, tucking it back into his wallet before taking the bag I hold out to him.

  “What shoes would you wear with it?”

  Is this guy freakin’ serious?

  He comes in here, throws me mixed signals, now wants me to dress the girl he’s wooing.

  I sigh. Loudly. “Depends. If I don’t want to be too flashy, I’d probably wear a nude pump or point. If I was goin’ to a club, I’d probably match the shoes. Red sequin pumps. High ones.”

  He nods thoughtfully, his bottom lip tipped out in contemplation. “Thanks, Sugar.”

  “Hope your friend, who isn’t your girlfriend, likes the dress.”

  My words sound more acidic then I mean them to, and I want to kick myself at that annoying smirk twitching at the side of his mouth.