Hardcore: Complete Series Box Set (Hardcore #1-3)

by Staci Hart

  A few hours later, I found myself walking into the county jail and up to the desk to sign in with sweating palms. I sat in an uncomfortable chair until they called my name, followed an officer through the locked door and down a hallway, trying not to panic as I passed through barred gates. I could have been on the other side of them, if things had been different. It was an irony not lost on me as I stepped into the meeting room.

  Jade sat on the other side of the plexiglass looking worn, hair drab under the harsh lights, skin dull against the orange jumpsuit she wore. Emotions passed across her face like a shadow. Relief. Anger. Frustration. Desperation. I took a seat in the plastic chair and picked up the phone hanging on the wall of the booth.

  She did the same. “Aren’t you looking chipper.”

  Same Jade. “What do you want?”

  Her façade cracked, eyes sparking with fear. “They’re going to send me to prison unless I can prove that it was all Jace’s idea. I need your help. It was all his idea, all of it. He convinced me to do it. He made me do it, and I need your help to prove it. You were there.”

  I took a breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me, Jade. This is the ‘important development’ that involves my future?” I shook my head at her, numb shock creeping up my spine. “Jace couldn’t coerce anyone to do anything. He’s about as menacing as a fucking bunny rabbit.” I gaped at her for a split second. “I can’t believe you’d sell him out. You actually look like you’ve convinced yourself that it’s true.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice trembled as she pleaded with me through the glass, through the telephone line. “You’re the only one who can help me. I know …” She swallowed, trying to hang on to composure. “I know I don’t deserve it after what I’ve done.”

  My voice was hard and cold as stone. “No, you don’t. I don’t know what makes you think I would ever help you.”

  “We were friends, once.” Jade begged me, her eyes wide and wet. “I used to love you like you were my own sister.”

  I gripped the plastic phone tighter. “Don’t you dare compare me to a sister.”

  “Cory, I’m scared.” The words where a whisper.

  I almost felt sorry for her, looking through the glass. She looked small, young, like she did when we first met. I saw the girl I knew, the girl who had once been my friend. But that girl was gone.

  “You can’t come back from what you’ve done. You only care about yourself, Jade. I really believed somehow that you were better than this, that you could be more, but I was wrong. You steal more than property — you steal souls, and I’m not going to play anymore. You’re on your own.”

  Her eyes were huge, full of shock and rage as they tracked my hand as it hung the receiver back on its cradle.

  “Pick up the phone, Cory.” The words were muffled behind the plexiglass, urgent. “Pick it up, goddammit.”

  I stood.

  Her face wrenched in fury. “You fucking bitch. I’ve done everything for you. Everything,” she screamed and stood, leaning on the glass with the phone still in her hand.

  I turned.

  “Get back here, you cunt. Get back here, or I’ll fucking kill you.” She slammed the phone against the glass. “Let go of me. Let go!” A chair scraped on the other side of the wall, but I wouldn’t look back.

  I walked up to the officer next to the door who nodded at me when I passed. The door closed behind me with a final click.

  I sat in the quiet loft as dusk fell. It had been hours since I’d gotten back from seeing Jade, hours of sitting in the silence, thinking about everything and nothing, grateful everyone was gone. I needed the solitude.

  The loft door groaned as it opened, and Erin walked in with her bike on her shoulder. She flipped on the kitchen light as she closed the door.

  “Why are you sitting in the dark? What happened with Jade?” She set her bike down and made her way over to sit next to me, dropping her backpack and pulling off her gloves on the way.

  “You were right. She sold Jace out. She wanted my help to pin him for everything.”

  Erin sank into the couch and stared off into space. “Wow.”

  “Yup.”

  “Why is it that you always hope that people will change? That they’ll learn, even when they fuck up over and over again?”

  “Because it’s depressing to think that someone could be so fucking stupid. Especially someone who you cared about. But some people just can’t be better. They’re too selfish, too self-centered. Jade wants everything and gives nothing. I might have been tempted to help her, if she had changed. But she’ll never change.”

  Neither one of us moved, just kept staring at nothing, our minds too preoccupied to focus.

  “Do you think she’ll find a way to get out of it?”

  I stared at my feet propped on the coffee table. “Nope. No way will she be able to convince anyone that Jace somehow coerced her into laundering money for five years.”

  “Do you think it’s over?”

  “If she’s selling Jace down the river, then she’s exhausted all of her options. I don’t think she’s going to bring us into it.”

  We sat in silence for a moment. In the moment of endings and beginnings, of contemplation, I was reminded of Van, of the letter. Erin still didn’t know. But I was ready to tell her.

  “I have a confession,” I said.

  “Oh?”

  “I wrote Van a letter a few days ago.”

  She shifted to face me, eyes big. “Did you send it to him?”

  “I didn’t write it for him. I just had to get it out, you know? But you know how Chase came to the coffee shop?”

  Erin nodded.

  “Hearing him talk about Van … I don’t know. I had to get rid of it. I had to give it to him, so I left it as his gallery.”

  “What the fuck, Cory? How did you not tell me this?”

  I shrugged and sank a little deeper into the couch. “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “What did the letter say?”

  “I just told him everything I didn’t say to him that night. I guess deep down I hoped it would change his mind, even though I didn’t expect it to. I just kept hoping. But I haven’t heard from him.”

  “Well, what if he didn’t get it? What if it’s lost?”

  I gave her a look. “I left it on his desk in the gallery. I’m sure he got it, Erin.”

  She frowned. “I thought he’d be less … stern than that. I honestly thought that if he knew you were under duress, he’d forgive you.”

  “That’s not why I told him.”

  “I know, but still. Maybe he’ll come around.”

  I didn’t meet her eyes. “Maybe. But it’s done. I wrote it all down and let it go. It’s over for good.” I sighed. “Look at all of the good that came out of it. We got out from under Jade. Jilly knows the truth. We’re all going straight.”

  “Do you really feel that way?”

  “I really do. I enrolled in NYU today.”

  She popped off the couch, grinning. “Oh my God! Seriously?”

  I smiled at her. “Seriously. If I can survive everything that’s happened, I can do this. I’m dusting my ass off and moving on.”

  Erin bounced on the couch and hugged me, squeezed me around the neck and kissed my cheek. “You are amazing, and I’m so proud of you.”

  I hugged her back and closed my eyes, thankful for her faith in me. It gave me courage.

  She pulled back and looked me over. “A degree. So fucking grown up.”

  “And eventually, a legit job. Probably in a cubicle.”

  She snorted. “At least we’ve always got running. Those highs won’t bring us down.”

  “Never.” And we sat on the couch, reveling in the feeling I thought I’d lost for good.

  Hope.

  THE DAY WAS GRAY and bleak as I trudged up the stairs with frozen fingers and toes, bike on my shoulder, wanting nothing more in the entire world than a hot shower. Three days had drifted by, bringing c
older weather and a warmer heart, filled with action and motion to keep me moving forward. I’d picked up my books for school and threw myself into work, picking up extra shifts to stay busy and stockpile as much cash as I could, no matter how big or small. It felt good. But as I climbed that last flight of stairs that evening, I just felt tired. My toes were numb in my boots as I dug in my pocket for my keys.

  My fingers closed around them, and when I looked up, I stopped dead.

  A big black-and-white photo of a nearby building was stuck to my front door. It was one I recognized, even though the angle of the photo wouldn’t have been enough for most people to guess where it was. It was shot top down, high enough that you’d have to be on the next building over to get the shot.

  Van.

  I willed my feet to move, and they carried me to the door. An ‘x’ was marked in black marker on the photo. I plucked it off the door. He meant for me to go there. I stared at it for a long moment, closed my eyes, opened them, and found the glossy paper still there between my thumb and index finger.

  I bolted into action. Opened my door with my fingers trembling so bad that I barely got the key in the lock. Dropped my bike inside and spun out of the building.

  The cold was forgotten as I bounded out of the building and ran the blocks toward the rooftop where he meant for me to go. I climbed until I hit the spot and found another photo taped to the wall of the roof, marked with another ‘x.’ I smiled as I pulled it off the wall and took off again, pulse thumping. I ran from building to building, spanning the blocks into Midtown with each clue carrying me closer to him. My thoughts exploded like fireworks in my brain with every step I took. He set this up for me. Boom. Does he want me back? Hiss. What if he’s not there? Crack. What if he is there? Bang.

  My heart pounded as I climbed onto Logan Tower, and the rain began to fall as the grey sky let go. I paused with my fingers hooked on the ledge for a long moment, working up the nerve to face whatever was on the other side. I imagined him standing there, waiting for me, and my heart sang. I imagined the rooftop empty and my stomach lurched.

  I closed my eyes and took a breath. And then I opened them to face fate.

  The concrete ledge was rough under my palms as I hauled myself over and looked around, frantically scanning the rooftop.

  When my eyes found him, the sight almost brought me to my knees.

  Van’s back was to me, wide and strong as he sat on the ledge in the falling rain, looking out over the city, as solid as the building we had climbed. I couldn’t move. He was there, right there, waiting for me.

  He turned as if he sensed me behind him, and when his eyes met mine, the world stopped spinning. I felt everything — the soft pat of rain against my cheeks, the cool chill in the air, the pull to him so strong that my hair stood on end as I watched him stand. His eyes never left mine, his face full of relief and longing as he took a step toward me.

  Within a breath, my feet flew, carrying me to him.

  We crashed into each other — a tangle of arms, bodies flush and lips pressed together, telegraphing everything we felt, everything we wanted. We spun around from the force as his hands wound around my waist, up my back, into my hair.

  I pulled away, breathless, and looked into his eyes. “You’re here.”

  He smiled. “You came.”

  The words burned my aching throat, the words I would say a million times if I had to. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” He kissed me again, his lips soft against mine. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  I shook my head. “Please, don’t apologize to me, Van.”

  He set me down and moved my wet hair from my face. “I got the letter. I came out of my darkroom found it there, staring up at me. To know you’d been right there and left …”

  I looked up at him, into his eyes so deep. “I carried it around for days before I came to the gallery. I just couldn’t keep it anymore. I needed to let it go, but I wanted you to know, needed you to know. When I came in and saw my pictures … I don’t know. It was too much. I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t hear those words again.”

  He cupped my cheeks and kissed the corners of my lips, first one, then the other. “I’m sorry, Cory. I’m so sorry. I was still too hurt, too angry. Confused, because even with everything that happened, I still wanted you. I can’t understand it, the way I feel about you. Never in my life—”

  I stopped him with a kiss, brow bent with pain and hurt, breath heavy with emotion. I didn’t open my eyes when I pulled away, and he pressed his forehead to mine.

  “I did this. Not you,” I whispered.

  “It’s over now. I understand. But it’s even more than that, Cory. I don’t care. I don’t care about your past, and I don’t even care that you stole from me. I want you. I want to keep you. Just don’t lie to me again. Please.”

  “I promise,” I whispered.

  “I wish you’d told me from the beginning. I could have helped you.”

  “I didn’t know what Jade was capable of, and I couldn’t sacrifice Jill’s life. I had no choice, Van. I couldn’t take the chance.”

  He squeezed me tighter, pulling me closer until I was tucked under his chin. “I know.”

  My nose burned, and a sob caught in my chest when I tried to take a breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” He held me for a long time in the rain before whispering in my ear, “Come with me.”

  “Anywhere,” I whispered back.

  Van pulled away and grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the ledge. He stepped up on it and looked back at me, smiling wide before he let go of my hand and backflipped onto the roof below with a whoop. I smiled and followed.

  WE RAN THROUGH THE city with the rain beating down on us, across roofs and buildings, down fire escapes and up until we found our way up to The Kyle Building. Every time that I’d been there had been under circumstances I couldn’t control, but this time, everything was right. He knew the truth.

  I followed him through the access door, shoes squeaking on the stairs as we hurried down. We were soaked, and I should have been freezing. But I may as well have been on fire.

  Everything was in high relief as we approached his door — the hum of the air conditioner, the small scratch on his door, the drop of water rolling down his neck as he unlocked the bolt. He opened the door and stepped inside, though I could barely breathe as I stood in the threshold, rooted to the spot. The last time I’d been there had been the hardest of all, the deepest cut. It gaped open again at the reminder. His apartment was dark, the city bright beyond his windows. I heard the clink as he set his keys down, his voice as he said my name.

  Van stepped out of the shadows, his eyes soft. He reached for me.

  I took his hand.

  As I walked into the apartment, he clicked on the lights, though they were dimmed. The can lights over the Rothko lit up, and I stopped again.

  It was gone, and in its place was a black-and-white photograph of me. I stood on the edge of Logan Tower, hair blowing across my face, sun shining in front of me as I looked over the edge. I looked strong and broken, like I could shatter and fly away. My breath hitched.

  I squeezed his hand.

  He stopped and stepped behind me as we stared at the photograph. “I couldn’t keep it here. Not after everything. I took it down, and the wall was so empty. And then I knew. I knew I had to fill it with you.”

  Guilt washed over me. “I did this to you, Van. I ruined your trust, your faith. I robbed you of more than the painting, and I don’t deserve you, not after what I’ve done.”

  He turned me around, looked down at me in the low light of the room. “That’s not your decision to make.”

  “But how can you forgive me? I’ve made you question everything. Why do you want me when all I’ve done is hurt you?”

  “You hurt me because you had no choice, and what you did never changed how I felt about you, not at the heart of it, even when I wished it had. I want you because I do. I can’t explain it, and
I don’t want to. I don’t need to.” He cupped my cheeks, lifted my face. “Now that I know you’re not running because you’re afraid of us, I’m not going to take no for an answer. You can’t leave me because you think you don’t deserve me. I don’t accept that. It’s my choice to make, and I choose you.”

  I stared into his eyes for an eternity as the broken pieces of my heart flew together. He wanted me, and I wanted him. He forgave me, gave me a second chance, a chance I thought I’d lost forever. No more lies. No more secrets. Just a chance to start over. To be together.

  I touched his chest, feeling his hot skin under the surface of his wet, cold shirt. He trembled under my palms as I leaned into him, but he didn’t move otherwise.

  “Tell me you choose me, Cory. Tell me you feel the same.” His words were a whisper, as commanding as they were soft, pleading.

  “I do.”

  It seemed that he barely moved, but he was everywhere, all at once. Kissing me. Touching me. Holding me. We dropped to our knees, lips never parting, arms wound around each other. His hands slipped into my wet hair, keeping me pressed against him. As if I would ever leave.

  My hands roamed up and down his chest, feeling every curve of his abs, his chest, his nipples hard against my fingers. But I wanted his skin. I peeled up the hem of his shirt, and he broke away to pull it over his head as I shrugged out of my jacket. His lips found my neck, sucking gently, and I arched into him with a sigh as he trailed kisses down my shoulder, slipped the strap of my tank over the bend and down my arm. He palmed my breast, squeezing softly as he hummed against my skin. His own neck was at my lips, and I took advantage, wanting to take everything he had to give and give it back to him.

  His skin was hot and wet against my tongue, tasting like rain and salt as I licked and kissed him until it wasn’t enough. I needed more. My body ached for more.

  I shifted, pulled off my tank and shed my bra as he watched, panting, dragging his fingers across my collarbone and jaw. My lips connected with his as soon as I was free. Our bodies pressed together, slick and hot, and he gripped my shoulder blades, fingers twisted into my wet hair that hung at my back, kissing me like I was the only one.