Finding Serenity (The Unexpected Love Series Book 2)

by Black, T. E.

  “Come on, sweetheart. It’s time to go. I’ll throw ya some cash for a cab. I gotta head to work soon.”

  Her eyes open completely, and I watch them turn black with hatred. She huffs, sitting up and looking for her clothes on the bedroom floor.

  “You know, I heard you did this shit with women, but I highly doubted you’d have the balls.”

  I stare at her in total confusion before I ask her what in the hell she means.

  I follow her movements as she slips on her shirt and stuffs her bra in her bag.

  “I’m not a whore, and I won’t take your money, asshole. Plus, I fucking drove here! Do you not remember? If you don’t, then it probably has something to do with all the coke you snorted last night. You’re a dick. Thanks for a good time.”

  I smile to myself while the door closes behind the chick who apparently was too good for my money. Suit yourself. More green for the others.

  Getting my ass out of bed, I look at the clock and notice that for once in my life I’ll be on time to the shop. Gunner will probably take me to the hospital, and Shay will be pissy as ever that she’s stuck with me all day. It’s a win-win situation all around.

  After showering and getting dressed, I hop in the truck and set out for the shop. I see the lobby lights lit, letting me know either Gunner or Shay are already here. Dammit. I was hoping to be earlier so I could shock the shit out of them.

  I look down at my phone and see it’s twenty minutes to opening. I use my key to unlock the glass door, and I’m hit with the sounds of HIM’s “Wicked Game.”

  “Gunner! Are ya fucking with my CDs again!?” I shout, closing the door.

  Gunner loves to mess with them all the damn time. I find them all around the shop, instead of being in their cases where they belong. I’m not that much into iPods. I never figured the shit out, so I stick with what I know. What I do know is this is definitely one of my damn CDs.

  I look around the shop, still not seeing Gunner. His lazy ass is probably taking a nap in the back room since it’s his unofficial napping spot. I see the door is closed, and I just know the fucker is sleeping like a baby behind it. Instead of knocking, I shove the door open, stepping inside.

  My mouth drops to the fucking floor as I take in the sight of Shay in her bra and panties, rifling through her bag for clothes. Colorful ink splays across her chest, arms and neck while my mouth waters from afar.

  “Holy fuck,” I whisper, instantly regretting it.

  Shay’s head snaps around toward me, her eyes widening before she screams.

  “Goddammit, Trent! What the fuck are you doing? Can’t a woman get changed in peace and fucking quiet?”

  She throws on her Etched T-shirt, still in a thong while she comes at me full force, pushing her hands hard against my chest. I stumble backward out the door and watch her slam it in my face. The click of the lock makes my stomach drop. I regain my balance and brace myself on the doorframe to regulate my breathing.

  I forgot how amazing Shay’s body looks when it’s stripped of clothes. It’s out of control. She’s a solid dime piece. She’s out of my fucking league.

  I close my eyes, leaning my forehead against the door as I listen to her shuffle inside. I replay the moment in my mind. Shay has every distinct feature that makes my mouth water. She’s taller than the average woman is, being about five-foot-ten, which complements my six-foot-two build. She has a rack that should be in Playboy and curves made for holding while I fuck her into oblivion. The ink that covers every inch of her body is almost mouthwatering, and let’s not forget her gorgeous, biteable ass. There’s a very short list of things I wouldn’t do to sink my teeth into it. She’s insatiable. How she looks so good after having a kid six years ago is a fucking mystery. Some women let themselves go after having a kid but not Shay. She’s curvy in all the right spots.

  “Why the hell are ya naked in there?” I groan through the door.

  She flings it open, causing me to stumble forward, but I catch myself on the doorframe. She looks at me with doe eyes before pushing past me as she always does.

  “I lost my shirt again. That’s why I was naked in there. I had to get Abby to school this morning, so I didn’t have time to change into your dress code before I came here.”

  I don’t dare say a thing about her losing the shirt again. I usually bust her ass about it, telling her she has to pay for them, but I never actually take the twenty bucks out of her check. I’m not sure why, but something in me just can’t do it. She has a kid, for fuck’s sake.

  “Where’s Gunner?” I change the subject.

  She pushes her fake glasses up on her nose, scrunching it in annoyance.

  “He’s not here, Trent. You know this. He had to take off today to see his dad at the hospital.”

  Fuck.

  I did forget. Since Gunner isn’t here, Shay is the one who has been rifling through my shit this morning.

  “Ya know it’s not nice to just rummage through someone’s shit without asking them, right?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t touch your shit.” I earn a snarl.

  Just as I’m about to call her out for lying, the song switches to Nine Inch Nails – “Closer,” and I know this isn’t my CD. Interesting.

  “You like this music?”

  She looks away, clicking away on the computer.

  “Mmmhmm,” she sounds out.

  I watch her, and in my mind, I imagine fucking her on top of the desk while this song plays in the background. The way her moans would go straight to my dick. The way she’d scream out my name when I came inside her. Fuck. Now, I’m hard.

  “Ya got this shit on a CD or something?”

  She looks up at me, stifling a laugh.

  “No. It’s on my iPod. You’re the only person who still listens to CDs.”

  I walk over to the desk, leaning on top of the counter.

  “I don’t understand how to use those things.”

  She removes her glasses, letting me get a clear view of those incredible eyes. My blood pumps rapidly being this close to her. Especially since we're civil. The past few months, we’ve been nothing but ruthless to one another. It feels good to have a normal conversation.

  “It’s pretty much the same thing as your iPhone, Trent. Just minus a few buttons. Come here and I’ll show you on mine.”

  I move around the counter, settling in the seat next to her. She pulls her iPod out of the charging dock but leaves the auxiliary cable plugged in so her music still plays throughout the shop.

  She brings the iPod closer, holding it in her tattooed hands so I can watch her scroll through the music. Her smell invades my senses, making me think of us naked together and playing Twister in my bed.

  After ten minutes, I get the concept of the iPod. Crazy, right? Taking it out of her hands, I check her music collection. By the looks of her library, not only is she smoking hot, but she has incredible taste in music as well.

  “You realize ya have my entire CD collection all stuffed into this tiny ass little thing. You even have some shit I’ve never heard,” I say puzzled.

  I stop on a song called “If You Want A Bad Boy” by some dude named Brantley Gilbert and tap the play button. The sound confuses me at first because I’m thinking it’s country music, but it switches to a type of rock I fucking like.

  “Who’s this?”

  “His name is Brantley Gilbert. He’s sort of country music and sort of rock music. I like him.” She shrugs as she mouths the words.

  “This thing is fucking awesome! I need one! Having my music in my pocket would be a helluva lot easier than digging through my CDs.”

  She smiles, her megawatt smile almost knocking me off my ass.

  “I thought you hated technology, boss man,” she teases.

  I crack a smile, shaking my head at her.

  “Well, if I knew technology could give me music at my fingertips, hell, I would’ve gotten on the train a long fucking time ago.”

  “I’ll or
der one for you and get it billed to the shop.”

  The smile stays on my lips while checking the time. It's opening time. Fuck.

  I get up from my seat, wishing I had more time just to bullshit with her. Unfortunately, I have an appointment in ten minutes, so it’s go time.

  “Why don’t ya look into the filing program shit you were talking about getting? Just bill it to the shop, too.”

  I look over my shoulder, knowing how fucking shocked she must look right now. I’ve acted as if I haven’t heard a damn thing she said about it for the past three months, but I heard every word. I thought it sounded like a good idea months ago, but I was just so hell-bent on giving her a hard time that I kept dismissing her whenever she brought it up.

  “O-okay,” she stutters out, her face showing me I totally just mind fucked her into next Tuesday.

  “ALL RIGHT, SWEETHEART. Lie back on the table and I'll get this shit on ya side," I drawl out to the cute little blonde occupying my tattoo station.

  She lies back, only in her bra, and I study her tight little stomach, which undoubtedly gets a workout seven days a week. She's a cute girl, but hell, she's a bit too young. Her license informed me she just turned eighteen a few weeks ago, and that, my friend, is too young even for someone like me.

  I put the stencil on her and get to work. I’m tattooing some kind of swirly butterfly thing on her side with the quote, "Love conquers all.” Ha. She'll learn soon enough her tattoo is a fucking lie, but who the fuck am I to tell her the ugly truth now? She has her whole life ahead of her. I won’t be the schmuck to ruin it.

  I've been through the fucking wringer when it comes to women. In high school, I loved a girl with every ounce I had, Jenn, and damn, did she break my heart to pieces. I was young and in what I thought was love. Little did I know, young love hurts the worst when it ends. Now, I'm not saying I was an angel in this equation, but I'll be damned if it's okay for her to cheat on me after I did it first. I wasn't letting that shit fly.

  The little blonde breaks me from my thoughts by fidgeting around on the table.

  "Sweetheart, ya gotta stop moving. You're gonna make me fuck this shit up, and that isn't going to be good for either of us."

  She picks her head up and looks at me with a grimace. Well, looks like she's done for the day. The girl looks like she's gonna pass out any minute, and I only have the outline done. My rule is—Don't fucking pass out in my chair. If ya gonna pass out, tell me and I’ll stop tattooing.

  She gives me a halfhearted smile, sitting up so I can wrap her side.

  "Sorry," she apologizes sheepishly.

  I look up at her through my lashes, cocking my head to the side a bit and giving her a grin.

  "No big deal, princess. Ya took it like a champ," I lie.

  "Really? You think so?"

  I give her knee a friendly squeeze, passing off my fake attitude as genuine.

  "Ya did great. I've seen grown men cry in my chair. Ya did wicked good."

  "Thank you. Hopefully, next appointment, I can take it longer than this time.”

  WITH BLONDIE GONE, it's just Shay and me in the shop. Neither of us speaks but fuck if I want to. She taps away on the computer, and I sketch some stencils for my upcoming appointments. I get lost in drawing a Phoenix tattoo I plan for myself one day when I hear the bell to the shop ding in the distance.

  I wait to hear Shay's usual greeting, but instead, I hear her yell through the lobby.

  "Uh, Trent!"

  I shoot up from my seat, jogging to see why the hell Shay seems so nervous. I walk out of my station's makeshift door and see the one motherfucker who shouldn't be in my shop.

  In the doorway stands my drug dealer, Anthony, and his two bodyguard goons behind him.

  "Tony," I state flatly while reaching to unclip the button of the holster holding my pistol. "Ya lookin' for ink or just a friendly visit?"

  Tony avoids me; instead, he looks Shay over as if she's already naked in his bed. Let me tell you, it pisses me the fuck off. Poor Shay looks uncomfortable under Tony's disgusting gaze. She flicks her eyes to mine, seeking help. I'll help you, baby.

  "Hey, asshole!" I shout at him, getting his eyes to move from Shay.

  "I said what the fuck do ya want here? Because she isn't part of what we sell! So keep your fucking eyes off her!"

  Tony turns to address me, straightening his suit at the collar.

  "Trent, Trent, Trent. If I wanted the sweet little thing sitting at your bargain brand reception desk, I'd already have her down on her knees. It's you I came to see, my boy. We need to talk business, and you've been dodging my phone calls. So ask me again if my visit today is friendly."

  Motherfucker.

  I have been dodging this sleazeball's phone calls. Only because Mac would kill me if he knew I was conversing with the devil himself. Anthony Marcus Russo—the head honcho of the drug business here in Boston. I blame Danny, one of his small dealers, and my dealer for even introducing me to Tony. He's bad fucking news. He had the audacity to ask me if I would let him use my shop as a cover business so he could filter his dirty money into the banks without getting caught. Yeah. Not fucking happening.

  Shay looks over at me with worried eyes, and I move past Tony. He follows me outside, and the front door closes behind us. But I notice his two goons are still in the stop with Shay.

  "They better not so much as say a word to her, Tony. I fucking mean it. I don't know what ya doing showing up here in broad fucking daylight, but I told ya my answer last week. And it's still the same. No."

  Tony toys with his cufflinks, making a tsk-tsk sound under his breath. The faster I can get this sleaze away from Shay and the shop, the better for both of us.

  "You know, I am a very powerful man, Mr. Wallace. And powerful men usually aren't treated so rudely when they stop by to see a friend at work. I think you need to learn some manners, which clearly you do not have. As for your little girlfriend in there, don’t worry about her. I know she has a pretty little daughter named Abigail who needs her mommy very much. I did some digging on the people you surround yourself with, and it turns out we have something in common," he states, a devious smile on his face.

  "What's that?"

  "We both have something we're willing to fight for. You may use cocaine to bury those things somewhere deep inside, but I, on the other hand, like to take the bull by the horns. I enjoy the fight very much. I'll be in touch."

  Before I even have a chance to ask what the fuck he's talking about, his two goons bounce out the door and load into the black Town Car, which now sits in front of the shop. Happy as I am they're gone, I know when I walk back in the door, I'm going to get the third fucking degree from Shay.

  I dig in my pocket, pulling out my smokes, and light one. The minute the smoke touches my lungs, I feel like I can breathe again. The nicotine doesn't soothe as good as an eight ball would, but for now, I'll revel in the feeling of some high.

  The moment I spot my truck in the parking lot, a spark of excitement courses through me. I know I have a couple of lines hidden away in there, and with the knowledge of having it right at my fingertips, I flick my smoke on the sidewalk and sprint to the fucking truck. I fling the driver’s side door open and rip open the damn center console where I hid my stash. The white powder comes into view, and my heart races at the sight. I tear at the bag wrapped around it, slamming the cover to the console closed, and pour the snow on top. Grabbing a card and dollar bill out of my wallet, I use the card to chop up the substance into little white lines. These lines will tell this bad mood it can fuck off. Shoving the rolled bill up my nose, I snort the lines in front of me and watch them disappear one by one. Fucking heaven.

  If this isn't heaven, I don’t know what is. I lean back in the cold leather seat, feeling the drug do its job. My nose tingles before it numbs completely, and the tips of my finger twitch with excitement. I know in a few minutes I'll feel a hell of a lot better.

  MGMT – “Electric Feel”

  WHERE
THE HELL is he? Trent walked outside with the mob looking guy and never came back. Did they kill him? Oh, God. I can't be part of a murder investigation. I really fucking can't. What’s wrong with him, hanging around with people like that? The man, Tony, was the scariest motherfucker on the planet. You can tell he’s powerful and wealthy, and he's into bad, bad shit.

  I get up and head outside looking for Trent, but he's nowhere in sight. You think if he hadn't been murdered, he'd, at least, let me know he was leaving, but he didn't. The thought makes my heart drop to my stomach. I pray he's okay. Although I can't stand him half the time, it still doesn't change the fact that he’s my boss and the man I had sex with six months ago. When he's nice to me, I can see something with us in the future, but when he's being an asshole, I see myself ripping off his balls.

  I contemplate calling the cops, but the sound of a car door brings me relief. My eyes dart toward the sound when Trent walks toward me with a smile I’ve never seen before on his face. Weird. He was pretty pissed off when he walked out of the shop ten minutes ago, so why is he all smiles now?

  He approaches, catching me off guard when he puts his hands on my hips and pulls my body to his.

  "You’re so damn sexy, Shay." He exhales while his nose traces the crook of my neck.

  What the fuck?

  My body leans into his touch without my approval, but my head is screaming for me to punch him in the face. His mood swings are insanity. I can barely keep up.

  Trent runs his hands over my curves, and I move my hands against him, squeezing his fingers. His touch ignites a fire inside of me. It makes my common sense go to complete shit. I'm not sure if it's the fact he's being nice today, or the fact I still remember what his mouth feels like on mine, but either way.