Zeke's Eden: The Beginning (Zeke and Eden Book 1)

by K. Webster

  Zeke’s Eden

  Copyright © 2015 K. Webster

  Cover Design: All By Design

  Photo Credit: Dollar Photo Club

  Editor: Premier Romance Editing

  Formatting: Champagne Formats

  ISBN: 978-1517614751

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Books by Author K Webster

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Acknowledgements

  About Author K Webster

  Books by Author K Webster

  THE BREAKING THE RULES SERIES:

  Broken (Book 1) – Available Now!

  Wrong (Book 2) – Available Now!

  Scarred (Book 3) – Available Now!

  Mistake (Book 4) – Available Now!

  Crushed (Book 5 – a novella) – Available Now!

  THE VEGAS ACES SERIES:

  Rock Country (Book 1) – Available Now!

  Rock Heart (Book 2) – Available Now!

  Rock Bottom (Book 3) – Available Now!

  THE BECOMING HER SERIES:

  Becoming Lady Thomas (Book 1) – Available Now!

  Becoming Countess Dumont (Book 2) – Available Now!

  Becoming Mrs. Benedict (Book 3) – Available Now!

  Alpha & Omega – Available Now!

  Omega & Love – Available Now!

  This is War, Baby – Available Now!

  This is Love, Baby – Available Now!

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  Apartment 2B – Available Now!

  Love and Law – Available Now!

  Moth to a Flame – Available Now!

  Erased – Available Now!

  The Road Back to Us – Available Now!

  Give Me Yesterday– Available Now!

  Running Free – Available Now!

  Dirty Ugly Toy (Dark Romance) – Available Now!

  Zeke’s Eden – Available Now!

  My Bad Boy,

  Falling for you was perfect and easy and right.

  I’m glad I ignored the naysayers and listened to your naughty mouth instead.

  - Your Good Girl

  Four years prior…

  “She was beautiful. I really wish you could have seen her,” Mom tells me with tears in her eyes from behind the thick glass. “You needed that closure.” She clutches onto the phone, her knuckles turning white from her grip. The conversation always goes back to her and it guts me each and every time. I’ve only been here three months and I have to relive that night—what I lost—every time she comes to visit.

  Truth is, I fucked up.

  Her only son now sentenced to four years in prison.

  I’d do it again though. Over and over. My girl fucked up too but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to die that night.

  “How’s Dad?” I question, changing the subject before I start to cry. I can’t afford to cry in here. The other monsters work to sniff out any weakness they can and use it against you. I’ve already been accused of being a pussy because I’m clean cut. Growing out my hair was my first step in blending in.

  I won’t become some bitch.

  Fuck that.

  Her eyes drop to the gold-flecked, dingy yellow Formica of the countertop and she runs her fingernail across a crevice in the material pushing up dirt and shit. If my mother only knew the kind of people who come in here to visit the other criminals.

  Dirty. Addicted. Used. Filthy. Animals.

  And here’s Mom, playing in the impacted remnants of low-life visitors from decades and decades before as if it’s her duty to tidy up the place. She doesn’t belong here.

  “He’s still angry with you,” she says, choking on her words. “He’ll come around though, Ezekiel. I promise you. I’ll talk to him.”

  Our eyes meet and I hope no motherfuckers heard her call me by my full name. I’ve told them to call me Z. It’s easier that way. Plus it sounds badass. I need all the help I can get.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Her bottom lip quivers but she simply nods. She doesn’t need to say anything. I know. I was her good boy with a good job and a good head on my shoulders. All of that changed the night my girl died.

  I fucking lost it.

  And now I’m here.

  “He still loves you. We both do. Just hang in there, baby,” she says with a sob.

  “I love you too, Mom.”

  Big, fat tears stream down her cheeks and she blows her nose into a tissue. I wish I could hug her like so many times I’ve done before.

  “Oh,” she sniffles and dabs at her nose, “I almost forgot. Cason called the house the other day.”

  My ears perk up at hearing the name of my girl’s brother. He and I were coworkers. Cason is the reason I ever met her in the first place. We’ve been tight ever since we were assigned cubicles beside each other. “What’d he have to say?”

  She smiles. “He told me you were a tough mother-I’m-not-repeating-that-word and not to worry about you.”

  I laugh and my mood lifts. Cason had to pull me off that motherfucker that night. He should have been the one losing his shit but it was him who kept me from killing that man. A few more hits and I’m pretty sure I’d be serving a life sentence, not a mere few years.

  “Tell that motherfucker I miss him.”

  She scoffs. “Ezekiel Nathanial Wilder! Watch your language around your mother.” Even though she’s scolding me, she’s wearing a mischievous smile. A smile that reminds me of a perfect childhood, supportive parents, and a life that was supposed to go differently.

  “You’ll find love again, my boy. I promise,” she assures me and then waves her hand to gesture behind me, “but it better not be in there.”

  We both laugh and the guard reminds us that our time soon ending.

  I doubt her words.

  My heart is broken.

  “I hope so,” I lie to her. I don’t hold onto hope. Hope is for pussies and I can’t be a pussy in here. I have to keep my head low and focus on shit I can control. Dwelling on the loss of my love or wishing for another love like that is what I can’t control.

  She simply shakes her head. My mother is no novice and knows my words are a façade. “I know so, sweetheart. You have your whole life still in front of you. Just give it time.”

  I sigh as the guard signals for me to end my conversation.

  “All I’ve got is time, Mom.”

  Present

  “Tonight’s going to be a busy one, man,” Grant huffs as he hoists up a crate full of glasses and carries them over to the far end of the bar.

  “Every night’s busy here,” I grumble and begin rolling up the sleeves of my black button up dress shirt. “What do you want me to do?”
<
br />   He starts unloading the glasses onto a shelf below the bar and glances my direction. His thick, dark brown beard peppered with silver streaks makes him look much older than our twenty-nine years. “Make sure the bathrooms are clean. Lock up the office too. And find your tie.”

  I roll my eyes as I saunter off toward the bathrooms. I’m not wearing a fucking tie—too restricting. Four years in the pen has left me highly adverse to anything that restricts me. I wouldn’t be able to hold down this job if it weren’t for it being my best friend Grant’s bar. But he, better than anyone, knows my past and took me in without any reservations. And for the past week since I’ve been out, he’s been patient as I attempt to adjust to society.

  “Hey Z,” Catherine purrs as she emerges from the women’s restroom. “Didn’t know you were working tonight. Doesn’t Grant ever give you a break? You’ve worked every night since you started.”

  I lazily drag my gaze over her curves. She’s wearing a tight black skirt that I know from watching her bend over will show her panties from time to time. Her full tits are all but spilling out of her button up shirt. Chicks like her make a killing from tips from every motherfucker she serves.

  “I need the money,” I clip out and shoulder past her toward the bathroom.

  Her nails bite into my bicep and she halts me from passing. “Baby, everyone needs a break. Want to come over after we close?”

  She puckers her blood red lips out in what she must assume is a cute pout. My cock agrees and twitches.

  “Maybe,” I evade. “I have a lot on my mind right now. Not sure I’ll make for good conversation.”

  A giggle escapes her and she stands on her toes, brushing her tits against my arm and breathes into my ear. “Nobody said anything about conversing.”

  It’s been so long. Too fucking long since I’ve been laid. And here, Catherine’s offering it up on a shiny damn plate.

  I slide my fingers into her wavy brown hair and grip her tight. “I fuck hard and when I’m done, I’m done. I’m not about to become some chick’s boyfriend.” Sad thing is, that’s a fucking lie. I have issues. I obsess over shit, especially people. And as much as I’d like to think I would fuck her and leave her, my conscience knows better.

  She laughs and leans into me, giving me a whiff of her perfume which makes my head throb. “I have a boyfriend but he’s out of town. I only want a good time tonight.”

  Shaking my head, I release her and step away. “Call me when you’re not attached.”

  I may be horny but I’m not stupid. If I fucked her and did end up liking her, it wouldn’t end tonight. Plain and fucking simple. The boyfriend would have to go. And I’m not looking to head back to prison anytime soon.

  “Wow,” she scoffs, clearly offended, as I stalk off through the door, not waiting for more of a response.

  I take a little more time in the bathroom even though it looks fine so I can avoid seeing her in the hall. The only reason I accepted a job working for Grant was because he had some space above the bar where I could stay at for free. Moving in with my parents was not an option, especially after everything I’ve put them through.

  Once I’ve decided I have wasted enough time hiding from the hot chick who probably sucks cock like a champ, I set out to lock up the office. One would think Grant wouldn’t trust a convicted felon in his office but he knows me better than the sentence I was given. We grew up together and even attended the same college. At a certain point in our lives, he was considered the fuck-up and me the career man.

  And oh how the tables have turned.

  “Where’s your tie?” he grumbles from the bar once I make my way back over to him.

  Rolling my eyes, I lean against the smooth, wood surface. “You know I hate wearing that thing.”

  His eyes skim over to Catherine who’s opening the front door before he pins me with a stare. “If memory serves me correct, you’re the asshole who wore a suit and tie to work every day. Where’s that guy?”

  I bristle at his comment. “Well, let’s see, he probably died the first time that stupid Mexican fuck broke his ribs in the pen along with his ability to give a shit. This guy…” I point a thumb at my hardened chest. “…Doesn’t wear a tie. End of fucking story.”

  Rage blooms in my chest at the memory of that dickhead who thought he’d pick on the clean-cut guy. It only took one time for him to catch me off guard. After I healed, he never caught me off guard again. He has the shank scar in his belly to prove it.

  “Fine, whatever man. It isn’t worth getting my ass beat over.” He laughs and tosses a wet rag at me.

  I grin back but my smile falls as the bar begins to fill up. Several men in suits commandeer an empty table and begin barking orders at Catherine.

  Four years ago, I was one of them.

  Some asshole wanting to have a drink with his buddies after work. Many nights I would lie on that thin mattress in my cell and try to ignore the snores of my cellmate—imagining a life where I’d followed my dreams and became someone who amounted to something. Eventually though, I gave up wishing for something that would never be. It all ended that night when I almost ended him.

  Robert Forrest.

  Just thinking about his arrogant ass causes my blood to boil over with rage. One would think that four years later I’d be over this shit.

  I am far from fucking over that shit.

  “Three Coronas with lime, five shots of Jäger, and two tall boys on tap,” Catherine snips out as she rips a page from her booklet. “Make it quick.”

  Grant has already begun making drinks for some people who have sat down on one end of the bar so I grit my teeth and snatch up the order.

  “Looks like I’ll have to go home with one of them tonight,” she says in a bored tone as she taps her acrylic nails on the bar surface.

  Ignoring her whore comment, I slam down two overfilled glasses of our house brew in front of her on the tray, and glare at her. “I don’t care who you fuck,” I snarl as I release the glasses. “As long as it isn’t me.”

  She purses her lips together and scurries off with the tray filled with drinks. Her ass jiggles as she shimmies away and despite the fact that I’m sure she’d have been a great lay, I’m glad I have standards.

  Even after four years in prison, I still won’t fuck a stupid bitch, no matter how pretty she is.

  The hours drone on and I manage to stay as far away from Catherine as possible. Eventually, I need to take a piss and holler at Grant.

  “I’m taking my break.”

  He nods and waves me off with a wet rag in his hand. Striding toward the hallway, I ignore the stares of everyone along the way. I’m a sight, I know this.

  Four years ago, I was the clean-cut asshole like those guys who are bellowing from laughter as Catherine flirts with them. Four years ago, I went in every three weeks for a haircut and knew the dry cleaner workers by name. Four years ago, I was a suit and tie with a desire to conquer life.

  But then when my whole world came crashing down around me and I landed in prison, everything changed.

  My dark hair grew out, despite the prison haircuts we were required to get. Phil, the prison’s barber, bent rules and nobody seemed to mind. As long as nobody was walking around with a fucking Mohawk or a bitch’s hairstyle that would get them raped the second they were alone, we got whatever the hell kind of cut we wanted.

  I let my hair grow into my brooding green eyes and over my ears. Without gel or styling products, I looked like a fucking psychopath. The moment I moved into the apartment upstairs, I noticed Grant had stocked the bathroom with the shit. So, not to be the asshole, I have now been styling my overgrown hair into a style which looks like a chick ran her fingers through it while fucking me.

  Too bad that isn’t the case.

  The old me would have fucked someone—anyone with a fucking pussy by now. This new, rougher version of me almost doesn’t give a shit though. Sure, it’d be nice to sink my cock into someone hot like Catherine. But, I can wait for some
one a little fucking nicer than her bitchy two-timing ass.

  I take a quick piss and while I wash my hands, I glare into the mirror. Grant thinks he can contain me in a button up shirt but my tatts can’t be hidden, as they reach up beyond the collar of my shirt. I swallow and my Adam’s apple moves along my throat. Smirking at my reflection, I shake my head. If I don’t take someone home tonight, I might as well marry my goddamn hand.

  Stalking over to the door, I swing it open and step into the hallway. When I look up, a woman gapes at me—her sexy blue eyes cool the anger that tends to always ebb and flow beneath my surface. She’s leaned up against the wall with her arms crossed against her chest, denying me the view beneath.

  “Can I help you?” I blurt out. My feet are carrying me over to her, not giving a fuck about her personal space. As I approach, her eyes widen.

  In fear.

  The slicing reminder is one that cuts deep. I’m the tattooed, badass—not the suit in the other room that this chick is clearly used to seeing.

  “I, uh,” she stammers and jerks her head toward the ladies’ restroom, “I’m waiting for my friend. It’s her birthday.”

  I stop in front of her, inches from her quivering frame. Her scent is one that intoxicates me. Flowers and fruit. So fucking sweet.

  “I work here,” I grumble and lean in toward her, needing the air that surrounds her much more than the air on the rest of this damn planet.

  “Oh, I don’t need anything,” she mutters.

  I drop my eyes to her lips and know without a doubt that this will be the woman I’ll take home tonight. Her full lips are perfect for sucking a cock which hasn’t received the attention of anyone besides my fist in a really long time.

  Dragging my eyes over her, I devour every feature of her face. Small, pert nose. Wide, unsure sapphire eyes. Quivering, bitable lips. Her cheeks redden and my cock twitches.

  When I reach a finger toward her jaw, she shakes her head and puts her palms on my chest to keep me at a distance. The touch jolts through me like a strike of lightning.