Give Me Forever Love (Give Me Series Book 3)

by Paige P. Horne

  Copyright ©2019 Paige P. Horne. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place, events and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or an information storage and retrieval system without the prior consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance or quotes for reviews.

  No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the publisher and author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.

  Other novels written by Paige P. Horne include:

  Close To Falling

  Chasing Fireflies

  Chasing Ellie

  If I’d Known

  The Give Me Series

  Give Me Love

  Give Me Perfect Love

  Give Me Forever Love

  Give Me Redemption

  Cover designer: Cover It Designs

  Editor: Paige Maroney Smith

  Chapter One

  Kathrine

  My heart punches through flesh, trying to jump out of my chest. Anxiety swims in my veins, mixing with a high dose of dread.

  “Don’t worry,” Bryce says to me. His blazer is bunched up from his arms stretching behind his back and I wonder what his Mad Hatter tattoo has to smile about now. Bryce’s blues look calmer than they should, and he looks tougher than I’ve ever seen.

  But still, this is not okay.

  The cops shove him forward and my feet jerk.

  Jace holds my arm, keeping me from going after Bryce. My jaw tightens and my blood sprints. My hands shake and my stomach rolls as sweat rivers down my spine.

  What do we do?

  Panic takes on a new form, growing wild, twisting around the veins in my neck and constricting my windpipe.

  My eyes look around the room in a frenzy, but everything seems to be in slow motion. Like a scene in a movie when the shit hits the fan and the director wants you to notice every moment as it plays out, but this isn’t a fucking movie.

  People climb the stairs, and some slip through a back emergency exit, causing an alarm to go off. It rings throughout the basement, piercing my eardrums and adding to the frenzy. “Shut that shit off!” someone yells out.

  I look toward the bar as men in suits scramble from their stools, looking for their own bodyguards to get them out of this mess, and then I see a man with gold chains around his neck.

  The feds yank his hands behind his back, causing the cigar from his lips to fall to the carpet. Fire ash bounces, burning tiny fibers in the red rug, and my eyes jump up as they handcuff him.

  His stomach slips out from under his black silk shirt, revealing powdery skin. He looks over at me, and I remember him. That day I came looking for Bryce in Red. He was sitting beside Ben. He obviously works for Bryce, too.

  My head whips back to Jace as tears distort my vision. His expression matches mine. He says something, but my ears are ringing. I look away from him, staring up, watching as Bryce reaches the top of the stairs. His all-black suit stands out against the red carpet. Hair that is longer than when we first met falls across his forehead and I see the tightening in his jaw.

  The walls start to crumble around us, the ground shakes, and pieces of the ceiling crack, sprinkling devastation down upon us.

  Like a castle losing its foundation, this place falls to the ground. The alarm stops and Jace’s voice filters through.

  “He’ll get out of this, Harrison.”

  I blink back to him. “How?” I ask. “How will he get out of this?”

  “He just will. I know…” his voice trails off and I notice his pupils dilate as his eyes focus, narrowing slightly. I follow his gaze and my hand shoots up to my mouth.

  Oh my God.

  Michelle stands in a green dress, holding on to the stair railing. The soft light above her reflects off something metal around her neck.

  A badge.

  My mind plays catch-up. Thoughts bounce like a pinball rebounding inside of a pinball machine.

  The questions. The interest in Red and the boys. My feet step forward, but Jace grips my arm firmly. I look back at him, holding on to my arm and I jerk it.

  “Don’t,” he says. “This won’t end well for you.”

  “She did this, Jace. She did this to us.” I yank my arm again, getting free from him. “You fucking bitch!” I yell. Anger bubbles like a thin layer of plastic melting from fire. Black blood flows through my veins and my heart turns monolithic. A frosty feeling passes through my soul. This is a debacle for us, but what a triumph for her. Even so, she doesn’t look satisfied.

  Some of the guests look back at me as they slip out, trying to be unnoticed by the feds. But can’t they see? They’re not here for them.

  They’re here for Bryce. The other half of my soul. It reaches for him, pushing through inner tissue, popping blood vessels, fabricating more scars. I’m starting to suffocate.

  Why does life always fuck with me?

  Bryce turns around. He looks at me, through me. And there I see a small hint of pride. His lip lifts a tad.

  He smirks.

  His blues shine and my stomach does flips.

  That’s right, baby. I got your back.

  My eyes slip away from him, over to Michelle. She swallows, but her sight doesn’t stay on me for long. They move to Jace and I see a fleeting glimpse of guilt flash in them.

  She turns to the man beside her. “Leave them be,” she says. With one last glance at the man she tricked, Michelle exits the room and Bryce is urged forward. With his hands behind his back, he winks at me before disappearing through the closet we just walked through only minutes ago.

  I grasp on to the stair railing and start to jog up after them, but as soon as I do, Jace grabs me by the waist and hauls me down.

  “Stop,” I say, gripping his forearms and trying to push them off.

  “No,” he says. I feel his chin on my shoulder and his breath against my cheek. “You have to stop this.”

  “Jace.” I wiggle more.

  “Harrison, Bryce won’t be able to deal with his shit if you’re sitting in jail, too.”

  I clench my jaw, breathing hard through my nose. A switch clicks and I realize he’s right. I don’t want to put more on Bryce. My muscles loosen and he puts me down. Tingles run through my hands, down to my fingers.

  He looks down at me. “She didn’t do this,” he says. “I did, and my brother will never forgive me.”

  Guilt stricken and brokenhearted, he runs a hand over his head.

  We are left alone inside the enormous room. Slot machines and the TVs playing are the only sound.

  Everyone else is gone, and I’m sure it’s never been this empty.

  I twist around and lift a tray that’s filled with unserved drinks. Glass bounces off the plush carpet, liquor spills and beer bottles roll. I lift my foot and kick the tray stand before picking up a beer bottle and tossing it at a slot machine. Glass shatters, satisfying me.

  I need things to break.

  I lift a few crystal glasses and throw them, one after another, smashing them into tables before I grab my head and scream.

  Jace walks over to the bar and picks up a bottle. He doesn’t bother with a glass; he drinks straight from the bottle. I walk over and he offers it to me. The liquor burns going down, warming my skin and calming my nerves. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “We need
to do something. We need to call someone.” I wince at the after taste.

  I just got him. Things were finally okay, and now I’m losing him all over again. My heart falls and slams its fist against the pit of my stomach, splashing russet bourbon, like a child jumping into a puddle of rainwater.

  My mind is on overdrive.

  Wired and short-circuiting.

  I’m discombobulated.

  We have to figure something out here. I’m sure Bryce had a plan for this.

  He had to.

  You can’t run a place like this and think nothing would ever go wrong.

  “We should call Pops,” Jace says. “He’ll know what to do.”

  “Call him then,” I urge, looking down at his pocket, knowing that’s where he keeps his phone.

  Jace looks over at me. “She lied to me,” he says. “She made me fall for her, and it was all to do this.”

  He snatches the bottle from my hand and takes a big gulp before tossing it at the wall, smashing it to pieces.

  His jaw ticks, and he looks like the devil himself when he says, “She won’t get away with this. I don’t give a fuck who she is.”

  The sound of his voice sends chills down my spine. Jace is a jokester, but like this, he can be the scariest motherfucker on the planet.

  I smile.

  My heart rubs its hands together in satisfaction. Yes, let’s make her pay for this.

  Chapter Two

  Bryce

  Hard metal cuts into my skin, giving me something to focus on. Rage swims in my veins. We all let her in, into our home, into my fucking club. She swam with my girl, shared a beer, and chitchatted about God knows what. She’s been playing us this whole time.

  My fucking brother.

  How could he be so stupid?

  “You had a mean operation going on,” the agent says from the front seat. “Too bad it’s all over now, huh?” He chuckles.

  My eyes shoot up to him in the rearview mirror and he smirks. “You won’t be the king in this place, pretty boy.”

  I narrow my eyes, but sneer. “Pretty boy.” I’ll show this motherfucker pretty boy when he’s not in uniform and I’m walking free.

  And I will be free.

  Once we enter, I’m photographed and fingerprinted. I remove my black suit, stripping bare in front of the guard. My tattoos are the only thing covering my skin. My arms hang by my sides as I tighten my jaw.

  “Open your mouth and lift your tongue,” he says.

  I do. “Turn and place your hands on the wall.”

  I lift my chin and face the white brick, feeling the movement of my back muscles when my hands go up on the wall.

  “Bend and spread.”

  I ball my fists and do as he says. Must suck to stare at ass and balls all day.

  “Turn around and lift your arms.”

  My arms go in the air. My whole body buzzes. Alive like a malfunctioned live wire. I feel the stretch of my skin, the pull of my ribs.

  His eyes go down to my ink. “You crazy, like that tattoo?” he asks.

  I don’t blink as I stare at him, knowing he’s referring to my mad hatter tattoo.

  I smirk, naked, lean and hard as motherfucking stone.

  He looks uneasy; he should be. “You’ll need to be to survive in here. Get dressed and you can have your phone call.”

  Now in orange instead of my black suit and tie, I grab the phone and call K. I should call a lawyer, I should call Pops, but I’m not worried about me. I need to make sure my girl is okay.

  “Hello?” she asks in a panic.

  “Hey.” God, her voice. She touches me without even being here, soothing the tightening in my neck and giving me everything I need to focus on getting out of here.

  She’s my sense of calmness, centering my soul.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  Am I okay? I want to laugh. I’m fucking fine. She’s the one who just had to watch me leave in handcuffs.

  “I’m good. How are you?”

  “Worried,” she replies.

  “Don’t be.” I look around me before leaning into the wall for more privacy. “Did Jace call Pops?”

  “Yes.” She sounds uneasy.

  “Good. I’ll be home before you can blink.”

  I know that’s not true; it’s Friday and Sunday is a goddamn holiday, so I know the court will be closed on Monday. I won’t be out of here until next week and K’s not stupid. Her silence tells me she’s figured that out.

  “K?”

  “I’m here,” she says, her voice trembling.

  “Don’t cry, baby.”

  “I’m so angry, Bryce.”

  “I hope not at me?” I question.

  “No,” she says. “Well, not really.”

  I shut my eyes. I get it. Hell, she should be mad at me. I’m mad at me.

  Not because of what I was doing.

  But because I got caught.

  I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have let my brother have so much free reign.

  “How did this happen? How could she do that to us?”

  “Don’t worry about her,” I reply.

  “Jace is messed up over this.”

  “Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m sure he is.” I’m sure he’s going crazy right now. I couldn’t imagine K doing something like that to me. I’d be hopeless as fuck.

  “I left him at Red. He was drunk.”

  “Don’t worry about him either. Worry about you. Get a bath, relax.”

  “How am I supposed to relax when you’re in there?”

  “This isn’t my first time, K.”

  She exhales. “Why am I not surprised?”

  I chuckle. “No worries, girl. I’ll be home soon.”

  I turn to look behind me. The guard stands, watching me.

  Motherfucker.

  I can’t wait to walk out of here.

  She sighs.

  “Smile. This will all be over soon.”

  “Times up, Bryce,” the guard barks.

  I turn around. “Look, I’ve gotta go.” I clear my throat, hating that this is getting to her so bad. I’m mad at myself for getting caught. I’m mad at my brother for letting that girl into our lives. He should have been more careful.

  “Hey, K,” I say into the phone, wishing I was with her. Wishing this was all just a nightmare.

  “Yeah?” she says.

  “Think about me when you get that bath, yeah?”

  I know she’s blushing without even seeing her and I hear it in her laugh.

  Her laugh.

  It could change the way people see things. Give you hope for a better day. She’s proof that the sun will rise again even when darkness seems endless.

  “I love you,” she says.

  “Love you, too.” The phone goes dead and I hang it up, staring at it. I hang my head, looking down at the grime stuck between the tiles below my feet.

  This all had to end eventually, didn’t it?

  How long could I have really kept this up without anyone noticing?

  I had some good years on top, but now that’s over.

  I exhale.

  It’s over.

  My arm is shoved, tripping me out of my thoughts.

  “Let’s go,” the guard says. I grit my teeth but turn and walk ahead.

  I’m taken back to my holding cell and the door is locked behind me. I sit on the metal bed and clasp my hands between my spread knees.

  I’ve been in here before, but it’s been for dumb teenage shit that Pops got me out of. I have no record. To these fuckers I’ll be a first-time offender. I just hope these lawyers I hired know the judge and can get me out of this shithole until my hearing. I sigh and rest back, staring up at the light until it blinks off.

  Fuck, I miss my girl.

  Chapter Three

  Bryce

  Fireworks burn in the night sky, making it sound like a war zone outside of these hard walls and I wonder what K is doing. Is she with my family watching the
show Pops usually puts on out at Grant Ranch, or is she at the apartment on the balcony looking up at the sky as the city celebrates Independence Day in Centennial Olympic Park?

  I hate that I’m stuck in here and I’m not able to watch her face light up as the sky does. I’ve been staring at the same brick wall since Friday and it’s driving me insane. I spoke to my lawyer yesterday. He said he’s pretty sure he can get me out of here Tuesday. I told him he better be more than pretty sure as much as I’m fucking paying him.

  A loud buzz sounds and the door slides open. I sit up from the mat and run a hand over my face.

  “You’ve got a visitor,” the guard says. I tilt my head in curiosity. Who the hell is visiting me at night? Is that even allowed?

  I stand up and follow him out, wondering who it could be.

  Twisting my neck, I pop out the creaks as we pass by other cells with men sitting in here, probably wondering the same thing as me.

  When the fuck will I get out?

  I’m directed to a small room where a man in an expensive black suit waits for me.

  Bombs filled with crackles of color blast and I can see it through the window at the top of the wall. Colors of red, blue, and white gleam against slicked back hair.

  “You got fifteen minutes,” the guard warns before he exits the room.

  I cross my arms as Danny O’Brien stands with his hands coolly slid into the pockets of his slacks. A black watch stands out on his wrist. His skeleton tattoo peeks above the cuff of his pocket.

  He smirks at me. “Good to see you,” he says, walking toward one of the metal tables. He slides the chair out with easy grace and releases the button on his blazer before he takes a seat. Leaning back with one arm resting on the table, he nods toward the other chair

  I decide to stand, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He shrugs. Sitting up, Danny clasps his hands in front of him. “How have you been?”

  “Been better,” I reply.

  He chuckles. “Obviously.”

  “You?” I ask.

  “Good. Things are good.” He unclasps his hands and tugs lightly on the cuff of his sleeve.

  “Can you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”