Hard Time (Hard as Nails #1)

by Hope Conrad

  “Thank you,” I say softly and lean forward, with the intention of planting a quick kiss on his lips, but he has other plans and pulls me down.

  I fall onto his body, pressing him against the couch as I kiss him hard and deep. His hand trails under my shirt, and against the bare skin of my back. I know where this is going, and I want to let it go there, but I need to get home so I climb away from him and jump to my feet.

  “I should go.”

  “You should go,” he says through a smile as he adjusts the erection in his jeans. “If we start now, you’re not going to get home until midnight.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the worst fate in the world.” I shrug and bite my lip, making him groan.

  “You should go,” he reiterates and climbs to his feet to kiss me once more. “While I can still let you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Katie

  Riley’s asleep in the bedroom.

  Dee sips a glass of dark red wine beside me.

  I’m drinking the same thing.

  It’s a rare night when Dee doesn’t have to work, so we’re catching up on the latest episode of some trashy reality show that neither of us really cares about, and I’m waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring up Street meeting Riley. This shouldn’t be difficult. This should be my decision and my decision alone, but Dee has played such an important role in Riley’s life that I almost feel she’s a co-parent. A title she’s rightfully earned.

  I glance at her nervously and gently put my drink down on the coffee table. Just after I clear my throat and I’m about to speak, I hear Riley begin to cry a deafening wail. I jump off the couch and rush to her, throwing open the bedroom door and scooping her into my arms.

  She kicks and fusses, and doesn’t respond to my gentle rocking. She must be hungry. I carry her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of milk and find Dee waiting for me with an already heated bottle.

  “Why are you my guardian angel?” I ask as I grab the bottle from her hand and lower it to Riley’s mouth. She wraps her precious little lips around the bottle, and a smile hitches across my face as I gaze down at her. I’m hit with the slightest pangs of guilt that I miss so much time with her because of Street.

  I look up at Dee and swallow a nervous lump. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Spit it out,” she says, and I get the feeling she knows what I’m about to say.

  “It’s… It’s Street.” I avert my eyes and make my way to the couch. Dee drops down onto the couch beside me. “He wants to meet her.”

  “Absolutely not,” she scoffs and jumps to her feet. “You can’t bring every boy toy you’re screwing around to meet her.”

  “I wouldn’t. I haven’t. But it’s not like that.”

  “Isn’t it?” She scowls at me, her eyes full of accusations, and I can’t expect anything different when I’ve never told her the complete truth about my relationship with Street.

  “It’s not—”

  I’m cut off by a sudden barrage of fists banging against the front door.

  “What in the hell?” Dee says under her breath with a shake of her head. “Is that him?”

  “Of course not,” I spit, but I can’t be certain.

  “C’mon, bitch!” A man’s voice that I recognize as Brett’s screams from the other side of the door. “Let me in to see my daughter.”

  “That’s obviously not going to happen,” Dee says.

  “No shit.” I cradle Riley tighter in my arms.

  He pounds his fists against the door again and Dee dives into action, scooping her phone off the coffee table and calling 911. She stalks to the window beside the front door and peeks between the two curtains. “Oh my God…”

  “What?” I question as my heart begins to race.

  She begins a slow retreat from the window.

  “What’s going on?” I ask again, my heart threatening to jump right out of my damn chest.

  Brett has a history with drugs, and by the way he’s pounding against the door like a mad man, I guess he’s using again.

  “Yes, hello,” Dee stammers into the phone. “I’m at my sister’s house, and her abusive ex-boyfriend is trying to get in, and he has a weapon…”

  “A weapon?” I try to clear my head. I try to think about my next move, and what I should do if he gains entry into my home. I carry Riley into the kitchen and head toward the back door.

  “Yes, he has an axe,” I hear Dee say to the operator on the other side of the phone.

  I twist on my foot to face her and see something unusual: Dee’s scared. She’s always been my rock, as strong as an ox, but the fear in her eyes only serves to elevate the fear in my own heart.

  “Let’s go,” I urge her, heading once more to the back door. But then something solid hits the front door, and I hear shouts.

  I hear Street.

  My heart thumps as I rush to the window and push the curtains back. Brett’s lying on the ground. Street is on top of him, his fist cocked, his expression murderous.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Street

  When I see the man with the axe standing on Katie’s porch, I don’t hesitate. I rush him. He drops the axe and grunts roughly as I grab his head and pound it against the door. Then he pushes back, knocking me off my feet and onto the cool wooden porch.

  Before he can turn around, I’m back on my feet. I lunge forward and grab him by the collar of his shirt to throw him off the porch. He lands with a solid thud against the hard ground, and I waste no time jumping onto him in a straddling position.

  I pull my fist back and punch it forward, landing a hard blow against his cheek. I hear a crack, and a sharp pain whistles through my bones, but I’m not sure whose bones crack—mine or his. I don’t care either way. I just throw another punch, landing against the exact same spot and hearing the same familiar crack.

  He chuckles when I land a third blow, and I’ve heard that exact laugh before. I’ve been around the block, and I’ve been around enough drug addicts, including Trevor, to know when someone is high.

  When I pull back my fist to hit him again, he throws me off him. He rolls on top of me—switching places so that now he’s in control. He lands a few quick blows, but they’re weak and unfocused.

  I lunge my head forward and crack his skull against mine. It’s enough to catch him off guard so I’m able to push him off me. As I rush to climb to my feet, he kicks his foot out, tripping me and sending me back against the ground with a hard thud. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Katie on the porch, holding a baby in her arms.

  It’s an image I’ve never seen before, and for a second I’m lost in its beauty. So lost that I become distracted until I feel the sharp sting of a kick against my jaw. I’m thrown back into fighting mode, now with a renewed vigor to stomp his face into the dirt.

  A light trickle of raindrops catches my skin, and a muted roar of thunder passes from above. I jump to my feet at the exact moment he does until we’re standing face to face, squaring off with empty threats. We dance in a circle. It’s a circle I’ve danced a thousand times before, in prison yards and outside of them. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a fight, but I’ve never wanted to annihilate someone more.

  “You fucked with the wrong person, buddy,” I warn him as we continue our dance. “And I’m not talking about me.”

  “Then who the fuck—”

  I don’t let him finish his sentence before I land a blow against his nose, sending him stumbling backwards. If I learned anything on the streets and in prison, it’s to never let yourself get caught off guard. The easiest way to distract someone is by moving your lips, and then when they move theirs, you strike.

  “What’s the matter?” I taunt him again, with my fists hovering before me. “Think maybe you made a mistake? What were you going to do with the axe, huh? I can only imagine. And I’m going to make you regret making me imagine it.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” he huffs.
r />   “Come and try…” I pause and force a wide smile. “Bitch.”

  That does the trick.

  He snarls and charges toward me, but I’m prepared for his maneuver and knee him in the stomach as he approaches. With quick handwork, I wrap my arm around his throat and hold him into position with one hand as I pound my other fist against him.

  He reaches for my arm and begins to claw at me with short, but jagged fingernails. I can feel him digging into my flesh; it pisses me off enough to release him from my grip and he tumbles toward the ground. He tries to crawl away on his hands and feet, but I’m not finished.

  Not even fucking close.

  I pull my leg back and kick him as hard as I can in the stomach. He collapses on impact, and his face is buried in the wet dirt. I drop to my knees and roll him over onto his back, then climb on top of him and tangle my hands around his collar. I pull him real close so he can feel the heat of my breath as I threaten him.

  “If you ever come around Katie or her daughter again, I will kill you.”

  He chuckles again, but this time it’s softer. He’s out of energy and out of fight, but I don’t much care. I want to kill him and I could. Because I don’t normally carry a weapon, but when I began the long walk over to Katie’s, some wild instinct had me taking my old switchblade and sticking it in my back pocket. I could cut him with it. I want to stick it into his gut for what he’s done to Katie, and what he could do to her in the future, but I’ve come too far to lose everything for a piece of shit like him.

  “Who… Who the hell… are you?”

  “Your worst fucking nightmare,” I seethe between my teeth. It’s so cliché, but it’s the absolute fucking truth. “If I ever see you again, you’ll pray they send you to prison before I get my hands on you.”

  “Whatever, pal.” He laughs as his hands drop to his sides.

  I think one last time about reaching for my knife, of ridding the world of this piece of shit for good, but I stop myself. I’m not that man anymore. I can’t be that man anymore.

  The distinct sound of sirens wailing in the near distance, and the flashing of blue and red lights a moment later, send a wave of relief through me. I haven’t always been the biggest fan of police, but I’m stoked as hell they’ve arrived.

  I climb to my feet and look at the incoming police cars. It’s when I turn my attention to Katie that I notice something peculiar. I reach behind my back and notice my knife is missing. And then I hear Katie scream…

  “Street!”

  I turn around just in time to feel the knife stick into me. I retreat quick enough that it doesn’t go too deep, but instead slices against my side. With all the force I can muster, I swing a backward punch, knocking my assailant against the head as hard as I can.

  He stumbles to the ground and I’m left gazing down at my own wound as blood begins to trickle down my shirt and jeans.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Katie

  It’s like an accident on the freeway, and I can’t look away.

  Street winces as he swipes his palm against the fresh wound on his body.

  I pass Riley to Dee and launch myself down the porch stairs. I run as fast as I can until I’m by Street’s side.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He forces a laugh that comes out more like a painful grunt. “It’s only a flesh wound.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, my voice high, on the verge of hysteria.

  “I promise, Katie. I’m fine.”

  I spare a brief glance at Brett—a living, breathing pile of shit—on the ground. He’s unconscious, and I want to give him a swift kick to the gut. “Thank you. Thank you so much. But what the hell are you doing here?”

  Street reaches into his back pocket and passes me my phone. “You left this at my place.”

  “Oh, Thank God. And thank you,” I say fervently and plant a kiss against his lips. I press myself against him, and he grimaces in pain and stumbles backward.

  “Shit,” I stammer. “I’m sorry.”

  He laughs his way through the pain. “Your kiss more than makes up for it.”

  The approaching cops pull into the driveway. They jump out of their cars and aim their guns at Street before I can tell them it’s okay.

  “Put your hands up,” they command and Street begins to do as instructed, but I shift my body to stand in front of him.

  “It’s okay,” I scream loud enough so I’m sure they can hear me. “He’s not the one you want.” I point to Brett, who’s still lying on the ground. “He’s the monster.”

  * * *

  Street sits on the edge of the porch as the police haul Brett into the back of a cruiser. He’s now fully awake, and feeling like a sore punching bag I’m sure. He’s high on something, but I’m not sure what. One of the officers said he exhibited signs of meth, but back when I was with him, he was on so many different drugs I could never be sure which signs of aggression resulted from which drug.

  The officers assured me he would be going away for a while. With his previous record, the second he stuck that knife into Street was the second he threw his life away for good. He could be going away for ten years or longer.

  By then, Riley will be older and wiser, and I’m going to petition the court to annul Brett’s parental rights so she’ll never have to know what a piece of shit her father was.

  An ambulance pulls into the drive with flashing lights to check up on Street. He’s not the kind of guy that would call for assistance, but after a little bit of a fight, I convinced him he needed to go to the hospital. The police officers also insisted on it—something to do with making the charges against Brett stick. That was the deciding point for him. He said he’d do anything to keep Brett away from me.

  “Are you ready for your checkup?” I turn to Street with a light smile.

  “Yeah,” he scoffs. “I’m so excited.”

  “That cut is deep,” I say and extend my hand to help him up.

  He takes my hand, and grunts in pain as he rises to his feet. We begin the slow walk to the ambulance, and a pair of paramedics intercept us halfway.

  I transfer Street to the first paramedic, who slings his arm over her shoulder. She’s tall and pretty, with long hair and pointed facial features. I must be frowning or staring at her, because a huge grin ripples across Street’s face.

  “Don’t get jealous, Princess.”

  I just shake my head and laugh as they walk toward the ambulance.

  Dee approaches me with Riley cradled against her shoulder.

  It’s too loud and chaotic, but Riley’s oddly quiet and at peace as she pats her tiny fingers against Dee’s face.

  I hope she’ll never have to experience a life like this. Someday soon, I’ll graduate and find a real job somewhere that’s any place but here, and we’ll start a new life—me and Dee and Riley—without all the baggage.

  I hope more than ever now that Street will be part of that life, too.

  “Do you mind if I go with him to the hospital?”

  “Of course not,” Dee says and looks toward Street being hauled into the ambulance. I give her a quick smile, kiss Riley, and turn, but Dee steals my attention with a clearing of her throat. “Katie?”

  “Yes?”

  “You should invite him over to meet Riley soon.”

  I can feel permanent stretch marks forming around my lips as I smile widely.

  I turn and make my way to the ambulance, and with every step I take toward Street, I become more and more sure that he’s the one.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Street

  Despite my time on the streets, I wasn’t familiar with what it felt like to be stabbed until I was in prison. The first time, I got a knife to my throat trying to prevent a young kid from being raped. The second time, I got a knife to my side protecting someone I loved.

  I have no regrets.

  The minute I saw Katie’s ex standing on that porch with an axe, I had to react. He didn't give me a choice. My obsession
and my desire and my love for Katie didn't give me a choice.

  Now it’s a few days later and I’m behind the cash register of the bookstore, sitting on a stool and reading a book under the counter. The wind whips and howls on occasion, sending a storm surge of droplets against the window. Nobody is out in this shit. Nobody, especially, is out buying books in this shit, not when you can download some crazy ass hot shit right onto your phone.

  I’m reading one of Katie’s favorite hot romances. It’s about a Scottish highlander, and in spite of myself, I’m impressed.

  I raise my head and peer through the bookshelves to try and spot Katie, but I can’t see her. Since the stabbing, I’ve been banished to the front counter because I’m not supposed to be on my feet too much. I almost feel bad because now Katie is stuck doing all the work I should be doing. But then again, I also don’t feel bad because, after all, it was her ex-boyfriend who stabbed me.

  I shift in my seat to try and get comfortable, and a sharp pain cuts through my ribs. I toss my phone onto the counter and let out a low groan as I wince in pain. I pull my fist to my mouth and bite down on it, trying to muffle my groaning so Katie can’t hear me.

  Once the temporary pain has passed, I check the aisles for her again. She’s still nowhere to be seen, and is probably in the backroom unpacking new inventory.

  The front door opens, and a man hurries in with the hood of a sweatshirt pulled tightly over his head. The grey hoodie is splattered with dark spots from the rain.

  “Can I help you?” I ask in my most customer-friendly voice as I plaster a fake smile across my face. A smile that soon fades when the newcomer pulls his hood back, offering me a perfect view of his face. I immediately stand. “What in the hell are you doing here, Trevor?”

  “That’s no way to greet your best friend.” He chuckles, but I’m not laughing back. “Come on man, lighten up.” He steps toward me and rests his elbows on the counter.