Damaged Rebel Next DoorA Neighbor Rebel Romance

by Melissa Devenport

  Hands shaking, Katelyn dug in her purse, a small black messenger bag and produced her phone. Her index finger flew over the screen and, after a minute, she held it out like an offering she didn’t truly believe he would take.

  Kian stepped closer. He gripped the edges of the phone neatly, carefully avoiding touching Katelyn’s hand. The black plastic case it was enclosed in still held her warmth. It burned him just the same as her skin would have.

  “Can you do that? Maybe just her face?”

  He stared at the picture of her cat. The cat he’d fed the night her ex-husband had come over to her condo and decided to rough her up. That night had changed his life…

  “You want it realistic?”

  “No. Kind of. I don’t know. I’m not any good at this. I don’t even have a single tattoo. I like when other people do. I mean, I like your work.”

  She blushed furiously at that, two twin spots of red appearing on her delicate cheekbones. It stabbed at Kian in a way it shouldn’t have. He felt his body react on pure impulse, his cock hardening painfully in a visceral response he didn’t have a hope of controlling.

  “Do you?”

  “Like your work? Of course.” Katelyn blinked hard. “I was thinking maybe kind of realistic but not so much. Does that make sense? I don’t want it to look like a carbon copy of the photo.”

  “So you want me to give you my interpretation. You’ve come because you wanted me to leave my mark on you, even after I told you to stay away.” He leaned even closer, unable to stop the tide of words that he’d do anything to take back. “That night wasn’t enough for you, Katelyn? You had to come here and force me to do this for you. Force me to notice you again?”

  Her incredible, lustrous blue eyes clouded over with pain. Pain he’d caused. On purpose, because inside he was bleeding. He was bleeding and it was a hard, hot rush he couldn’t stem. It flowed through him, aching, thick, choking the life out of him. Fear squirmed in his stomach, fisted and squeezed mercilessly. Coward. I’m hurting her because I’m a coward.

  It was wrong. Kian knew it, but it was his defense mechanism. He did what he had to do to survive. The lifeless face of his wife flashed in front of his eyes as darkness closed in. Her sightless eyes, once so full of life. It was gone, in an instant. Taken from him. That accident should have killed him. He should have been the one who died, because he sure as hell hadn’t lived since that night.

  “Never mind. This was a stupid idea.” Katelyn’s bitter words snapped him out of his trance. She reached out and snatched her phone out of his grasp. She stuffed it into her purse, turned on her heel and fled the room. Her shoes pounded down the hallway, the steps growing fainter as she faded away.

  He stood frozen. The sweetest floral notes of her perfume lingered in the air around him. The heat of her hand where she’d grazed his fingers taking back her phone, tingled in his palm. It spread through his wrist, up his arm, into his shoulder. The shivery sensation leaked into his chest and slowly reached his heart. A heart that had refused to beat for anyone or anything. Until he met her.

  Until that night he’d opened his house and found her face staring back at him. Her blue eyes wide and concerned, compassion in their depths, her honeyed hair floating around her face, framing it like a halo.

  My angel.

  He’d been in hell for so very long. And then she’d appeared. Appeared like she’d been sent to save him. From the pain. Always, the pain. It consumed him. It was his entire life.

  Suddenly he was moving, his black boots scraping on the hardwood floor, pounding as heavily as a heart that was so very used to feeling nothing but pain and when he blocked that out- nothing at all.

  He ran down the hall, past the other tattoo rooms, out to the front. He reached the reception desk and kept going, past a startled Heather who stood, mouth slightly parted, watching him as he whipped past her and flung himself out the front door.

  Kian stood, staring down the street. He glanced left, then right and he saw her, nearing the end of the block, about to turn the corner. He didn’t know what he was doing. His mind refused to register his movements. He just knew he had to catch her. If he wanted a chance at redemption, at ever living again, he had to make her understand.

  How the hell do I do that? How can I make her understand what I can’t even explain to myself. What I won’t explain to myself.

  He was so close. He finally slowed his pace, not wanting to alarm her, before he called out her name in a husky breathless word.

  “Katelyn…”

  She whirled. Her eyes went wide and wild. She hadn’t expected him to follow her. Of course she didn’t. How could I have said those things? Kian took a deep breath, filling up his burning lungs. She waited, those eyes burning straight through him all the while.

  “What?” she finally said. Her hands went to her hips in a gesture of impatience. “What do you want? What could you possibly say that you haven’t already?” Righteous anger, which he completely deserved, flooded her face.

  “I- I’m sorry.” The words came out weak, like he didn’t mean them. He swallowed hard and forced his voice to be firmer. Steadier. “I’m sorry, Katelyn. You caught me off guard. What I said was rude.”

  “It was more than that,” she spat, eyes blazing fire. “You could have just said you weren’t interested. Not in the tattoo, not in me. You could have sent me away nicely, like any normal person would. But no, you had to go that extra step. You had to twist the knife once you’d stabbed it in. That’s fucked up. Who does that?”

  “I know. I know it’s messed up,” Kian admitted. He raised a hand and swept his hair back from his forehead in a gesture of sheer anxiety. “I’m fucked up. If you can’t tell that just by looking at me, then I don’t know what would convince you.”

  “Just because you look a certain way doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit. Who sleeps with someone and then acts like a crazy person before it’s even done?” She slowly let her hands fall away from her hips. “Look,” she said in a more moderate tone, obviously trying to compose herself since they were standing in the middle of a public sidewalk, traffic rushing by them on a busy street. “I’m sorry I came here. It wasn’t right. I knew that. I didn’t listen to you or to my better judgment. Believe me I’ll stay away now.”

  It was what he wanted. Kian should have sighed in relief. Instead he felt… panicked. Hard, bracing panic. It took over his lungs, forcing out his breath, squeezed his chest violently. That hard fist in his stomach knotted harder, wrenching his insides into a painful mass.

  Katelyn tried to turn, to resume her walk down the street, but he couldn’t let her. He reached out. His fingers closed over her forearm. The warmth of her skin was shocking, alarming. His head spun, his body ached.

  “No,” he begged. His voice was strange, like it belonged to another man. “Don’t do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

  “No?” Katelyn tugged her arm free. She sighed long and hard in annoyance. “What do you want then? Wait. Let me guess. You don’t even know. I don’t have time for games. I’ve been through enough of that bullshit with my ex. So please, just let me leave. It’s better for all of us if this ends before it even starts.”

  Kian didn’t reach for her again. He didn’t touch her. Instead he moved fast, sidestepping in front of her. He stood like a granite wall, blocking the sidewalk. She could have walked around him, but she froze in place. The dangerous hope in her eyes sent hard fear shooting through his entire being.

  His next words had to be forced out through a parched, closed up throat. “The trouble is, we both know, it’s already started.”

  Chapter 16

  The Confession

  Katelyn

  Every muscle in her body screamed at her to jerk away. Her pride, which Kian had severely wounded back at his shop, begged her to shrug off his touch, turn and walk away. She would have, in that moment, had she not chanced a glance at Kian’s eyes and seen the wounded pain shimmering in those dark black depths. />
  “I don’t know anything at all,” she whispered. She wasn’t even sure what she meant. She was just being painfully honest. “I don’t know what’s happening between us. The answer should be nothing, but you’re right. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you. I shouldn’t have come to your shop today, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to.”

  Kian’s fingers slowly curled away from her arm. He released her and though she’d half wanted to pull away, she felt oddly bereft when the heat of his palm left her skin.

  “Trust me when I say that you don’t need to get a tattoo.”

  “How do you know?” She asked, feeling a little miffed. She raised her head and squared her shoulders, her old go to gesture of stubbornness, without even really realizing she was doing it.

  “I just know. Give it some time. If you still truly want it, come back and see me. I’ll get you in whenever you want. You don’t have to wait like everyone else.”

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to send me on my way?”

  “No. I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink.”

  “A drink?” She hesitated, horrible, irrational hope blooming in the pit of her stomach. “I… it’s just after one in the afternoon.”

  “So what? I know lots of people who have a beer with their lunch. Or in the afternoon. Isn’t that what happy hour is about?”

  “I think happy hour generally starts around four or five.”

  He shrugged, maddeningly, as though he cared about nothing in the world. His eyes shuttered once more, the emotion she’d seen, or that he’d let her see, slowly vanishing. “Who cares what time it is? I don’t have anywhere to be. You were my last appointment of the day, although I didn’t know it was you. If I’m not tattooing, I might as well get a drink.”

  “Do you do that often?”

  “What? Have a drink here and there or come home plastered and pass out on the sidewalk?”

  Katelyn felt the rush of heat rising to her cheeks again. She hated that her face gave away exactly what she felt. “Fine. I’ll have a drink with you. Only because I spent an hour in traffic trying to get down here for one and now I’ve come away empty handed because you’ve decided that, in your infinite wisdom, I don’t really need something to remember my cat by.”

  “She hasn’t died yet.”

  “What?”

  “Your cat. Most people get pet memorial tattoos after they lose their pet. Not before.”

  “Maybe I wanted it before. I love Missy. She’s changed my life.”

  Kian frowned. “Just think on it. I promise you that if you still want it in a month or any time after that, I’ll do it for you.” His stare was unnerving. His gaze was hot on her face, assessing her features, as though he wanted her to confess that the appointment hadn’t been about the tattoo at all.

  We both know it wasn’t.

  “Should I drive then?” she finally asked when she found her voice.

  “No. There’s a pub a few blocks down if you want to go there. It’s alright. I’ve been there a few times.”

  “I guess that’s fine then.”

  Kian nodded like they’d just decided something monumental. He turned and led the way. Ironically enough, he walked in the direction she was already headed. She’d parked a few blocks away, probably right in front of the pub without even noticing.

  Sure enough, she spotted her car right before she spotted the pub. She was hyper-aware, the entire few blocks they walked, of Kian beside her. She swore she could feel the heat radiating from his arm, though he was a good two feet away and walked slightly ahead. They said nothing at all and the only thing that saved the silence from being oppressive was the fact that she concentrated on what was going on around them, the people passing by them- the cars rushing down the road, cars pulling in and out of parking spots.

  They reached the pub, a small, on descript place painted black. The patio in front was almost twice the size of the actual building.

  “Do you want to sit outside?” Kian glanced over at the almost empty patio. A few couples sat at the tables. One rowdy group of guys who barely looked old enough to drink hooted and yelled about something from the corner.

  “We can go inside if you want. It’s hot out.” It was true. Katelyn was already sticky in all the wrong places from the unbearable sun overhead. She hadn’t put on any sunblock and figured an hour or so on the patio might fry her to a crisp.

  “Whatever you think is best.”

  She frowned as Kian turned and walked up to the front door. She followed quietly. It was strange that he seemed to be making every effort to be conciliatory and even humorous after how abrasive he’d been at his shop.

  They found a table in a darkened corner, which wasn’t hard considering the entire pub was almost pitch black, especially after being out in the bright sun. Katelyn wondered if it was always that dark or if her eyes would adjust naturally after a few moments.

  The place was basically empty. There were only ten or so odd tables of all different sizes. A large bar took up most of the small space. There were at least fifteen chairs perched in front. Behind were the normal beer taps and stacks of glasses as well as buckets of cut up lemons and limes. The walls were filled up with sports memorabilia, jerseys and the like. On the far wall a huge TV played a soccer game.

  A minute after they sat down, a young red haired woman with ample breasts, a short white t-shirt that showed off a flat midriff and a plaid skirt hiked up about as far as it could go without actually showing off any of her bottom, came over to take their drink order.

  Katelyn floundered for something to drink. She hated beer and the place wasn’t that kind that served wine. She hadn’t come for a soda either. She finally just picked something off the menu, something pale, and hoped it would taste like water.

  They sat quietly, the silence strange between them. Why did I agree to this? Katelyn folded her hands on the table top neatly and stared down at them until their drinks came. She took a tentative sip of her beer, which came in far too large a glass, and found, to her surprise, that it was actually palatable.

  “So,” Kian started after he took a long pull of his own beer. “Did you ever get that dog?”

  “What?” She looked up at him and blinked in surprise.

  “I told you to get a dog.”

  “My cat wouldn’t like that and it’s too much responsibility. Besides, why would I need a dog when I have a Pitbull for a neighbor?” Katelyn watched Kian’s reaction carefully. She was surprised to see a wounded glint pass over his dark eyes, as though she’d cut him somehow. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “That was meant to be a joke.”

  Kian blinked and the shimmer was gone. “I realize that.” He picked up his beer and took another long sip, draining half the glass. He set it down with a dull thump onto the dark wood tabletop. “It’s funny, how people view you because of the way you look. Now that I look a certain way, I think people are naturally afraid. It was different, when I wore a uniform. A lot of people hated me too, feared me even. I know city cops aren’t popular, but it was different.”

  Katelyn’s mouth fell open. She was aware she was gaping at him and quickly pressed her lips together. “I… I didn’t realize you were a cop.” Her hand closed around her beer because she didn’t know what else to do with it. She took another sip, glad she had something to wet her dry mouth.

  “Yes. But that was a long time ago.”

  “How long? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “What if I did?” His smoldering black gaze burned into her, insistent, demanding, seeking an answer she didn’t have in her to give. She froze, afraid to move though her hand rested on her beer and the cold glass was freezing her palm. Her heart pounded out a wild, irregular beat.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t me who invited me out for a beer.”

  “So you thought I’d come here, explain to you why I said what I did, why I asked you to leave the othe
r night? You think that I have something to hide, some dark secret that you can unravel, pull out of me. You think you can pick at wounds that haven’t yet healed and in doing so, pull out the festering pain and give them a chance to heal?” His voice was accusatory and strange.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Katelyn managed a level voice. “If you just want this to be a beer, why did you come after me?”

  Kian’s eyes locked onto her face. He stared hard at her, until a shiver crawled up her spine, up into her neck. He spoke so calmly, so matter of fact, that his words were all the more horrible for it. “My wife and my son were killed in a car accident four years ago. I was driving. I survived. Had a couple cuts, that was it. The other guy was at fault, but it was still me, if you catch my drift. I couldn’t be a cop after that. I couldn’t be much of anything at all. I sold the house. Got rid of everything I owned. Lit out of Tampa and came to Miami for a fresh start. Drawing was always a passion. I had ink in spots that were easily covered up. I never needed someone to teach me. I got a kit and taught myself. Practiced on fruit and those willing to sacrifice a piece of their skin for a free tattoo. Fortunately what I was doing was better than most of the shit artists in this city. I got good really fast. Opened my own shop, hired some people. And here I am.”

  “Here you are,” Katelyn said softly. Not soft enough for Kian not to hear. He let out a cold chuckle, lifted his beer to his lips and slammed the rest back. His pint glass hit the table so hard that it rattled. “I’m so… sorry,” she stammered, aware that it was not enough. No words would ever be enough to erase his pain. Her heart ached so fiercely it stole her breath.

  “I don’t ever talk about that shit. Ever. You’re the first person I’ve told.” His throat moved up and down wildly as he tried to compose himself. It was only the sorrow burning in his eyes that told her he was at all affected. His face remained, for the most part, impassive. “And what about you? What shit life brought you here to this city? I already know about your douche bag of an ex-husband. I’ll bet your story didn’t start with him.”