HATE ME AGAIN
Jaxson Kidman
Contents
Hey darlin’
Hate Me Again
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
From Jaxson
About the Author
Hey darlin’, your favorite bad boy author is back… and this is the last time you’ll ever read about Mason. If by some chance you’re reading this and have NOT read HATE ME, then you need to get that book right now. If you need to do that, here’s the link: hyperurl.co/ch83cp
Thank you for taking this ride with me, darlin’. I’m happy that Mason is here… and then he’ll be gone.
- Jaxson
Stay social with me, darlin’ …
Newsletter (part of the Outlaw Romance Obsession team): http://eepurl.com/b9BDKb
Jaxson Kidman Facebook fan page: www.facebook.com/jaxsonkidman
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Hate Me Again
SHE CAN’T GET ENOUGH. I’M JUST GETTING STARTED
Hey, beautiful. I’m back again. One more time. You know what happened between myself and Violet already. Now it’s six months later. I’m a changed man, but not in the way you think. And Violet thinks she can run back to her old high school flame to chase my memory away.
That’s impossible to do. Once you’re with me, you never forget me.
But here’s the problem… the tables have been turned.
I can’t forget her. Everything I do revolves around her.
I’m about to give up everything in my life to try and rid her memory… and that’s when she shows up, ready for more. This time, I’m playing for keeps, no matter the secrets, the truth, or what happens to her heart or mine.
Prologue
I Hate Stupid Mason (Again)
(Mason)
Three hours ago, she threw a drink in my face. She had been in my way all goddamn night and I was tired of her shit. I wanted to hit the bar and get walloped with my buddy, Hunter, but everything went to hell pretty quickly. Hunter got stuck at the shop - the shop I used to own but signed over to him after some legal bullshit. Granted, Hunter had offered it back to me a dozen times, but I was on my own quest. A quest that was based on self-destruction but made me look like every woman’s greatest dream and every man’s worst nightmare.
When I couldn’t get to the bar, I slipped my hands around her curvy little waist and moved her. She let out a yell and swung at me. She called me an asshole but then quickly stopped to eye me up and down. Tall, wide, ink on my arms, a thick beard, long hair. The complete opposite of the version of me Violet used to know, which was all part of my plan.
That Mason was dead.
That Mason that had been dumb enough to let a woman into his heart. And that would never happen again.
I told her she was in my fucking way. She said she hated me. I laughed.
Some asshole grabbed my shoulder, trying to come to save her. I turned, hit the guy in the nose, and that was the end of his night.
When I turned back, that’s when she threw the drink at me.
Some fruity, apple-flavored garbage. Syrup mixed with vodka, lime green, probably paid ten bucks for the damn thing.
I licked my lips, ‘stache, and beard, tasting the drink.
Then I asked her if she tasted just as sweet.
She was appalled.
Bouncers came to toss me out of the bar, which was fine by me. I threw some cash on the counter, made sure to pay for the woman’s drink she wasted on me, and then I was gone.
But I didn’t go far.
I hung around the side of the building, sitting on my motorcycle, savoring a fresh smoke. I blew rings into the air, trying to line them up with a streetlight. All I had in my life was time, and all I did was waste it.
It took her ten minutes to appear from the bar, her heels clicking on the pavement as she walked toward me.
“Hey, you. Asshole.”
All I had to do was grin.
She squinted her eyes at me and then word-vomited all over me. That she and her boyfriend had been struggling for six months to save their relationship. How she wanted a diamond ring but when he finally ponied one up she realized he wasn’t the one. She was guilt-ridden and wanted to get tossed around a bed for one night to forget it all.
Well lucky for her… when it came to one night stands, she’d just hit the fucking lottery.
She was fast asleep when I climbed out of the bed. I could still smell and taste a mix of that fruity drink and her willing body. I peeled the covers all the way off her body and looked at her.
Not too bad at all.
That tight little ass of her’s had fit just nicely in my hands. Pushing and pulling at her, making her scream my name. Looking at the wall shared with Violet’s old apartment, wishing she was there again to hear the pleasure-filled cries of another woman.
Just like when we first met and before things got way too fucking serious.
Before she found out I had a goddamn wife.
Yeah, I know, hate me all you want.
Technically, on paper, I was married. Yeah. Shit happens when you jet out to Vegas for a little fun. A couple guys got tattooed. A couple women got very delicate places pierced. And for me? I got married. Big fucking deal.
Tell that to Violet, though.
I walked through my apartment and grabbed a beer bottle on the counter. It was piss-warm and tasted skunky. I wasn’t sure if the beer was from an hour ago or a week ago.
I killed the nasty beer and left the apartment.
The hallway was empty, clear of any life.
I walked down to the door on my left. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it.
Locked.
I made a fist and started to knock. In the quietness of the hallway it sounded like a wrecking ball smashing against the door.
I waited as though someone was going to answer.
Nobody was going to answer the fucking door, though.
The apartment had been empty since Violet gave it up.
She was moving in with me one second… and then the next, she was gone.
I put my hand flat against the door.
“Gone,” I whispered.
I looked at my left arm. There was still room for more ink. Plenty of room.
More ink. More pain. More of this nightmare story to tell.
I backed up and slowly slid down the wall until I was on the floor.
There I’d remain. There I’d sleep.
I’d wake to the tip of a blood-red shoe against my throat, cutting off my air.
“Is there a whore in your bed?” my wife asked as I opened my eyes.
“What do you think?” I said in a hoarse voice.
Stacey - my wife - was in a black skirt and her lon
g legs gave way all the way up her body, making it pretty obvious she wasn’t wearing any panties. She only came around when she needed something from me. Shit, I hadn’t seen her in three months.
She took her foot away from my throat and laughed.
I watched her walk to the apartment and I felt bad for the woman in my bed.
She was about to wake up to the worst-case scenario for anyone after a one night stand.
I started to laugh.
I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t hungover. I was just tired. So damn tired.
I stared straight ahead at the door to the other apartment. I thought about all the crazy shit I did to Violet to get her attention, keep her attention, and show her how beautiful and wild she really was.
And with three words, she was gone and that was the end of that.
I counted down in my head and when I got to two, I heard the first scream. Then a second. Then some muffled yelling. I thought I heard the sound of a smack in there, too.
I climbed to my feet right there in the hallway, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans.
My apartment door opened and out ran the woman from last night.
Honestly, I didn’t even know her name. And I didn’t care.
She was holding her pants, shoes, and bag. She looked right, then left. Her eyes met mine and she squinted. I figured at the very least she would come running my way to slap me. I deserved it. I’d take it.
Instead, she just took a deep breath.
Then she said, “I fucking hate you, Mason. You’re a piece of shit, asshole.”
She left as I stood proudly and took a bow.
My reputation was still there.
They all hated me.
And that included Violet.
1
Not Even In English
(Mason)
I put my head back against the leather cushion. The room was mostly dark except for a lamp that shined on my arm. That clean skin was going to get fucked up with some really cool shit soon. At this point, when I came to see Rocko, I would just tell him to keep going. I was his personal canvas. His needle brought me pain and told a story that I wasn’t sure the meaning of yet.
I’d slap down a few hundred bucks on the counter and he’d take care of me.
Sounds like some fucked-up drug deal, doesn’t it?
Hardly.
If I wanted to inject poison in my veins, I’d track down Violet, spread her legs, and lick that sweet center of hers. Because that’s what she was. Goddamn poison. I was on my own road to recovery, in some way, letting pain and change overtake me so I could erase all of her out of my mind and my heart.
I joked with Rocko once and asked if he’d ever consider tattooing my heart. My bare heart. If I could get someone to cut open my chest, would he try? That sort of drew the line for our relationship and ever since then he usually kept to himself when he was working on me.
Rocko buzzed the tattoo gun a few times. “You ready, brother?” he asked in his rough voice.
“Always,” I said.
I stuck the earbud into my left ear. Then the other in my right. I heard the muffled buzz of the needle as I found something to listen to. I hit play as the needle hit my skin. I could feel my skin getting ripped apart, ink slamming into me, that cutting and scratching, that wicked burn that made me grit my teeth and send waves of peace through my body.
The music started to blare, some really heavy shit. I was at the point where I grabbed the heaviest metal music I could find. And the best part was that I chose bands that didn’t sing in English. I didn’t need to listen to words. I didn’t need advice in my life. I just wanted that heavy rumble of music and the feeling of getting inked up.
It became an addiction from the second I started getting them.
Yeah, I’d had a tattoo on my chest, over my heart. It was the commemorative date that I lost a woman I loved dearly. I let Violet in on that part of my life, too. She knew about all that shit. She knew more about me than anyone else in the world.
So, I decided to rewrite all the stories. Throw away the sacred old shit and open new doors.
The first time I sat in Rocko’s chair, it was to cover up the date. Just a black rectangle. Simple. It was a painful experience. To never see that date again in the mirror. But it’s where I had to start.
Rocko finished up the first ink and I looked at him and said two words.
Keep going.
He didn’t know what he was getting into, though. I dug into my pocket and threw five hundred bucks at him. He closed up his shop, poured himself a cup of coffee, and went to work on me. I got my money’s worth in one sitting, gripping the arms of the chair tight, the pain surging through me like a drug.
And that’s what kept me coming back for more.
That painful high I got from it.
I kept my eyes shut and the music blaring. I let the pain roll across me and through me.
There was a break in the music when a text message came through. I jumped and grabbed for the phone. Every beep, twitch, vibrate, ding, dong, whatever, my heart skipped a beat and called out Violet’s name.
It wasn’t Violet, though.
It was Hunter.
Need your help on something, brother.
I put the phone down and looked over at Rocko. I gave a nod and a thumbs up, then went back to my world of heavy metal music and ink.
I had been lost before in life. Only to be found by Violet.
Now I was lost again.
This time I planned on staying lost.
I walked across the parking lot of the shop that I used to own. The sign still hung there - RN Custom Rides. The RN stood for real nice, which was something Kate used to say to me all the time. Every time I got my ass in trouble, those were her famous words to me. I touched my chest and thought about what I had done to her. I had betrayed her by tattooing over the date on my chest and losing sight of things. But I knew in my heart if she was around, she would slap me across the face for being such an asshole when it came to Violet.
And if Kate found out about me being married, she would say one thing to me.
Real nice.
Andy, Thorn, and Dicky came walking out of the open garage bay.
“Holy fucking shit,” Thorn said. “Is that… Mason?”
Yeah, I hadn’t been the greatest friend in the world, either. Months had gone by without me interacting with anything that resembled the real world. These guys were used to seeing me without any tattoos and my hair buzzed down, almost shaved bald.
I ran a hand through my new long hair and flexed my arms, showing off all my ink.
“Thorn,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “I barely recognize you, man.”
“Talk about a makeover,” Andy said.
“Don’t ever say that again,” I said. “I didn’t get a fucking makeover.”
“Right, yeah,” Andy said. “Shit, man, sorry.”
“What brings you here?” Dicky asked.
“I’m buying the building back and knocking it down,” I said. “You’re all out of a fucking job.”
All three stared at me, eyes wide.
I let out a quick laugh and shook my head. I started to walk away but they all didn’t move. I finally stopped and looked back.
“Seriously?” I yelled. “I’m meeting Hunter. Now get back to fucking work.”
All three jumped at my command. It brought back old memories of the place.
Yeah, sometimes I did miss it.
I went into the front office and saw that Hunter had updated it. It was cool, sleek, with neon lights around the trim of the ceiling. New furniture and a table that had the image of a car, truck, and motorcycle sprawled out in perfect order.
Even the smell was different. Much cleaner.
Behind the counter was a young woman with jet black hair, jet black eyeliner, and a nose ring. She stood up, showing off a tight little body. She had a little smirk, knowing damn well that everyone who looked at her co
uldn’t help but eye her up and down. Her eyes told the true story, though. Those half-dead my-Daddy-hated-me eyes.
Just what I was looking for in life at that point.
I put my hands to the counter and stared at her.
“I know who you are,” she said.
“That’s half the battle,” I said. “When’s your break?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to bend you over whatever motorcycle you love best in the garage and make you scream my name so loud you’ll lose your voice for a week.”
Her eyes went wide. Then she licked her lips. “If I do that, I won’t be able to work. I answer the phones. Talk to customers.”
“Get to the part I actually give a shit about. You, panties around your ankles, my co-”
The door behind her opened and there was Hunter.
“Steph, you good out here?” Hunter asked.
“Perfect, Uncle Hunter,” she said.
I pushed away from the counter.
I looked at Hunter and raised an eyebrow.
“Jesus, man, look at you,” Hunter said. “If it wasn’t for the ink you’d look really homeless.”
“And look at you,” I said. “All corporate and official.”
I pointed to his polo shirt. Complete with the company name embroidered on it.
“Come on back,” Hunter said. “I want to talk to you.”
I slipped around the counter and avoided eye contact with Steph.
Hunter shut the door and then grabbed me in a hug.
“Fuck, I haven’t seen you in months,” he said. “You’ve been a goddamn ghost.”
“That I have.”
“No excuse for yourself?”
“Why lie?”
“She really fucked you up.”
I thumbed at the door. “What’s with the Uncle Hunter shit?”
Hunter waved a hand. “That’s Steph. Friend of a friend’s niece. She was getting into trouble so I offered her a job to keep her grounded.”
“She was ready to jump over that counter…”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Hunter said.
HATE ME AGAIN: a bad boy romance novel Page 1
