Antihero (Imperfect Heroes Book 1)

by C. J. Pinard

  Not that I had an argument for that. I didn’t actually want to argue, but I was still angry to an extent. Angry at her, angry at Rick, angry at myself. But that was all in the past.

  Was I ready to take on a damaged man, just like my mother had? It had ultimately been her downfall. That was not a future I wanted for myself. I was in school, and Bo was there, cheerleading, telling me I was almost done.

  The coke, the heroin, the marijuana, the spice… I had tried it all and I had pulled myself out of the mire of addiction. I wasn’t going to turn out like her. I wasn’t going to let a man tell me what to do, how much money I could spend, where to work or not work, and what kind of person to be. I was going to be my own person.

  My phone chirped and I pulled it from my nightstand to look at it. I first noticed the time—1:42 p.m. Smiling at how lazy I’d been to sleep in this late, I then looked at the text.

  Ellis: I want to see you tonight. Feel like being seen in public with me, sweetheart?

  I sighed. My night was wide open and the thought of seeing him exhilarated me a little, but also scared me.

  Yes, he’d been gone this morning when I woke briefly, and my heart ached at the thought of seeing him. I bit my lip in contemplation. He said he wanted to take me out. That, I could do. So was I ready to go out with him instead of just letting him into my bed? Yes, I was. He had my heart, there was nothing mysterious about that.

  Well, I thought I was. I chewed my lip and hit reply: Yes. What time are you picking me up? PS I hate Thai food, so just don’t.

  I grinned at my sass and hit send. Throwing my phone back on my nightstand, I giggled like a schoolgirl and threw my arm over my eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Ellis

  I punched the air in triumph. She agreed to go out with me. Like, out in public. I was cautiously happy. My brain questioned as to why she hadn’t agreed to this before. Then a thought hit me: Had I ever asked?

  Meeting her in that coffee shop six months ago had been the best thing to ever happen to me (even above being sentenced to becoming a Marine instead of an inmate, as if that was some sort of punishment), and when we first started talking, nothing made me happier than to get a call or text from her. Sometimes, if I hadn’t heard from her for a day or two, I’d visit her coffee shop under the pretense of just wanting coffee. Sure, I lived off the shit to keep me from dozing off mid-day from the lack of sleep I got at night, but seeing her there in her green apron and wild red hair was more of a buzz than any caffeine jolt could ever be. But I think she knew it, too. She would smile shyly while asking what kind of drink she could make for me.

  We went on a couple of dates here and there, but after a few weeks, it seemed to morph into just sex. Not complaining about that since it was completely fucking incredible, but knowing what little I knew about women, I knew she probably wanted more than that. But who was I to decide what she wanted? I was only in charge of my own self—what I wanted, what I needed, what I craved, and what I had to have. Talia was all those things. Did she feel the same? I thought so.

  I chuckled at myself. These thoughts were starting to sound way too chickish. What the fuck was wrong with me? I should have just been happy I had some hot girl willing to let me into her bed.

  Blowing out a breath, I silently cursed myself for wishing my brain worked that way. It didn’t, but that didn’t stop me from keeping up the ruse that it did. While I was happy she had agreed to go out with me, I had to whip down these over-analyzing thoughts and hopes. I was behaving like a stupid, pussy-whipped bastard, and that just wasn’t me. I was a badass with tons of skill and no need for something permanent or—shudder—emotional. Chicks were just baggage and a hassle that I surely didn’t need. Right? That was what I kept telling myself.

  After fucking off all day looking at job websites and scrolling through social media to see what else everyone else was doing, I got myself cleaned up. I put on a fitted white T-shirt, throwing a collared white and blue plaid button-up shirt over it—the only gift my mom had gotten for me last Christmas. I left it open down the front. My jeans slid on nicely, and after a squirt of cologne, I plucked my keys from the dining room table and drove my rumbling baby to Talia’s apartment.

  She opened the door, looking irresistible. I had to flog back my desire when my eyes raked over the loose black dress paired with a set of rough worn cowboy boots. Her red hair was wild around her shoulders, her eyes twinkling at me in amusement when she caught me ogling her.

  Quickly reining in my desire, I smiled coolly and held my hand out. “Ready?”

  Talia nodded and bit her lip. “Yep.”

  I led her to the car, opened the passenger door, and made sure she was seated before I closed it. I smiled and exhaled. I could do this. Why was I so nervous?

  The drive to the restaurant was mostly quiet, except when she asked me where we were going. I decided to keep her guessing, so I told her it was a surprise. I shot her a sideways glance, trying to gauge her reaction, but it was too hard to unravel. Did she like surprises, or hate them? She was such a closed book, it made me crazy.

  I saw her smile as we pulled up outside a brightly and colorfully lit popular barbeque place. There were people standing outside waiting for tables, some smoking, others holding to-go containers, hugging their loved ones goodbye before departing to their respective cars.

  Talia opened the car door and got out before I had a chance to open it for her. I went around quickly to her side, and before she could close it, I grabbed her arm and scooted her over so I could close the door myself. She looked up at me in surprise and I fixed her with a serious stare, boxing her in against the car with both arms.

  “Do not open the door when you’re in the passenger seat. You wait until I come around and do it for you. Understood?”

  I said it way more confidently than I felt. I sort of wanted to laugh, but I was also testing her.

  Her eyes narrowed at me and once again she caught her lip between her teeth before she said, “I appreciate your chivalry, but I really can open my own door.”

  Surprised and secretly turned on by her confident sass, I said, “Sweetheart, next time I’ll lock the doors. Only I get to open and close the door for you.”

  Nodding, she bit back a smile right before I leaned down and surprised her with a kiss on her beautiful mouth. She gasped right before our lips connected and I smiled against them.

  Putting my right hand out, I led her through the crowd and to the hostess station, where I informed the pretty lady behind the podium that I had a reservation. We weaved our way through a throng of crowded tables to a small one for two in the corner. I thanked the hostess, and then we sat down across from each other.

  Talia picked up her menu and smiled at me, and it made my chest constrict a little. She was so damn beautiful. “I love this place. I don’t get to go out very often so this is a treat. I love barbeque.”

  I was happy I’d made her happy. I was also sad, and honestly, sort of ashamed I didn’t take her out more often. Of course she didn’t get out much. College student working in a coffee shop. I doubted she had much spending money.

  “So tell me, what’s good here?” I asked as her pretty face made serious business of searching the menu.

  “Ooh! Fried pickles, I definitely want some of those. And the pulled pork is really good here, too. I think they make their barbeque sauce from scratch…”

  She began to prattle on about the food but my eyes had caught a guy looking at Talia from two tables over. He had really short light hair, almost blond, and looked to be about my age. He wasn’t smiling at her, but just staring at her—and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit. While he wasn’t exactly looking at her like he wanted to fuck her, he was staring too long. That was enough to make my blood pressure go up.

  “I asked you a question,” Talia said, her high-pitched voice breaking me out of the death stare I was giving this other guy. Her lips were set in a firm, grim line, clearly annoyed.

  Slowly
sliding my blue eyes back to her, I said, “Huh? Sorry, what was the question?” I tried to throw her a sincere smile.

  Her ginger eyebrows dipped together thoughtfully before she answered, “I asked if you’d eaten here before.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I love this place. I’ve lived in Tampa my whole life—well except when I was in the service—and this is one of the best in the city.”

  Her lips twitched in amusement as she set the plastic-laminated menu down. “Take all your girlfriends here then?”

  I wanted to laugh, but blond douchebag was staring at my girl again. “No.” I answered. “Excuse me real fast.”

  Watching as the guy got up, I was going to follow him when I saw that once he was upright, he had a perfect right leg, but his left was nothing but a titanium rod from the knee down under his shorts. He didn’t look at me as he headed toward the men’s room. My determination to fold this guy’s teeth back with my fist softened when I saw his disability. Still, he had no right to stare at my girl like that. I would think if he knew her, he’d come over and say hi. Or Talia would be looking at him too, or she’d say something.

  Still determined to confront him, I followed him to the restroom. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or agitated that we were alone in there. He was already taking care of business at the urinal when I walked in. I washed my hands and waited for him to finish.

  He zipped up quickly and came over to the sink and began washing up.

  “Hi,” he said to me.

  I folded my arms over my chest and measured him with a death stare. “Why you eyeballin’ my girl?”

  His eyes raked down to my tats and then back up to my face. His chin jutted at my right arm where a USMC insignia had been inked to cover the stupid OAB tat I’d gotten as a young dumbass. “You were in the Marine Corps. Who were you with?”

  I looked down at my arm in surprise, but tried to keep a neutral gaze. “Why do you care?”

  He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to show me a large USMC tattoo on his left shoulder. “I was Golf 2/8, with two tours in Trashcanistan until this happened.” He moved his gaze to the titanium rod holding him up.

  I nodded. “Look, I’m sorry about your leg, and that you had to sacrifice it for a thankless shithole of a country. Bravo 1/7 was who I was with. Twenty-Nine Palms, eight years. Now answer my question, man.”

  My posture was still defensive, but I wasn’t budging. I did soften on the inside to meet a fellow Marine who’d lost so much but my anger was failing to calm past percolating.

  “Look, I’m sorry. She looks so much like my… wife, and I’ve… just been looking for her for a while. I’ll stop. I promise I don’t know your girl.”

  I nodded. “I’d appreciate it.” I turned to leave and he grabbed my arm.

  Looking down at his hand around my bicep, my gaze traveled slowly up to meet his green eyes. “You probably should get your hand off of me.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m Kyle Adams. I think you could probably benefit from this company.” He handed me a business card, which I took reluctantly.

  I looked down at it.

  Harper Mathis, Owner

  Mathis Associates

  Helping veterans with job placement and counseling

  VFW Approved

  There was an email address, website, and phone number underneath.

  I looked up at Kyle and held the card up between two fingers. “What makes you think I need this?”

  Kyle leaned on the counter, seeming to need to shift his weight off his leg. “What’s your name?”

  I sniffed and lifted my chin. “Ellis Anderson.”

  “Well, Anderson, what do you do for a living?”

  I swallowed down the shameful pride that engulfed me every time I got asked this and gave my pat answer. “I am still looking for work after being released from the Marine Corps.”

  He smiled slightly, and the handsome bastard looked almost smug. He pushed off the counter and tossed a paper towel into a nearby trash can. As he passed me, he clapped me on the shoulder. “Call Harper. She can help. And thank you for your service, Ellis Anderson.”

  As he exited the bathroom, he left me feeling like the douchebag I had taken him for not five minutes ago.

  Dinner was perfect after that. Talia hadn’t questioned why I’d spent so long in the men’s room, but she did lift a questioning eyebrow at me briefly once I returned to the table. I’d just thrown her a cocky grin and the rest of the night went smoothly. Kyle never returned to his table, and admittedly, I was partially relieved. I’d felt bad Talia looked like his ex, but I still had to admit I was proud of myself for standing up for my girl. I should have done it in front of her, though. Maybe one day I’d tell her what had happened.

  As we got in the car, it seemed to steer itself toward the water, wanting to park on one of the many piers that overlooked the beautiful gulf waters.

  Chapter 7

  Talia

  If I said Ellis had been acting strange during dinner, that really wouldn’t be a very factual statement, considering I really wasn’t sure what his “normal” looked like. I knew his charms and the way his smile made me melt, and I knew his anger when something random (and usually strange) would cause a reaction out of him, but during dinner, he just seemed… I don’t know… stoic?

  I wasn’t even sure if that was the right word. He didn’t seem to have been paying attention to me as we were talking about what to eat, and then he disappeared to the bathroom for a while. I never asked why he was gone so long, and I didn’t want to know, really. That was his business. Hopefully he wasn’t in there calling or texting some other girl.

  And there it was. My insecurities rearing their ugly head. I didn’t think they’d ever go away, but then again, whose ever did?

  I sat pondering these things in the passenger seat of Ellis’s loud, obnoxious car. Occasionally, I’d steal sideways glances at his black hair that shined almost blue under a full moon. The firm set of his shadowed jaw gave him the appearance of being deep in thought. The car, which I think was some sort of domestic thing, Dodge or Chevy maybe—well it was much too loud to listen to the radio, so I just enjoyed its growling purr, grateful it filled the silence between us.

  Looking out of the windshield, I could see he had led us to the piers on the western edge of Tampa. The water looked beautiful and peaceful under the bright moon, and when Ellis finally stopped the car and killed the engine, my ears rang a little at the absolute silence.

  He left the keys in the ignition and put his hands in his lap, shifting his upper body to look over at me. He was just staring, half of his face bathed blue from the moonlight. The night was warm, so he rolled down his window, and I did the same. Once my concentration was away from the window and its breathtaking view, I turned to look at him once again. He seemed like he wanted to say something but was holding back. The glass of wine I’d had at dinner was still buzzing through me, so with more courage than usual, I said, “What’s on your mind, Ellis?”

  He smiled a little and looked down at his hands, lifting one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Do you think I’m damaged?”

  The question took me off guard, as it seemed to be such a deviation from his usual cocky, confident self. Did this mean he felt comfortable enough to open up to me? A tiny spark of hope blossomed in my chest. About the question, though, I didn’t believe I knew him well enough to have the answer. But instead of that coming out of my mouth, I grinned a little and reached over to touch his hand, glancing briefly at the missing finger on his left. “Who told you you’re damaged?” I was desperate to see a little more into his world.

  He shook his head. “Nobody. I just sometimes think I’m fucked up beyond repair.”

  I cocked my head to the side, my thumb running gently over the top of his hand, understanding he was talking about emotional damage. “Why do think that? Because of being in the Marines?”

  “Nah,” he said, smiling sadly. “The Marines was the best thing to ever happen
to me.”

  “Then what?” I urged.

  He took a deep breath. “Before I joined the military, I wasn’t a good person, T. I was involved in some bad shit. Some really bad shit. Shit you don’t want to know about.”

  This surprised me, and saddened me. It made me think of Rick, and I hoped that Ellis wouldn’t turn out to be an abusive prick. But instead of voicing that, I just stayed silent, nodding for him to continue, enjoying the feel of the hot night air blowing in through the open windows. The crash of the waves against the pier was a calming sound—almost cleansing—and I wondered if Ellis felt it, too.

  “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I was sort of in a gang before I joined the Marines.” He shook his head and chuckled nervously.

  Both my eyebrows hit my hairline and my finger momentarily stopped stroking his hand. “What?”

  “Fuck,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s okay, really. Please continue. Tell me what happened.”

  But he didn’t. When he leaned over and fisted a handful of my hair at the back of my head and forced his lips on mine, I figured the conversation was over. The small twinge of disappointment I’d felt was quickly overtaken by the happiness that engulfed me at him opening up to me, even if it was short-lived.

  Six months. All this time of him coming over, adoring my body, giving me the occasional small talk, a tiny peek into his past, into his life—and now this. This was huge, and I wondered what had caused him to want to open up like that. I tried to not dwell on what he’d told me, though.

  I couldn’t analyze it any longer when his hand slid up my bare thigh and came to rest just inches from my most intimate spot. His kiss was doing things that nobody had ever done to me before. I lost all thoughts of the over-thinking of who and what Ellis Anderson was and my raging hormones took over, wanting nothing more than to feel him rocking in and out of me. To wrap my legs around his thick, muscular body and press every inch of my naked form into him. To claim his mouth with mine until he screamed my name into it while I made him forget his own.