Mad Love (Guns & Ink Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  “Cat only bought me tank tops,” she explained away.

  That made me smirk, erasing some of the confusion from my reaction. “That’s all she wears.” I walked past her, giving her a look as I did so. Her eyes weren’t entirely silver. They were so soft blue they were gray.

  After I’d passed her, I went into the hall bathroom and showered. My hard-on had left as soon as I told it too, but the effects of my reaction to her question still bothered me. I got out and wrapped a towel around my waist, risking the shitty lighting to shave my facial hair off. At nine-thirty she wasn’t out there. I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting another thirty for her to emerge. She had on another pair of ill-fitting jeans and one of my dark blue shirts I sold in the shops. Guns & Ink was on the front in white, and her hair was in a loose bun, still damp from her shower. Her bruises had faded further, leaving more of her small, pale face to look at than the first day I met her.

  “Whose clothes are those?” I nodded at her jeans.

  She looked down at them and then shrugged. “Cat bought them from the Goodwill.”

  Clothes were clothes. I’d taken handouts my entire life. They didn’t matter. But for some reason, I didn’t like how they looked on her. Baggy, unloved, worn and ripped. She looked so small in them. Cat was as broke as I was. I understood why she’d gotten them for her. She brought me finds from the church sometimes too. I tried to shake my reaction off. Mad didn’t seem to mind. I shouldn’t either.

  “Let’s go around back. The shop’s closed today.”

  I opened the back door of my apartment and motioned for her to go first. She stepped outside for the first time in a week and frowned nervously at the worn wood. The deck was rickety and rotten, but I didn’t have the money to replace it now. I led us down the stairs and over to the side alley behind the shop where my truck was parked.

  I unlocked her door and waited for her to crawl inside before I closed it and jogged around to my side, not mentioning how she looked around like every single person in the entire world was waiting to hurt her. I didn’t want to know who she was looking for. If I knew, I’d know, and then I’d have to do something about it.

  Like kill him.

  “You mind if I turn the radio on?”

  She locked her door in response.

  I turned it on anyway, leaving it low. The quiet between us was uncomfortable. I wasn’t unfamiliar with quiet. I spoke rarely and wanted the same from everyone else. But her quiet was different. She was a ghost in the front seat waiting for the shadows to swallow her. Thankfully, the restaurant was a short drive. I parked on the street and fed the meter, watching her get out and come close to me as she cast her gaze around suspiciously.

  That was interesting. She’d never wanted to be close to me. Did that mean she trusted me? She may not have thought about it, but she must have felt somewhat comfortable around me now to stick close by.

  “All clear?” I checked.

  She flushed.

  “Let’s go.” I gave her my hand before I realized my mistake. I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe she’d feel safer holding on to me.

  Maybe I’d feel better holding on to her.

  She didn’t take my hand, but she did stick close, continuing to look around. I stuffed my hand in my pocket, feeling foolish for even offering it. I didn’t hold hands.

  Shaking my head at myself, I opened the door for her. The restaurant was busy today. She glued herself to my side and eyed everyone around her. I could hear her breaths coming too fast. I forced my hand to remain in my pocket, wanting too … comfort her. The constant anxiety had to be exhausting. But I wasn’t a comforting man, and didn’t even know where to start.

  I held up two fingers to the hostess. She grabbed the correct number of menus, giving me a wave to follow.

  My hand didn’t listen. It removed itself from my pocket and grabbed Madi’s. She flinched, and for the first time, she openly glared at me. The fire in her silver eyes was eerie. She pulled her hand back and stepped away from me.

  Happy? “Let’s go,” I barked, frustrated that I’d given in.

  I didn’t wait for her. The hostess gave me an odd look when I sat down. I gave her one back. She set the menus down. “Is she okay?” the hostess asked.

  “She’s fine.” Mad stood where I’d left her, staring, watching—terrified.

  “Not my place. Coffee?”

  “Two. Orange juice also, please.”

  She gladly took off once she’d taken our drink orders. Once she was gone, I crooked my finger at my houseguest. I mouthed, “Come here, now.” She took a second before she did so. She sat down across from me, the anger completely gone from her eyes. The sheen in her gaze made her look on the edge of tears.

  “I know better now.” I looked into her eyes, lowering my walls. “I won’t touch you again. I promise.”

  She looked small in her chair, so frail and broken. I felt like the biggest douche in the world.

  Chapter Four

  Madison

  My hand still stung.

  Why had he touched me? I didn’t want to be touched. There were so many men around me. I didn’t want to cry either. But I was mad and afraid, too much of both to stop it. My brain was screaming; all I wanted was a second of peace.

  “French toast,” Klayton said, reading his menu. I hadn’t touched mine. “Maple syrup with powdered sugar and cinnamon.”

  I stared at the words on my menu. There were too many people in here. Most of them men.

  “Or maybe a scramble with hash browns,” Klayton continued. “Cheese, bacon, and peppers. Add some sourdough toast to boot.”

  My stomach growled. I was starving. I could feel it now that I wasn’t at his place. All the food in Klayton’s house wasn’t mine to eat. I already felt bad for taking his bed, his clothes. And Cat was gone. She hadn’t come back in days. He’d touched me. I couldn’t breathe. People were looking at me.

  “Don’t pay attention to them,” his deep voice said behind his menu. “But you should look at your menu before she comes back. I’m starved.”

  I tried to pull in a breath that wasn’t so shallow. It didn’t work at first. If anything, it got worse. And everyone looked at me more. I could feel hands all over me, holding me down into the mattress. I wanted to run away. But if I did that, I’d be alone. With all the men in the world. So far, Klayton hadn’t made a single move to hurt me. He still could—I’d never let my guard down—but for the time being, I felt a tiny shred of safety around him. It was the only thing that calmed me down. Having one spot on which to focus, I settled on his freshly shaven jaw. His lips were smooth and soft pink. They looked softer without all his hair on his face. There was a small shaving nick under his jaw already starting to scab.

  Coffee and orange juice appeared in front of us. I didn’t look up. The waitress was a woman. Women were safe.

  “You ready for me to take your orders?” she asked.

  I wasn’t hungry anymore.

  “I’ll have the lumberman meal. Her too, but she’ll have pancakes instead of toast. And an extra serving of bacon for both.”

  “You got it,” the waitress said, leaving quickly. Probably to get away from me.

  “Come sit next to me.” He pulled out his chair.

  I looked at it, at him, and then back at the chair. Then I got up and sat beside him, feeling a minor sense of relief. Klayton’s large body blocked out most of the people in the restaurant. If I didn’t see them, I couldn’t feel them.

  As I stared at the table top, he took his phone out and tapped away. It made me think of my phone. I’d had one before I was taken. It had been my life. Friends, social media, selfies, and shopping. I wanted to smash his phone. I’d been so self-involved. Only worrying about myself. I had no idea how perfect it had been. To be safe and wanted. To be protected. I tried to grab for his phone. My fingers wanted to feel it break.

  He snatched it up and lifted it away, glaring. “What’s your deal?”

  I glared back. But I didn
’t answer. I thought of all the years I had it perfect and never knew it.

  When our food arrived, Klayton dug in immediately. He buttered his toast and then poured ketchup on his hash browns. There were over-easy eggs and heaps of bacon, along with pancakes for me, and two bowls of fresh fruit. It smelled amazing. I was used to feeling nothing, or remembering everything; it unnerved me to feel hunger so intense in the moment. Hunger was something I’d grown used to. It didn’t mean I got to eat.

  “Mmm,” he groaned, licking ketchup from his fork.

  His pierced tongue licked it all up. I hadn’t known his tongue was pierced. It shouldn’t surprise me, though. He was covered in tattoos, and he spent all day creating them for others. He didn’t seem to do bad things. He worked at his shop and ate. He came home every night and went downstairs every morning. Cat trusted him. Maybe it was okay to think about trusting him too.

  “Did that hurt?” I asked, picking up my fork.

  When I did, he sighed for some reason. A quiet breath of air. “Did what hurt?”

  I ignored his gaze as I put a piece of pancake into my mouth. Without warning, my eyes closed, and the sweet and fluffy dough melted on my tongue. It tasted so good, homemade and comforting. Normal. “Your tongue,” I said, mouth full of my second bite. “Did it hurt?”

  He smirked as he brought his coffee to his lips. “No, Mad. It didn’t hurt.”

  Mad.

  I was mad. In more ways than one now.

  “I asked for a piercing once,” I revealed. “I was eighteen. My parents wouldn’t let me have it.”

  He continued to eat like I hadn’t told my secret. I had a family, but I was living in his bedroom.

  “Where on your body did you want it?”

  I thought of my old self. Eighteen, naïve, and dumb. Just out of high school, ready for college. My best friend had gotten one, and I’d wanted one too. Not because she did, but because it felt … bad. I was breaking rules I knew I shouldn’t. That excited me. “My belly button.”

  “I can do it for you. We also pierce at Guns & Ink.”

  “I don’t want it anymore.” It came out too fast, but I needed it out. I no longer wanted to break the rules.

  “Okay,” he said simply. “No piercings. But what about tattoos?”

  I moved on to my eggs, busting the yoke with a satisfying poke. “No, thank you.” I was done talking to him. For a brief second, I’d forgotten about the people in the restaurant. I didn’t know what had taken me out of it. The food? Him? Remembering my old self ever wanting something so vain tore me from my present, and I was back to the time fading around me. I put food into my mouth, one bite after the other until I couldn’t fit anymore. I looked down in amazement to find everything gone except one piece of bacon.

  Klayton had cleaned his plate. He reached over and snatched my last piece of bacon with a wink. “Full?”

  “I can’t tell.” I held my protruding belly.

  “Your brain and stomach aren’t connected. It still thinks you’re hungry. It’ll catch up. We’d better get you home before you pass out.”

  He acted like he knew what starving felt like. Cat said that he’d been on his own his whole life. She didn’t tell me why but hinted at the two of them being all the other had. He’d spoken to that woman a few nights ago, but Cat hadn’t liked that. As Klayton paid the bill, I hung close by, keeping his body from touching mine.

  “Can I ask you something?” I waited until we were in his truck again and his doors were locked to ask.

  “Sure,” he allowed.

  “Does Cat like you?”

  His eyes flashed to me. “You mean does she have feelings for me?” He surprised me by chuckling. “No way. Why? Did she say something?”

  “No. She didn’t like you with that woman.” She’d talked about it enough for me to remember.

  “She never likes me with any woman.”

  That sounded like jealousy to me. But he didn’t appear to think that. “Why not?”

  He pulled into the back alleyway of his shop and put the truck in park, finally looking at me. “I think she’s worried I’m going to be alone forever. But I think she’s more worried I want it that way.”

  “Being alone forever doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, I know. If there’s no one around, there’s no one to hurt. There’s no one to hurt me. There’s no one to lose or push away. I’m enough for me.” His tone had grown low, soft, unlike himself.

  I didn’t understand what was so bad about that. Maybe the old me could sense the loneliness in him, but the new me craved it. Mad craved existing in a version of herself where no one was a risk. That meant being alone.

  “Let’s go.” He hopped out, walking around the front of his truck.

  Not wanting to be alone out there, I hurried to catch up, taking the wobbly stairs after him. There were lawn chairs on the deck and a table with empty beer bottles on it. There was also an ice chest, but it was open and empty, with a spider crawling on the outside. He obviously didn’t have parties. Parties required people. And I thought deep down we’d both had enough of them.

  The moment we were back in his house, he plopped down on the couch and lifted his shirt, rubbing his tiny food bump. His abs were tattoo free, but the hard, defined skin on his V’s were tatted with a word on each side leading down … I looked up. I didn’t want to think about down. There was a time when his body would’ve had me in the fetal position, drooling, and wanting. But that time was gone. I felt nothing looking at him but uneasiness that he’d turn on me, and fear that I was right.

  I sensed him watching me watching him, but I was stuck on his stomach and the hard plain of flesh he was showing.

  Sighing, he pulled his shirt down. “Better?”

  I nodded, coming into the room.

  “Most women want my shirt off. Not on.” That made him frown. “I gotta admit, I’ll have to get used to it.”

  Fast, I begged. Get used to it fast. I took a tentative seat on the end of the sofa, bringing my legs to my chest. I’d been spending my days alone in his bedroom. Having company, and company I wasn’t entirely opposed to, was confusing. As I sat there, he turned the TV on and watched. My stomach began to ache. I tried to breathe through it, but the discomfort grew.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My stomach hurts.”

  “It’s the food. Go lay down.” He jabbed his thumb behind me.

  I didn’t think it was the food. It was a pressure in my belly and hips. Something warm and wet pooled between my legs. I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t gotten my period for so long I’d forgotten about it. I bit my lip and squeezed my legs shut, praying the blood would stop. I needed Cat. I couldn’t find the note that had her number scrawled on it.

  I didn’t know why, but my eyes were burning. Having my period was something the old me did. The new me thought it was too normal to understand.

  Klayton sat up and bent at his waist, trying to catch my gaze. I gave him a second of eye contact before I looked down at my lap. “What’s going on?”

  I’d always had terrible cramps. It was so normal, I despised it. “I think …”

  “You think,” he pressed.

  “I might have my period.” When he didn’t say anything, I looked at him. His eyebrows were raised, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a small flash of humor in his eyes. They were midnight, this deep dark blue that looked indigo. His pupil was barely identifiable. “What?”

  “Cat leaves stuff here. There should be tampons in my bathroom. Have at it.” Then he quirked one brow at me and his mouth twitched.

  Was he laughing at me? “What’s funny?”

  “It’s only your period. I just realized how old you are. That’s all.”

  I frowned. What did that mean? I rose, feeling self-conscious in a way I hadn’t since I was the old me. “Stop looking at me.”

  “Yes, Mad.” With a small grin, he looked at the TV as I took off.

  I unbuckled my j
eans in his bedroom after I locked his door, and looked down in dismay to find my inner thighs smeared in red. Feeling overwhelmed, I took my jeans and panties off. I turned the shower on and cleaned myself up. After I was cleaned up, I had to figure out what to wear. All I had left were jeans. My jean shorts were too dirty.

  I wrapped my towel around my waist and poked my head out. “Klayton? No! Don’t get up,” I called when I heard his body shift on the couch. “I wanted to know if I could wear some of your pants?” I wiped my tears off. I didn’t understand why I was so out of place right now. Maybe working for him wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I could buy something to wear, my own feminine products.

  “I’m coming in,” he barked, his large body stomping down the hall.

  I panicked. Naked from the waist down in just a towel, he could easily hurt me. I stepped back when he came barreling in. He ignored me cowering in the corner and opened his drawers. He opened every single drawer he had. Then he jumped over the bed and opened the closet. Lastly, he pulled out a hamper and dumped the contents onto the floor.

  “You see all the open drawers, the clothes in the closet, and the shit on the floor?” His enraged gaze bored into mine. I nodded mechanically. “You can wear whatever you want. You don’t need permission. And if you need help, ask me.” He patted his chest. “You don’t have to wait for Cat to come home. If we wait for her, we’ll be waiting forever.” He walked by me and slammed his door shut. I heard him cursing under his breath, and then nothing after the back door slammed.

  I studied the mess he’d created numbly. With my breath coming too fast, I got myself situated, locating a new box of tampons under his sink. I picked a pair of what looked like his running shorts. They were comfy and loose. Then I started cleaning his room. By the time I was done, I didn’t know what else to do. I crawled into bed and under his covers after locking his door. At some point, despite fighting it, I managed to sleep. I thought the belly full of food made it easier to sleep, and didn’t know how I felt about that.

  Sleeping meant he could come in at any time. I had to stay awake. Be aware. I had to be ready to fight back.