War Hope: War Series Book Two

by Nicole Lynne

  "I'm just going to go home. It's late."

  "Late? What the fuck is wrong with you? It's not even gone 10 yet you old fart." Shaking his head, he stands up and heads down the hall. "I'm taking a piss and then we're going. It'll do you good to get out."

  Three hours later and Kyan's found the blonde and I'm pretty sure he's fucking her in the toilets. I'm paying our tab when he comes strutting out, zipping his fly.

  I take the receipt from the bartender and shake my head on a laugh. "Did you really just fuck her in the bathroom?"

  "Nah," he swipes his beer from the counter and downs it in one gulp. "She just gave me a blowie. She's too classy to be bending over the toilet."

  "But not too classy to get on her knees in a puddle of piss?"

  Kyan smirks. "You do have a sense of humour after all, don't you?" He winks as he heads toward the door. "Come on, mate."

  I follow him out in a beer haze. Kyan cat calls at a little brunette standing by the corner. She turns around, dragging her eyes over him before she leans through the window of the car stopped next to the curb, engine running. "Nice arse, treacle," he shouts, stumbling into a garbage bin.

  "Fuck's sake, Kyan. That's a hooker."

  "Well," Kyan snorts, "I ain't never seen a hooker with an arse like that."

  "Jesus." I grab onto his arm and yank him to the other side of the walkway. "Come on."

  "I know,” he slurs, “let's go see Hope."

  "No."

  "Yes."

  "Why?" I groan.

  "She's pretty."

  "I'm not going to see fucking Hope." To be honest, I do want to see her, which is all the more reason for me to go the fuck home.

  "And besides. She lives right up there." He points to a set of red brick flats, squinting an eye. "Ah, look. Hope!" he shouts. "Treacle!"

  "Shut up, would you?" I shove him.

  "Well, she's outside on her balcony. Hope, it's me and..." he laughs, "him—the fuckface."

  "Fuckface?"

  He glances at me with a smile. "Yeah, that's what she calls you." I stare up at a balcony and see a figure move along the patio. "We're coming up, treacle," Kyan yells again.

  "She's not even answering you."

  "Well," he shrugs, "might not be her. Maybe that old lady that lives next door. I don't fucking know."

  He bolts across the street without so much as a glance and I roll my eyes. I should just leave him, but god knows I'd end up bailing him out of jail. I jog across the street myself and follow him up the metal stairwell. He's winded by the time we reach the top and he goes right to the first door and pounds his fist over it. "Ah, treacle," he sings. "We've come to see you."

  "You sound like a fucking perv."

  "Thank you." He smiles.

  The door opens and Hope stands there, her eyebrow raised as she looks at Kyan, sparing me a fleeting glance before deliberately looking away again. "What are you doing here?" she asks.

  "I don't know. Finn wanted to see you."

  "What!" My gaze drifts over to Hope whose leaning against the door with her arms folded. "Kyan," I reach for him, but he manoeuvres away from my grasp.

  "I doubt that,” she snorts. The annoyance in her voice bothers me.

  "He's drunk," I say. "I'm—"

  "And just who the bloody fuck are you?" I hear Kyan say. Hope rolls her eyes and turns around, opening the door the rest of the way. There's a man standing in the middle of her living room, his head only a few inches away from the ceiling. He's in a pair of jeans, his steroid pumped muscles on full display. It's the same guy she was walking with earlier.

  "Who the fuck are you?" He asks, eyeing Kyan with a volatile glare.

  "Jesus, fuck, Silas." She turns around, her hands on her hips as she looks at the guy. "Don't be talking to my friends." She turns back to us, stepping into the hallway and pulling the door nearly closed behind her.

  "You're fucking the hulk?" Kyan asks.

  "No." She clips him across the side of the head. "He's my ex." Her eyes flick to me, her expression tight. Her usual teasing self is completely absent and I don't like it. That's what makes her Hope. She looks...sad. "It's complicated," she mumbles.

  My gaze locks with hers and I can't seem to tear it away. "Come on, Kyan," I say.

  "Ginge, you're breaking my heart," Kyan says, clutching at his chest. "I thought what we had was special."

  I roll my eyes. "Come on," I say more impatiently. Suddenly I need to get away from here, from her. Nothing about this should bother me, but it fucking does. I have absolutely no right.

  Kyan stumbles back down the hallway with me and I have to grab the collar of his shirt and yank him back to stop him from falling down the stairs.

  "I'm sorry, man," he says when we get outside.

  Yeah, I think maybe I am too.

  19

  Hope

  I have tossed and turned all night and all I can picture is Finn's face. He looked so betrayed. I shouldn't care because Finn and I are friends. Just friends. I can only imagine what he must think of me—about Silas. I swipe my hand down my face and gulp a mouthful of coffee.

  Silas staggers into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of tracksuit bottoms. His hair is sticking up everywhere. I swallow hard when he stretches and drags his hand through it. We went out in London yesterday and at times it was nice, but my mind is like a war zone and every time I allow myself to slip into that familiar, safe place with him, it instantly reminds me of what he did. Could I ever get over it? Should I try to forgive him? I've always said if a guy cheats on me, I'm done, but people make mistakes, especially when they're dealing with shit. Silas was in a bad place. He did something fucking stupid...but what if this is it? What if he's my one and I miss out on an epic love because I'm too proud to forgive? What if I think I can forgive him but end up haunted by that constant feeling that I wasn't good enough? I wasn't good enough to help him, wasn't good enough to keep him. I just wasn't enough, and in the end Silas destroyed not only himself, but me in the process. But…here he is and what if I am enough now?

  I place my hand against my stomach trying to rid myself of this sick feeling. This is what he does, he raises questions, uncertainties, insecurities that I just don't need. I'm fine without him.

  He moves to the sink, stepping up behind me and trailing his hand across my waist as he does. Closing my eyes, I release a shaky breath as his lips brush the side of my neck. My fingers clench so tightly that my nails cut into my palm. As his hand tightens on my waist, all I can think of is how it's not his touch I want. Finn's hurt expression pops into my mind again like an alarm on repeat.

  "I have to go," I whisper.

  Silas pulls away and I quickly duck for the door. "What? Where are you going?" he asks.

  "I have to go and see a friend." I grab my handbag from the chair and practically run out the door, fumbling with my car keys as I go.

  I take a deep breath, knock on the door, and wait for a second. Of course, he doesn't answer. Arsehole. I dig around in my bra until I find the key and unlock the door. I step into Finn's apartment and he glances up, frowning at me from his spot on the sofa. His guitar is in his lap, his fingers lingering over the strings.

  "I did knock, but you're a cunt, so I used my key."

  He strums over the guitar again and cocks a brow. "What do you want?"

  What do I want? "I came to see you, you ungrateful prick."

  He strums out a soulful little melody. "Well, you're seeing me."

  I sigh. "Fuck me, Finnley. Are we really doing this?"

  Huffing, he sets the guitar by the edge of the couch and combs his fingers through his hair. "Doing what, Hope?"

  I want to cut him. "Okay, cool. Nothing to see here, all fine. You didn't kick me out of your apartment for no fucking reason last week..."

  "I told you to leave. I didn't kick you out." He smirks. "But I guess little queenie doesn't know the difference. What, am I the first guy that's actually asked you to leave?"

  "Fuck
you, Finn!" I lift my middle finger at him for good measure. "I have been nothing but nice to you and what do I get? Your sulky, brooding shit. You kick me out, and then you turn up at my place and look at me like some traitorous whore because you saw Silas..."

  "Again, I did not fucking kick you out. God, you are so fucking annoying." He stands up and crosses the room. "I don't care what you do with Silas."

  I narrow my eyes at him. "So you don't care if I fucked him?"

  "Who haven't you fucked?"

  My mouth falls open before it snaps shut with a click. "At least I fuck someone. Must get awful lonely in this apartment, you and your hand..." I lift one eyebrow, a small smirk playing over my lips.

  He shakes his head. "I was just fine by myself. I'm not the one who is following someone around like a sad little puppy." I swallow heavily, remembering Silas' parting words. No one will ever want you or love you the way I do. Maybe that's the truth. "Why do you keep coming over here, Hope, huh?" He takes another step toward me, backing me against the wall. He's so close I can smell the cherry smoke on his breath.

  I blink and all the fight leaves me. "I don't know," I whisper.

  Something shifts, tension charging the air. Finn's dark eyes drop to my lips before lifting back to my eyes. I stare at him as he places one hand on the wall above my head and leans in until his forehead rests against mine.

  "Why do you let me?"

  "I don't know either," he whispers. I can't breathe. "I should tell you to leave." His warm, sweet breath washes over my face and I crave it. I crave him, for reasons I can't possibly begin to explain to myself. Maybe it's just simple need, a fundamental want but I don't think so. He makes me feel safe.

  My chest constricts and I tilt my chin up until my lips brush his. I expect him to pull back, but he doesn't. I press my palms flat against the wall. I feel like I'm walking on thin ice, waiting for him to put a stop to this. There's a moment, a pause and all I can hear is my own heart pounding in my chest. And then his hands land on either side of my face as his lips crash over mine. I don't know what I expected from Finn. Gentle, sweet maybe, but not this. His kiss is demanding, his lips soft yet brutal as his fingers dig into my face and his hard body crushes me against the wall.

  My lips part on a gasp and his tongue slips inside my mouth, caressing my own. My hands leave the wall, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer. He makes me feel possessed and wanted because he's losing control. For me. This man who is so controlled in every aspect of his life, so calm and collected.

  His hands slip from my face and he grips my arse, yanking me hard against him, against the firmness of his crotch. Just as quickly as it starts, it stops. He pulls back and we stare at each other, both breathing heavily. My lips tingle with the taste of him: cherry and smoke.

  "I, uh..." I swallow and reach behind me, feeling for the door knob. "I should um, go. I should go."

  He stares at me. My heart is pounding and I can't read his expression. I find the knob and twist, pulling the door open and slipping out without another word.

  Why do I have to make things so complicated for myself?

  I walk back into my apartment and Silas is sitting on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward, focusing on the TV. His eyes flick to me. He must sense that something has shifted. I don't even know what, but it has.

  "You need to go," I say.

  He frowns, pushes to his feet, and crosses the room. "Hope.."

  I shake my head. "This will never work." I look up at him. "I can never forgive you. I can't forget." He takes a step closer and I can see the determination on his face.

  My temper snaps. Finally. "Fuck, Silas. Just fucking go! I don't love you anymore." The words shock both of us, but what's even more surprising is that I think they might be true. I'm in love with the memory of what we once had. I'm sad at the loss of it, but I don't love Silas.

  He closes the space between us and I shuffle backwards. He stops, his brow furrowing in frustration. I expect a big argument but instead, he simply turns and scoops up his bag, hooking it over his shoulder before he leaves the apartment. The door bangs shut behind him with a heavy finality. I release a long breath and sit down on the sofa. My heart is racing and my hands tremble, but he's gone. Silas is out of my life again and I wonder if it's for good this time?

  20

  Hope

  The coarse ropes that line the ring brush against my exposed stomach. Kyan is bouncing on his feet in front of me as I wrap his hands for the fight.

  "Good and tight, ginge."

  I roll my eyes. "I know how to wrap, fucktard."

  His gaze is fixed over my shoulder and I twist, following his line of sight to Haven who is taking bets next to her dad.

  "You like to live dangerously, princess," I say to Kyan.

  A devious smile works over his lips. "Oh, I think little Haven might be game."

  I laugh. "Larry is going to rip your dick off and feed it to you if you go near his eighteen-year-old daughter."

  "Ah, ginge,” he looks at her again, “some risks are definitely worth taking."

  "You're impossible." I glance up when someone shifts to step beside me. Finn has his permanent scowl fixed in place. I quickly drop my gaze away from him. I don't know why. I'm not one for being anything less than balls to the wall about everything, but I'm not sure there's any way not to feel a little awkward right now.

  The last time I spoke to him we had a fight, then we kissed, and I left, because that's always the mature way to handle situations like that.

  "Gotta check your wraps," Finn says, raising his voice over the growing crowd spilling into The Pit. Kyan holds his hands out and Finn inspects them. Ever since Brandon got sliced up by a guy with razor blades in his wraps one time, everyone gets checked. "Okay, you're good." Finn slaps Kyan on the back and Kyan ducks through the ropes into the ring. The other fighter still hasn't come out.

  "You okay?" I ask as we stand shoulder to shoulder, facing the ring.

  He releases a heavy sigh and turns to face me. "Yeah. You?" God, could this be anymore awkward if we tried? What are we fourteen? Jesus...

  "Yep. I'm great," I say with far too much enthusiasm.

  The cringe worthy silence reigns on for several moments before Finn clears his throat. "Can you wrap?"

  He holds two rolled wraps out to me and I take them, tucking one between my legs as I take his outstretched hand. I focus on winding the material around his outstretched fingers, up his wrist. I can feel his eyes on me as my fingers brush over the tight muscles of his forearms. I finish wrapping him and pause, pulling my hand away slowly. The crowd roars around us, but all I can feel is the silence between us.

  "Sorry," we both blurt at the same time. I smile and finally look up at him. His dark eyes study mine.

  "I’m sorry I kissed you," he says.

  My heart drops a little. "Are you?"

  His lips press together. "Are you?" He waits for my reaction.

  I narrow my eyes and step closer to him until my breasts rub against his bare chest. He doesn't move away, only looks down at me. I reach up, lightly running my fingers along his chest. His taped hand meets my hip, but he doesn't pull me closer. I watch the slow path of my manicured nails over his tanned skin. I tip my head back and lift my eyes to his lips. The air fills with this tension pausing as though holding its breath. Pushing up on tiptoes, I press my lips to his gently. His arms wind around my back and he tugs me closer to him. The kiss is short and sweet, but full of possibilities.

  "I have to fight," he says, against my mouth.

  I nod. "Okay, go kick some arse." A small smile pulls at his lips before he releases me, his hand slowly gliding over my back. The bell rings signalling the end of Kyan's fight. I don't know whether he won or lost.

  "And next in the ring..." Larry’s gruff voice rumbles through the speakers announcing Finn. I can't stop smiling as I turn away from Finn and glance into the crowd, but the smile quickly falls when my eyes land on Silas. He's
standing far enough back so as not to be easily seen. I guess hoping he’ll be hidden behind the cheering, drunk men.

  I glance at Finn quickly. "Good luck in your fight." I squeeze his forearm before disappearing into the crowd, bee lining for Silas. He stands like a rock, his arms at his sides, his muscles rigid tense. He looks hard and dangerous and I can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. I've never feared him and I'm not going to allow myself to right now. Besides, we're in a room full of people. What is he going to do?

  "What the fuck are you doing here?" I say with a snap when I reach him.

  He grabs the top of my arm, his fingers digging into my skin hard as he drags me across the room and roughly pushes me against the wall. His hands land on the wall either side of my head, caging me in. Suddenly, the room full of people that felt like a security blanket a few moments ago now fades into the background, irrelevant and inconsequential.

  It's just me and a very pissed off Silas. His jaw ticks repeatedly and his nostrils flare. I know him well enough to know he's about two-point-five seconds from losing it.

  "What do you want?" I ask, quietly this time in a bid not to agitate him.

  A humourless laugh slips from his snarled lips. "You're fucking the fighter?"

  I glare at him. "It's none of your business who I'm fucking Silas. You were supposed to leave. Why the fuck are you following me?"

  His gaze slips down my body. "I always knew you were a whore, just like your sweet sister." He smirks, and I lose it. My temper spikes, my fist curls and I punch him in the face. His head snaps to the side before his gaze shifts back to me, his eyes ablaze with a whole new level of anger. Oh, fuck.