Damaged Heart (A San Diegan Novel Book 3)

by S. M. Soto

  From nine to fifteen years old, I lived through things no young child should ever have to. Over the course of that time I was moved from foster home to foster home. None of them stuck. They weren’t always bad. I’ll never forget the family that treated me like I was their own. I loved staying with them—the Johnsons. But it didn’t last. Nothing good ever does.

  They’d already had their quota of foster children, and the state wouldn’t allow any more. So I was the one booted. I had to leave the Johnsons’ on my thirteenth birthday, and I was left with the Ward family. The house of horrors. The devil’s den.

  After living with the Wards for three years, I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I left. I ran off with their savings that was stashed in their safe—my foster dad’s keycode was “pussy”, how very original—and stole all their credit cards. I wasn’t stupid. I knew once they realized their money was missing they would come looking for me, so I ran. The money they had wasn’t much, but it was just enough to give me hope. I saved the cash and kept it hidden for when I would really need it.

  I spent a year on the streets in Boston, just trying to make it day by day. It was hard. One of the hardest years of my life. By the time I was sixteen, I had saved up enough money working shady, low-end jobs, and with the cash from the Wards, I would finally be able to get the hell out of Boston. That’s how I ended up in San Diego. I took the South Station Amtrak to the Santa Fe Depot. Those were the longest three days of my fucking life.

  I set up roots here in San Diego. For twelve months, I slept at Nueva Vida Haven shelter. I rode the bus to San Diego High School, and walked to work until I had enough money saved to buy a car. Everything I did, everything I’ve accomplished under the circumstances, I’ve done on my own. I learned a long time ago the only person you can rely on and trust in this world is yourself. That’s just life, and I’m okay with that.

  I’ve had to do things I’m not proud of, and make decisions that crushed me, but I’m still here. Despite the obstacles, I didn’t fail like I was destined to. I wasn’t living on the streets anymore. I didn’t turn to drugs like my mother so easily did. I was alive.

  I saw a quote once about how good people sometimes make bad decisions. They mess up, and they let the people they love down, but apparently, that’s all fine and dandy because deep down, they’re a good person and we all make mistakes. But I’m not a good person. I’ve never loved anyone enough to let them down. I’m also certain that my life has been one big mistake that has unceremoniously made me into a stronger person.

  ***

  After the degrading memory last night, I couldn’t fall back to sleep. Instead, I dressed for the gym, where I spent the morning running, and working off my frustration. While forcing my body to the limit, I left feeling marginally better than I did when I’d woken up.

  I quickly showered and dressed for work, just like I usually do. Only today, I wasn’t in the mood to slang out drinks with a flirtatious smile on my face. Hell no. Today, I felt like jamming my fist into the face of the first asshole that pissed me off. I’ve never been good at handling my anger very well.

  “What can I get ya?” I ask the man across the bar curtly.

  “I’ll take a Jack and Coke, babe. Why don’t you slide your pretty little self over here while you’re at it?”

  I lean down across the bar, purposely pushing my cleavage together, giving the asshole a clear view of my full C-cups.

  “Oh, baby,” I purr in a sticky sweet voice, “why don’t I just slide over there and shove my foot up your ass. Would you like that?”

  His brows shoot up and his mouth drops open, completely shocked at my choice of words. I give him a smarmy smile. That was just the reaction I was looking for.

  “Jack and Coke coming right up, big guy.” I wink at him, and turn around to make his drink. I’m half tempted to give him all Coke and no Jack, but I’m sure CJ will blow a gasket if he finds out. Shame really. I live for pissing him off.

  “Someone’s a bit feisty today,” Aliza, my other best friend, says as she leans across the bar, her golden hair tumbling around her shoulders. I shoot her a glare.

  When Aliza first stumbled into San Diego, she was like this sad shell of a human being, and now, she’s this vibrant, sassy little thing with attitude.

  I can’t even wrap my head around it half the time.

  I blame her boyfriend, CJ, the owner of the Bar and Grille. He’s brought her life and her happiness back. I’d never outright thank the guy, mainly because we have this ongoing feud that I’d hate to ruin, but secretly, I’m so happy for them both, even if Aliza defies me at every turn now.

  “Oh, fuck off, Ohio,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

  “Jesus, Samantha. Do you always have to be so volatile?” Natalia says as she walks toward the bar, resting next to Aliza in an identical position. I roll my eyes at the both of them.

  “It’s in my genes, assholes. I’m genetically dispositioned this way.”

  Natalia places a hand on her hip and looks at me like I’ve somehow grown two heads. “Do you even know what that means, Sam?”

  “Believe it or not, I do know what it means,” I say, glaring daggers at her.

  “What’s got you acting so jolly today?” Aliza asks, popping a cheese fry in her mouth.

  “Just having a shitty day, Ohio. Like any regular person, I do have off days too, you know.”

  “No one quite has shitty days like you, Sam,” Aliza retorts.

  “I agree. Your shitty days are pretty catastrophic,” Natalia adds in.

  With a frustrated sigh, I slap my palms on the bar top in exasperation. “Don’t you guys have jobs to do? Jesus effing Christ, you guys are like a gang of irritating bandits. Always busting my damn balls.”

  “There is this thing called a break, Samantha. You should try it sometime,” Aliza deadpans and I level a glare at her, silently blaming CJ for making her so ballsy.

  “You know what? It’s a beautiful, sunny day. I think we’re going to enjoy it on the deck to get some fresh air,” Natalia says as she grips Aliza’s forearm. They both practically sprint toward the seating area on the deck. I stare after them with a frown marring my face.

  My friends are fucking weird.

  I focus my attention back to the task at hand—tending to the bar. With the now-damp towel, I wipe up any excess liquor spilled on the bar top or behind the counter. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. An awareness like no other travels up my spine. Inhaling a deep breath, I look up at the source of who’s causing the electric current to run rampant through my body.

  “Now I see why they ran off to the deck. Bitches,” I grumble under my breath as Alex makes himself comfortable on the empty bar stool across from me.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite bartender.”

  “And my not-so-favorite co-worker,” I say snidely as I busy myself with cutting fresh limes and lemons, placing them in the plastic container for later use.

  “Stop. You love me.”

  Hearing the smile in his voice, I gift him with an irritable grunt as my response. When he places his hand over mine, halting my movements, I momentarily forget how to breathe. With my heart lodged in my throat, I slowly drag my eyes up to his honey-browns. They look like sunlight on stone. The blend of browns has been, at times, unsettling. Just like they are today.

  He’s dressed in his typical black T-shirt with the bar logo that hugs his muscular form to perfection, and those damn distressed jeans that showcase his ass perfectly, making my mouth water.

  “Seriously, you all right?” he asks sincerely, his brows dipping down in worry. His question snaps me out of my ogling.

  “Yeah, I’m just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  If possible, the crease between his brows deepens with that look that I know all too well. He’s going to venture into the no-go zone.

  “It’s your mom, isn’t it?”

  I hold my breath, contemplating whether or not I should lie about it, but
I know better. Alex knows me like the back of his own hand. Sometimes, he knows what I’m thinking before I do. That’s the scary thing about knowing someone for so long. You unwillingly give a piece of yourself away. Over the years, Alex has somehow plowed through the brick wall I’ve built around myself and delved into my deepest and darkest secrets.

  “Amongst other things,” I reply vaguely, as flashes of a small, freckled redhead and a burly man invade my mind. Forcing the disgusting images away, I train my attention on the beer taps, recharging each of them.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Samantha? There’s something else bothering you. I can see it written all over your face.”

  Blowing out an aggravated sigh, I drop the canister of Heineken with a thud and grip the edge of the counter, trying to pull myself together. “So much,” I whisper.

  “What?”

  Turning toward him, I say. “There’s still so much you don’t know, Alex. And honestly, I don’t think you want to know.”

  “Try me.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Samantha.” He says my name in that gruff, serious tone. The one that leaves no room for disagreement. But when have I ever been one to make life easy on Alex?

  “Just forget it, Alex. We need to get back to work.”

  His plump lips thin into a grim line and he nods his head ever so slightly. “Fine, but this conversation isn’t over. You’re coming to my place tonight after your shift is over.”

  Swallowing, I force myself to ignore the paradox in my chest. “Fine.” I roll my eyes and turn my back on the only man who has the ability to set my blood on fire.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I spent the entire drive to Alex’s worrying about him questioning my past. There’s a reason I don’t go around telling everyone what I’ve been through in my life—it fucking sucked. I’ve managed to give Alex the bare minimum when it comes to talking about my past.

  For nine years with Alex in my life, I’ve practically lied to the guy. All he really knows is my mom was a drugged-up piece of shit who didn’t take care of me. That, in itself, should have been enough of an explanation. I’ve never told him the darkest parts of my childhood. The parts that make my body crawl with disgust and shame.

  I had a horrible life as a child and I mean that in the most literal sense. I’ve been scarred, maybe not on the outside, but inside, I’m damaged goods. My adolescent mind has been skewed, over time evolving into the fucked-up woman that I am today.

  Parking in front of Alex’s single-story brownstone, I clamber out of my Jeep with my mind made up. Alex and I won’t be delving into my past tonight, or any other night, for that matter. Instead, we’ll be delving into each other. Sex is always a good way to avoid serious discussions. Especially with Alex.

  Climbing up the steps of his porch, I don’t even bother using the doorbell or knocking—that’s never been my style. I easily push open the front door and make my way inside. A small smile tips the corners of my lips. I don’t know if Alex always leaves his front door unlocked, or if he just does it for me. Granted, he does live in a quiet, safe neighborhood, but still, you can never be too sure.

  Closing the large, wooden door behind me, I inhale a deep breath and savor the smell of Alex’s home. The scent is inherently male: a bit of spice mixed in with the perfect amount of musk. It is intoxicating, and easily one of my favorites.

  “You know,” I say aloud as I hear the clang of pots and pans from the kitchen, “one of these days, a killer could walk through your front door and you’d think it was me. Easy prey, baby.”

  Passing the darkened living room, I sashay down the hallway into the brightly lit kitchen. Alex’s house is the definition of a man-cave. Mostly blacks with some deep blue tones are set throughout the place, with dark furniture to match. His living room consists of a flat-screen TV and a coffee table that easily transforms into a poker table. In all my life, I’ve never really had a place I could call home, but whenever I’m here, it feels like I’ve finally found that place I belong. This is the closest I’ve ever felt to having a home and a safe environment.

  “Don’t sweat it, firecracker,” he says as he stirs something over the stove. I lean against the frame of the entryway and stare at him in all his perfection.

  Watching him work his way around the kitchen never ceases to amaze me. He’s this big-time alpha male cooking kick-ass meals behind the stove. It’s a novelty.

  “No one would dare come into my space and fuck with me,” he says, finishing his statement from earlier, prompting me to roll my eyes at his shit joke.

  “Because you’re sooo strong, Alex,” I goad, trying to rile him up.

  He halts his movements over the stove, and looks up at me with a raised brow. “Do I need to remind you of my strength, Samantha Faye?” A crooked smile twists his lips.

  An explosion of heat unravels in my core, and I lick my lips in response. “Maybe you do.” The words are a breathy whisper, and if the sharp rise and fall of his chest is any indication, I’d say my declaration has gotten to him.

  “My cock buried deep inside your pussy will have to wait until after our conversation. Don’t think I forgot, firecracker,” he says with a saccharine grin and a wink.

  The growing heat between my legs dissipates instantly.

  “Point well made,” I say with a pout as I make myself comfortable by propping myself on the black granite counter next to him.

  Leaning toward the stove, I watch as he expertly adds in Asian noodles to his stir-fry. My stomach growls at the aroma coming from the large pan.

  “So, start talking. We have all night, but I’d much rather spend most of that time fucking you senseless.”

  His words have desire shooting between my legs. My pussy throbs at the thought of him screwing me all night long.

  “And who said romance isn’t dead?”

  “Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it baby,” he says, flashing me his grin that has the ability to make me spontaneously combust. “Now, talk.”

  I roll my eyes at his demand and give him my most vague response. “The issue last night was with my mother, and partly because of all the other fucked-up shit I had to deal with as a child. Stuff I’d much rather forget ever happened. There, we talked. Now, will you please feed me? I’m fucking starving here, and not just for your cock.”

  Alex tosses his head back and laughs. The sight makes my heart melt a little bit. With his laughter under control, he leans toward me and places a chaste kiss on my forehead, then wraps his thick arm around my waist.

  “Let’s get you fed with an appetizer before I send you to the bedroom for the main course,” he whispers huskily in my ear, sending delicious chills through my body.

  We sit comfortably across from each other at the table and eat our food while chatting easily. Underneath the light conversation, there’s an incessant throb between my legs that won’t go away, no matter how hard I squeeze and rub my thighs together. With only sex on the mind, I run my finger through the orange chicken sauce on the plate. Slowly, I bring my finger to my lips, and wait until Alex glances up at me. It doesn’t take long for him to do so.

  Appreciating his rapt attention, I stare at him through hooded eyes, and loudly suck my finger into my mouth. I let my eyes flutter closed as I imagine Alex’s cock in my mouth instead of my finger. My tongue swirls in circular motions, and a breathy moan escapes my lips. Slowly, I pry my eyes open to find Alex’s heated gaze trained on the finger in my mouth. His hands are curled into fists on the table and his body is as stiff as a board. I smile internally.

  “God, you are one dirty girl,” he half-groans with praise.

  As I release my finger from my mouth, my hooded gaze collides with Alex’s.

  “I think I’m ready for that main course now,” I say firmly, and before I know it, I’m airborne. My body is lifted out of the chair and onto the kitchen table. My back slams against the cherry wood, taking my breath away.

  Roughly, Alex fists his hand in m
y hair and yanks my face up toward his. The sting on my scalp only makes the throbbing between my legs intensify, and when his mouth devours mine, I lose all sense of rational thought. Running my hands over the material of his shirt, I heatedly grip onto corded muscle and groan into his mouth when his tongue tangles with mine in a scorching battle of lust. Alex tears his mouth away from mine with a growl, effortlessly lifts me off the table, and trails his hot mouth down my neck and to my breasts, all the while walking down the darkened hall toward his bedroom.

  Shedding our clothes with rapid speed, we fall onto his bed in a naked heap. He grinds his erection into my pussy lips, causing a moan to tear free from my chest as he rubs against my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body.

  “My little vixen.”

  His hands grasp the back of my neck and roughly pull my mouth to his in a bout of unrestrained lust. Our lips fuse together, our breaths and bodies becoming one with passion. As he breaks the kiss, his eyes track down my body to the apex between my thighs.

  “Put me inside you,” he whispers erotically.

  I drag my nails down his back, eliciting a deep growl from him before I guide his thick girth into my opening. His forehead drops down to mine, so we can both look down and watch our bodies join, easily one of the most erotic sights in my life. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I dig my heels into his ass, pushing him inside me.

  He slides into me, stretching and filling me in the best of ways. The muscles of his ass flex under my heels as I push him deeper, needing everything he’s willing to give me.