Hard Love (Guns & Ink Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  In my space, I was supposed to know what to do. I didn’t.

  I didn’t know anything at all but him.

  And when every ounce of knowledge you possess lies in a man, you’re asking for trouble and ignorance.

  I slid away from him and sat up, bringing my knees to my chest. He wanted me, and I wanted him, but nothing was fixed between us.

  “Go home.” I rested my chin on my kneecap and stared at the television. “We can talk tomorrow.”

  “Is that what you want?” he asked, a knowing edge to his voice.

  “No. Okay? No. I never wanted you to leave in the first place. But you don’t care what I want. You’ve done you since the moment we met.”

  “That isn’t fair, Cat. I didn’t know I’d be here in your bed defending my feelings when we first met either.”

  He hadn’t defended his feelings, though. Wanting me and keeping me weren’t the same. I couldn’t take this anymore. The back and forth. The maybe I love him, the maybe he loves me. The up and down and back and forth. I wanted to run. Far away. The worst part was, I wanted to take him with me.

  I wanted him to chase me.

  To catch me.

  To hold on tight when it was hard.

  To love my body when things were good.

  To never, ever let me go.

  “Then defend your feelings.” I stared straight, forbidding myself to cry, to break. A commercial came on, and the clear blue waters of a travel advertisement tugged on my soul. Hawaii. Magic. I wanted magic.

  “My feelings are pretty simple when they come to you. They always have been. It’s me who complicates them. I complicate it. I … can’t forget, and everything I remember dictates the choices I make now. I keep a simple life. No one in, no one out. I put on suits to hide the tattoos. I went to college, I became a cop, a detective. I ran. I moved. All of that’s complicated too. You’re the only thing that’s made sense to me since I woke up in that hospital bed.”

  The in-between was a contorted twisted maze. So much of what mattered got lost in the middle.

  “What do you want me to do?” He reached for me, but I stared straight, studying the blue waters, the perfect sand. “Ask you to be my girlfriend?”

  I hated how stupid that sounded. How mundane and ordinary.

  I blinked the tears from my eyes. His hand wrapped around my wrist.

  “I don’t know what to do here. Baby, tell me, so I can do it.” He tugged on my wrist.

  I wrenched it free, focusing so hard on the ocean on the advertisement, I saw fish swimming below the water. I bet it looked magical under that water. So bright and alive. So meaningful, free of pain, full of wonder.

  “Take me to Hawaii,” I heard myself say before I could even think.

  There was silence on his end for a few seconds. The commercial ended, switching to one that was as meaningless as I was. I closed my eyes in misery. Set loose. That’s what that monster did to me the other night. He tore down every safe house I’d built in my heart and set loose every weak spot I eluded myself into thinking I no longer had.

  He cleared his throat. And then he opened his mouth. “Okay.”

  My eyes snapped open. “Okay? What do you mean okay?”

  “I mean let’s go. You and me. To Hawaii.” He smiled, but it was off, slightly tainted in desperateness. He wanted to make me happy.

  It was working. “When?”

  “Right now.” He rose onto his knees in front of me and grabbed my face between his hands, his eyes bright, clear, excited even, with the prospect of doing something for me. “Let’s go. Don’t let the in-between screw this up. You want to go, I want to take you—let’s do it.”

  I was so close to falling for this idea, I could already smell the salt in the air, feel the muggy breeze on my face. “We can’t just leave—”

  “Yes, we can. I have forty five hundred left in my savings. Another two thousand in my bank account. That’s six thousand dollars and a whole lot more in magic. Please, Cat. We need this.”

  We needed it.

  He needed it.

  I needed it.

  We needed it.

  “What about the shop?”

  He brought his lips down on mine. They were amazing lips. Soft, full, scruffy around the edges from his beard. Hot like fire and silky like scrubbing velvet over my lips. I succumbed to them immediately, moaning into his kiss when he did the same.

  “Start packing. One bag. Light. I’ll go do the same. Be outside with Trixie in an hour.”

  “What—”

  He plunged his tongue back into my mouth … and everything made sense for a few more seconds. When I opened my eyes, he was peering down at me with electricity and hunger burning in his.

  “One hour,” he stressed, giving me one more back arching, panty dampening kiss.

  “One hour,” I repeated breathlessly, clutching a hand to my chest as he left the room.

  I jumped up from my bed and turned on the lights. I didn’t let myself think. Didn’t give myself a chance to feel anything other than excitement. My bags were still unpacked from being in Denver, but strewn and gutted. I tossed things in unthinkingly. Pants, panties, hair brush, toothpaste, shoes, and my cell phone charger.

  I barely breathed the entire time, my chest full of something strange. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this way. Ever feeling this … hopeful.

  Much like Brando, I spent most of my life running. Hiding. Just trying to survive.

  Hawaii may be another horrible pattern for us. But we were willing to take that risk.

  Otherwise, our demons won.

  I packed Trixie’s things, put her harness on, and her leash, and then I wrote Klay a note and laid it on top of his laptop.

  Klay,

  Gone magic hunting. Don’t be mad.

  Love,

  Cat.

  (The best person you’ve ever met.)

  Brando was idling outside when I made it out to the parking lot.

  We didn’t talk. We didn’t talk when we got to the airport. We didn’t talk when he bought two one-way tickets and paid the pet fee. We didn’t talk when we went through security or boarded the plane. He didn’t say anything to me until we were in the air, catching the only flight left out of PDX at five in the morning.

  “We’re not coming home until you find what you’re looking for.” Then he pulled his hood down over his eyes and slept the rest of the flight, Trixie folded in a ball between us, happy to be thousands of miles in the air.

  I figured I’d ride this crazy ride out the only way I knew how. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I found what I was looking for when I met him.

  What I needed was a way to keep him.

  For early November, Hawaii was hot as balls.

  I gasped the moment we stepped out of the automatic doors in Oahu. The air was moist with heat, immediately taking my breath away.

  The sun was shining high in the clear blue sky. Even the air smelled different, thick of salt and free of pollutants. I’d never been here. My demons had no idea how to threaten my happiness, so they just didn’t.

  “Ha,” I murmured, letting Trixie down.

  We looked so out of place next to the Hawaiian print shirts and shorts. We’d packed wrong. Portland was cold, wet, and snowy. Our hoodies were now obsolete. My skinny jeans were already sticking to me like glue.

  Brando waved down a taxi. I gave him a glare when he tried to help with the bags. Magician or not, he was still hurt.

  “Aloha,” the driver greeted when we settled in the back. “Welcome to Hawaii. Where to?”

  “Cheapest hotel with the best view,” I spoke up.

  He chuckled. “Not sure those two go together. But I know an affordable hotel within walking distance?”

  “Sounds good, thank you,” Brando said, clutching at his side. “Muggy air’s making me work a little harder to breathe.”

  I bit my lip in worry, studying his face for signs he was hurting. Sweat dripped down his temple. “T
ake your sweatshirt off.”

  He tried, but the motions made him cringe, so I shifted in my seat and pulled his sweatshirt off one arm at a time. That left him in a plain white shirt, dampened with sweat and see through. He looked so hot to me in that moment, I couldn’t wait to get to a bed. Black hair ruffled and damp with sweat. Tattooed arms dark against his sweat-soaked, now see-through shirt. He already looked younger. Not a cop, but an artist in a new land. Even the green in his eyes looked brighter somehow.

  “Beaches all around you, and you’re staring at me?” He quirked a brow my way and his lips lifted in one corner.

  Blushing was so not my style, but I couldn’t help the heat in my cheeks. “Loser.” I crossed my arms over my chest and exchanged his handsome entirety for my window instead. He was right. The beach traced the road, stretched out before me, endless blue.

  How was this possible? I peeked at him to find his eyes on the water too. Trixie was on his lap, panting out of his window.

  Love was such a flagrant tease.

  My cell rang in my purse. Then Brando’s hummed in his back pocket. We both took our phones out and turned them off.

  Family or not, my journey to magic could not be swayed.

  “Almost there,” the driver said, turning away from the road and taking the turn off into the city. It wasn’t as crowded as I pictured, and the stretches of beach I saw weren’t covered in bikini-clad bodies. He took two turns and then drove a little uphill, stopping outside of a sign that said Vacation Inn and Hostel. “Cheap, five-minute walk to the beach. I did good, ay?” He grinned over his shoulder at me.

  “Hostel, huh?” I frowned at the shack-like structure. I’d seen the movie and wasn’t impressed.

  “Yes, thank you. Keep the change.” Brando palmed some cash from his wallet and dropped it in the driver’s hand.

  “Aloha,” he said brightly, counting the cash eagerly.

  I grabbed the bags as he wrangled Trixie. There was a flock of birds on the picnic benches out front and she was doing her best to wreak havoc, her three legs all she needed.

  I admired Trixie. Wanted to be more like her. To run on my three legs and chase the birds, smile at the wind on my face. As it was, I tossed and turned in the gust.

  And the howl of the roar through my empty parts was starting to wear on me.

  The hostel was more than happy to take us in. The clerk showed us to the community kitchen, living room, and our private bedroom. There were no walls, only mesh blinds—to keep the mosquitoes out—and a single full bed frame made out of bamboo shoots. At least the sheets looked clean-ish.

  “Welcome to paradise,” Brando announced, dropping his things, and himself, on to the bed. From his position, he looked up at me with unguarded eyes. “Feels like everything’s going to change on this trip.”

  I came close, staring down at him as the heat of the day stuck the hair at the nape of my neck to my skin. “As long as we don’t.”

  He reached for me. When I gave him my hand, he pulled me down on the bed beside him. I curled up on his side and our sweat-slicked skin stuck where it touched. From our position, I could see the jungle-like trees behind the hostel, and the sounds of the city and the faint crash of waves in the distance. Already felt like magic. I closed my eyes in wonder and pressed my face into his chest.

  “Let’s get some breakfast,” he suggested, kissing my hair.

  I didn’t know why, but Brando felt more … mine.

  I changed into a lightweight white shirt with fall over the edge of wonder spray painted on the front, and rolled up the sleeves, putting my hair in a bun. When we made it outside, Brando took hold of my hand and threaded our fingers together. I wasn’t a hand holder, didn’t think he was either, but it didn’t feel so unlike us in that moment. It felt like holding on to every part of us that struggled to stay connected.

  I wanted to say something, but the silence coming from him didn’t feel like it wanted to be popped. I let him lead me instead. Gave him a shred of control. The Hawaiian barbecue restaurant he picked was two streets over, farther inland. It was hotter inside. We settled at a booth and grabbed our menus. I studied the locals dripping sweat and eating spam musubi.

  Brando ordered enough food for three people. To keep him company, I did the same.

  “If I get fat, it’s your fault,” I warned, tearing open my straw and plunging it into my orange soda. I pulled in a sweet drag, watching him roll his eyes as he did the same to his lemon water.

  “If you get fat, I’ll be sure to get the clerk at the hostel to give us a bigger bed.” He grinned.

  I contemplated smacking him, and then decided against it. “Where will you sleep?”

  “Cat, relax. Breathe. We both need to breathe. I haven’t taken a breath that didn’t hurt in so long, I forgot what it feels like.”

  I didn’t think he was talking solely about his lungs. “Me too,” I admitted. “Okay, let’s have fun. First off, six thousand calories. Next, naked cartwheels.”

  “I hope those naked cartwheels happen before you get fat.” He tried to hold it in when I glared, but he couldn’t help himself, snickering like a handsome asshat.

  And damn it, the sight of him laughing pulled the same from me. I covered my hand with my mouth. “Brando. You’re supposed to say something ultra-supportive. Not be a dick.”

  His smile thinned. “Like what? I’d love you no matter what happened to your incredible body? That it would be incredible in any size?”

  I didn’t think he realized his mistake. “Yes.”

  “Thought that was a given. Didn’t think I had to say it too,” he said.

  He loved me. It felt like someone punched through my sternum and ripped out my heart, holding it over Brando’s head. I could jump and scream for it, but in all reality, I didn’t want it back. My heart was his too. And love, it seemed, went both ways.

  Our food arrived, and soon our table overflowed with grilled chicken, spam musubi, and macaroni salad; steamed rice, kalua pork, and chicken katsu. We didn’t talk. We picked up our forks and ate, occasionally catching each other’s gaze. Every time, my stomach flipped. This trip was my chance to feel without fearing. His chance to forget that he’d almost given his life for a safe.

  Or that he’d left it behind for me.

  I wondered if he knew, if it was a niggling thought in the back of his head.

  That I was here and his safe was not. I wanted to mean as much to him as that safe. To be worth everything inside. And now that we were so far away from it, I ached to know what was inside. What I was competing with.

  After lunch, we returned to the road, returned to holding hands. We continued through the streets and ended up on the main road that traced the ocean. Considering it was a weekday in November, the beach was free of people. The waves rolled in, crashing to shore. We paused to take our shoes off near the sand, and then made our way to the shore. The warm wet sand depressed between my toes. The water was cerulean blue, and the waves choppy; but enchantment was thick in the air.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Storm’s coming,” he murmured, pointing out to the horizon.

  That’s okay, I thought. We’ll brave it. I grabbed his hand.

  It did come, creeping onto shore like a monster. The blue turned gray and the white turned black. As everyone ran for cover, Brando and I peeled our clothes off, leaving us in our underwear as we ran for the water, our hands clasped. We dove beneath the waves together. When I came up, the sky was a swirling, churning being and the waves high. But Brando was smiling, so comfortable inside this storm.

  I wondered if that’s how it would be for us. Seeking storms and fighting through. Our lives were the same way. The good came when the storm ended. Secretly we looked forward to that. And maybe a day when the storms ebbed. But for now, we swam in the middle of it, until we couldn’t walk, until it was hard to breathe, until the salt of the ocean burned.

  Until the storm was too strong.

  We crawled from the water, and ou
r eyes met. His were burning. My heart pounded. The want was as thick in the air between us as the electricity of the storm.

  I attacked his mouth with a ferocity I’d never felt before. And he matched it. Going kiss for kiss, stronger than my weak, bigger than my fears.

  He tasted of the ocean, salty and rich. I knew I tasted the same. That as we tasted each other, we also tasted ourselves. I ran my hands over his body, unafraid of the bullet wounds, infatuated by the ink.

  We grabbed our sodden clothes and made a run for the hostel, pausing along the way to taste the other’s lips. When we got to our room, we dropped our wet clothes on the ground and we forged.

  I ran my fingers through his wet locks. His hands moved down to cradle my ass. Our tongues met, hot, silky, and wet. I tasted every inch of him as he tried to siphon the taste out of me. He urged us back to the bed. I had a moment of panic. Men didn’t go on top. I went on top. But I knew in my soul that Brando would never hurt me. Brando was a good man, like Klay, and it was okay for me to start trusting them again.

  I fell on my back. He followed, attacking my mouth once more. We were soaking wet and where we touched was slick. His hips settled between my legs and his hands cradled my face as he kissed the bottom of my soul out of me. I kissed him back, just as deep; we exchanged souls.

  And it was magic.

  I struggled to push his boxer briefs down his ass. They were stuck to him like glue. His hard cock teased my pussy through wet material. I wanted to feel him. All of him. I wanted him to take all of me too.

  He reached down between us and grabbed the material of my panties, and then he ripped them free, pulling the scraps from my body and throwing them away. I smiled against his mouth. That was impressive. He didn’t smile back. He kissed me even harder, tangling his tongue with mine.

  I managed to free his boxers in a much less fancy way, and he kicked them free. He reached down to find my pussy. He parted my slick folds, stroking a long trail from my damp entrance to my sensitive clit. I moaned against his kiss, unable to break, unable to breathe. His fingertip teased my opening, rubbing over the wet flesh there tenderly, like he knew the lightest touch would drench me.