Tattoos & Tears (Complete Collection)

by Amiee Louise

  “Come in.”

  Sam swings the door open. Sam doesn’t say anything but gestures me in before himself. I step into the room closely followed by Sam, and I am faced with some sort of surveillance room which I haven’t seen before. There is a bank of small flat screen TVs mounted on the wall, and Cole is sitting in front of them with his feet up on the desk, his hands casually behind his head. He's wearing black dress trousers, a white shirt with two buttons undone, and is studying the footage closely.

  “How are you getting on, mate?”

  Cole takes a deep breath. “Nothing to report so far, mate, I’m still checking the footage from the night in question. I made a copy and handed one to the police, but I’m hoping to find something they might have missed. It’s looking less and less likely if I’m honest.”

  He looks at me and nods. I smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.

  “I’ve forwarded the footage to Diego Sanchez; the guy’s a genius, best at what he does, he might be able to come up with something.”

  He watches the screens carefully and rewinds the footage back.

  “The person who did this… I want them fucking caught, Cole.” Sam’s voice is harsh and cold. He turns from Cole to me. “Do you think I’m letting you out of my sight knowing that there’s still some fucking psycho out there who wants to hurt you?.”

  There’s that possessive streak again. I don’t know whether to be alarmed or grateful at his protectiveness, so I brush his arm.

  “You can’t keep me locked up in your castle in the sky, babe. I need to work.”

  His muscles tense and his nostrils flare.

  “Then quit. I’m more than happy to take care of you, angel, I’m a very rich man.”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m not quitting; I happen to like my job. It’s who I am, it’s what I love, it’s my passion. I’m not giving it up for you or some jealous psycho who’s gunning for my blood.”

  Sam looks up to the ceiling and takes a deep breath.

  “Stubborn woman, fine. If you need to work, I’ll drive you myself every morning. I’ll meet you for lunch and pick you up after work if that’s what it takes. I have spoken to Seb and someone will be watching the shop twenty-four seven. If I can’t drive you myself, then I’ll send Cole. You’re all right with that, aren’t you, mate?”

  Sam’s tone of voice tells me it isn’t a request—more of an order. Cole just smiles and nods, giving me a knowing look as if to say, ‘just humour him’.

  “Yeah, sure, Sam, all part of the job description, mate.”

  Cole suddenly sits up straight in his seat and pushes himself closer to the screen. He backs up the footage; Sam leans on the back of Cole’s chair and looks closer.

  “Can you push in on that please, mate?”

  I am daunted and unnerved by the amount of security Sam has in his building. It is all very hi-tech and very big brother is watching. I look at what has caught their eyes.

  “Are you seeing what I’m seeing, mate?”

  Cole backs it up again and zooms in further. I can’t take my eyes away from the screen. A tall figure moves with precision and grace in front of the camera. It all happens so quickly, but slowed down, it looks like a tall, slender, young girl wearing black jogging bottoms and a pink Rancid Vengeance hoodie. She has long, straight, bleached-blonde hair, black-rimmed glasses, and a black baseball cap. The same girl is picked up again in the parking garage but disappears into a blind spot, which was near to where my car was parked. She’s gone for approximately ten minutes, according to the timer on the screen, and then reappears outside the front of the building. I stand there opened-mouthed, and Sam leans down on the desk.

  “Mother fucker,” he growls. “How the fucking fuck did we miss this?” He bangs his fist down on the desk.

  “Sam, calm down, mate. Not in front of your lady, it won’t help things.”

  Cole’s voice is calm and soothing; it is the most I have heard him speak since I met him. I am still in shock at what I have seen on the screen. I was right; maybe it was a scorned woman or just a jealous fan that’s responsible for this. Sam gets his phone out of his pocket and starts frantically tapping at the screen. He holds it up to his ear.

  “Yeah. It’s Sam. We’ve got something. You need to get down here right now. I’ll make it worth your while. No, the longer you leave it, the longer my girl is in danger. You of all people should understand that. I don’t give a fuck. Good, I’ll see you in ten. Yeah, make sure you do. OK, bye.”

  Even agitated, he still looks gorgeous; he hangs up the phone and plants a kiss on top of my head.

  “Everything’s going to be all right, baby, I promise.”

  He smiles, and it feels like ages since I saw that beautiful smile on his handsome face.

  “I need to make some more calls, angel. I’ll be right back.” He winks and kisses my cheek. “Look after my girl, Cole.”

  Cole smirks and salutes. “Yes, boss!”

  Sam smiles and leaves the room, leaving me in the company of Cole.

  “Is he like this with all the women he has been with?” My curiosity gets the better of me. Cole takes a sip of his coffee and laughs.

  “Nope, just you, sugar. No other women have come close to the way he is with you. He is a good guy; he quite clearly worships the ground you walk on. I’ve never seen him this way with anyone before. He actually wakes up with a purpose, and it’s refreshing to see.” Cole’s voice is warm, and I relish the information he is giving me.

  “What was he like before? You know, the drugs?”

  Cole hangs his head. “He told you about that, huh?”

  I nod and regard him intently.

  “He was a complete mess. I thought he was going to kill himself before he hit twenty-five. He and Brody are not good together, they’re a bad influence on each other. Sam knows it, and everyone else knows it. J.D and the band won’t fire him because they all have some twisted loyalty to him. All except for Jax. Jax sees what effect he has on Sam, and he resents Brody for it. I know the whole rehab thing was hard on you, Peyton, but you have to understand he was trying to protect you and he was a completely different person back then. He cared for no one, he shagged around with countless groupies, no feelings, no emotions, nothing. It was like he was dead behind the eyes. Since you came along, he has changed, he has a purpose, and he is hopelessly in love with you.”

  He smiles a genuine wide straight smile and continues, “I know it’s none of my business, but you need to be a little more understanding. I like you, you’re a genuine girl, and you make him happy. When he found out you were in that accident, it was as if his whole world was crumbling around him. When stuff like that happens, it triggers off something inside his head, something just clicks, and he hits the self-destruct button. He was devastated, I had never seen him that broken before. Not over a woman, anyway. He would give his life to protect you, but he doesn’t like stuff happening that he can’t control. The whole driving you to work? Please just humour him, it will make my job so much easier and more bearable.”

  I smile and take in all the new information that Cole has given me. I perch on the edge of the desk.

  “The night of the accident, he said you and Jax locked him in the bathroom?”

  Cole lets out a rich, rumbling laugh.

  “We did a little bit more than that, sugar. We found him slumped in the bath with six empty bottles of vodka and lines of coke all over the toilet seat. He was a total mess. He was passed out, so I turned the shower on him to get him to come around; I know how to handle him when he is in this kind of state. I called his dad, and he came to the hospital to sit with you while Sam was having his episode. We cleaned up the bathroom, and he finally came around. We locked the door and left him there to stew for a while. There’s nothing like cold turkey to get him to come to his senses. He is nowhere near as bad as he was in the early days, but I handle him, he seems to listen to me.”

  I nod. I have never seen Cole this chatty before, and I’m e
njoying getting to know him and the part he plays in Sam’s life. He is not just his security guard and chauffeur; he seems to play a bigger role in his life than he lets on. Not only is he a close friend to Sam, but he is also a mentor and a much-needed calming influence.

  “Do these episodes happen regularly?”

  He looks at me and smirks. “You sure ask a lot of questions, sugar!”

  I narrow my eyes at him and try a different approach. “What happened on the night of the album launch after I left?”

  He cocks his head and leans back in his chair.

  “Look, sugar, it’s really not my place to be telling you any of this.”

  I raise my eyebrows and ask, “Did something happen after I left? I caught him and Brody snorting cocaine in the office.”

  Cole leans back heavily in his chair, and he is about to speak when the door opens, abruptly and prematurely ending our conversation. Sam walks back into the room, and a few minutes later, there is another tap on the door. Sam opens it and greets the two men inviting them into the room.

  “Cole, could you play the footage again, please?”

  Sam comes closer to me and edges his way between my legs. He wraps his arms around me.

  “I promise we won’t be much longer, but the police need to speak to you, baby.”

  He feels me tense against him, and he runs his hands up my spine.

  “It’s going to be all right, we’re going to get this bastard and nail him to the wall, if it’s the last thing I do, angel, I promise you.”

  The two men are studying the footage with careful eyes. Sam unwraps me from his embrace and pulls me to my feet. One of the men comes over to Sam and smiles warmly.

  “Babe, this is Tate Jackson, he is our P.R guy. Tate, this is my beautiful girlfriend, Peyton.”

  Tate reaches for my hand; I take it and smile back.

  “Pleased to meet you, Tate.”

  He nods. “You too, Peyton, it’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “All good, I hope.”

  He smiles. “Of course, darlin’, this man is definitely smitten.”

  “All right, mate. I’ve got my rock star reputation to keep up!”

  Sam and Tate laugh. Tate turns to Sam. “How do you want me to deal with the press then, mate? They’re asking all sorts of questions about the accident, it’s getting harder to shake them off with the old ‘we don’t know any more at this stage, it’s still pending a police investigation.’ I’m not sure how much longer I can fob them off before they start making shit up.”

  Tate folds his arms. Sam puts his hand to his head and sighs.

  “Just try and hold them off for a few more days please, mate, the police need to speak to Peyton first.”

  Tate nods. “I’ll make a few calls and call in a few favours. I’ll sort it, mate, just leave it to me.”

  Tate winks, and Sam shakes his hand. The other man who stepped into the room comes over to us.

  “Miss Harper, I’m Detective Wilson Scott. I need to ask you a few questions about the accident. If that’s OK with you?”

  I nod, and he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Tate leaves telling Sam he will be in touch about the press release. Sam leads us out of the room, and we step into the lift and go back up to his apartment in complete silence.

  “Do you want tea or coffee, mate?”

  The detective nods and says, “Tea would be great. Milk, no sugar. Cheers.”

  Sam nods, and he goes into the kitchen. I sit down on the corner sofa, and the Detective sits at the other end. He takes out a notebook, and I suddenly feel uncomfortable.

  “Miss Harper—”

  I stop him. “Peyton, please.”

  He nods curtly. “Could you describe to me what you were doing when the accident occurred? Where were you going?”

  “I stayed at Sam’s the night before. I was pulling out of the parking garage to drive to work, I’m a tattoo artist at Saint Sinner Ink in Islington.”

  He takes down what I have said, and he nods. “OK, what happened immediately prior to the accident?”

  “I had to stop because there was a bus coming, I pumped the brakes, but nothing was happening. I don’t remember anything after that, I’m really sorry, it’s all kind of hazy.”

  He writes it down. Sam comes back into the room with the tea and coffees. He puts the cups down on the table and sits down next to me. He puts his hand on my thigh in a gesture of reassurance and sips his coffee with his free hand.

  “Is there anyone you can think of who might have a grudge against you?”

  I am taken aback by that question. Talk about going right for the jugular. Someone who could have a grudge against me? I visibly shudder at the thought. I shake my head and squeeze Sam’s hand.

  “No, no one that I can think of.”

  Then I start thinking of all the times that J.D has threatened me. But he couldn’t really be capable of something like this, could he? I push that thought to the back of my mind and decide not to say anything to Sam or Detective Scott. Before I know it, the detective gets up and puts his notebook in his jacket pocket.

  “Thank you for your time, Miss Harper, this will be an on-going investigation, and we’ll be in touch.”

  Sam and I both stand up and shake his hand in turn.

  “Can I walk you out?” Sam asks. The detective nods and Sam kisses the top of my head. “I won’t be long, angel.”

  Sam escorts him out of the apartment. I wonder what Sam could possibly have to say to the detective without my presence.

  We spend the rest of the evening watching DVDs in Sam’s living room snuggled up on the sofa. I am glad of the normality, and it starts to feel like we are a normal couple with a bright future ahead of us. I fall asleep in Sam’s lap, and the next thing I know, I am being carried into Sam’s room. I open my eyes as he deposits me in his large comfortable bed.

  “Come on sleepy head; let’s get you ready for bed,” Sam says. I go to get up, but he pushes me back down. “No, let me, baby.”

  I am too tired to fight him. He strips off my jeans, my white vest, and my shirt until I am lying on his bed in my underwear.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says huskily and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. I smile and lean into his hand. He bends down and kisses me gently on the lips, tucking me into bed. I feel like I am five years old all over again!

  “I need to make some more calls, baby, and I’ve got some stuff that needs my attention, but I’ll be in soon, I promise.”

  Before he has left the room, I am a slave to sleep. I don’t know how long I have been asleep, but Sam writhing in his sleep next to me suddenly wakes me.

  “Peyton, angel, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please forgive me, don’t leave me, I need you, I’m so sorry.” His voice is broken and desperate; his face is glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. He looks troubled, and his face is contorted. His fists are bunching the bed sheets, and his brow is furrowed. “No. No. No. Peyton. Please don’t leave me.”

  Seeing him so distressed physically makes my heart ache in my chest. He normally looks so peaceful and content when he is asleep. I move closer to him and gently stroke his face.

  “Sam, baby, I’m here, wake up,” I tell him, my voice soft. He continues to bunch the sheets and writhe in his sleep. I shake his arm gently and speak louder, hoping I will get through to him. “Sam.”

  Suddenly, he sits bolt upright, his arms are flailing, and he strikes me in the face. The slap echoes through the bedroom, I am physically shocked and shaken at his outburst. I let out a shriek, and his eyes fly open. He looks at me, and my eyes are glazed.

  “Fuck,” he curses. He is covered in sweat; his eyes are wide and pained; I don’t think he can believe what just happened.

  “Baby, it’s OK,” I try to reassure him, and he shakes his head.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers. I stroke his arm and he recoils from me, snatching his arm away from my touch as if I have burnt
him. I watch as he gets out of bed and the moonlight casts a glow on his defined, undulating muscles, and I can see the fine detail in his intricate back tattoo.

  “Sam!”

  He strides out of the room running his hands through his hair in a pair of black boxer briefs, ignoring me calling out his name. I am physically shaken by his behaviour and curious at what his nightmare was about. I pull the covers off, grab Sam’s t-shirt from the floor, pull it on, and go out into the apartment to look for him. I look all over the apartment for him and eventually find him sitting on the balcony floor with his knees brought up to his chest. His head is leaned back against the window as he sips a glass of amber liquid with a trembling hand, his face sullen and tear-stained.