Tattoos & Tears (Complete Collection)

by Amiee Louise

  She looks from her to me, with narrow, guarded eyes and I nod in reassurance.

  "Yeah, I'll be fine, mum."

  My dad smiles, and I know he’s dying to say something, but he stays silent, just to keep the peace.

  "Love you, sweetie."

  My mum blows a kiss to me, and I smile.

  "Love you too, mum."

  My dad steers my mum out of the room with his hand at the small of her back. The door closes behind them, and it’s just her and me. I wince as I sit up, and my shoulder burns in protest while my hand throbs with pain. But it doesn’t quite match up to the pain I feel in my heart right now. All I have wanted for this past year is to see her, hold her, and to wake up from the nightmare I have been in without her. I have wished for someone to come and tell me it was all a dream, a bad joke, that she was alive. I was made to think she was alive, only to have my hopes dashed so cruelly by the man who took her from me in the first place. Fucking J.D.

  “You died; I saw it with my own eyes.”

  My voice is barely a whisper, and I don’t recognise it as my own. She moves back from the bed, distancing herself from me. She sees the look of pure anguish and disbelief on my face. She looks like a rabbit caught in headlights. She takes another step back and hugs herself, as if to protect herself from this, from me. My heart constricts at her obvious skittish behaviour. Jesus fucking Christ.

  “I know you must be angry and upset, Sam, but you need to understand that what he did to me was…it was…horrific, brutal…torture. This past year hasn’t been easy for me.”

  Her small voice trembles and I can’t believe what I am hearing. Angry? Upset? That’s a fucking understatement. It doesn’t even begin to cover what I am feeling right now. A part of me is upset and angry, but I’m also so very relieved that she is alive. Mainly, I feel a sense of hatred towards this woman I once loved, for destroying me and for making me believe she was dead. I tried to take my own life because she was gone, and I couldn’t see another way out. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to truly forgive her for that.

  “It wasn’t easy for you? Fuck! I’ve spent the past year in absolute hell because you died! I grieved for you! I went to your goddamn memorial when we couldn’t find your body, we said goodbye to you, Peyton. I lost you and our baby that day; I lost everything, and it was all because of fucking J.D.”

  My voice is thick with unshed tears and pent-up anger towards her total disregard for my feelings. A tear rolls down her cheek, and even though I am so fucking angry, all I want to do is hold her in my arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Sam, I really am.”

  She swipes the tears away with the sleeve of her shirt. Her favourite purple and black checked shirt, the one she was wearing the day we met.

  13

  Sam - The day they met

  I can think of a million places that I would rather be right now. I’m hung-over to shit, I’m fucking exhausted, and I can’t remember the last time I had a decent night’s sleep. We played a gig last night in Hammersmith, and we partied hard, the way rock stars should. The vodka was flowing; the groupies were fast, looser than usual, and they were there on demand to relieve the tension after an all-out, energetic performance. The groupie I ended up with was a tiger, an all-around, kinky bitch and I didn’t even bother to lay on the old Bolt charm. She was an easy fuck, just the way I like them. We fucked for hours, and I didn’t even get her name. Or if I did, I don’t remember it! I kicked her out when I was done, in my typical Newbolt style. Hey, I am under no illusion that I am a perfect gentleman. I am a complete fucking arsehole; I admit it, and I have totally made peace with that.

  I would rather be anywhere other than a pokey little tattoo studio in the middle of Islington. Fucking Islington of all places. I could do without this shit because my head is fucking banging like a shit house door. But, apparently, we all insisted we wanted new tattoos after a little too much vodka. After J.D pulled some strings with the owner and manager, Seb Henry, here we are. I step off the tour bus with my aviator sunglasses on to shield my eyes, followed by the rest of the boys, who are equally as hungover. We are greeted by a flock of screaming female fans, and flanked by our security team Cole and Skip, we are led through the crowd and into the shop.

  That’s when I see her. A five foot nothing, tattooed goddess, and fuck me, I think I’m in love. Her blue eyes lock with mine; I give her a cheeky wink and one of my signature killer dazzling smiles. I can see that she feels it too because neither of us can look away. My heart starts beating faster, and I can’t remember the last time I felt...something. I clear my throat, to rid myself of the thought. Come on Newbolt, turn on the charm.

  “Hey beautiful,” I rasp.

  I see the muscles in her slender neck contract. She bites her lip, and her eyes glaze over. Oh yes, she is so affected by me. If I am correct, she is probably thinking of how my cock is going to feel buried inside her tight, wet...Whoa! Steady on son! Get it together, fuck face. She shakes her head, as if to rid herself of her previous thought, and takes a deep breath. She has no idea that I was having the same thought, at the same time.

  “Hi, and I’m not beautiful, I’m Peyton.”

  The rest of the boys erupt with laughter. Feisty and hot...Fuck me, I am in so much trouble. I can feel my dick harden in my trousers. Fuck, this isn’t good. I want to feel the way she feels beneath me, I need her beautiful breasts pressed against my chest; I need to hear her scream my name, and I need to see her look into my eyes as I bring her to orgasm. Fuck me, where did that come from? Focus, dickhead. Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts.

  She extends her hand to me, and I take it in my tattooed one. I feel electricity shoot through my veins, feeling her tiny hand in mine and I can’t fucking breathe. I swallow hard and clear my throat before I can speak. Get your head in the game, Newbolt.

  “I’m Sam.”

  I reluctantly let go of her hand because I like feeling her soft hand in mine and I can’t take my eyes off her. Five feet three inches tall, tattooed, long, shoulder length, dark brown hair with purple streaks and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. They remind me of sparkling sapphires. She has a lip piercing and the most beautiful smile that make those stunning eyes of hers dance. My thoughts are interrupted by Jax.

  “You got owned by a girl, Sammy!”

  He takes her hand and kisses the back.

  “I’m Jax; any girl that can shoot down our Sammy, is definitely the girl of my dreams!”

  She laughs, which is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard in all my twenty-nine years. Back off, Jax. She’s mine, fucker. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is going to be mine, I will make damn fucking sure of it.

  “I’m Peyton, pleased to meet you, Jax.”

  She smiles, and I think the ice I had around my heart starts to melt after all these years. Seb moves to stand next to her, as if he is her bodyguard or something. Is she fucking him? Are they together? Fuck me, I hope not, I clench my fists at my side. Rein it in, Newbolt; she isn’t yours...yet.

  “We should get started, babe. You take Jax and Sam, and I’ll take Brody and Lucas, is that all good with you?”

  She nods, and her eyes lock with mine. Inwardly, I am doing a very manly victory dance at the prospect of having her hands on me, and with that thought, my dick hardens. I hope to fuck she doesn’t notice, that would be...extremely fucking embarrassing.

  “Yep, that’s all good with me Seb. Do you have designs, or do you want me to draw something up?”

  I could listen to her voice all day. Fucking hell, man up, Newbolt. This most definitely isn’t one of those soppy romance novels that your mum reads. I relax my shoulders and saunter forward confidently.

  “I’ve got a rough idea, but I think I need a second opinion.”

  She smirks, and I begin to wonder what she finds so amusing.

  “Ok, that’s all good with me, Jax what about you?”

  Jax nudges me out of the way, we are always mucking around with each other. I lo
ve the boy like a brother, but he should know me well enough by now not to fuck with me where a beautiful woman is concerned. I grab him in a playful headlock and ruffle his precious blonde locks.

  “I’ll get her to tattoo ‘emergency exit’ on your arse if you’re not careful, Jax.”

  We both laugh, eager to entertain her. I want her to feel comfortable around me and not tread on eggshells to try and please me just because I’m a rock star.

  “Bring it on! It can’t be any worse than your lightning bolt.”

  Jax looks at her and leans in close to her. As he gets closer to her, my blood starts boiling and my famous temper spikes. Back the hell up, she’s mine fucker.

  “That’s where he got his band name from; he lost a bet, and he has a lightning bolt tattooed on his arse!”

  He winks cheekily at her. Come on, Newbolt; lay on the charm, with a fucking trowel if you must. Show her you are interested, reel her in.

  “I can show you if you want?” I say in my trademark husky voice, attempting to be flirtatious. I even throw in a cheeky wink. You charming son of a bitch.

  “In your dreams, rock star.”

  My mouth drops open, my dick hardens to the point of pain, and I think I might possibly be close to orgasm. No woman has ever been immune to my charms before, that’s a first. Usually, I bring out the husky voice and the dimples and then bam, they are swooning at my feet. After that, all it takes is a few choice words, and they’re on their backs, legs wide open for me. All the boys erupt with laughter again, and I place my hand on my chest.

  “You’re wounding my ego, sweetheart.”

  Bring out the big guns, Newbolt. I smirk, bringing out my infamous dimples

  “If you want to follow me.”

  Wow, she practically ignored me. I’m going to have to step it up a notch and unquestionably try harder with this one. I can’t let her slip through my fingers; she will be mine whether it fucking kills me...

  14

  Sam - Present

  “He...he...he told me that you asked him to kidnap me.” She swallows a few times and then continues, “J.D made me believe that you never really loved me at all. He got inside my head and convinced me that you masterminded the whole thing. He said...he said you wanted him to hurt me, to make me suffer, that you wanted me dead, so you and he could finally be together.”

  She closes her eyes as if she’s remembering his words and tears are rolling freely down her cheeks. What the fuck? I can’t believe what I am fucking hearing. She thought I wanted her dead? That I wanted her gone? How could she believe something so sick and fucking twisted? I feel like I have been punched in the gut and that my head is going to explode. I feel like I am about to throw up and I can’t breathe. Fuck me.

  “How could you think that? I went through hell because you died; losing you destroyed me. I would have taken a thousand fucking bullets for you, Peyton. I worshipped the ground you walked on. We were having a baby! We were fucking engaged! I wanted you to be my wife, and we were going to get married. We were supposed to fucking have our happily ever after!”

  I raise my voice a few decibels louder, I can’t help myself. My head is fucking spinning.

  “So, what? Instead of coming to me and fucking asking me if it was true, you what? You decided what he said must be true? You took his fucking word over mine, and you made me carry on thinking you were fucking dead?”

  She scrubs her hands down her face and when she looks up her pained blue eyes lock with mine.

  “I was fucking hurt! I felt like my whole world had crashed down around me. You destroyed me! I was heartbroken, and I thought our relationship was based on a fucking lie, Sam. I was totally crushed when I had some fucking lunatic plunge a knife into my chest whilst telling me that you asked him to fucking do it! What the fuck was I supposed to think? When I eventually got away from him, I was terrified he would come back for me. So I just ran, and I didn’t look back. I wasn’t fucking thinking!”

  She sobs. As I listen to her words, I feel some of the earlier fire and anger I felt before I heard her explanation, leave me. I will never be able to forget what she did, but I think I understand her reason behind it.

  “You have to believe me, I didn’t want this for us, and I definitely didn’t want our baby to start his life like this, Sam.”

  She stops, as if she’s said too much, and my eyes widen. Our baby?

  “What? Whoa! Wait, back up a fucking second, our baby?”

  She nods her head and sobs. What the fucking fuck?

  “Oh God, Sam, I’m so sorry; I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn't have a choice. I had to keep him safe Sam, not just for me but for you.”

  I go to move, and the pain rips through my shoulder.

  “FUCK!” I growl, and she is at my side in a second. She reaches for my hand, but she stops herself, I can’t fucking process this. This is a dream and any second, I am going to wake the fuck up. “I-we...have a baby?” I stutter, and I can’t comprehend what I’m hearing. What the fuck? I clear my throat, and I subtly pinch myself. No, definitely not dreaming. “You had my baby?”

  She nods and gives me a watery smile.

  “We have a baby boy, Freddie. He’s so, so beautiful, Sam; he looks so much like you. He’s got your eyes.”

  Her blue eyes are filled with so much pride and joy when she speaks of our son. Fuck me, I am someone’s dad.

  15

  Peyton - Three Nights Ago

  Tonight is Rancid Vengeance’s comeback gig at Madison Square Garden, New York City. I have made the six-hour journey from Santa Monica with Remy Logan, Ruby’s brother, and Freddie. I am currently putting the finishing touches to my outfit. I have styled my sleek red bob poker straight, and I am wearing a black beanie hat. I am also wearing a black vest, leather shorts, black patent Doc Martens, and a bright red Rancid Vengeance hoodie with the band's logo, a skeleton playing a burning guitar on the back of a motorbike, emblazoned across the front. I acquired it while I was on tour with the band all those months ago. I pull it on and roll up the sleeves. Remy has been quiet for the past few days after he reluctantly helped me purchase a ticket for the sold-out show on eBay. We are staying at a hotel close to the venue and Remy is holding Freddie.

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do, beaut?”

  The truth is, after everything Sam put me through: asking J.D to hurt me, the kidnapping and all the bad things that followed, I want to see him one final time. I want to see him as the rock god I once knew and loved… before I cut him out of my life completely. I have to hear his husky voice over the microphone. I have to watch him while he has the audience eating out of the palm of his hand, and I have to watch the passion in his eyes as he sings to a huge crowd of his adoring fans.

  “We spent all that time and all that fucking money getting you a new identity as Louise Stonebridge from Myles, and you’re just going to fuck it all to hell by showing your face in the one place you shouldn’t be? Which is anywhere near Samson fucking Newbolt. Yeah, real smart move,” he says sarcastically.

  I run a brush through my hair and spin around to face Remy. The pain in his brown eyes makes my heart slam against my rib cage, and I rub at my chest to rid myself of the ache.

  “Babe, I have to do this, I have to lay Sam Newbolt to rest.”

  He takes a breath and laughs bitterly.

  “Just like he fucking laid you to rest?” he spits angrily, and I wince at the cold, harsh tone of his voice.

  “I’ll let that one go because I can see that you’re angry with me, but that was a low fucking blow, Rem, and you damn well know it,” I snap, feeling hurt at Remy’s cruel words. Remy’s never been cruel, not in all the years I have known him.

  “I’m not going to apologise for caring, beaut. I’m sorry for speaking out of turn and if I was a prick, but after everything that motherfucker put you through, I get that you still have feelings for him but...”

  He stops himself, puffs out his cheeks, and closes his eyes, as if to rid himself
of his previous thought.

  “No, I don’t. Go on, Rem, don’t sugar coat it,” I say sarcastically.

  He gets up from the bed and strides across the room to the window, with Freddie in his arms.

  “No, you know what? It doesn’t fucking matter.”

  I move towards him, hating that I’m the one who put that look in sweet Remy’s eyes. The man who has taken care of my baby and me for the past year. Even though he’s acting like a jealous lover right now, I can totally understand his point. Damn you, devil’s advocate.

  “It doesn’t change what’s happened over this past year. I want closure, then I can end that chapter of my life and start a brand new one. Please understand that, Rem. I really love living in Santa Monica, and I’ve kind of gotten used to you being around.”