Tattoos & Tears (Complete Collection)

by Amiee Louise

  He chuckles softly.

  “Is that your way of saying sorry and that you like me, beaut? Just a little tiny bit?” He jokes, and in that moment, our argument is forgotten, reminding me why we are friends in the first place.

  Remy can make a joke out of any situation, whether it is serious or not. He is easy to be around, and I do not know what I would have done without him this past year. He hugs me tightly, and I relish being in his strong, safe, arms.

  “Stay safe, stay out of sight. Don’t draw attention to yourself, don’t do anything reckless, and for fuck's sake, be careful.”

  I smile against him, at his concern and snuggle closer to him.

  “I’ll be careful, babe, I promise.”

  He kisses the top of my head and pulls away.

  “Call me as soon as you’re on your way back, and I’ll come and get you. Doesn’t matter what time it is, I'll be there.”

  I go to protest, and he narrows his eyes, pointing his finger in my direction.

  “No arguments on this one, I care about you. Me and this little dude just want you back in one piece.”

  I salute sarcastically, and he cocks his eyebrow.

  “Later, beaut.”

  He winks, and I blow him a kiss. I leave the hotel room with butterflies fluttering around in my stomach and a heavy heart.

  I make my way to Madison Square Garden, and the venue is huge. A sea of Rancid Vengeance fans are shouting their familiar chant.

  “Vengeance, Vengeance, Vengeance.”

  I get the familiar pre-gig butterflies, and I feel the buzz around the venue; the atmosphere is electric. I show my ticket at the door and try to keep my face hidden, as much as I can. I can’t afford to be recognised. I know I am taking a huge risk by even being here, but I need some sort of closure. I need to say a proper goodbye to Sam, even if it is from a distance.

  I follow the flow of fans into the arena, and I am astounded by the sheer size. I start to wonder if the boys are backstage. I imagine them all encouraging each other, drinking a few beers, and going through their pre-show rituals. Jax tuning his guitar, Lucas spinning his sticks, Brody in a world of his own, or on the bus shagging some random groupie. And Sam, ever the professional, silently and coolly keeping his nerves to himself.

  I make my way to a spot near to the stage and as I hear the support act, ‘The Devil’s Henchmen’, Draven Michaels' melodic scream fills the arena. I start to remember the time that Sam and I spent together. The familiar glint in his green eyes and the way the light caught his back tattoo and made it look like the wings of his phoenix were moving with each flex of his muscles. I think of his panty-dropping smile, his adorable dimples and the feel of the soft spikes of his hair against my skin. I start to remember the day we met, the first time I saw him on stage and the first time we made love. I remember the first time I told him I loved him, the moment I told him I was pregnant with his baby and the moment when he proposed to me in Las Vegas. All those precious moments showed me the sides of Sam Newbolt that no one else sees: the shy, vulnerable, sweet, kind lover that he was when we were together. At the same time, he was the fierce, protective warrior and the invincible, untouchable rock star… the one that let me in and welcomed me into his world.

  I am suddenly snapped out of my reverie, as I hear Sam’s familiar growl and my nerves start to kick up a notch. I start to wonder what the fuck I’m doing here.

  “Good evening, Madison Square Garden, how the fuck are we doing tonight? We’re Rancid Vengeance; it’s so fucking good to be back up on stage. Are you ready to rock? Let me hear you scream ‘hell yeah’.”

  My skin erupts with goosebumps, as I hear Sam’s familiar husky voice fill the arena and at that moment, I know without a shadow of a doubt, I have to stay. As the crowd around me erupt with a cheer of ‘hell yeah’, a panty-dropping grin spreads across his face, and I am mesmerized once again by his stage presence. I read on the internet that Rancid Vengeance have had a year away from the music industry, but seeing him up on stage now, it is like he has never been away. He is a born performer. Up on stage in front of his fans, is where he truly belongs. He is a true showman, and his presence commands attention. He is larger than life, just as I remember.

  “Yeahhh! Let’s fucking rock this place to the ground, give me a riff, Flash,” he growls.

  Jax breaks out into his signature guitar solo and Lucas pounds an impressive drumbeat. Sam begins to sing, and his voice sends chills down my spine. I am transfixed by the music, the lyrics and the man performing in front of me.

  “I am lost to the music, lost to the void, lost to my eternal fucking sadness. Somebody, please throw me a lifeline.“

  As he sings, he loses himself in the music, closing his eyes. As he hits the chorus, Jax’s haunting guitar riff fills the venue. He opens his eyes, looking out at the crowd, and despite the other fans surrounding me, our eyes lock, green to blue. I am frozen to the spot, and I can’t move. My heart slams against my rib cage as his green eyes seem to recognise me. Shit, Remy warned me about this, I should never have come here. It is at that moment that I realise that I am standing completely still, not moving, and not cheering. I am just staring at the man who was once my whole world. His eyes roam my body in recognition. Does he know it is me? Fuck me; this was such a bad idea. With that thought, my brain sends a message to the rest of my body, and I begin to push my way through the crowd. I have to get out of here, quickly. My heart is pounding, and I feel an impending panic attack. I manage to get to the exit and desperately try to navigate my way out of the building. I can see an exit up ahead when I hear a sound behind me.

  “Yep, all clear down here, I can’t see her. I’ll do a final sweep of the building, but it’s a negative that she’s here. I swear that boy is losing the plot.”

  Bollocks, it’s Cole. I pull my hood up to shield my face and slow my pace. Shit, shit, shit. Think, Harper, think. I hear footsteps getting closer, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding as he walks right past me. I can’t get away quick enough.

  Fuck. That was way too close. I need to go call Remy and forget this ever happened. I need to go back to Remy, back to Santa Monica, back to my new life, a life without Sam Newbolt in it.

  ***

  I have not been up long, when I am snuggled on the sofa in the hotel room with Remy and my morning cup of coffee. We are watching reruns of Supernatural, getting lost in Sam and Dean's world of monsters and demons. Freddie is still asleep in his travel cot in the bedroom. Today is one of those lazy duvet days, days where I do nothing but veg out on the sofa and watch T.V box sets on Netflix. Pure heaven.

  I am reminded every day of Sam and the life I left behind in London. I can’t help but feel bitter every time I see his beautiful, stupid, arrogant fucking face smiling back at me from the T.V screen. My head is all over the place right now, and I’m not thinking straight. I shift closer to Remy, and he looks down at me with such a tender look in his eyes. It breaks my heart.

  “You ok, beaut?” he whispers.

  I don’t know what comes over me, but before I realise what I’m doing, I’m crushing my lips eagerly to Remy’s. Each stroke of his tongue with mine is a symbol of the past year. It begins to release all the pent-up sexual tension that has been slowly building between us. As Remy crushes his lips even more desperately to mine, I can feel every single one of his emotions, just by the touch of his lips on mine. His tongue wrestles with mine as his kiss becomes more heated. He presses me closer to him until I can feel his steel erection digging in my stomach. His hands are holding me to him, as if he is terrified I am going to run. I wrap my hand in his long brown hair and a deep growl rumbles from within his throat. He pulls away from our kiss and rests his forehead on mine. My heart beat starts to quicken, and the look in Remy’s brown eyes is smouldering.

  "Make me stop, because if you don't, we're both going to do something we'll regret."

  We are both breathing heavily, and if an onlooker were to see us, they would see the
glazed look in both of our eyes, the mussed tangle of our hair, and the bruising of our lips.

  "I don't want you to stop, Remy, I need you."

  The husky purr of my voice doesn’t sound like my own, but I do need him. I need him to ease the ache between my legs; I need to fuck him out of my system, once and for all.

  Over the past year, our relationship has been based on friendship and purely platonic. But, somewhere over time, it has become something more, and the lines have become blurred. It’s as if Remy is somehow jealous of the amount of time I have spent thinking about Sam and over analysing our relationship. As if, he has been hiding his feelings for me, after all the years we spent apart.

  "Don't say things you don't mean, beaut, I couldn't bear it," he says with a pained expression on his beautiful, chiselled face, which is so similar to his sister’s.

  "Don't make me beg, Rem," I say with determination.

  Remy nods curtly and grabs my hand in his, dragging me into the bedroom without waking Freddie. He stalks towards me, like a predator stalking his prey and the look in his eyes tells me all I need to know, he wants me. We start frantically tearing and clawing at each other’s clothes, with a desperate want. It doesn’t take us long until we are naked. Remy’s eyes shamelessly roaming over my body.

  “Fuck me, your tits are...fucking perfect.”

  I chuckle softly as his mouth descends down on my nipple. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and our moment is interrupted as I hear the sound of the T.V in the background. He must have forgotten to switch it off.

  “Reports are just coming in that Samson Newbolt, frontman of popular rock band Rancid Vengeance, has just been admitted to the hospital after being kidnapped and falsely imprisoned by former manager John Dalton, also known as Johnnie Diamond, son of late record company mogul, Jed Dalton.”

  My head snaps up as I hear Sam's name, and the moment is lost. I clamber off Remy, and I turn the volume up on the T.V.

  “Dalton, thirty-eight, kidnapped and stabbed Newbolt. Police found him collapsed along FDR Drive, near to the Harlem River, with stab wounds. Bolt, as he is known to his die-hard fans, has been taken to a nearby hospital and his stab wounds are not thought to be serious or life-threatening. The NYPD traced the cell phone, which made the anonymous 911 call, to an abandoned warehouse where Dalton was found.”

  I watch the screen in shock at the events that are unfolding. J.D kidnapped Sam? I see a video of the police dragging J.D out of the warehouse. He is badly beaten and thrashing violently against his handcuffs. His icy cold gaze makes my stomach roil and brings back memories of a time I would rather forget.

  “Police reports say that Dalton admitted to murdering Mr. Newbolt’s fiancée, Peyton Harper. Harper, twenty-seven and the daughter of former model Sophia Bailey, was three months pregnant with Newbolt’s baby. The police have taken Mr. Dalton into custody for further questioning and refuse any further comment.”

  He laughs maniacally at the camera as the police bundle him into the back of the police car. A cold chill runs down my spine as I remember that terrifying laugh, a laugh that has haunted my nightmares. I am shaken by the news reporter’s words. Is it possible that J.D lied about Sam wanting me dead?

  I watch the pictures from the screen unfolding in front of me. I am shaking and crying uncontrollably now. Christ, I feel like I want to throw up. Is it possible that this past year has all been for nothing? A terrible mistake on my part? My head is all over the place, and I feel Remy’s strong, corded, comforting arm around my shoulder, supporting me.

  “Beaut?” he says with concern in his voice.

  I can’t comprehend what I have just seen and heard on the T.V. Remy pulls me into his bare chest, softly soothing me just with the sound of his voice.

  “Beaut, talk to me.”

  I am speechless, and my thoughts are racing at a million miles an hour. Has this past year really all been for nothing?

  “Are you ok?”

  I look up at him with glazed eyes.

  “What the fuck have I done, Rem?”

  I sob, and Remy strokes my hair so softly that it makes me cry harder. Here I am, in a hotel room with the man that has taken care of my baby and me for the past year, about to have sex for the first time in eleven years. Then there’s Sam, the man who I spent some of the best days of my life with, the father of my child, and the man who I was tricked into believing he wanted me dead. Instead of returning to him and asking him if it was true, I automatically took the word of a complete psycho over the man I was supposed to be so in love with. It feels like both parts of my life are colliding in a spectacular, disastrous, potentially life-altering fashion.

  Fuck, how can I make this right? Will I ever make it right? As Remy comes back into the room, with Freddie in his arms, I get up from the bed with a renewed purpose. I know what I have to do; I have to go to him.

  16

  Peyton - Present

  I must make him understand. I have to make it right, because right now, I can’t stand the way he looks at me. His usual sparkling, intense green gaze has been replaced by coldness and indifference. He looks at me as if I am a total stranger, as if I am nothing to him and all those months we spent together never happened. Ever since I arrived, I have been met with nothing but hostility from the Newbolt’s. I can’t say I blame them, but they have to hear my side.

  I have spent so long craving his touch and to feel his strong, safe, warm, arms around me. I have spent every day in conflict with my own thoughts. Part of me hates Sam for what J.D made me believe. Another part of me is desperately wishing things could have been different and is silently praying for things to go back to the way they used to be.

  I have been waiting for this moment to arrive, the moment where he can tell me that everything J.D said was a lie. Where I can be back in his arms, where I belong. I ache to feel his lips against mine and the way his hard-muscled body feels pressed into mine. He snaps me out of my reverie, and his intense green eyes lock with mine. He is visibly trembling, and I’m not sure if it’s the effects of his medication or the anger he is rightly feeling.

  “You kept him from me, this whole fucking time?”

  The cold tone of his voice cuts through my thoughts.

  “I had no other fucking choice, Sam! It was too dangerous! I couldn’t risk J.D finding us, please, you have to understand,” I plead.

  He holds his finger up and runs his uninjured hand frantically through his hair, my pleas falling on deaf ears.

  “No, no, let me try to process this. You not only made me think you were dead, but while I was fucking breaking down and pushing everyone away because I was grieving for you, you had my baby and kept him from me for six fucking months! That wasn’t your fucking decision to make, Peyton! We created that baby together! Don’t you think I deserved to know? What kind of monster are you? You fucking robbed me of the first six months of my son’s life!” he roars, and as I listen to his words, the tears start to flow uncontrollably. Everything he is saying is true. How the fuck am I going to fix this mess?

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Peyton. I should have been there! You fucking robbed me of seeing him enter the world, his first breath, his first smile, and his first tears,” he says through clenched teeth, as his nostrils flare. He shakes his head and scrubs his hand down his face. “You’re a selfish fucking bitch do you know that, Peyton?”

  My heart constricts at his cruel words and the look in his eyes completely destroys me. I can’t bear the fact that I have caused this, it’s all my fault.

  “JUST GET THE FUCK OUT; I REALLY CAN’T BE AROUND YOU RIGHT NOW!” he shouts, and I run out of the room crying.

  I expected him to be angry and I don’t blame him. I am in the corridor at the hospital, suddenly I feel so lost and so alone in this moment, but he has to understand. I know it was selfish, but I didn’t want this; I never wanted any of it. Not for him, me or our baby boy. I have spent a whole year believing he wanted me gone and looking over my shoulder because I was so
terrified J.D would find us.

  17

  Peyton - A Year Ago

  Even though I have probably only been here for a couple of hours, it feels like days. I am tied to a chair with cable ties, and no matter how much I cry, I beg, and I plead, it does no good at all. I am helpless, completely fucking helpless.

  He is pacing the floor in front of me now, his eyes wide and glossy. He actually looks mental and totally unhinged, like a complete fucking lunatic. I struggle hopelessly against my restraints.

  “Stop struggling, bitch, you won’t get away from me, I won’t fucking let you,” he yells, and I sob softly. “Stop fucking snivelling,” he spits harshly, and he circles me.

  “You’re just like all the other girls that have been in his bed, pretty for the first couple of months, then gradually he gets bored and moves onto the next. While he was seeing you, I arranged for some girls to sleep with him. You see, because of his depression, he has an insatiable sexual appetite, and you just weren’t enough to satisfy him. You weren’t quite doing it for him, you weren't quite hitting the spot for him, and our Sammy has...very specific tastes.”