Tattoos & Tears (Complete Collection)

by Amiee Louise

  “Hello, beautiful,” I whisper, and Remy is gently stroking my hand.

  He whispers softly in my ear, “I left you once, I’m not leaving you again I promise you, beaut.”

  He kisses my forehead, and with those words I cuddle my baby boy closer to me, cherishing the most beautiful moment that will stay in my heart forever.

  Freddie Maxwell Stonebridge, born at 16:08pm on Saturday 1st June 2015.

  25

  Peyton - Present

  "Why are you pretending you're immune to my charms, angel?" Sam rasps, and my breathing starts to quicken.

  I feel the all too familiar heat between my legs and I know I'm completely and utterly fucking screwed.

  “I...Sam...Don’t."

  I am lost for words as his blazing green eyes lock with mine, and he runs his short nail down my arm. I shiver at the contact, and it feels like every nerve in my body is lit up from the inside out.

  "See, even after all this time, I still affect you the way you affect me, angel," he rasps.

  I follow his gaze down to his impressive erection, clearly visible through his hospital gown, and I feel my cheeks heat.

  "God, I've missed being inside you so fucking badly it hurts, we've got some catching up to do, angel. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it, how I made you come over and over again, how my cock felt buried deep inside you. I'm going to fuck you so hard and so thorough, that everyone within a five-mile fucking radius will know my name. You'll be fucking begging me to stop."

  His voice is rough and gravelly with lust, it practically oozes sex. I know my traitorous body will give in to its needs. I will surrender to Sam Newbolt, and there won't be a thing I can do about it. Shit.

  Our moment is interrupted by the rowdy arrival of the other three members of Rancid Vengeance stepping into Sam's hospital room. They all look so different from how I remember them. Jax's usually messy dirty blonde hair is now straight down to his shoulders and a lighter honey blonde. He has shaved off his signature goatee beard and is clean-shaven, he reminds me of a tattooed version of Thor! He looks more muscular, defined and extremely handsome. His cheekbones are chiselled, and his smile is dazzling. He could be a model, or in a shampoo advert and I can definitely see what made Ruby fall for him. Jax looks relaxed wearing a pair of loose black combats, motorcycle boots and a tight-fitting dark denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the first three buttons undone, revealing his tattooed chest. Finding love with my best friend definitely suits him.

  Brody’s signature Mohawk has been replaced with a shaved head, and he looks so much better than the last time I saw him. He is healthy, tanned, tattooed, more muscular, and actually looks much younger than his thirty-one years. He is wearing baggy jeans with a chain hanging from one belt loop to another, a white vest with pink and blue paint splashes in an elaborate pattern on the front, a white and black skull scarf around his neck, and black Converse. It is so good to see him back on the straight and narrow. Before this whole thing blew up, Brody and I actually became really good friends after a Jack Daniels induced heart to heart conversation over a game of truth or dare. That night defined our friendship and showed me a side of him he usually keeps well hidden. Behind the public, flamboyant facade lies a deeply complex and lonely man who desperately craves the love of a good woman.

  Lucas' usual faux hawk hairstyle has been traded for a light brown, almost blonde shaggy spiky style. His clean-shaven face is now stubbled making him look ruggedly handsome. He is also tanned, visibly leaner, and more muscular. He looks as if he has added more tattoos to his ever-growing collection. He is wearing black skinny jeans, a worn black ‘Led Zeppelin’ vest, and black biker boots. I am so happy to see them all, they became like family and like the big brothers I never had.

  The chatter stops abruptly, as Jax's mouth drops open and forms a perfect ‘O’ shape, and his familiar wide hazel puppy dog eyes settle on me.

  "Peyton? What the...Fuck me."

  His usually warm brown eyes turn cold. He narrows his eyes, regarding me frostily and he steps away from me.

  “Get the fuck out,” he says through clenched teeth; the tone of his voice is deadly. My smile fades as I feel tears pricking my eyes at Jax’s reaction to me. Sam looks up at him, with a fierce glint in his green eyes.

  “Jax, rein it the fuck in,” Sam says, in his most authoritative voice.

  “No, after what she fucking put you through? She waltzes in here like nothing’s changed? Like she can just pick up where she left off? She deserves to know dude, she deserves to know what…”

  Sam stops him from carrying on his sentence.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t carry that sentence on, Jax. Just fucking leave it,” he says low and menacingly, annunciating the last four words.

  Jax runs his hands frustratedly through his blonde hair.

  “This is absolute fucking bullshit; Sam and you bloody well know it!” Jax snaps, as Sam narrows his eyes at him.

  “If I wanted your opinion, Jax, I would fucking ask for it!” Sam roars.

  Jax is about to give his reply when Lucas steps forward with his arms folded. His bronzed, tattooed muscles bulging. He shoots a look in Sam and Jax’s direction, his eyes full of fire.

  “GOD DAMN IT! WILL ALL OF YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!” he shouts, in his familiar American twang. “Has anyone actually stopped to ask Peyton why?”

  Sam and Jax avoid his steely gaze. I observe the exchange between the three of them and notice that Brody is stood in the corner of the room. He is stood quietly, with his hands in his pockets, looking to the floor. I find this odd, as Brody is usually the most vocal out of all the boys.

  “No, I didn’t fucking think so, you need to stop and use your heads, both of you. I get that you’re pissed, and you’re hurt, but all of you really need to consider the bigger picture here.”

  He unfolds his arms and points his finger accusingly at Jax.

  “And Jax you need to engage your brain before you engage your god damn mouth. I can guarantee she’s probably feeling pretty shitty about it, but at least have some fucking consideration for her feelings and let her at least explain, assholes.”

  He turns and nods, acknowledging that he has said his peace. I smile at him and mouth ‘thank you’ for jumping to my defence. I am extremely grateful for his intervention, and it is actually a welcome change to have someone in my corner, other than Remy right now. Brody breaks his silence and avoids looking directly at me, which breaks my heart.

  "I don’t know how the fuck they found out you were here, but this place is crawling with fucking press and paparazzi, man. Cole's drafted in extra men to make sure they don't get in here."

  Swift change of subject. Sam shakes his head in exasperation.

  “Fucking fuckers,” Sam curses and I decide now would be a good time to leave, especially after Jax’s reaction to me.

  For the first time in a long time, I feel awkward, out of place and unwelcome by the boys I once considered an extension of my own family.

  "Erm…I should...leave you to it," I say nervously, and Sam grips my wrist gently, his green eyes silently pleading with me.

  “Angel, this isn't finished,” he says gruffly, and I am suddenly engulfed in his familiar scent.

  He smells of Joop, mint, and something typically Sam. It smells like home. He moves his hand from my wrist and grips my hand. I instantly feel goosebumps erupt all over my body and the familiar electricity crackling between us. I am left speechless, as his intense, hungry green gaze has me instantly remembering what his hands felt like running over my body and what his mouth felt like on my pussy as he edged me close to orgasm. I bite my lip and swallow harshly at the direction of my wayward thoughts.

  I am interrupted by the door slamming as Jax exits the room and our moment is lost. He pulls his hand away from mine, and I feel bereft at the loss. I turn to Sam and cautiously rest my forehead on his.

  “I just need some air,” I reassure him, and he nods, l
eaning back in his hospital bed with his arms folded across his wide chest.

  I leave the room and Brody casually, but silently, follows me out with his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. When he catches up to me, he is quiet for a moment, and I can't help feeling uncomfortable. As we walk down the corridor, he breaks the awkward silence and clears his throat.

  “The rest of them might be a bunch of fucking spineless pussies, but I’m not afraid to ask you fucking why, Peyton.”

  His voice is barely a whisper, and with tears welling in my eyes, I shake my head.

  “Not yet, you have to understand Sam needs to hear it from me first. Just know that I never meant for any of this to happen, Brody, none of it,” I choke out, and he nods.

  “I know, babe, I understand you can’t change it, but you can sure as shit make up for it, sweets. Any fucking idiot with a pair of fucking eyes can see that boy still loves you, it’s actually really fucking sickening!” Brody says dramatically and smiles devilishly. “If it’s any consolation, you’re looking good, babe. That invite to share my bed still stands you know?”

  We both laugh, and I roll my eyes dramatically. Typical Brody! Diffusing the situation with humour.

  “In your dreams, rock star, I’m a responsible human being now, I’m someone’s mum,” I say with pride in my voice, and Brody’s eyes widen.

  “You’ve got...a kid? Fuck me, is it...?”

  I hit him on his arm playfully.

  “Yes, he’s Sam’s.”

  I take my phone out and show him a picture of Freddie. Brody’s face breaks out into a genuine grin.

  “Wow! He...he’s a handsome little fucker! He looks so much like Sam, it’s scary! That’s...fucking amazing, sweets, I’m so happy for you, both of you, congratulations!”

  I laugh and pull him in for a hug.

  “You’re an uncle now, babe, just like you wanted!”

  He chuckles softly, and I remember the night we announced my pregnancy at Sam’s thirtieth birthday. I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my jacket and loop my arm through his.

  “You look like you’re in desperate need of a coffee, sweets, let’s go to the canteen. The coffee in hospitals usually sucks, but it’s fucking chaos out there, there’s a fuck load of fans and press outside. They got wind of Sam being in here, so Starbucks is totally out of the question, I’m sorry, babe.”

  I smile at his thoughtfulness. He swings us both left, and we walk, casually chatting along the way.

  “So, how have you been then, babe?”

  He hangs his head.

  “You want the truth? Not so good, sweetheart. We took a much-needed year out of the music industry, and I spent some time in fucking rehab. Not my finest hour, but I’ve been clean for almost six months now. It’s been the hardest six months of my fucking life, but I actually feel the best I’ve ever fucking felt. My relationship with Sam has been totally rebuilt. I've apologised and made amends for the way I behaved. We’re no longer the toxic duo we once were, and surprisingly enough, we're actually living together now; but it’s the music that got me through. It’s actually my number one priority and not the drugs for once. It hasn’t been that way for such a long, long fucking time and it feels so fucking good.”

  I am genuinely happy that Brody has finally turned his life around and I find myself grinning with pride for him.

  “I’m so happy for you, babe, it’s good to see you looking so healthy and...Hot!”

  We both laugh, as I blatantly check him out. His muscles are bulging, his chest is toned, his hips are lean and narrow, and his t-shirt is stretched over his broad shoulders.

  “You think I’m hot and you’re so fucking checking me out! Wow! I always knew you had a soft spot for me, babe!”

  He winks and clucks his teeth. I throw my head back and laugh. We both get some coffees and sit down opposite each other. He reaches over the table and takes my hand in his tattooed one.

  “Joking aside, darlin’, I’ve missed you. Hell, we’ve all fucking missed you, and now here you are, looking smoking hot.”

  We both laugh, and I know I can always rely on Brody to make me laugh.

  “If we had known what J.D was doing all that time, we would never have allowed that to happen. I can't apologise enough, I’m so fucking sorry, sweets.”

  His voice sounds pained and so full of emotion.

  “I wanted to fucking kill the bastard for laying his hands on you and then kidnapping Sam.”

  He says through clenched teeth and scrubs his hands down his face.

  “Fuck, it wasn’t just Sam that entered the pits of hell, it was all of us. You became my best friend in the time we knew each other, Peyton; I missed you so fucking much. The boys too, Jax, Lucas and Ruby; fuck me she’s going to pitch a fit when she sees you, she’s pregnant with Jax’s baby.”

  My eyes widen. Wow, I’m so ecstatic that Ruby and Jax finally found each other. Both of them deserve to be happy, I’m glad they defined their relationship and sorted themselves out.

  “Oh my God!” I shriek, attracting attention from the neighbouring tables.

  “Jesus! If that’s what you sound like when you come, that’s...fuck...that’s hot!”

  He smiles cheekily, and he adjusts himself in his jeans as I hit him playfully. I take a long sip of my coffee and Brody is regarding me intently from across the table.

  “Where have you been all this time, babe?”

  I put my cup down on the table and hang my head.

  “It’s not important right now. But know this, if I could have come back, I would have, Brody, in a fucking heartbeat. I had to be strong and protect us both. I had to protect myself and our son from fucking J.D. He thought he had killed both of us, but I managed to get away.”

  26

  Peyton - A Year Ago

  Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Where am I? Oh god, oh god. Think Harper, think.

  My heartbeat is thundering in my chest, as I slowly start to come around and I gradually start to realise what is going on. J.D is hovering above me and shovelling sand over my body in a shallow grave.

  Shit, shit, shit! If he knows I’m alive and he didn’t succeed in killing me, he’ll finish me off, I know he will. I have to pretend I’m dead.

  I stay stock still, terrified he is going to realise any second, and I wait, petrified to even breathe. He continues shovelling sand over my bruised and battered body. I can hear his laboured breaths and muttering to himself how ‘the bitch deserved to fucking die’.

  Just hang in there boo, mummy will get us out, I promise, I think to myself and continue to wait. After what seems like a lifetime, I feel my whole body covered in sand and hold my breath as he shovels sand over my face.

  “Rest in peace, you fucking cunt!”

  I hear him spit on me and then there is silence, a deathly kind of silence. The sound of a car engine and a screech of tires breaks the silence. I wait a little longer, until I hear nothing but the sounds of the desert surrounding me, and I begin to claw my way out of the shallow grave. I desperately claw and dig my way out of the sand that is covering my body. I’m not sure how much time passes as I claw the remainder of the sand from my body and I let out the breath I was holding. It feels so good to breathe fresh air, and I relish the humid air on my skin. I look around in the eerie, inky darkness and I can see nothing but vast desert surrounding me. I pull my knees to my chest, and I sob gut-wrenching, desperate, wailing sobs. I’m trembling with fear, and I have no idea how I am going to survive through the night.

  I have no concept of time, but my survival instinct, and the need to protect my baby, suddenly kicks in. I can sit here sobbing, wallowing in my own self-pity, give up, and potentially die out here. Or I can pull myself together, get up, and at least try. I manage to get to my feet, and I feel dizzy. Then I remember, J.D stabbed me. I look down and feel the stiffness of dry blood on my clothes where he stabbed me through my left breastplate. Fuck. In my foggy brain, I start to remember a scene from the film Romeo and Juliet, where Mercu
tio is stabbed, and I begin to softly chant, “It’s just a scratch; it’s just a scratch.”

  I take a deep breath, pull up my big girl pants, and begin to walk.

  My thoughts are racing at a mile a minute, and I realise I need a plan. What am I going to do when I find a road? How am I going to get help without attracting attention? Is anyone actually out looking for me? Who can I call? Shit. I can’t call Sam; I fucking hate him with every fibre of my being right now, for telling J.D to kidnap me. I thought he fucking loved me?