Tattoos & Tears (Complete Collection)

by Amiee Louise

  Jack clears his throat, avoiding my gaze.

  “Cheers, Nate, I really appreciate it.”

  I hear a chuckle from the person outside.

  “See you tomorrow, Casanova; I’ll see you at the Green Parks at six a.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”

  Jack laughs to himself.

  “Yeah, no problem, man. I’ll be there. See you tomorrow Nate, give Melody a kiss goodnight from me.”

  I hear the door close, and Jack opens the door. He walks out into the bar, and I awkwardly follow. Jack is behind the bar pouring us both shots of neat Sambuca. I perch on the same bar stool I was sitting at all night, and he pushes the glass across the bar. We both shoot it back at the same time, and I grimace at the burn at the back of my throat. He laughs.

  “Can’t keep up the pace, huh?”

  I slam my glass down on the bar in challenge.

  “Again.”

  He cocks his eyebrow and refills both our glasses.

  “Let’s play a game.”

  I smile as I am reminded of the game that Brody and I played on the tour bus in happier times, back when my life passed for normal. I nod.

  “A girl after my own heart.”

  He smiles a dazzling smile.

  “Right, we’re going to play a truth game.”

  I laugh.

  “After you take your turn you take a shot. I’ll go first. I’m Jack Scott, I’m thirty-four, and this is my bar.”

  I cock my eyebrow. He takes a shot and smirks roguishly.

  “I was keeping you on your toes, petal.”

  He winks, and I roll my eyes.

  “I’m Peyton Harper, I’m twenty-eight, and I’m a tattoo artist. I work for Seb Henry, and I have a six-month-old son, called Freddie.”

  His eyes widen.

  “You have a son?”

  I nod.

  “Shit the bed,” he curses, and I take a shot.

  He refills our glasses.

  “Are you...?”

  He doesn’t finish his sentence, but I can only imagine what’s going through his head, so I finish for him.

  “Am I still with his dad? No, I’m not with him currently. It’s a long, complicated story. I won’t bore you with it.”

  His mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ shape, and he takes a shot.

  “Fuck, you’re...certainly full of surprises,” he rasps and refills his glass.

  “Ok, how can I follow on from that? Erm...I’m single, and when I’m not here, I’m a part-time male model. I’m also a travel writer and blogger. I have a brother, Nate, the guy who knocked on the door. He has a little girl, my niece. She’s three years old. His wife, Hope, died of cancer just after Melody was born, and now it’s just the two of them. We’re extremely close…I’m relatively boring compared to you, petal.”

  He knocks back his drink.

  “You’re not boring, you’re...normal.”

  We both laugh.

  “Normal I can cope with. So who’s the mystery man who you hurt so badly?”

  I take a deep breath, wondering if I can actually go through with telling Jack all about my complicated and sordid past with Sam. I knock back my drink for some Dutch courage, and he refills it immediately. It is as if he senses my reluctance to talk about my past.

  “It can’t be that bad? Who is he? Don’t tell me he’s some international mob boss who’s embroiled in a conspiracy and on the run from the police.”

  He chuckles at his own joke, and we shoot back our drinks at the same time. Here goes nothing.

  “Sam Newbolt.”

  He almost chokes on his drink.

  “Sam Newbolt, as in Bolt from Rancid Vengeance, the rock band? Fuck me.”

  I push my glass across the bar to him, and he refills both glasses.

  “Wow, you’re...”

  I finish his sentence.

  “…complicated, fucked up, broken, a complete disaster. Yep, all of the above, definitely.”

  I laugh bitterly, and he reaches for my hand.

  “I was going to say brave, beautiful…complicated…yeah, but aren’t we all to some extent?”

  Something tells me that the game has ended, and we’re not playing anymore.

  “My life is a fucking car crash, Jack. You should run in the opposite direction.”

  I knock back my drink, and I feel tears stinging my eyes. He shoots back his drink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He tops off both glasses in silence. I shoot back my drink and get up from the barstool. My head feels fuzzy, but I feel comfortably numb.

  "I should leave."

  I stumble as my feet hit the floor again, and Jack makes his way around the bar. I need to get out of here.

  “Don’t go, petal,” he rasps, and he towers over me as he stands in front of me. “At least let me call you a taxi, please. It’s not safe out there for a woman by herself; I would offer to drive you but looks like I’ll have to call Nate to come and take my drunken arse home!”

  He smirks, and a tear escapes from my eye. He wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

  “I’m so sorry. You don’t need this, you said yourself you’re not a good person.”

  My voice is small, and he lets out a breath.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want you, Peyton, I’m not a complete dick. All I’m saying is, I don’t know how to do relationships. I leave the loo seat up, I leave my dirty underwear on the floor, I can’t cook and I can just about work the microwave. I snore, and I’m terrible in the mornings until I’ve had at least three cups of strong black coffee.”

  I chuckle, and he smiles.

  “There’s that smile you’ve been hiding. Please sit down.”

  I sit back down on the barstool.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He winks and strides across the bar to what I assume is an office. For the first time tonight, I check my phone. I have eight text messages and three missed calls. I close one eye to focus on the screen and scroll through my texts. Four are from Sam, and the rest are from Ruby and Brody.

  Hey babe

  How's it going?

  Little man asleep

  Jax and the boys sang him to sleep J

  Reminded me of that scene in Three Men and a Baby! I recorded it, will send you the video, babe. We can keep him until tomorrow if you want?

  Give you a break, you deserve it.

  Let me know

  R x

  I scroll down.

  Are you ok, babe?

  Please call me

  I’m starting to get worried

  R x

  I scroll to the next message.

  Sam’s was ready to tear the walls down

  He's gone looking for you

  Just giving you a heads up

  Please call me, sweets

  Let me know you’re ok

  Brody xxx

  I open the next message.

  Angel

  Please call me

  S x

  As I gradually go through each text from Sam, they get more frantic.

  Let me know you’re ok, angel

  I’m going out of my mind

  Please

  S x

  I scroll down.

  Call me, or I’m coming to find you

  S x

  I roll my eyes. My possessive rocker, how I’ve missed you.

  FUCK this!

  That was all the last message from him said.

  Jack emerges from the office; he has changed out of his black shirt and into a tight white vest, which clings, to his muscles. His vest showcases his colourful, tattoo sleeves, and he looks delicious. I lick my lips at the sight of him.

  “Is everything ok, petal?” Jack says, and I nod.

  My phone starts ringing, and I really can’t deal with Sam right now, so I reject the call. A few seconds later, it rings again, and I reject it again.

  “Do you need to get that?”

  I plaster a smile on my face and shake my head.

  “No, everything’s fi
ne. It’s not important,” I say nonchalantly.

  He narrows his eyes, and my phone starts ringing again. I roll my eyes and reluctantly answer it.

  “Jesus! Fuck! Thank Christ you’re alright, angel. Where are you?” he says, before I even get to say hello. His voice sounds hoarse and exasperated.

  “Stop calling me, I’m not your fucking concern anymore,” I snap, and he growls.

  “Stop fucking saying that! You’re the mother of my child, angel; you are my god damn concern,” he roars.

  “Please just leave me alone, Sam.”

  He breathes, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer.

  “Look, where are you? You shouldn’t be on your own, angel; it’s not safe. I’m coming to get you.”

  I run my hand through my hair.

  "I don't fucking need you! I'm fine!"

  I raise my voice, and Jack regards me intently.

  “Is everything ok, petal?” he says, and I nod.

  I try to smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.

  “Whoa! Who the fuck was that? I’ll ask again, angel, where are you?” he shouts, and a tear slips down my cheek.

  I curse my emotions to hell for letting him get to me like that. I know I’m hurting him, but it’s better this way. I have to let him go. Jack strides across the room and snatches the phone from my hand.

  “Look, mate, you need to calm down, you’re upsetting the lady...Yeah I know who you are...that’s really none of your business...I’m just a concerned friend...you’ve made her cry...no, I don’t give a fuck...I don’t know what you’ve said to her, but I’m not standing by while you upset her...it doesn’t sit well with me...I’ll make sure she gets home...she’s safe with me...no she doesn’t want to fucking see you...no you fucking listen to me, mate...you’re going to hang up the phone and I’m going to make sure she gets home safe...I know you don’t know me, but I’ll make sure she calls you in the morning...I’ll take good care of her, you have my word...ok good...bye.”

  He hangs up the phone and hands it back to me.

  “I can’t believe you just fucking did that!” I shout, and he smirks.

  “Man, that guy was pissed!”

  He chuckles, and I narrow my eyes at him.

  “You had no right to fucking do that!” I snap, and he holds his hands up defensively.

  “Calm down, I’m sorry, ok? Look, come back to mine, it’s not far from here. I’ll take you home in the morning, I promise. I’ve got a spare room; you can even lock the door if it makes you feel safer. No funny business.”

  Should I really be jumping head first into another relationship, when I’m clearly not over the last one? The truth is, I’m still madly in love with Sam, but no matter how many times he says he forgives me, I’ll always feel that distance between us. If you love him enough, let him go.

  “Petal?”

  Jacks voice cuts through my thoughts, and I start to panic.

  “Fuck! I can’t do this.”

  His face is filled with concern, and I feel a panic attack threatening. Shit.

  “Just breathe.”

  He moves closer to me and cups my face in his hands.

  “Breathe,” he says softly.

  “I-I.”

  I feel a panic attack rising, and my chest tightens. My breath comes in short bursts, and the tears are flowing freely now.

  “Jesus.”

  He moves me to a corner booth, sits me down, and drops to his knees in front of me.

  “Deep breaths, yeah? It’s going to be alright, I promise. I’m not going to hurt you, you’re safe,” he whispers softly and reassuringly.

  He breathes with me and clasps my hand in his, stroking my knuckles gently. Soon my breathing returns to normal.

  “I told you I’m damaged, Jack. I’m sorry,” I choke out, and he shakes his head.

  “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. Before tonight, I thought I could only do one-night stands, but something about you makes me want to try, Peyton. I know it’s only been few hours, but there’s a connection between us, I can feel it every time I’m near you. Give me a chance to show you that we can heal each other.”

  An overwhelming sense of fear and dread takes hold, I really can’t do this.

  Why would he pursue me when he knows I'm clearly hung up on Sam?

  I get to my feet and run, leaving Jack on his knees, stunned at my reaction. I have to get out of here. I push open the bar door and walk out onto the street. The cool air hits me, and suddenly, I feel drunker than I did when I was inside. As I step out onto the pavement, a photographer leaps out of the shadows and flashes a camera in my face. He continues the ‘click, click, click’ of his shutter as an unfamiliar large black Chevy Warrior truck with tinted windows and two white racing stripes up the length of the bonnet comes to a stop at the kerb.

  “Angel.”

  Sam’s familiar rasp echoes through the open window.

  Oh fuck.

  No Regrets

  Tattoos and Tears – Book 4

  By Amiee Louise

  Published by Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  1

  Sam

  I pull up to the kerb and Peyton stumbles on the pavement as a scum bag photographer continues to take her picture. I grip the steering wheel tighter, until my knuckles turn white. Rein it in Newbolt, stay calm. She ignores me, and I crawl slowly along the kerbside as the click, click, click of the photographer’s camera causes me to clench my jaw and grind my teeth.

  “Angel, please get in the car, you’re going to be all over the goddamn motherfucking newspaper tomorrow,” I retort, and she narrows her eyes at me like a sulky fucking teenager.

  “I don’t fucking care! Leave me alone, Sam,” she slurs rebelliously and stumbles on her heels.

  Fuck me, she’s drunk.

  “Get in the fucking car.”

  My voice is low and commanding, but she carries on walking, ignoring my request. The click, click of her heels on the pavement, grating on every last fucking nerve in my body.

  “So, help me God, do not make me get out of this fucking car, angel,” I rasp and my nostrils flare with anger. Breathe Newbolt, one, two, three, four, five.

  “Fuck off!” she hisses defiantly, and I close my eyes.

  Sometimes I think she enjoys taunting me.

  “Angel, please, just get in the car,” I say, as calmly as I can muster, and she rolls her eyes. God give me fucking strength.

  I pull to a stop at the kerb, she opens the passenger door and unsteadily gets in. I take in the sight of her; she looks dishevelled, but still manages to look beautiful, all at the same time. I pull smoothly out into the traffic and start to speed down the street, the silence hanging thickly in the air between us is deafening.

  “I’ve been going out of my fucking mind,” I say through clenched teeth. “Who the fuck was that bloke on the phone?”

  She leans her head back on the headrest.

  “How many fucking times, Sam? It’s none of your fucking business and I’m fine! I’m not your problem; you need to stop acting like we’re still together. Truth is, it’s fucking creepy.”

  With those words I feel my chest constrict and I can’t stand to see her acting this way.

  “I fucking care about you, angel. I still love you, you’re the mother of my child. I need you more than I need my next breath,” I admit softly, and she turns her head away from me. “Look at me, angel.”

  She turns back to me.

  “Do you want to know what I’ve been doing tonight? Do you?” she spits angrily. “I was in a bar and I had sex with the owner over the pool table. That was who was on the phone. It was dirty and seedy, and I loved every fucking minute of it!”

  She laughs bitterly, and I feel like my heart has been ripped clean from my chest. It cuts me deep that she’s been with another man and I feel the boiling jealousy running through my veins, even though I know I have no right to be jealous.

  Another man has had his filthy, motherfucking hands
on her.

  “He fucked me hard and rough, he treated me like the whore that I’ve turned into,” she screams, and she starts sobbing hysterically.