Hard Time (Hard as Nails #1) (17 page)

The officers assured me he would be going away for a while. With his previous record, the second he stuck that knife into Street was the second he threw his life away for good. He could be going away for ten years or longer.

By then, Riley will be older and wiser, and I’m going to petition the court to annul Brett’s parental rights so she’ll never have to know what a piece of shit her father was.

An ambulance pulls into the drive with flashing lights to check up on Street. He’s not the kind of guy that would call for assistance, but after a little bit of a fight, I convinced him he needed to go to the hospital. The police officers also insisted on it—something to do with making the charges against Brett stick. That was the deciding point for him. He said he’d do anything to keep Brett away from me.

“Are you ready for your checkup?” I turn to Street with a light smile.

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “I’m so excited.”

“That cut is deep,” I say and extend my hand to help him up.

He takes my hand, and grunts in pain as he rises to his feet. We begin the slow walk to the ambulance, and a pair of paramedics intercept us halfway.

I transfer Street to the first paramedic, who slings his arm over her shoulder. She’s tall and pretty, with long hair and pointed facial features. I must be frowning or staring at her, because a huge grin ripples across Street’s face.

“Don’t get jealous, Princess.”

I just shake my head and laugh as they walk toward the ambulance.

Dee approaches me with Riley cradled against her shoulder.

It’s too loud and chaotic, but Riley’s oddly quiet and at peace as she pats her tiny fingers against Dee’s face.

I hope she’ll never have to experience a life like this. Someday soon, I’ll graduate and find a real job somewhere that’s any place but here, and we’ll start a new life—me and Dee and Riley—without all the baggage.

I hope more than ever now that Street will be part of that life, too.

“Do you mind if I go with him to the hospital?”

“Of course not,” Dee says and looks toward Street being hauled into the ambulance. I give her a quick smile, kiss Riley, and turn, but Dee steals my attention with a clearing of her throat. “Katie?”

“Yes?”

“You should invite him over to meet Riley soon.”

I can feel permanent stretch marks forming around my lips as I smile widely.

I turn and make my way to the ambulance, and with every step I take toward Street, I become more and more sure that he’s the one.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Street

Despite my time on the streets, I wasn’t familiar with what it felt like to be stabbed until I was in prison. The first time, I got a knife to my throat trying to prevent a young kid from being raped. The second time, I got a knife to my side protecting someone I loved.

I have no regrets.

The minute I saw Katie’s ex standing on that porch with an axe, I had to react. He didn't give me a choice. My obsession and my desire and my love for Katie didn't give me a choice.

Now it’s a few days later and I’m behind the cash register of the bookstore, sitting on a stool and reading a book under the counter. The wind whips and howls on occasion, sending a storm surge of droplets against the window. Nobody is out in this shit. Nobody, especially, is out buying books in this shit, not when you can download some crazy ass hot shit right onto your phone.

I’m reading one of Katie’s favorite hot romances. It’s about a Scottish highlander, and in spite of myself, I’m impressed.

I raise my head and peer through the bookshelves to try and spot Katie, but I can’t see her. Since the stabbing, I’ve been banished to the front counter because I’m not supposed to be on my feet too much. I almost feel bad because now Katie is stuck doing all the work I should be doing. But then again, I also
don’t
feel bad because, after all, it was her ex-boyfriend who stabbed me.

I shift in my seat to try and get comfortable, and a sharp pain cuts through my ribs. I toss my phone onto the counter and let out a low groan as I wince in pain. I pull my fist to my mouth and bite down on it, trying to muffle my groaning so Katie can’t hear me.

Once the temporary pain has passed, I check the aisles for her again. She’s still nowhere to be seen, and is probably in the backroom unpacking new inventory.

The front door opens, and a man hurries in with the hood of a sweatshirt pulled tightly over his head. The grey hoodie is splattered with dark spots from the rain.

“Can I help you?” I ask in my most customer-friendly voice as I plaster a fake smile across my face. A smile that soon fades when the newcomer pulls his hood back, offering me a perfect view of his face. I immediately stand. “What in the hell are you doing here, Trevor?”

“That’s no way to greet your best friend.” He chuckles, but I’m not laughing back. “Come on man, lighten up.” He steps toward me and rests his elbows on the counter.

“You can’t be in here.”

“Oh right,” he says, followed by another chuckle. “I forgot you’re a big boy with a big boy job now.”

He sways back and forth, like he’s having trouble standing up. His hand rises to brush at his nose and he sniffs. I understand what’s going on.

“What are you on, Trevor?”

“What are you talking about, Bro?”

“Coke,” I hiss and shift my eyes to the back, hoping and praying that Katie doesn’t come out and see me standing here with Trevor. “I’m talking about coke. You’re sniffling. You look like a strung out junkie.”

“Really now?” He pulls away from the counter and straightens himself out. “Is that how it is?”

“That’s how it is. So either tell me what the hell you want, or get out before I—”

“Before you what?” He cackles and swipes his finger under his nose. Definitely coke. “Are you going to call security?”

“This is a bookstore, Trevor. It’s not a fucking bank.”

“I need help,” he says and bows his head. There’s an instant change in tone, and he slumps as if all his energy was abruptly pulled from his body. “I’m in trouble.”

“What’s fucking new?” I sigh. “If you’ve got problems, then you need to take them elsewhere. That’s what’s new, Trevor. I can’t let you suck me in. Not again.”

“They’re going to kill me.” He looks me dead in the eyes when he says it. His eyes are beyond red with spider webs of blood spinning from one edge to the other.

I want to ask who but does it really matter? Someone’s always trying to kill him. That’s what happens when you’re a druggie and a thief. “You can’t drag me back into that world, Trevor.”

“I don’t know what else to do.” He pounds his fist against the counter, and his breathing becomes erratic. There’s rage within him, and he’s trying to keep it contained. He’s failing. “You have to help me.” He pounds his fist against the counter again.

I flinch backwards and scan the aisles once more. I need to get him out of this store before Katie sees him. Just one glance at the two of us socializing will be enough to write a story inside her head. She’ll see me as an associate of Trevor’s. She’ll see me as a druggie, a no-good felon. I’ll be guilty by association, and that’s the last thing I want. I can’t lose her when I’m finally this close to her. When I leave and breathe for her.

I step around the counter and grab hold of Trevor’s arm to begin directing him to the front door. “You need to get out of here.”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spits and rips his arm away from me.

I feel my face turn a deep shade of red as I fight to control my own anger. I take a measured step toward him with my chest puffed out like we’re two criminals about to brawl. “I’m going to tell you one more time—”

“To leave?” He sizes me up and down with his eyes. “What if I don’t? What are you going to do? Shank me like you stabbed that guy in prison?”

“Go home and sober up. Go home and fix your shit before your shit catches up to you.”

“Did you not hear me? I said I need your help.”

“And I’m saying you’re not getting it.” I take a step back, and a long, deep breath. I can feel myself waffling. Feel myself wanting to take the time to listen to what Trevor has to say. But I can’t let him drag me back into that world. I shake my head and shrug like I don’t care, even though I do.

I care about Trevor. Despite everything, he’s my friend. He protected me in the past, and I’ve tried to do the same for him, but I can’t drown with him. I care about him, but I care about Katie far more.

“You’ll be fine, just like you always have been and you always will be, but you’re on your own this time.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my friend? My brother?” He digs his fingers into the back of his head. And then he takes a step toward me like I had stepped toward him earlier, his stride is aggressive. Too aggressive. “And now you’re going to turn your back on me?”

“It’s not like that, Trevor.”

“No? Then tell me what it’s like, Bro.” He throws his arms out to the side. “I’m standing here in front of you, begging for your help. Do you have any fucking idea how hard this is for me?”

“I know,” I say quietly. I know how difficult it is for him to ask for help, because we’re alike in so many damn ways. He’s as stubborn and prideful as I am. He must be in some deep shit to still be asking, because the last time he begged for help like this was the night before I found myself cuffed and in the back of a cruiser.

Still, he got along just fine when I was locked up, and he’s a big boy. “You can take care of yourself, Trevor.”

He shakes his head, unable to look me in the eyes any longer. I’ve betrayed him, that’s what he believes anyways, whether or not it’s true. It kind of feels like it’s true. It kind of feels like a punch to my gut, and I imagine the feeling is tenfold for him.

“You’re really not going to help me… are you?”

“I can’t.”

He looks up with a contemptuous smile. “I’ve had your back for all these years but now you turn your back on me. I get it. You don’t need me. You have her.” He jerks his chin toward the back, obviously referring to Katie, and I immediately tense at the confirmation that he even knows about her. How? Has he been watching us?

But he’s not done talking yet. He shakes his finger at me. “You have her, and you have them. Slate. Jericho. Axel and Davis. They’re your true friends, aren’t they? The ones you started that damn garage and MC with.”

“Jesus, Trev,” I say, shocked that he’s bringing up all this old you-like-them-better-than-you-like-me bullshit. “I went to fucking prison for you, not for them.”

He huffs. “Yeah, but you’ve always thought they were better than me. That
you
were better than me. Because you wanted to go straight and I didn’t.
I couldn’t
. You all tried so hard. Now look at you. Look at all of you.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” His revelation that I hadn’t stayed straight was obviously no surprise. He’d been the one to ruin that for me, after all. But as for the others? As far as I knew, they were fine. Jericho was still running the garage. Slate was a big shot attorney. Axel was a Marine. And Davis…well, I didn’t know what Davis did other than it had something to do with computers.

They’d tried visiting me in prison but I’d refused to see them. They’d tried calling me off and on, even though I never responded to their messages.

Fuck, had they somehow needed
me
, and I’d blown them off?

“Whatever,” I said to Trevor, hiding my unease because I really couldn’t believe anything he said at this point. If I wanted news on the others, I’d have to go straight to the source.

“You don’t even know,” he sneered. “You didn’t want their charity, but you have no fucking clue.”

“So tell me,” I say, no longer wanting to rush him out the door.

“Ask them yourself.” He whirls, stalks to the door, throws it open, then disappears.

I’m hit by yet another pang of guilt for sending Trevor away when he needs me and I almost go after him.

“Who was that?” Katie asks from behind me, and I freeze in place.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Street

I turn to face Katie. She’s standing in front of me with a small stack of books cradled against the crux of her elbow.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she says with a light laugh. “I was out back signing for a delivery. Was that a customer?” She steps past me and unloads the stack of books onto the counter.

“Who?” I avert my eyes and force a smile. I thought I was done playing these games with her, but here I am, back at square one and readying myself for a few different scenarios.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “That guy who just stormed out of here.”

“Right. Him.” I purse my lips, and attempt to come up with a believable lie. “Maintenance,” I stammer and slap my palm against my leg. My incompetence in telling a simple lie is an astonishing feat.

“Right.” She nods as she steps toward me and levels a palm on my shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I know he wasn’t a customer by the way you’re lying to me. And I know he wasn’t maintenance, because George is a cheap ass and would never hire someone. He’d jump on YouTube and figure out the problem himself.”