Fucked-up…and fucked-up-erer.
That was exactly how Hunter would describe his entire damn life. One minute he had Scarlet pressed up against a wall and she was kissing him like everything about them made total sense. And then all because of one tiny little metal trinket, everything that made sense just went poof, and now confused the fuck out of him.
After the chain fell out of his jacket pocket, shattering everything between them into tiny little splinters of hell, Scarlet had stormed out of the bar like she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Now Hunter was walking down the hall with a half a bottle of Jack, thinking nothing but sentences that consisted solely of F-bombs.
Fuck, fuck, fuckety, fuck…
Fuck!
Hunter passed James’s office and heard James and Riggs talking. He trotted in, not giving a shit that he was interrupting what could be a personal conversation.
“You seen Scarlet?”
Riggs straightened as Hunter walked in. “She’s in the garage.”
“The garage?”
“Yeah. She asked if we had any motorcycles that she could check out. Apparently, she has a thing for motorcycles.”
Hunter pulled his hand down his face, cursing. “And apparently, you have a thing for fucking up!”
“Excuse me?”
“You know nothing about that woman, do you? Funny, for someone who has watched over her for years, you’re fucking clueless when it comes to her.”
Hunter faced James and placed the bottle of whiskey on the desk. “Where’s the garage?”
“Outside to the left.”
Hunter turned around and pushed Riggs against the chest, sending him staggering backward. “Fucking amateur.”
He rushed out of the office and down the hall, knowing all too well why Scarlet wanted to see the motorcycles.
What the fuck was Riggs thinking leaving her alone in a garage full of wheels? Fucking soldier boy was as stupid as he was ugly.
It took him about thirty seconds to find the garage. It was almost like he had an inner map to wherever the fuck Scarlet was.
Google Maps could kiss his ass.
Just as he walked through the garage door, he balked.
“Fuck me,” he muttered to himself as he stared at all the motorcycles and cars in front of him. What was this? The fucking Bloomindales of cars and motorcycles?
And then he spotted dark hair with red streaks all the way at the back of the garage. He would have to sprint like a damn Kenyan if he was going to get to her before she could make a run for it—or a ride for it.
“Scarlet,” he called out. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”
Her head shot up and she looked in his direction. “Ace?”
Hunter rushed down the aisle. “If you’re thinking of doing what I know you’re about to do, you’d better think twice.”
“Would you relax? I’m just looking around.”
Hunter stopped right in front of her and the red Ducati she was admiring. He grabbed her elbow. “Like hell you are.”
“Oh my God. I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Oh, I know you’re not stupid. But you are reckless.”
Scarlet jerked her arm free. “The only reckless thing I’ve done was allowing myself to think that two fucked-up people like us would actually be able to survive together.”
She straightened like she was trying to prove he wasn’t intimidating her. But he could see it in her eyes. He could always see it in her eyes whenever they got close. It was like those blue sapphires were screaming at him, telling him everything she couldn’t. And right then they were telling him that she was intimidated by him—and she liked it.
Hunter leaned slightly forward, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I guess that makes us both reckless.”
She moved her lips closer to his and he wasn’t sure if he was about to kiss her or if she was about to kiss him. He just hoped like hell someone was about to kiss the other one.
Just as her lips lightly brushed against his, sending what felt like a jolt of electricity down his spine, he readied himself to devour her mouth. He was so fucking hungry for her taste, ready to take from her what he needed so badly. But then she paused and he felt her hands brush against his stomach, taking his shirt in her hand. Her touch felt euphoric and deadly at the same damn time, burning his skin yet making him feel more alive than ever.
Slowly she lifted his shirt, and traced her finger gently along the tattoo just above his pants. Just that one subtle touch of her finger against his skin was enough to provoke the animal in him, creating a lust of apocalyptic proportions that raged inside his loins. God, he wanted this woman.
“Scar—”
“Regret,” she said before pulling her hand away, leaving burning flesh behind.
He watched with hungry eyes as she reached for her own shirt, pulling it up and giving him a glimpse of the body he had tasted, and needed to taste again, and again, and again. The sight of her skin fueled his most carnal urges—his need to be one with her while he fucked her until her entire body would start shaking.
She grabbed his hand and placed it over the tattoo on her side. A groan escaped him as the warmth of her skin seeped through to his very fucking soul.
“Torment,” she whispered, allowing his finger to trace across the black ink that marked her body. It was one of those pivotal moments shared between two people, solidifying a connection that went soul deep. The only difference was their connection had a slim chance of surviving all the brokenness they carried around inside them.
She removed her hand from his, but he didn’t take his hand away from her side. Instead, he flattened his palm against her skin, staring at the ink as he gave a tiny step forward, wanting to close the gap between them—physically and emotionally.
“You see, Ace.” She made him look at her—into the eyes that would soon be his undoing. “We’re just too fucked-up for each other.”
Gently she took his hand in hers and pulled it away from her side. She leaned closer, placing a soft kiss just below his ear before she whispered, “Two broken souls can’t make a whole.”
And then she walked away.
Jesus Christ. Hunter placed his hands on the Ducati, letting his head hang down, trying to calm the raging thoughts inside his head. The vice his body was currently in was the worst thing he had ever felt. Wanting her, needing her, yet not being able to have her. It was torture.
If only he could stop it. If only there was a switch he could flick off when it came to her, it would be so much easier. If he could stop wanting to protect her, to make her his, none of this would be so damn hard. But he couldn’t, and it finally dawned on him why. He finally realized why it was just too fucking impossible for him to walk away.
His heart was already in it. If he walked away now, he would be leaving his heart behind, and apparently, that just wasn’t an option anymore—not for him.
He turned around and called out, “Scar?”
She stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”
“You were going to take a ride, weren’t you?”
“I sure was.”
He snorted. “Not stupid, huh?”
She turned and faced him. “Actually, I think I am. I might just be the stupidest woman in the history of mankind.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If I was clever, Ace, I would have never allowed myself to like you in the first place.”
Hunter lifted a brow. “Like?”
“Yeah, like.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I once heard someone say that people like us are incapable of loving.”
Hunter narrowed his eyes, but then she turned and walked out of the garage.
She’d heard. Scarlet had heard what he told Baxter the day before when he got stitched up. Motherfucker, of course she heard. Just another sign the entire universe was against them.
Unfortunately for the universe, it chose two highly stubborn individuals whose lives it was trying to dictate.
“Fuck you, universe,” he said up into the air. “Fuck you and that bastard named Murphy.”
Hunter stomped out of the garage, but not before taking one final glance at all the impressive cars and motorcycles.
“Adam, you son of a bitch. You would have loved this.”
Suddenly, Hunter missed his cocksure best friend. He could practically here the bastard say, “Goldilocks, out of all the pussies in the world you had to go and pick the one that managed to get you into this huge bucket full of shit. Congratulations, dildo.”
Hunter snorted. Yup, that was exactly what Adam would have said.
After hovering around the garage for a bit, trying to get his shit together, Hunter made his way back to the house. As he walked up the stairs to the front door, the door opened and Colton came walking out.
As if his day couldn’t get any shittier.
Colton glared at him. “I was looking for you.”
“Sorry, soldier boy, I don’t roll like that. My dick prefers pussy. But I don’t blame you. Since you lack in the testosterone department, you’re looking to compensate with my abundance of the male hormone.” Hunter shrugged. “I get that.”
Colton stared at him, straight-faced. “Are you done?”
“Oh, I haven’t even started yet.”
“Okay, well, once you’ve managed to thoroughly convince yourself that your dick is bigger than mine, we need to go over the plan for tomorrow.” And then he walked back into the house.
“Oh, mine’s definitely bigger than yours,” Hunter said after him. “Plus, I have the balls to back it up.”
Ugh. Hunter’s comebacks were starting to get lamer by the second.
Fucker.
Colton might act like the good guy, but Hunter didn’t trust him. And come tomorrow, he would be keeping a close eye on the fucker. In fact, Hunter had a little plan of his own. There was no way in hell he was taking any chances—especially when it came to Scarlet.