Stone Cold Bad Read online

  Stone

  Cold

  Bad

  Tess Oliver

  Anna Hart

  Stone Cold Bad

  Copyright© 2015 by Tess Oliver & Anna Hart

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Chapter 1

  Jade

  “I will plunge this letter opener into your fucking eye!” I screamed.

  Ray’s hand clamped around my arm. My forearm looked like a brittle matchstick in his thick iron grasp. He squeezed hard enough that I was sure I could feel my bones squeaking against each other. The letter opener fell to the floor.

  Ray’s fingers were leaving a mark on my skin. I spit at him and waited for him to smack me. I’d never pushed him this far when he was drunk, but I’d been dragged to the limit. I just didn’t care anymore. I wanted to be free of the bastard.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed back the bitter taste in my throat. Ray’s movements were clumsy, slowed by the alcohol. He spun me around, slammed my hands down on the desk and pounded my fingers once with his fist for good measure. I cried out in pain.

  “Stand still, little bitch. Can’t fuck a moving target when I’m this drunk.”

  I swallowed again to keep from puking my guts out all over his desk. Although it would have been fitting for the asshole. It hadn’t always been this way, the bile, the tension in my jaw at the thought of having Ray’s hands on me, but now all I could think was I wanted him dead. Sometimes, when he was grunting with exhaustion, pumping me, trying to get his whiskey soaked cock off, I would close my eyes and wish that his fucking heart would explode, right while he was inside of me, touching me, making me sick to my stomach. Then I would push his ugly dead carcass off of me, step right over him and walk out the fucking door for good. But no such luck.

  “I told you I’m not in the mood,” I tried one last plea. There had been a time when the man had still had a thread of conscience, and he would have listened. But that man was gone, replaced by a greed driven, alcoholic madman.

  His fumbling, cold fingers yanked the hem of my tight skirt up above my waist. I flinched as his callused fingers dragged along my skin and tugged down my panties.

  I heard him spit on his fingers. He knew I wasn’t ready for him. I was never ready anymore. That was how badly I hated him. I kept my legs tight together as he tried to push his fingers between my thighs to lube me with his spit.

  “Fucking cunt,” he growled. “Piece of trash. You’d still be on the street without me.” His thick hand came up on the back of my head, and he shoved me face first toward the desk. I turned to my cheek just in time to avoid breaking my nose.

  “Have it your way,” he growled. He shoved the spit covered finger into my ass and I squirmed against the hold he had on me. He was damn strong. Even drunk, he was a goddamn beast. It was why everyone was afraid of Ray. I hadn’t been afraid. Not until the booze. He couldn’t stop the drinking even though it had turned him into a raging monster.

  My hands slipped forward as he held me against the desk. My fingers grasped for something, anything. My pinky brushed a pen, and I had a brief vision of me stabbing it into Ray’s brain. He pushed my feet wide and my arm flung across the blotter. The pen flew off the desk. A smooth marble paperweight rubbed up against my thumb.

  Ray stopped. I glanced back hoping he’d somehow decided it wasn’t worth the fight. But instead, he had his hand around his cock, desperately milking himself to make himself hard. Tonight the whiskey had been my ally.

  While he was staring down at the limp dick in his hand, I grabbed the paperweight. I spun around, and before he had a chance to lift his face, I crowned him on the head. He stumbled back, and his eyes rounded with fury just before they rolled up in his head. He came down like a big tree falling in the forest.

  My heart was pounding so hard I was sure it would just push open my ribs and hop out of my chest. I didn’t stick around to see if he was dead. The paperweight dented the wood floor right next to his head.

  I raced to the bedroom and shoved a few things into my backpack. I crept down the hallway and out to the entryway. I kept imagining Ray’s thunderous footsteps behind me, but it was my own pulse pounding in my ears. He was out cold. Maybe even dead. I might be spending the rest of my life in jail, but it would be so fucking worth it. Any dank, smelly jail cell would be better than living with Ray.

  I opened the front door and ran out into the night. I had nothing and I had nowhere to go, but I couldn’t stay one more day.

  Creepy swirls of fog curled up around my black boots as I crossed the front lawn. Once I hit the sidewalk, I broke into a run. My hard-soled shoes made the click-clack sound of a flat-footed horse as I ran toward the highway.

  Visibility on the road would be minimal, but I was willing to take my chances with oncoming traffic. The heavy mist was a nightly occurrence, a gift from the ocean that coasted in and blanketed the entire area well into the next morning. It brought a bone chill with it that cut right through my thin sweatshirt. I pulled the hood up over my head, covering my nearly white blonde hair with a black sweatshirt and concealing the only thing that might just be visible on a night like this.

  I looked back once before turning onto the onramp for the two lane highway that would take me the hell out of Wilmington. The turret on Ray’s big, gaudy mansion looked like the top of a haunted house beneath the eerie, fog-shrouded glow of the moon. I wouldn’t see that house again. I would pull a Cleopatra and stick a poisonous snake down my bra before ever going back there.

  A truck’s headlights nearly blinded me as the vehicle waddled toward me. With visibility so bad, most cars were moving at a snail’s pace. I was glad for that. I pulled the backpack higher on my shoulder and stuck my thumb out hoping the driver had good eyesight and some compassion in his heart.

  The truck spit up grit as it pulled off the highway. I raced toward it thinking I could very well have just flagged down a chainsaw murderer like in one of those horror movies. But it didn’t even give me pause. It was still better than going back to Ray.

  The driver, a middle-aged woman with a curly pile of red hair and a friendly smile, rolled down the window. There were two kids sleeping in the backseat. “Honey, you’re practically camouflaged in that black sweatshirt. Where are you heading?”

  It wasn’t a question I’d prepared for, especially because I had no fucking clue. “I can go as far as you’re willing to take me.”
<
br />   She looked at me a second as if she was reconsidering after my shady answer. Then her nice smile popped up. It was a mom smile, the kind some kids, lucky kids, get to see every morning when they head out to the breakfast table. Never got to be one of those lucky kids. “I can get you as far as the marina. But you’ll have to ride in back.” She motioned to the backseat. “You don’t look like a crazy person or murderer, but you understand.”

  “I’m fine with that. Thanks so much.” I ran to the back of the truck, tossed my backpack into the bed and climbed inside. I was free . . . for now.

  Chapter 2

  Colt

  “Sweetheart, if you keep accidentally rubbing your hand across my fly, then I’m going to bend you right over this fucking table and take you right in front of all the other bar patrons.” Hunter sat back against the vinyl seat, but his threat only worked to make the brunette tease him more. She pressed her tits against his arm and grinned wickedly as her hand disappeared beneath the table.

  Hunter growled. “That’s it. We’re going back to the boat for a few minutes.” He gave the brunette a nudge, and she hopped out of the booth. My brother hadn’t even bothered to ask her name. He stood up, towering over the petite girl now, and her brown eyes rounded with fear which was quickly replaced by excitement when it seemed to occur to her that a man Hunter’s size was going to be equipped with an equally giant dick.

  “Thought you were going to bend me over the table,” the brunette said coyly, adding a little lip bite for extra effect.

  Hunter reached down and shook the table enough to clink the beer glasses together and send beer sloshing over the side of the pitcher.

  I steadied the pitcher. “Hey, watch what the fuck you’re doing. That’s good beer.”

  Hunter took hold of the girl’s hand. “We’ll go to the boat. At least when we rock it, the beer won’t spill.” He led her out of the bar.

  Some of the local men, who had been sneering at us from the first second we’d walked in, watched with fury as Hunter led the girl out. But no one would stop him. No one stopped my brother, Hunter, from doing anything he wanted to do. No one stopped any of us Stone brothers. But, there were times when I wished that someone would try.

  “Told you the rumors were true about this place,” Slade chimed in. “Heard it all over Facebook. Head to Bootlegger’s if you want to be surrounded by willing pussy.” The jukebox switched over to a Rolling Stone’s tune, and it thrummed through the place drowning out the clamor of voices.

  “Facebook? What the fuck are you doing on there?”

  Slade picked up his beer and took a loud swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “People post some highly informative things on there.”

  “Since when are you interested in informative?”

  “Whenever the bits of information come between nice pictures of tits.”

  I nodded. “That’s more like it.”

  “Hey, but I didn’t tell you,” he said. He drank more beer and filtered the liquid through his teeth as if he was tasting fine wine instead of cheap beer. “Parker started a Facebook group page for our ‘sticky fingers’ contest.” He lifted his hand and waved his own fingers in case I wasn’t grasping his meaning. Slade could be such a stupid ass sometimes. “You’re still at the top with fifty-two. That asshole, Feeney, claims to be only one girl away with fifty-one, but I’d bet my left nut he’s lying. No way that dickwad has successfully finger fucked fifty-one girls. I’m in third with forty-four, but I’m determined to catch up to you. Can’t stand the thought of having my little brother get more pussy than me, even if it’s just a good long finger fuck.”

  “Shit, you’ve got my name on that page? I didn’t sign on for that. Told you I’d participate in your damn contest only because I know I’ll win and I want that five hundred dollar pot. But I don’t need it advertised all over the fucking place.”

  “Relax. We’ve got code names. You’re Smith and Wesson.” He smiled proudly, which meant he’d come up with my secret, sticky finger’s name. “You know Colt—Smith and Wesson.”

  “Yeah, got it.”

  “Oh, and we added a new feature to the contest. If you can record them screaming your name while their pussy is greedily sucking on your fingers, then you get an extra bonus point. But you’ve got to have it recorded.”

  “You and Parker have way too much fucking time on your hands.”

  Slade stared at something over my shoulder. “Speaking of sticky fingers, those two girls at the bar are giving us the come hither look with their tits.”

  I glanced back toward the bar. As my eyes searched for the come hither tits, they stopped to look at the girl who’d just walked inside. Silky white blonde bangs stuck out from beneath the black hood of her sweatshirt. A long pair of legs, the kind that would look perfect wrapped around me, stretched down from a short, tight skirt and ended in a pair of short black boots. But it wasn’t the incredible body and legs that had my attention. It was her face, beautiful, sad and just begging to be treated right. And I knew just how to do that.

  “I’m going to wave them over.” I heard Slade talk, but I wasn’t really listening. I was busy watching as the girl with boots walked across the floor to the bar. She took off her backpack and fished around for some money.

  Slade waved over the other two girls, but the new girl had caught his attention too. He leaned his head over the back of the booth to get a better look at her legs. “Holy fucking hell, I just spotted number forty-five.”

  My fists clenched the second he said it. Had no fucking clue why, but they had.

  The girls with the welcoming tits slid into the booth. “Evening ladies,” Slade said.

  “I’m Gina and this is Shelly,” the one with the nearly see through blouse said. Slade didn’t introduce us back. We weren’t big on formality, and we didn’t need people knowing our names. We were just passing through on business, business that wasn’t exactly respectable.

  “Can either of you ladies tell me the name of the girl at the bar?” Slade asked. “The one with the black boots and the number forty-five tattooed on her ass.” Slade winked at me, and I wanted to throw my fist at him. It was rare for me to ever think about hitting my brother, but I wanted to right then.

  “No idea, she’s not local,” Shelly said, looking sufficiently insulted that Slade had asked. “And I don’t see any tattoo.”

  Already bored, I got up to go to the bathroom.

  As I stepped back out into the small, dark hallway, the girl with the boots was backing down the narrow passage. Her attention was riveted on something out in the bar area, and she seemed to be ducking out of sight from whatever it was.

  I glanced through to the bar and saw three men who looked as ugly as they looked mean and who seemed to be looking for someone. My money was on the pretty little thing backing down the hallway.

  I stood still, and she slammed right into me. She gasped and swung around, wielding her pillowy soft backpack. It struck me on the shoulder.

  I peered down at her. Hell, she had a mouth that could make a dead man’s cock stand straight up out of the grave. “If you want to use a backpack as a weapon, you need to at least put in a brick or one of those damn textbooks they made us carry around in high school.”

  She looked back toward the bar area. The three pumped up assholes were walking through the tables checking people out. Hopefully, Slade wouldn’t say something insulting to them, but knowing my brother, there was no way he’d keep his mouth shut.

  The trio of self-important badasses swept toward the hallway. The girl dropped her backpack, grabbed my arm and pulled me around to hide her from view. She was pressed between me and the wall when their footsteps landed in the hallway. She reached up with her hand and pulled my face down to hers for a kiss. I shielded her more by putting my arms around her small waist and enveloping her completely in my embrace. She was trembling like a kitten stranded out in the snow. The thugs squeezed past to check out the bathrooms. One of them cleverly mumble
d that we should ‘get a room’.

  The kiss continued. It was an act and felt like one at first, her soft lips pressing urgently and nervously against my mouth. But as it continued, she suddenly seemed more pliable in my arms, some of the fear and tension was melting away. My tongue stroked her upper lip in a silent plea to go deeper. Her lips parted. A tiny moan rolled up from her throat as my tongue pushed in between her lips.

  She stiffened again as one of the men said, “now that we’re in here, I’ve got to take a piss. Check out front to see if the bitch is hiding in the parking lot.”

  Two of the men walked back out. The other stayed in the bathroom. Reluctantly, I pulled my mouth from hers, took her hand and picked up her bag. I led her down to the end of the hallway and turned right toward a storage closet. I turned the knob. It was open. We slipped inside.

  “You should be safe in here until they leave,” I said. She dropped the bag, leaned back against the wall and her long dark lashes fluttered down to shade her pale cheeks. She looked tired and lost.

  I walked up to her and rested my hand on the wall next to her head. She opened her lids and peered up at me with round blue eyes. Could easily get fucking lost in those sapphire blue pools.

  I pushed her bangs aside to get a better view of her face. “After a kiss like that, I think I deserve an explanation.”

  Chapter 3

  Jade

  I stared up at the man I’d used as a human shield. Why the hell did trouble always follow me? And this guy was definitely trouble, and the worst kind of trouble because he was wrapped up in an incredible package of muscles, ink and heartbreak.