Heart of Stone Page 10

  “I think food will make you feel better, in every way.” I knew my words were drifting right past her.

  Her complexion was sallow beneath the dim light in her room and her dark eyes looked as if they’d sunk into her face even more, as if they were going to eventually be swallowed up for good.

  I’d been putting off telling her about the doctor appointment I’d made for her. It was always better if I told her just before it was time for her to get dressed and go. Then she didn’t have days to think and stress about it. I needed to get her help before I lost her for good. These new meds were only making everything worse. She wasn’t hunkering around corners with vases anymore, but she had been brought so low by the chemicals in her bloodstream, I was sure she’d been thinking about suicide.

  “Mom, can I get you anything? I’m just going to pop over next door and talk to Slade.” It was just after midnight, and I’d been in bed when I heard Slade pull into his driveway. Hunter hadn’t been home for three days. Slade had driven to his favorite pool hall to see if anyone had seen him.

  “No, I’m fine. I’m tired. I think I’ll rest.” She scooted down and pulled the towel over her.

  I headed out the door and across the yard. I’d been making good progress with the weeds and mess, but my worry about Hunter had slowed me down some. The light was on in the kitchen. I walked inside and headed into the kitchen.

  Slade was getting a beer out of the refrigerator. The Stone brothers weren’t big on showing emotion, but his face was smooth with worry.

  “Did you hear anything?” I asked.

  He pulled out a chair and shook his head. “No one had seen him at the pool hall in the last few days. Don’t worry,” he told me, but his tone wasn’t too convincing. “He’s a big guy who can handle himself better than anyone. I haven’t heard from the cops or a hospital, so that’s a good thing.”

  I sat across from him.

  “He’ll be home soon, Street. And then I’m going to kick his ass for doing this. I’m sure he’s with those bikers he’s been hanging with lately. I don’t know much about them except the one guy is called Fletch. They’re big into poker, and you know how Hunter likes to play cards and make wagers.”

  “Yeah.” My stomach was twisting into a hard knot. So many ugly scenarios were dashing around my head. “This was my fault.” My throat constricted around the words. “I shouldn’t have gone off with David that night. Hunter was really upset.”

  “No, Street, don’t do that to yourself. What you’re doing is good. You need to show Hunter that he’s not being fair to you.” It was rare to have a serious conversation with Slade but, of all the brothers, he always made the most sense. Maybe it was the middle brother thing. Not that he hadn’t lived through just as much despair as Hunter and Colt. He had. He just seemed to have come out of it a little more grounded.

  “Right now, I don’t even care what he’s done in the past,” I said. “I just want his ass home and safe. And I’m going to be right there when you kick his ass for doing this.”

  We both fell silent and thought about the comical scenario of someone trying to kick Hunter Stone’s ass. Slade was the first to break the silence with a laugh. “Yeah, me and what fucking army, eh? It always sounds easy when the big goof isn’t around.” His phone buzzed, and we both jumped. Slade looked at his phone and shook his head to let me know it wasn’t Hunter.

  I slumped back against the chair.

  “Hey, Rooney, what the hell are you doing up and about this late?” Slade asked. He sat forward. “Really?”

  I tapped the table to find out what was going on.

  Slade lifted the phone from his mouth. “Rooney said there’s a light on in the Durango’s pilot house.” He placed the phone back. “I’ll head down there right now.” Rooney was a guy we’d gone to school with. His father owned three fishing trawlers, and they were moored near the Durango.

  “What?” Slade asked. “It is? That fucker, we haven’t seen him in days.”

  This time I reached across and tapped his arm. He held up a hand to hold me off a second. “Rooney, can you do me a favor? Walk down to the Durango and see if the big dick is up there. Call me right back. Thanks man, I owe you.” He hung up.

  “Hunter’s motorcycle is parked down by the marina. I don’t know what the hell is up with him. Asshole.” His phone rang again. “It’s Rooney.” He pressed it against his ear. “Is he there?” He paused. “You dickwad, where the hell have you been?”

  It was Hunter on the other end. I relaxed back and tamped down the tears of relief that badly wanted to spill.

  “Are you coming home? You sound like shit.” Slade listened. I could hear Hunter’s voice through the phone, but I couldn’t make out the words. They sounded slow and deep.

  Slade rolled his eyes at something Hunter said. “Yeah, all right. You had everyone worried, fool. Yep, I guess I won’t start selling off your stuff yet. Later.” He hung up. “He’s been playing poker for three days. Sounds like he’s been living on whiskey, weed and blow and nothing else. He says the sea air is making him feel better.” He looked at me. “Not going to lie, Street. He’s been on a downward spiral and—”

  “And I helped start it.” I finished for him. I got up and zipped up my sweatshirt. “I’m going down to the marina to check on him.”

  “Might be a good idea.”

  I walked out of the kitchen.

  “And smack him upside his head for me, would ya?” Slade called.

  I laughed. “Aren’t you the brave one?”

  I went inside my house and peeked into my mom’s room. She was fast asleep, snoring softly from beneath the flamingo beach towel. I grabbed my keys and climbed into my car. The wave of relief I’d felt after finding out that Hunter was safe assured me that as hard as I’d been trying to break free from him, I was still just as attached as ever. There’d been too much time and shit between us. Somehow, just being friends didn’t seem like an option. Our relationship was a giant, tangled ball of feelings. But I wasn’t going to sort it out tonight or any time soon. I just needed to see him. Horrible scenarios had been bouncing through my head for the past few days, and I couldn’t sleep easy until I saw for myself that he was all right.

  Chapter 16

  Hunter

  Hair of the dog wasn’t helping me as much as I’d hoped. By the time I got back to Trayton, I felt as if I’d been chewed up and spit out. I headed straight to the Durango, thinking the cold sea air would be better than our stuffy little house. And, somehow, it was going to be easier not seeing Amy’s house or her shabby little car or anything else that might remind me how much I missed her. It was like walking around with a cold hard fist in my stomach, and I had no clue what to do about it. The more I thought about us together, the more I’d convinced myself she needed more. She was like fucking perfection, put on this earth to absorb some of the unwanted darkness. Having her living just a few yards away had made our lives better. She had been the one bright spot in our grim existence. She needed someone who deserved her. That sure as hell wasn’t me.

  I held the whiskey bottle to my mouth and lifted it straight up to get the last drops. The liquid burned going down, and the alcohol was no longer having much effect. I let the bottle dangle from my fingers. Leaning forward to put it down on the floor was going to take more energy than I had. I’d expected to climb up to the pilot house and collapse into a long winter nap like a goddamn hibernating bear, but instead, my mind was spinning. I seemed to have reached that point of being so tired, I couldn’t rest my head enough to sleep. My mom used to call it the sleepy-crazies. She’d never had it easy. Aside from having to dodge my dad’s iron fist, she’d had to deal with three wild, out-of-control boys. Guess that’s why she’d eventually taken the easy way out.

  I yanked off my shirt and leaned my back against the cool plaster wall as I stared out the front windows of the pilot house. The moon added a strip of gold to an otherwise black sea. The rhythmic, lonely clanging of the pulleys and chains danglin
g from masts made the marina feel extra deserted. I felt as empty as the dock.

  A shadow passed outside, but I dismissed it, figuring my lack of sleep was bringing on hallucinations. Then the door to the pilot house opened. “Shit, Slade, I told you I was fi—”

  Amy stepped inside. The small lantern that hung on a hook near the door swung back and forth, casting shadows across her pretty face and making her hair shine like copper.

  “Well, damn.” My words were stretched and slurred. “They sent an angel down to pick me up and take me to eternity. And here I thought I was going a different route.”

  She walked closer. I looked her up and down.

  “If I knew angels were going to be this hot, I would have drank myself to death long ago.”

  She reached down and took the whiskey bottle from my fingers and put it on the floor. “I have about as much chance of being an angel as you have of meeting one as you leave this world.”

  She pushed between my knees and stood in front of me. The willowy soft scent that always surrounded her floated over me, making some of the ache in my head and chest lift away. She reached forward and pressed her finger near the gash on my cheek. The blood had dried, but one long yawn would get it flowing again.

  “Why the hell do you always have to walk around with big gaping cuts? Can’t you ever just go out and come back the same way you left?” She walked over to the captain’s chair and leaned down into the compartment that held the first aid box. I watched her. My sleep deprived mind seemed to be making everything move in slow motion, and her long, graceful movements were causing the air to stick in my lungs.

  She turned around with the first aid box and walked back. She sat on the bench next to me. Her body brushed my arm as she reached up with some antiseptic soaked cotton. I winced as she pressed the stinging solution against the cut.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  “Little bit.”

  “Good.”

  “Street, I—”

  “Shh. No talking. When you talk, it fucks things up. So, just shut up and let me take care of you.”

  “I’m O.K. with—

  She pressed her finger against my mouth. “You’re still talking.”

  “I was just—”

  She sighed. “Oh my god. Nothing. Not a word.”

  I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. She pressed a long bandage over the cut. Having her so close was sending my body and pulse into overdrive. I hadn’t been with her since the night in the office, and I ached for her now. She was my one constant. She was the only thing that still always made sense, and having her warm body brush up against my arm as she cleaned the gash reminded me just what a fucking drug she was for me. There was nothing I craved more than Amy, and it had been a long, harsh stretch of withdrawals. But I’d blown it with her so often, she had no reason to give me what I wanted most, her silky, naked body in my arms.

  She stood up and returned the first aid kit to the compartment. Then she walked back and stood in front of me with an admonishing look. I was sure I was going to get a lecture for disappearing and not calling. Instead, she unzipped her sweatshirt and pulled it off. She dropped it on the floor. She gazed down at me, her bottom lip looking just a bit angry, as she reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt. She lifted it up and off and dropped it to the floor.

  The air that had been squeezed tight in my chest rolled out in a long shuddering breath. I gazed up at her as she reached back and unclasped her bra. It fell to the ground and the round, white breasts and rose colored nipples that I knew so well pointed at me. My cock was tight as granite as she unbuttoned her fly. I watched and swallowed hard with anticipation as she pushed her pants and panties to the ground. She stepped out of them.

  I’d seen her naked so many times, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. “I take it all back. You’d put angels to shame. Come here, my Street Corner Girl. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.”

  She straddled my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her.

  “I just need to feel you in my arms. Baby, I—”

  She lifted my face. “Shh,” she whispered. Her lips pressed against mine. Then with quiet, deliberate movements she kissed my nose, the tender skin above the bandaged cut, my eyebrow and my forehead. She was in control, and I was fine with that tonight. I was bone weary, and my heart ached so badly for the girl sitting on my lap that I could feel the pain all the way down my arms and legs.

  As I smoothed my hands over her skin, it warmed my fingers and sent my pulse racing. I had to hold back. Tired as I was, if I didn’t check myself, if I didn’t tamp down my almost explosive urge to take her, to pull her under me, naked and open, then I would ruin this whole thing. And I was fucking things up too much lately.

  She bit her bottom lip as she reached down and worked open the buttons on my fly. Her small hand slid down my pants. I pulled in a breath as her long fingers wrapped around my cock. It strained against her grasp as she stroked along its hard length.

  She hopped off long enough to shimmy my jeans down to my knees. She swung her long, sleek thighs over my lap. Her long lashes fluttered as she stared down at my chest, running her fingers along the edges of my tattoos and up over the scars on my shoulders, scars left behind by an angry, sharp belt buckle. Her hard nipples rubbed against my chest as she leaned forward and kissed the ridges of the scars.

  “We’re not Hunter and Amy tonight.” Her warm, sweet breath caressed my skin as she spoke. “No history, no pain or heartache, no anger, just two people whose bodies were made for each other.” She rose up on her knees, reached between her legs and took hold of my cock. She slid down over it, her head rolling back as if drunk from the feel of it. “Just two people made for each other,” she whispered as she lowered herself down.

  She was slick and hot as my cock impaled her. Her arms wrapped around my head and she pulled my face against her. My tongue traced circles around her nipples as she pressed her perfect, round tits against my mouth. I gripped her ass as she moved up and down over me. We were one body connected at the core. It had always been like that with Amy. I’d always felt it with her. It was that strong, almost raw feeling that we belonged to each other that always scared the shit out of me.

  “Oh, Hunter,” she moaned as she squeezed her thighs and tightened her pussy, milking my cock with each movement. She ground her clit against me as she writhed faster and harder on my lap. I met her hungry pussy with hard thrusts, filling her deeper each time. Her thin arms tightened around me, and she pulled my face against her naked breasts. “Yes! Fuck yes,” she cried out. A long string of erotic sounds followed, pinging off the walls of the pilot house.

  Her skin was flushed pink as she caught her breath and smiled down at me. She began moving wildly, lifting up and plunging her hot sheath down over my stiff cock. The bench creaked and wobbled against the wall as our movements sped up. I met her wet pussy each time, impaling her with a force that made her squeak with pleasure. Then my soggy head cleared and my fingers dug into her hips as my cock exploded, releasing my hot seed inside of her. “Fuck yeah, baby. I needed you tonight,” I groaned. “I need you every night.”

  Her body relaxed, and she dropped her face down to my shoulder and gazed out the side window. I smoothed my palm over her naked back and held her tightly against me.

  “I thought something had happened to you.” Her voice sounded small in the empty pilot house. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I couldn’t survive that.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I was in a bad place and the poker game got started and I just shoved all the shit that was bothering me out of my head.”

  She lifted her face and kissed me. “Don’t do it again, or Slade and I are going to kick your ass.”

  “Yeah? You and what army?” I kissed her again.

  Chapter 17

  Amy

  I pulled the rake across the dry, empty yard, kicking up a respectable cloud of dust in my wake. There was no grass
, only parched earth scarred by the weeds that had once covered it like a bristly green and brown rug. But even without a lawn, it looked surprisingly better. I’d already made arrangements for a landscaper to come and fix the sprinklers and plant grass seeds.

  Hunter walked out onto his front porch, wearing a tight white t-shirt that seemed to be working overtime to contain the mass of muscles beneath it. Sometimes the man looked so ridiculously intimidating, it was a wonder that the crows and squirrels in his front yard didn’t all flee for safety. He picked up his toolbox from the porch and walked down his steps.

  Nothing had been settled or untangled after the night in the pilot house. I still couldn’t reason my own actions when I’d walked up there and nearly jumped naked into his lap. I’d been so damn relieved to see him back safe that everything else, the anger, the hurt, had all but vanished. I’d missed him so much, and he looked so miserable sitting there with his empty bottle of whiskey, dark expression and open gash, all I could think of doing was something to make him feel better.

  There had been plenty of selfish motive too. Seeing him sit there without his shirt, looking irresistibly hot as usual, my body had reacted instantly. If nothing else, my physical desire for Hunter Stone never wavered. In a way, it was a curse because it seemed the best way to protect myself from heartbreak was to say no to him. But I hadn’t found the self-discipline I needed to turn him away. For now, nothing had been resolved, but we were talking again. And I needed that. I needed him to still be a part of my life.

  I watched him from beneath the wide brim of the straw hat I’d been wearing to keep the sun off my face. The weather had been unseasonably warm, but I loved it. It was always easier to coax myself outside into the yard when it wasn’t shrouded by a layer of cold fog.

  “Where are you headed to with your box of tools, Mr. Handyman?”