Heart of Stone

  Heart

  Of

  Stone

  Tess Oliver

  Anna Hart

  Heart of Stone

  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

  About the authors

  Chapter 1

  Amy

  It was a ripping sound that woke me from the strange dream that, among other things, included the fuzzy handlebar moustache of the customer who’d kept ordering whiskey sours and only drank half of each glass. The moustache had fallen off onto the toe of my shoe, and as it crept up my leg, I reached down to pull it off. The ripping sound followed me right into my dream, giving the weird moustache attack sound effects.

  My head felt heavy with fatigue as I lifted it from my pillow. Lazy Daze had been extra crowded and the customers had been extra needy. Mom had been sitting up in her room drawing question marks all over a piece of paper when I came in. I had let her continue. After a long day of work, I was always glad when she didn’t want to have one of her bizarre chats. I’d gone into my room, smoked half a joint and fallen into bed.

  It was still dark inside the room and outside the faded, threadbare curtains on my window. Another ripping sound. My head was still in that weird groggy zone as I shuffled out of my bedroom and down the shadowy hallway. I followed the thin stream of light coming from the kitchen and briefly wondered what the hell my crazy ass mom was up to this time. Lately, it seemed that the voices in her head were talking way louder than me. I couldn’t ever seem to talk any sense into her. She was heading for a cliff, and I had no way to talk her down from it. Every social worker who visited the house had told me I needed to get her into a psychiatric hospital, but I knew that would only make her worse. And I’d be completely alone.

  I stepped into the kitchen, but Mom didn’t turn around. Strips of masking tape were stuck in large X’s across all the cabinets and drawers. She’d even taped shut the refrigerator and the toaster oven. She’d pulled my sweatshirt on over her robe, an interesting fashion statement even from her, a woman who lately had decided to wear a beach towel as a cape around her shoulders like a little kid pretending to be a superhero.

  Mom’s thin, shaky fingers gripped another piece of tape, and her arm swung out to free an extra long strip. This particular piece of tape was not going to go easily to its new kitchen cupboard destination. It folded back on itself and then got worse when Mom tried to untangled it. Finally, she gave up, rolled the tape into a ball and threw it on the floor. It bounced and landed next to a collection of other failed attempts.

  “Mom,” I said quietly. I knew when she was in one of her manic modes she startled easily, and I didn’t want to get crowned in the head with a ring of masking tape. She still hadn’t heard me. The voices were too loud, drowning out me and any spark of reason or rational thought. “Mom,” I said a little louder.

  She continued pulling off a strip of tape. She pressed it across the cereal cupboard, making sure to seal it down tight. Our shabby kitchen was going to look even worse after this little episode of lunacy.

  I walked up to where she was standing and leaned forward so she could see me. She glanced my direction. I had inherited my mom’s green eyes and her smile, according to people who knew us. I’d always been glad to hear it. My mom’s smile had always been her best feature. Of course, my shitty dad, who had been an even worse husband, had rarely given her a reason to smile.

  Mom continued with her taping task, basically ignoring me. I put my hand on her arm so she’d focus on my face. Sometimes, it seemed she had to read my lips to hear me over the voices. She blinked at me almost as if she was seeing me for the first time ever. “Amy?”

  “Mom, why are you taping shut the kitchen cupboards?”

  A tiny grin curled her lip as if she knew a secret that no one else knew. “Because that’s how they are trying to get inside the house. They enter right through the cabinets. But I’ll make sure they don’t get in.” She spent a few patient seconds trying to free the edge of the tape and then yanked off a long piece.

  I stood there and watched her for a few moments, wondering just when her mind had reached that point of no return. For a long time, she’d just been sad, incredibly sad. The depression had really taken hold a few years before my dad drowned, when he’d grown extra bitter and unbearable. During those horrid years, when his fishing skills and luck seemed to have dried up and he was taking his crappy life out on us, Mom and I would scoot around the house like shadows trying not to be noticed. Looking my dad in the eye would trigger interaction, and interaction always ended badly.

  That awkward existence of trying to stay invisible had sent my mom into a state of despair that’d robbed her of her very soul. She’d gone from being the woman who would make me homemade granola and help me with a long division problem at the kitchen table to a lump of gray, lifeless skin and bones. For the longest time, I’d hoped the sadness would go away. Now it had. But it had been replaced by something much scarier.

  Mom continued to secure our kitchen against invasion by the alien beings who she’d convinced herself were constantly watching the house. I grabbed my coat off the hook and pulled it on over the t-shirt I’d worn to bed. I opened the front door. The usual smell of the ocean had been replaced by the wet, static charged smell that preceded a thunderstorm. The trees were bowing their heads in unison as a strong wind pushed the clouds across the bay. The stars and moon had been obliterated, leaving behind a dreary, cold night where the only illumination was coming from a few of the fizzling porch lights in the neighborhood.

  My feet were numb with cold by the time I crossed the patch of weeds to Hunter’s front porch. The house was dark, but not because the brothers were sleeping. Hunter and Slade never fell into bed before dawn. I told them it was like living next door to vampires.

  Colt and Jade had moved into the beach cottage permanently, and on nights like this, when my mom was acting extra nuts, I missed having Jade nearby. We’d become best friends so fast, I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t known her. We were connected by the Stone brothers and by something much deeper, a sort of understanding about just how ugly the world could be and how hard you had to work to not let the bad stuff swallow you up. She had Colt’s undying love though. And I had Hunter. But I had slowly come to grips with the harsh reality that Hunter Stone had no love to give. We were together all the time, but just like his motorcycle and his boat, I was only an object that he didn’t want to be without.

  I sat on the porch deciding to stay outside until our kitchen light went out and Mom went to bed. With a storm rol
ling in and a black sky above, it should have been extra cold, but the clouds were acting like a tarp, a thick cover that had trapped in some of the day’s lingering heat.

  A single headlight lit up the street as Hunter’s motorcycle rumbled around the corner. His massive shoulders spanned far wider than his handlebars as he turned the bike up the driveway. He’d not bothered with a helmet tonight. The ride had blown his dark hair into a wild array of black spikes. Even in the nearly lightless night, I could see every plane and angle of his handsome face. I had it memorized. I had the whole fucking man memorized.

  I could still remember the day when the notion that I loved Hunter had fallen on me like a ton of bricks. My dad had come home after a particularly bad day of fishing. I’d stupidly spoken back to him when he told me to get the hell off of his couch. His hand came at me so fast, I hadn’t even seen it coming. A splash of pain followed that left me dazed for several seconds. Also avoiding the wrath of their old man, Hunter, Slade and Colt had been tossing around a football in their front yard when I shot out of the house. I was crying uncontrollably as I raced straight into Hunter’s arms. All the brothers were important to me and I’d do anything for them, but it was Hunter who I wanted when things were really bad.

  Hunter climbed off the bike and stretched to full height. His enormous size made the motorcycle look like a toy. His long legs carried him toward the house. He hadn’t noticed me yet, sitting there, skulking in the darkness.

  “Why so early? Couldn’t find any sweet necks to bite?”

  His face popped up. “Street, shit, why are you crouched out there on the porch?”

  The wind snapped through the massive tree in front of the house. It was the only vegetation still clinging to life in their barren front yard. A hurricane of orange leaves fluttered to the ground.

  I wrapped my arms around my knees and pulled my legs closer to my chest. “I’m watching the clouds roll in.”

  “Looks like it’s going to be a big storm.” The porch steps creaked beneath Hunter’s weight. He sat down next to me. His warmth immediately comforted me.

  “Remember that time when my cat chased the lizard up that tree?” I asked.

  “Then the cat got stuck and you climbed up to free her and you got stuck,” he continued.

  “And then you came up to get me.” I laughed. “It always reminded me of that book they read in school with the old lady swallowing the fly.”

  “I just remember falling on the sidewalk after the branch snapped. It was a painful but quick way to get down from the tree. I should have predicted that ending though. Crazy shit always followed you around.”

  I grew quiet for a second and thought about the unsettling scene I’d just left in my house. “My mom was taping up the cupboards so that the aliens don’t get inside. I decided to walk outside and wait for them. Figured being kidnapped, studied and eventually dissected by green men would still be better than living with my mom.”

  “You need to send her to one of those institutions where she can get some help.”

  A wry laugh spurted from my mouth. “Help? You just used the word institution. Does an institution sound the least bit helpful?”

  He sighed loudly and a cloud of beer breath followed. “I’m just saying there might come a time when you can’t handle her craziness anymore. She’s too much, Amy. She’s going to hurt herself, or worse, she might hurt you.”

  Hearing him call me by my name always sent me off balance for a second. He only said it when he was trying to sound fatherly or serious, like now. Otherwise, I was Street, or Street Corner Girl, a nickname the Stone brothers had come up with when I was twelve and in a desperate attempt to make money, I’d turned my corner lemonade stand into a kissing booth. “She’s the only family I’ve got.” I shot to my feet and had every intention of marching back inside. But his giant hand wrapped around my arm, and he pulled me onto his lap.

  “That’s not true and you know it. I’m your family. Colt and Slade are your family.”

  My throat tightened as he said it. Growing up, the four of us had been stuck in similar slices of hell. But as bad as my father had been, he was fucking Santa Claus compared to their dad, Hank. Sometimes it seemed impossible that they’d all survived to adulthood. But they had, and while they weren’t leading completely respectable lives, and while a lot of the people in town made a point of crossing the street not to have to pass them on a sidewalk, they’d all grown up with the innate sense that cruelty was wrong. An unintentional lesson they’d learned from their awful dad. But their horrid life had scarred all of them, physically and emotionally. Feelings and love were hidden under layers of stone. Jade had found a way to chip through Colt’s rock hard facade, but Hunter was a much harder piece of granite to break.

  Hunter tightened his hold on me, pulling me closer to his warm body. The earlier tension drained out of me like it always did when I was in his arms. They were like a steel barrier to anything bad or dangerous in the world.

  I rested my head against his shoulder. “Why is it that even when you’ve said something that irritates me, I still manage to dissolve into a hot puddle of need when I’m with you.”

  “I think my little Street Corner Girl needs a raunchy roll in my bed sheets.” His hand smoothed along my leg and pushed up the bottom of my t-shirt. The cool air brushed over my panties.

  “Is that all you ever think about?” I asked.

  “I would be lying if I said no.”

  I peered up at him. “Kudos for honesty then, but I don’t kno—” My breath pulled in as his fingers scooted under the crotch of my panties. I was like melted butter in his arms. Hunter knew I could never say no to him. But, sometimes, I wished to hell I could.

  Moisture seeped from my now throbbing pussy.

  “Ahh, Street, you’re so fucking wet, I might have to take you right here on this damn porch.”

  I curled against him and kissed his neck. “Too cold and the aliens are watching. Carry me inside.”

  He pushed his finger inside of me, and I arched my back to take in more of his touch. My soft groan floated off the porch and away on the salty breeze.

  “Don’t know if I can stop, baby.” The gritty darkness in his voice matched the stormy night.

  I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself to make my point. “A blanket and a warm room. Please.”

  He withdrew his fingers, and my breath drifted out with them as if he’d pulled the oxygen from my lungs at the same time. With ease, he stood with me in his arms. I clung to him as he opened the front door.

  I kissed his neck as he carried me down the dark hallway. He kicked his door open and stepped inside. He walked around the maze of dirty clothes and shoes and lowered my feet to the ground. I’d always been aware of my slight, thin build, but I always felt extra small standing in a room with Hunter.

  His brown eyes were glazed with need as he reached for my coat. He pushed it off my shoulders. “What would I do without you, Street?”

  “You’d still be fucking every girl in town.” I hopped up on my toes. “But you’d miss me.” “Damn right I would.” He lowered his mouth over mine. There were times when we’d forego the kissing. It was too intimate. Kissing came with too much connection. Kissing made it harder for me to accept that he’d never give me his undivided love. It reminded me that he just really had no love to give.

  Tonight, his tongue stroked my lips with a tenderness that nearly brought tears to my eyes. He was never going to be completely mine. I was his, but a terrible double standard had always been wedged between us. I’d spent nearly as much time telling myself this was never going to be anything as I’d spent trying to reconcile our lopsided relationship with my heart.

  Hunter lifted his mouth long enough to pull my t-shirt off. I was stripped down to just my panties. He reached down, took hold of my waist and lifted me up onto the bed. I relaxed back as he knelt on the floor between my legs. It was rare for him to take the time to make me come first before climbing on top of me. Not th
at he ever finished before me. He always made sure not to. He could stay hard as long as I needed. And his skill in between the sheets was one of the reasons saying no to him had been so impossible. That, and the reality that I loved him so much it hurt to think about.

  His fingers dragged my panties down past my knees and off my ankles. I was naked. Everything about the man was powerful, menacing, intimidating. Having him kneel between my thighs made me so fucking hot, I knew it wouldn’t be long. His long black lashes lifted, and he gazed at me over the mound of crisp hair between my legs. We never needed to say much to each other. We knew each other so well, it was almost as if he could feel everything I was feeling as he touched me. And he touched me now with that incredible skill that made him so fucking irresistible.

  He lifted up on his knees and leaned his massive body over me to kiss my lips. “There is nothing I hate more than seeing my Street Corner Girl sad. It’s not natural. When that face has a frown, it feels like this fucked up universe has turned even more upside down.”

  “I’m not sad.” I reached up and touched his face. I rarely allowed myself small intimate caresses like that. They were just as dangerous as kisses. “I just feel vacant.”

  A sliver of a smile crept up on his face. “Then allow me to fill that vacancy.” He sat back on his knees. His hands slid up along the inside of my thighs. He pressed his fingers against the folds of my pussy and spread me wide open. He leaned his face forward. I curled my fingers into his hair and pulled in a long, shuddering breath as his tongue flicked against my clit. His thumb took over as his tongue moved down and plunged inside of me.