Amber to Ashes (The Torn Heart #1) (34 page)

CHAPTER 15

Brock

“
M
AYBE I’LL GO
get laid or something.” Attempting to piss me off, Amber stares dispassionately at her nails, her foot tapping against the pavement. “Some guy slipped me his number at the restaurant last week during my shift, and he was definitely fuckable.”

I exhale a deep breath, trying to keep my cool.

“Goddamn.” Ryder chuckles. “Talk about retaliation.”

I shoot him a scathing glare, about ready to knock him the fuck out.

Amber lifts her eyes to mine, a pseudo-dreamy sigh rolling from her lips. “Yep. I’m calling him. I’m sure he’ll find multiple ways to . . .
occupy
me while you’re gone. Between your monthly pickups and away games, I’m constantly being left alone. He’ll keep me busy.”

Head officially fucked sideways, I hop into the rental van and slam the door closed. “Ber, every time I leave to make a pickup, you pull the same shit. How many times do we have to go through this?”

Pouting like a child, she crosses her arms. “As many times as I feel like it, bastard. That’s how many.”

I let loose an aggravated sigh, knowing she’s as feisty as they come.
Still, that feistiness was the first thing that had me falling for the girl, my existence wrapped around her finger the second she smacked Ryder. But whipped or not, Amber knows this subject’s nonnegotiable. No matter how much seeing her upset twists my head, I’ll never drag her out to West Virginia with me. Besides putting her at risk for getting pinned for something she’s not involved in, exposing her to the demented fuck I score my shit from is never happening.

Done deal. She’s wasting oxygen.

Ryder flips a cigarette into his mouth, lighting it up as he sinks into the passenger side. “At least you’re a bastard today, bro. No doubt that’s a step up from the last time you didn’t take her along for the ride.” He turns his eyes on Amber. “What was it you called him, peach? A twat-waffle?” He taps his chin, his brows dipped in mock thought. “You know my IQ’s close to genius, but I can’t say I’ve ever come across that term. Good one. But what exactly
is
a twat-waffle? This boy’s a
very
,
very
good student, so I promise to pay close attention while you school me.”

Amber blows him a kiss and gives him the finger. “Do me a favor and use that huge brain of yours to figure out how to go to hell, Ryder. Sound good?”

Puffing out a ring of smoke, he gives her a slow smirk. “Mm. You’re beyond goddamn sexy when you’re pissed. This student gives the teacher an A for that alone.” He reclines his seat back, tossing his feet onto the dash as he looks at me. “How do you
not
fuck her into submission when she disobeys you like this?”

Amber pokes her head through the window, her eyes narrowed. “Because he loves me,
twat-waffle
.” Smiling, she blows him another kiss. “Make sure to add that to your dictionary, Mr. Genius.”

Chuckling, Ryder shakes his head, defeat slumping his shoulders as Amber pats herself on the back.

I let out a laugh. “Ashcroft: zero. Moretti: one.”

“Seriously, Brock,” Amber continues, her pout resurfacing, “there’s
no reason why you can’t take me with you. I know
why
you’re going down there. I know what you sell, Mr. Big, bad coke man. You act like I’m an undercover or something.” She slides into vixen mode, her eyes dripping with seduction as she gives me a once-over. “It’s not fair. I wanna come with you.”

“You
came
with me this morning.” I take her face between my hands, pulling her sweet mouth to mine for a soft kiss. “Did you not?”

“Very funny, wiseass,” she mumbles against my lips. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” I grin, slipping my fingers through her hair. “If I’m not mistaken, you came
twice
.”

“But, Brock—”

“But nothing.” I kiss her again and start the engine. Killing what’s about to become a fight, I back out of the parking space. “Just go upstairs. It’s too cold out here for you. I’ll call you from my burner to let you know if we’ll be back tonight or tomorrow morning.”

She stares daggers at me, her middle finger making me its second target of the day. “I’m getting sick of this crap!”

“Come on now, why you gotta get all kinds of crazy?”

“Because you suck!” She spins and stomps toward the elevators.

Her ass—hidden beneath a pair of tightly fitted pink sweatpants—instantly hardens my cock. “Love you too. And you better answer when I call, Ber. I have no problem spending the rest of my life in prison if I have to come back and put a bullet in Mr. Fuckable’s dick.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Another finger before she disappears around the corner.

Christ. She owns my heart, but my girl knows how to fuck with it when she doesn’t get her way. Guilt coats my stomach as I make a left out of my complex.

Ryder flicks his cigarette out the window, an entertained smile on his face as he slides a joint from behind his ear. “She’s no joke, huh?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “You know how she gets.”

“I guess I do.” He sparks the joint, passing it to me after killing a few hits. “Still, she throws me off a little something every now and again.”

“You and me both.” I swipe the joint from him and take a long pull. Potent as hell, it instantly works its magic, wiping away every speck of guilt over leaving Amber behind.

“So what’s been up with her this week?” Ryder drops his feet from the dash, curiosity moving over his face. “Other than just now, she’s been . . . off. I know last weekend fucked with her, but there’s more. Are you two all right?”

Sinking into the mother of all highs, I glance at Ryder, debating whether or not to tell him what I asked Amber to do with us. I haven’t yet explained to him how far shit went that night.

How far
I
went that night.

After fucking around, we talked more about my request, how it’d benefit us all in a multitude of ways. With some heavy coaxing on my part, she eventually admitted to having fantasized about being with me and Ryder, but she ultimately decided it’s something she’s not ready for yet.

Figuring I’d give her time to sit on it, I haven’t tapped the subject since last weekend. Born with the gift of persuasion, I know if I wanted to, I could easily get her to give in now. As tempted as I am to do just that, it wouldn’t be right. Pressuring her into making a decision that’s not truly her own isn’t something I can bring myself to do. I love the girl too much to put her in that predicament.

Besides, I’ve already done enough harm.

Still, her curiosity’s piqued. Sexual wheels spinning, Amber’s brought it up several times, asking questions about how we’d all get through something so intimate without someone getting hurt. It’s obvious she’s worried about not only her heart, but also mine and Ryder’s.

I’ve tried my best to assure her we’d all ease into it, taking our time
to adjust to whatever bullshit might come along with the scenario. As twisted as I am, I know I’ll be able to decompartmentalize. It sounds sick, but that’s just the way my brain works. Knowing she uses sex as an escape from reality, I’m more than positive Amber will be able to separate the two, tossing aside any feelings she may cross. That’s just the way
her
brain works.

“You two good or what?” Ryder’s question snaps me from my thoughts.

I kick him another glance, wondering how the fuck I should go about telling him.

“This is some of the finest Gold Culiacan available, and you haven’t answered me yet. You’re not starting to bug out, are ya?”

“Nah. I’m cool.” Deciding I’m gonna need more to get through this conversation, I take another few pulls from the joint and hand it back to him. “I gotta talk to you about something serious.”

If I thought he looked curious before, I was wrong. Jesus, now he looks all-out disturbed. Ryder nods, his face peeled over in anxiety as he waits for me to continue.

I take a deep breath, knowing I just have to come out and fucking say it. “I told Amber I wanted to . . . share her with you.”

The confusion in his eyes tells me this is gonna be an interesting ride at best.

CHAPTER 16

Ryder

I
STILL, SHOCK FREEZING
my muscles. “You’re . . . fucking with me, right?”

“No, man, I’m not,” Brock admits, his tone devoid of humor. “I know you two’ve got something going on. You have for a while, and I’m cool with it. No shit, I really am.” He looks at the road then back at me. “I want to show her the highest level of pleasure possible. That’s where you come in. We’d know how to work her, how to give her what she needs. Only the two of us can do that. She’s undecided right now, but I know she wants it. Wants . . . us.”

Tripped the fuck up, images rush through my mind of me exploring every inch of Amber’s body the way I’ve repeatedly imagined I would if given the chance. My pulse speeds, thwacking like a drum as I try to digest his words. I take one last hit from the joint as I look out the window. Just thinking about Amber makes me hard, makes my balls throb. Still, my feelings for her go far beyond physical. Something close to a compulsion, my need for her has deepened.

When she talks, I want nothing more than to cover her lips with mine.

When she’s upset, the ache to hold and comfort her is close to unbearable.

When I make her smile—Christ—I feel like a man, my heart bursting at the seams.

Though she’s Brock’s, the girl’s supposed to be mine. From the second I saw her, something in my gut, a premonition of some sort, told me that. Fuck. I don’t know what the hell it was—what the hell it is—but it happened and it hasn’t let up, its claws digging into the hollow of my chest more with each passing day. Yeah. Way past physical.

Convinced Brock’s playing a sick joke on me, I kill all thoughts of Amber, demolishing them as fast as possible. I know the asshole’s trying to trap me by getting me to admit how much I crave his girl.

How much I need to make her a part of my life in whatever way I can.

Stubbing out the joint on the bottom of my boot, I swing my attention back to Brock. Blood drains from my face, pooling a clump of nervousness in my throat as I realize this isn’t a joke. The skeptical look in his eyes, rigid set in his shoulders, and uncertainty dousing his face say it all.

He’s dead . . . fucking . . . serious.

Brock shifts in his seat, casting me a sidelong glance. “Did you hear what I said? She’s not sure what she wants right now, but if she decides she’s cool with it—and I’m pretty positive she will—I want to share Amber with you.”

The English language disintegrates from my fucking skull.

He sighs. “Come on, man. Say something.”

“
Say
something?” The words snag in my throat, causing my voice to crack like a pubescent teenager’s. Jesus.
I
must be the one who’s bugging from the weed. “You want me to
say
something?”

He chuckles, the sick fuck, enjoying my reaction. “Yeah. That would be the point of me asking.”

“How’s about ‘have you lost your goddamn mind?’ Does that work?”

His eyes narrow, their light green turning sinister. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it’s intended to mean. Have you lost your goddamn mind, Brock?” I pull out a cigarette, light it up, and take a drag, my nerves bouncing around as I stare at him. “Because I’m starting to think you have.”

Confusion mars his forehead. “Why do you think I’ve lost my mind?”

“Jesus Christ. Do you
love
the girl or not?”

“Yeah, I fucking love her,” he growls, gunning the gas. “That’s why I want to do this for her. I liked doing it with Hailey, so I know I’ll like it a fuckload more with Amber. I’ll get off on watching her with you. She’ll get off on being with you. For fuck’s sake, you’ll get off on finally being able to have her. If I don’t have a problem with it, why the hell do you?”

“The problem is Amber’s,
not
Hailey’s.” Aggravation grips me tight. Hailey couldn’t hold a candle to Amber if she tried, and the fact that he’s comparing the two has my nuts twisted. Since all truths are out, and I’m beyond caring if I piss him off, I’m not about to hold back. “I’m trying to understand why you’d ever want to share a jewel like Amber. If Amber were mine, end of fucking story—the thought would never cross my mind to share her with anyone. You included.”

Brock shakes his head, frustration hardening his jaw. “You’re not getting it.”

“No, I guess I’m not. Enlighten me, bro, because I’m lost.”

Legit, I am. Never in a million years would I think I’d pass up an opportunity to be with Amber. She’s different, untouchable. A woman trapped in a past that killed who she was meant to be, her hardened outer shell hides nothing but pure, undeniable beauty. But, sweet Jesus, when the girl lets you in, you’re done for. Other than beating for her, your heart is rendered useless, everything you knew yourself to be vanishing like the last breaths from a dying body.

With all of this, I’m hemmed the fuck up, anger at Brock for not seeing what he has with Amber controlling every tormented emotion kicking me in the balls.

“I love Amber in ways you’ll never grasp,” Brock says, his shoulders tightening as he merges onto an exit ramp. “You have no goddamn idea what she means to me. How much I need her. What she’s brought to my empty existence after everything that happened with Brandon.”

My stomach drops, distant memories of his brother plaguing my mind. The man lost himself the day that kid went missing. Unable to release himself from the guilt—no matter what he did to cover up the pain—Brock’s been forever changed. His soul disappeared in an instant, never to be found again.

Considering his logic—if any—I stare at him long and hard. Blank, I got nothing. Kid brother gone, pressure from his parents, none of it makes sense or has anything to do with wanting to share Amber.

“Give me more,” I demand. “Help me understand what the fuck’s going on in your head. I get that you liked doing that shit with Hailey—so did I—but the playing field’s different with Amber. There are raw emotions involved. None of that existed with Hailey.”

And it didn’t.

It was nothing but mindless fucking while I was banging Hailey with Brock. Even after he dropped out of the picture, my feelings for Hailey didn’t change. They couldn’t. She’d never grabbed me that way. We’d fuck, then fight, then fuck and fight some more. That’s what we were good at.

Do I feel like an asshole for using her? Sure. The most important people in my world are women. Despite the nut she turned into, Hailey’s someone’s daughter. I’d kill any man who ever tried to pull that shit with the women in my life. Done deal: I’m the man I am because of my mother, grandmother, and Casey.

After my dick of a father bounced, it didn’t take me long to realize there’s beauty in all women. Even the ones who don’t strike an emotional chord with me. Fragile as flowers, yet as hard as a mindfucking jigsaw puzzle, every woman warrants respect from a man. The very
foundation of humanity, they deserve to be worshipped, their minds, bodies, and souls a gift from the heavens above.

Still, Hailey was aware of what we were. She went into the arrangement knowing neither I nor Brock had any intention of making her something serious.

But this? This would be a whole new level for all of us.

Brock flicks his eyes to mine, scrubbing a palm over his face. “I don’t think I can get you to truly understand. I’m not sure
I
even understand it. I just . . . I need to give her everything she wants. You’re part of that equation. You may not realize it, but you are.” He inhales a long breath and lets it out, hesitation slowing his words. “She . . . Christ, she dreams about you.”

I blink once, twice, blood roaring through my eardrums. “What do you mean she . . . dreams about me?”

He takes another breath, his tone dropping a notch. “Man, I’ve heard her say your name—more than once—while she’s sleeping.”

I palm the back of my neck, my nerves wired beyond repair. Hell, what the fuck do I say to that?

A part of me wants to bolt from the van, hitch a ride back to Brock’s, and pull Amber into my arms, telling her she knows she belongs with me. Like she does mine, I’m invading her dreams, undeniable thoughts of me taking up residence in every crevice of her skull. Yet the other part of me has my stomach tumbling with nausea, my conscience aware that none of this is cool. My feelings for Amber, her feelings for me, Brock wanting to share her: it’s all a dangerous shit storm of emotions brewing, waiting to demolish us all.

Still, how do any of us control how we feel? It’s not as simple as erasing something. If it were, my need for Amber would be written on my heart with a fucking Sharpie—impossible to remove. The heart fires off warning flares when something’s not right—and hell if they aren’t exploding in mine right now—but how the fuck do I stop wanting someone I know was made for me?

The answer’s a clear-cut, jagged piece of glass. One I’m sure is gonna bleed me the fuck out at the end . . .

I can’t.

I haul in a breath, my lungs begging for air as I try to wrap my head around everything Brock’s dumped in my lap. “I don’t know what to say.”

He swings his attention to me, his expression a lethal blend of determination, pain, and confusion. “I’m not losing it, bro. I just love the girl, and want to fulfill every fantasy she has. I know you think my reasons are self-serving, but they aren’t. This is about the pleasure
we’d
give
her.
We could help get rid of everything weighing her down.” He pauses a second, a smirk twitching his mouth. “You have no idea what she’s like in bed. The filthy things she says. The way she moves. It’s like she was a dude in a former life. She kills it, knowing exactly what to do. No joke, my girl was created to fuck a man into oblivion.”

I gnaw on my lip, sure I’ve drawn blood. His statement ignites a series of explicit images that trample my mind, my cock awakening as jealousy simmers deep within my gut.

“I’m not saying that to sway you,” he continues. “You don’t need swaying, Ashcroft. I see the way you stare into her eyes. You think you look controlled around her. You might fool Amber, but I’ve known you a long time. I’m quite aware you’re a fucking mess when she’s within a mile of you.” He chuckles lightly, shaking his head as he drags his attention back to the road. “To be honest, it . . . fascinates me. You’ve only been broken once, and after Stephanie pounced all over your heart, fucking that dirty old man, you shut down, never allowing another bitch to get into your head. Amber’s got ya hooked, and you have yet to fully experience her.”

Wondering how I’ve maintained a friendship with the prick for as long as I have, I grit my teeth, positive I’m about to beat him to the fucking ground. “You’re a douche, you know this, right?”

“Ah, but I’m a giving, sharing douche, my friend.” He grins. I shake
my head, still trying to understand the dark depths of his brain. “I even know you two kissed . . . again, while she was at your apartment.”

Christ. This keeps getting better. I rush a hand through my unkempt hair, wishing she would’ve given me a heads-up that she’d told him. “You know about that, huh?”

“Yeah. She said you tried to stop it, so I have to give you props for that, right?”

A medal’s more like it.

He’s lucky I didn’t bang the shit outta Amber right there in my kitchen. Had Casey not been in the next room, it would’ve happened.

I sigh, knowing I’m fooling myself. I wouldn’t have taken her like that. I crave Amber, God knows I do—but unbeknownst to her, I was seconds from stopping before she pulled away. I knew she deserved better than a quick fuck on my counter. I’ve lost control around her multiple times, screwing Brock over to no end. Since the day he started dating the girl, I’ve relentlessly pursued her, willing to throw away our friendship for a taste of what’s rightfully his. And
I’m
the one questioning
his
darkness?

“Why?”

He glances at me, his brows dipped in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why, after knowing what I’ve done behind your back—even if it was just kissing—would you ever consider sharing her with me?” I take a breath, feeling like the asshole I’ve become. “I don’t get it.”

He stays quiet a minute, thoughts moving behind his eyes before saying, “Because you
didn’t
fuck her when I know you could’ve. Call me nuts, but instead of making me not trust you, that made me trust you more.”

Trust. Something I’ve tarnished, tainted beyond recognition, but am being rewarded with.

“So now what?” I ask, unsure what to do, what to say. Hell, I feel psychotic, my head a tangled mess.

Brock grips the wheel as he stares straight ahead. “Tell me if she’s
down with it, then so are you.” He turns to me, his eyes imploring. “Help me give her what she needs. What she . . . wants.”

A fiend at his worst, this junkie’s eager to get his fix no matter what he has to do. Amber’s my obsession, the sweetest addiction a man like me can have. And right now—even if it goes against what I would or wouldn’t do if she were mine—I nod, praying the deal I’ve struck with the devil doesn’t sink us all.

• • •

By the time we pull up to Dom’s farmhouse in Harpers Ferry—a lifeless town in no-man’s-land West Virginia—my mind’s spun in every fucking direction. It’s close to six in the evening, the sun long past its descent, as Brock parks the rental van around the back.

Though I’ve been through this routine more times than I can count, I can’t help the unease churning my stomach. In this business, it’s impossible not to run across a few freaks here and there. But Dom Lawrence steals the goddamn show. From offing fuckers who’ve stopped buying from him to the whacko’s racist, redneck, neo-Nazi lifestyle, the dude’s head is jacked up, no doubt.

What the sick fuck doesn’t know is that when pushed, this cat’s head can twist the same way. If not worse.

I open the glove compartment and grab my trusty thirty-eight Smith & Wesson, checking to make sure every chamber’s loaded. Brock does the same with his nine-millimeter Sig, chuckling as I hop out of the van.

I shove the gun down the waistband of my jeans. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”