Hardcore Volume 3
Authors: Staci Hart
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Romance, #Romantic Suspense, #Romantic Erotica, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense
Hearts and Arrows
Deer in Headlights (Hearts and Arrows 1)
Snake in the Grass (Hearts and Arrows 2)
What the Heart Wants (Hearts and Arrows 2.5 Novella)
Doe Eyes (Hearts and Arrows 3)
Fool’s Gold (Hearts and Arrows 3.5 Novella)
Hardcore (Erotic Suspense Serials)
Bad Habits
With a Twist - Summer 2015
Chaser - Fall 2015
Last Call - Winter 2016
Nailed - Erotic Shorts
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Copyright © 2015 Staci Hart
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover by
Quirky Bird
To Brookie, for giving me courage.
par·kour
pärˈko
͝
or/
noun
1)
The activity or sport of moving rapidly through an area, typically in an urban environment,
negotiating obstacles by running, jumping, and climbing.
2) Badassery
A CLOCK TICKED SOMEWHERE in Van’s apartment, marking the silence second by agonizing second. Funny that something I’d never noticed before could be so imposing. It was all I could hear as I sat in his dark living room with my eyes on the door. The only lights in the apartment shone down on the wall behind me where I’d hung the Rothko back in its place.
An hour had passed, but it could have been an eon as I waited for him. Waited for my reckoning.
Adrenaline from stealing the painting back still pumped through me, kept steady by the anticipation of what was to come. My thoughts skittered through my head, circling over what would happen tonight, tomorrow, with my life, with Jade. It all hung in the air, waiting for the moment when gravity took hold and set it in motion. Starting with Van.
His key slipped in the door, marring the silence with the scrape and click of the lock. I couldn’t breathe, my heart frozen in my chest, fingers aching as I gripped the arms of the chair.
The door swung open, and Van’s silhouette filled the frame, shoulders sloped and head heavy. The sight of him kicked my heart back into gear.
He didn’t see me, not at first. I watched him close the door and toss his keys on the table in the entryway, unable to move, unable to look away, willing him to see me, dreading the moment he did.
He ran a hand through his hair as he walked into the room, eyes on the ground for a moment before he looked up. Our eyes locked, and he came to a dead stop in the center of the room.
I watched his expression shift — his eyes sparked with confusion, lips tugging into a ghost of a smile before falling into a frown.
“Cory?” The uncertainty in his voice twisted the knife in my chest. His eyes skated over me like he couldn’t believe what he saw, and he took a few steps toward me.
And then he saw the painting.
His lips parted, eyes wide as he shifted, turning all of his attention on it. “What the fuck?” The words were nearly a whisper.
I didn’t answer.
He blinked at the painting for a second as his brow inched lower, shoulders stretched wider as realization began to pass through him. He might have grown a foot taller in that moment, hard as stone when he finally spoke. “How did you get in here, Cory? And where the fuck did you get that?” He nodded toward the painting.
“I broke in to give it back to you,” I answered simply, not knowing what else to say.
He watched me for a beat, his body composed of sharp angles. “Explain this to me.”
I realized then that resolution and preparedness weren’t the same thing. Every word I’d intended to say was all of a sudden not enough. It would never be enough. I lifted my chin and started at the beginning.
“I’m not who you think I am, Van. For the last five years, I’ve made my living as a thief.”
I watched him for a reaction, though he didn’t move other than the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
I kept going. “When my partners found out you had a Rothko, I was told to steal it.”
A chill rolled off of him and over me. “And how did they find out I had a Rothko?
“I told them.”
He shook his head, and a sardonic laugh passed his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Cory. This has to be a joke.”
“I wish it was.” I found the will to stand, but he took a step back to keep the distance between us. “I want you to know that I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t have a choice. I—”
“You stole it? After everything, you stole from me?”
I nodded.
His voice was low. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me.”
I took a shaky breath. “I stole it from you.”
Van looked away. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath.
“I didn’t expect what happened between us. I didn’t expect you to be so …
you
.”
When he met my eyes again, his were sharp with anger and pain. “So if I hadn’t been so
me
, would you have just conned me and let that be that? Would you have just fucked me and ripped me off and never looked back?” His neck was red, his chest heaving. “Who the fuck
are
you?”
I’m not even sure anymore.
I pressed my sweaty palms against my thighs. “I’m a liar and a thief. I told you that you wouldn’t want me if you knew me. But I wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to know I did this.”
“I’ve heard enough.” His words quaked, whether with anger or sadness, I wasn’t sure. Maybe both.
I watched the door close on redemption. “Van, I—”
His face twisted. “NO. I said,
enough.
You were right. I don’t know you at all. You aren’t the girl I thought you were. That girl wouldn’t do something this fucked up, and I can’t be with anyone who would. You were right to leave me.” He shook his head in disgust. “You shouldn’t have come back.”
Hot pain ripped through me at every word. I knew each one before he’d spoken, even though I’d held out hope that I was wrong.
I held my chin up against my hurt and locked eyes with him one final time. “You deserved to know the truth about why I left you and what happened to your painting. I brought it back because what I did was wrong. You deserve the right thing. The right girl. And that’s not me.”
His jaw flexed, lips flat. “No, it’s not. Now get the fuck out of my apartment. Stay the fuck out of my life and my head, and don’t ever come back.”
My body was numb as his words echoed in my ears. I swallowed my tears, nodding once before I looked away and forced my feet to move me toward the door. Rage radiated off of him as I passed, and I willed him to reach out, to stop me, to speak. Anything. But he didn’t move.
I took a breath as I approached the door, the air like sandpaper in my throat. The moment I closed my hand around the doorknob, a knock reverberated up my arm.
I let it go like it was on fire and looked over my shoulder at Van.
The knock came again. “Mr. Collins? This is NYPD.”
Shock shot through me, cold and fast. I took a shaky step back as Van brushed past and pulled the door open.
The officer smiled at Van and glanced at me. “Sorry to bother you so late, but we got a call from the management that the security cameras in the building went down. After everything that happened with your break in, we wanted to check it out and make sure everything is all right.”
Van’s voice was flat. “The painting’s been returned.”
The officer’s brow quirked. “Excuse me?”
Van nodded. “You heard right. Come on in.”
The cops stepped in and walked past me, and I took a step back with my heart beating so hard it hurt. This was it. This was the moment when I would pay for what I’d done in full. When I would own what I’d done. I was frozen in place as I played out my confession in my mind. I thought about Jill. About Erin and Jade. About Van, who I’d betrayed more than anyone. But I couldn’t meet his eyes, only watched the police as they came to a stop in front of the painting.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” one of them said and hung his hands on his hips. “Where the hell did it come from?”
The question hung in the air, stretching the moment out forever. I heard the ticking of the clock again, felt the weight of my decision as it pressed on me. I looked at Van, and he looked at me. Understanding passed between us. It was time. I wouldn’t let him say the words. I couldn’t hear them from his lips.
I turned to the police and took a step forward, drawing in a deep breath as I opened my mouth. “I—”
Van moved to my side and grabbed my hand, twisted his fingers in mine, pulled me to a stop. “My girlfriend and I got home a few minutes ago, and it was hanging there. I was just about to call it in.”
The cop shook his head. “Lucky break, kid.” He grabbed his radio and called the dispatcher, relaying details while his partner inspected the painting edges and wall.
I could barely hear over my pulse pounding in my ears. Van’s hand was warm and comforting around mine, but when I looked up at him, his eyes were stone. In that moment, I knew I would never get him back.
So I put on a bullshit smile as we went through the motions. We gave our statements, first Van so I could hear his version of the story, then I parroted back details as the cops nodded and jotted in their notebooks. In less than twenty minutes, Van was walking me to his door with the officers behind him, waiting for forensics and the case detective.
He opened the door, and I stepped into the hallway. His face shifted the moment he was out of view of the police, carved with lines of pain and defeat. His eyes met mine.
“I don’t ever want to see you again.”
And there it was. I opened my mouth to speak, but he looked away, closing the door before I had a chance.
I stood in the quiet hallway for a long moment, stock still, staring at his door. And then, I turned and walked away. My feet carried me faster with every step until I was charging up the stairs. I burst through the door, ran across the roof for the edge, stepped on the concrete and took the leap to the next building. The jolt shot up my body as I rolled on the gravel, and when I made it to my feet, I ran as hard as my body could go.
But my heart couldn’t take it anymore.
