Rush Into You Read online

  Rush into You

  A Rush Novel

  Copyright © 2014 by Brianna Lee

  Cover design by © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations / www.okaycreations.com

  Cover Art by © Toski Covey Photography / https://www.facebook.com/toskicoveyphotography

  Formatting by JT Formatting

  Editing by Jennifer Roberts-Hall of Indie After Hours

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  WARNING: “Rush Into You” contains adult content and has scenes that may be considered triggers including graphic drug use and alcohol abuse.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  A Note to Readers

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Be Safe!

  Isabella:

  Everything I do, I do for you.

  Mom:

  Everything I do is possible because of you.

  THE SCREAMING THAT surrounded me stopped, but its unrelenting echo rang clear in my head. I didn’t know if it was better that the painful cries ceased, or worse. Screaming meant Madison was still alive. Silence meant she was no longer suffering.

  Kasey didn’t have a chance to suffer.

  My legs were pinned beneath the steering wheel, and my car was crushed around me. I was unable to move, powerless to help my friends. My physical pain was insignificant, mere scratches and heavy pressure, but looking into Madison’s eyes while she died just a foot away from me?

  That gutted me.

  It was my fault my best friends were dead.

  A part of me died with them, but the part that lived might as well be dead.

  My life was over anyway.

  WALKING INTO MAX’S Pub always felt like walking into a pit of venomous snakes. Everyone sat up straighter on the edge of their seats as they prepared to strike at a second’s notice—their hatred and disgust evident.

  “Killers aren’t welcome here, Gabby. Get the fuck out!” a vicious voice growled.

  I forced myself to keep walking with my chin held high, when all I really wanted to do was curl up and cry.

  No one tried to hide their feelings. They always made sure I knew just how much they hated me. It would have been their dream come true to sentence me to a slow and painful death by stoning until I was a lifeless, bloody heap on the ground.

  I sat down on the uncomfortable wooden barstool and pulled out my cell phone. I knew it would be a while before the old man behind the bar brought me a drink. He always took his sweet time, purposely avoiding me. He refused to take my order and give me the tequila that I wanted, only serving me their cheapest beer instead, but I should consider myself lucky that he even served me that piss warm and foul tasting stuff. Like the rest of the people living in Breckston, he didn’t respect me, but I didn’t respect myself, so it didn’t bother me.

  Nothing bothered me.

  Nothing mattered.

  My thoughts ran back to earlier today when I proved how little respect I had for myself. A shiver worked its way up my spine as bile pooled at the base of my throat. Remembering what I allowed David to do to me, what I initiated, made me want to vomit. At the time, I didn’t care. Standing before him, my body shaking and drenched with cold sweat, my mind was only focused on the heroin he promised in exchange for my body. I didn’t care about anything except the drug that had the power to ease withdrawal’s hold on me, but sitting here now, I was disgusted with myself. I always felt filthy after I sold my body, and not even a scalding hot shower where I scrubbed my skin raw could make me feel clean.

  I despised being a prisoner to my addiction, but when withdrawal hit, I would do anything to feel better. I had miserably failed each time that I attempted to detox, and knew that I’d forever be a heroin addict—chasing the rush the drug brought me, and hating myself after I got high.

  My addiction started when I got jumped by five girls and a guy—a baseball bat can do some serious damage to the human body, especially when the person wielding it holds a serious grudge against you. The hospital I was treated at pumped me full of Dilaudid, then sent me home with a prescription of Percocet. I was addicted to the narcotic by the time the pills were gone, even though I took each pill at the time the doctor ordered. The withdrawal was so intense that I’d searched the streets for pain pills that would make me feel better. Instead, I’d found heroin.

  Loud laughter broke me from my thoughts, and I swiped the touch screen on my phone. I opened the app to an addicting candy game I liked to play when I saw the date on my mobile calendar. My heart stopped beating, and my blood ran cold.

  June thirteenth.

  How had I not realized before now that it was June thirteenth? I almost laughed out loud, though absolutely nothing was funny. Of course, I wouldn’t have noticed. I had almost no reason to keep track of the days besides the rare occasion I worked at a catering company. My days and nights were filled with only two things. Getting drugs, and getting high.

  Today was the five year anniversary for the death of my two best friends, and a family of three. It was also my twenty-third birthday. Five long, horrible years since they had died because of me.

  My already bad mood turned worse.

  I looked up from my phone when the bartender finally brought over my beer, careful to avoid touching me when I handed him the money. I heard him mutter “dumb bitch” as he walked back over to the group of people he had been talking to.

  I heard the whispers and the not so quiet remarks from everyone throughout the bar. People loved to gossip about me, and the significance of today gave them plenty to talk about.

  I drained the warm beer moments after it arrived, wanting to push the memories of that fateful night back. I started playing my game again, knowing I wouldn’t be served another beer for a while, if at all.

  “What can I get you, babe?” a surprisingly warm and masculine voice asked from behin
d the bar.

  I kept fiddling with my phone knowing the man wasn’t speaking to me.

  “Babe?” he pressed.

  Confused, I looked up and sucked in a sharp breath. The sexiest eyes I had ever seen were locked on mine. They were a breathtaking sapphire color with a unique ring of gold surrounding the pupils. I knew no one was sitting near me, everyone avoided me like the plague, but I looked around just to be sure. Confirming it was just me, my spirits began to lift. I opened my mouth to respond to the bartender, but caught myself in time. People didn’t talk to me nicely, especially not handsome men. It just didn’t happen anymore.

  Any joy I’d allowed myself to feel quickly vanished, and I looked back down to my phone with a sigh. I was angry that I’d gotten my hopes up. He was probably just attempting to play a prank on me — it wouldn’t be the first time that happened, and I hated that I’d let my defenses down so fast. I was more starved for friendly human interaction than I’d thought.

  “So…you don’t want a drink then?”

  I didn’t bother looking up at him. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your shit, so hurry up and pull your prank, then you can run along.” I tried to make my voice sound bored though I felt nauseous with nerves. I hated confrontation, but if I didn't at least pretend that I was tough, I wouldn’t survive. My happy and carefree days had disappeared five years ago. My biggest problems were no longer perfecting my cheerleading routines and winning debate tournaments. Now I worried about being raped or brutally beaten again.

  “Okaaay…” That smooth voice drew out the word, breaking into my thoughts. “Is that how you talk to every bartender who asks what you want, or am I special?”

  I put my phone away since I couldn’t concentrate on the game anymore, and looked at him. I didn’t miss the unmistakable flash of confusion that danced across his face before he quickly schooled his features and winked at me.

  I had no idea who this guy was or where he had come from. I certainly never saw him working in Max’s. I knew almost everyone in Breckston one way or another, and I would surely remember this tall, tattooed, and lean-muscled man.

  We stared at each other in silence, and I took the time to really observe him. He wore a dark-blue Boston Red Sox hat, and the brown hair that was visible beneath was cut close to his scalp in a fade. Sexy stubble covered his cheeks and strong jawline, and the urge to reach out and touch it wasn’t lost on me.

  His hypnotic stare that had stolen my breath when we’d first locked eyes was framed within enviously long lashes, their natural beauty balanced by his thick eyebrows. There was a vertical scar slicing down the middle of the left one, and a slight bend on the bridge of his nose that hinted at a past injury. Finding those subtle flaws on this beautiful man made him even more gorgeous. My eyes traveled to his full and firm lips…his mouth begged to be kissed.

  His plain white t-shirt left his muscled arms exposed, showing sleeves of artfully designed black ink that covered his skin. It was too dim in the bar for me to really examine his tattoos, but I noticed a random splash of color on the swell of his bicep. I was sure he had more tattoos that I couldn’t see, and I found myself desperate to know what and where they were.

  A quick look in the mirror lining the wall in front of me reflected back the greatest ass I had ever seen. A naturally faded pair of jeans hung low on his narrow hips. He must look hot as hell naked. If he took his shirt off right then, I bet I’d see a perfect set of abs and the sexiest V disappearing behind the fabric.

  I let myself look back into his eyes, his gaze intent on me.

  “Like what you see?” A cocky smirk touched his lips.

  Behind his teasing, there was a softness in his eyes that whispered of understanding and patience. The deepness in his stare made me feel as if he were looking into me, not through me. It was different.

  And I liked it.

  Minutes had passed since this sexy bartender had approached me, and he had plenty of time to make a fool of me, yet he had done nothing. My body relaxed, and my suspicions subsided when I realized he might truly be asking me what I wanted to drink with no hidden agenda.

  “What’s…” I cleared my throat. “Sorry. What’s your name?”

  He smiled, revealing straight white teeth. “Ryker Rosse. Wanna tell me your poison now?”

  “I’ll take a shot of tequila, Ryker. Thank you.” I smiled shyly.

  Ryker moved effortlessly behind the bar, selecting the glass bottle of Jose Cuervo from its spot in front of the mirror. He grabbed a shot glass and flipped it in the air, pouring the golden liquid into the tiny cup after he’d caught it.

  I reached for the shot when he pushed it closer to me, our fingers touching when he didn’t let go.

  “What’s your name?” His magnetic voice was quiet.

  I shifted nervously in my seat and looked around at the other patrons. Several pairs of eyes watched us with a mix of confusion and disgust. I knew Ryker had heard my name mentioned among the gossip and would connect the pieces if he hadn’t already.

  “Gabriella Carter,” I whispered.

  He looked down at our fingers that were still touching around the small glass and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I followed his gaze and was immediately self-conscious of the scars lining my veins. The track marks from countless injections stood out against my ashen skin, and I jerked my hand away from his as if he burned me. The spastic movement knocked the glass over, amber liquid spilling on the counter. Mortified, I attempted to wipe the mess with my flimsy cocktail napkin, but Ryker waved me off and wiped it up with his white rag.

  I leaned back from the bar as he cleaned, insecurities bombarding me. I stretched the fabric of my long sleeves down as far as they would go, hiding my scarred hands so only my fingers were visible.

  Sitting before this beautiful man, I was acutely aware of my disheveled appearance. I would have fit in with him perfectly several years ago, but drugs had taken their toll on me. My natural bronze skin tone, soft curves, and lustrous hair were long gone, leaving me with a deathly pallor, bony body, and dull hair with atrocious dead ends.

  Ryker poured a new shot and gently pushed the tequila closer to me, using just his fingertips. I accepted his silent offer, thankful he chose to ignore my awkwardness. The smooth liquor burned a path down my throat before it settled in my stomach. My face twisted and my body shivered, fighting through the taste. When my body instantly heated, I realized I’d forgotten to eat today.

  The sound of Ryker’s rich laughter melted a tiny fragment of ice surrounding my heart, and I wanted to let him squeeze through the necessary walls I’d built to protect myself. A wide smile crept across my face as I listened to his musical voice. His laugh was my new favorite song. I joined in with his contagious laughter, but stopped abruptly. My own laugh sounded foreign to me after years of not finding anything funny.

  “Taste good?” Ryker joked, referring to the face I made while taking the shot.

  “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you earlier, that was rude of me. I just…” I paused, not knowing how much to reveal to this relative stranger, “I thought you were messing with me. No one has ever bothered to ask what I want to drink.”

  Ryker pointed to the empty bottle of beer in front of me, his scarred eyebrow raised in question.

  “I’m lucky he serves me this.” I shrugged. “I don’t even like beer.”

  His eyes widened, and his mouth opened as if he were going to say something, but he shook his head and gazed at the floor. When he looked up, his handsome features were twisted in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I was taken aback by his reaction, and confused by his intensity. “I’ll drink it, but I prefer hard liquor.”

  “No, I mean why won’t anyone give you proper service?”

  I didn’t want to answer him. I was enjoying our time together — even if it were more staring than talking. If he found out the real reason everyone hated me, he was bound to hate me as well, and I wasn’t
ready for that to happen.

  I shrugged, ducking my head slightly so that my long hair fell over my face in a protective shield. He was going to know I was holding the truth from him, but I didn’t want to see his face when he realized it.

  “Shit, you’re serious.” Ryker’s tone was soft. He gripped the back of his neck and lifted his head as if he were seeking answers from the heavens. “Okay. Okay…I think it’s only fair that I welcome you to the bar properly since these assholes obviously haven’t.”

  Ryker grabbed a clean glass and added a scoop of ice before filling it to the top with Coke. He poured more tequila into my shot glass and handed it to me with a smile.

  A warm, fluttery feeling tickled my belly, and I almost melted. “How come I’ve never seen you here before?” I blurted.

  “I work at a different bar about twenty minutes from here. Sometimes I help out at different places when they are short staffed, and I got sent here as a favor tonight. The money’s good…the company better.” He winked.

  My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to respond but closed it again. I didn’t know what to say to that.

  Ryker nodded at my shot as he reached for his Coke. Lifting his glass, his unblinking blue and gold eyes pinned me with their fire. I squirmed slightly on the wooden barstool, his intense focus making me nervous. Several rapid heartbeats later, his dropped voice rang clear in my ears, “To worthy women.”

  All the air rushed from my lungs in surprise. I was completely caught off guard by his toast and didn’t know what to say. He took a sip of his drink and eyed me expectantly, waiting for me to take my own shot. I knew I wasn’t a worthy woman, but I reluctantly tipped the glass back and relished the burn spreading through my chest. I didn’t make any embarrassing faces this time since my tastebuds were a bit numb from my earlier beer and shot, but Ryker still wore a bright smile when I looked at him.

  “Thanks. A year later, and I finally get my welcome and some proper service.” I shook my head.