Hell's Flower Read online

  HELL’S FLOWER

  by S.L. SCHIEFER and JEN COUSINEAU

  Booktrope Editions

  Seattle, WA 2015

  COPYRIGHT 2015 S.L.SCHIEFER, JEN COUSINEAU

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Inquiries about additional permissions

  should be directed to: [email protected]

  Cover Design by Ginger Andrews

  Edited by Tiffany Tillman

  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. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  PRINT ISBN: 978-1-5137-0227-8

  EPUB ISBN: 978-1-5137-0269-8

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015913355

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright page

  Acknowledgments

  Hell’s Flower Playlist

  Dedication

  Prologue - Mace

  Chapter One - Raven

  Chapter Two - Mace

  Chapter Three - Raven

  Chapter Four - Mace

  Chapter Five - Raven

  Chapter Six - Mace

  Chapter Seven - Raven

  Chapter Eight - Mace

  Chapter Nine - Raven

  Chapter Ten - Mace

  Chapter Eleven - Raven

  Chapter Twelve - Mace

  Chapter Thirteen - Raven

  Chapter Fourteen - Mace

  Chapter Fifteen - Raven

  Chapter Sixteen - Mace

  Chapter Seventeen - Raven

  Chapter Eighteen - Mace

  Chapter Nineteen - Raven

  Chapter Twenty - Mace

  Chapter Twenty-One - Raven

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Mace

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Raven

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Mace

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Raven

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Mace

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Raven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Mace

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Raven

  Chapter Thirty - Mace

  Chapter Thirty-One - Raven

  Chapter Thirty-Two - Mace

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Raven

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Mace

  Chapter Thirty-Five - Raven

  Chapter Thirty-Six - Mace

  Chapter Thirty-Seven - Raven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight - Mace

  Chapter Thirty-Nine - Raven

  Chapter Forty - Mace

  Chapter Forty-One - Raven

  Chapter Forty-Two - Mace

  Epilogue

  About the authors

  More Great Reads from Entice by Booktrope

  Acknowledgments

  First, we have to thank our amazing husbands for putting up with our shit when we are in writing mode. Without you two, our houses would be messier, the families would be hungry, and our underwear would be stinky! ;) And kids – thanks for going to Dad with everything so we could ignore reality to write Mace and Raven’s story.

  To Norma & Ginger – you ladies rock my world! Thank you soooo much for everything you both do for me!

  LeAnn – I freakin’ love the shit out of you! You have been nothing short of amazing these past couple months!

  Betas – you all are amazing. There’s no way this story would be as awesome as it is if it weren’t for each and every one of you who offered up your suggestions and thoughts. We FLOVE you all!

  To Jill – thanks for being a kickass Book Manager. It’s nice to have one that does as much as you do for us and this story :)

  G – Another amazingly perfect cover. Muah!!

  To our street teams, and the HF fan group – we FLOVE YOU!! Each and every one of you are amazing and we appreciate all of the help that you give us. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

  To Tiffany – what can we say besides we love the word “dick” ;) Thank you for putting up with us!

  To Booktrope – thanks for taking a chance on this story and letting us crazy bitches write together.

  To ALL the bloggers – Thank YOU for ALL you do! Most of you are underappreciated, but we want you all to know how much we cherish our relationships with each and every one of you. Without all of you, our job and abilities to connect with our readers would be nearly impossible. You are all loved!

  Readers – thank you for reading Hell’s Flower. Some of you may not have loved the ending, and that’s okay! But guess what – book two is coming soon, so go check out another hot book or one of our other books already released and we’ll let you know as soon as we can when Hell’s Redemption releases. We hope that overall you loved it, but even if not – we would love to hear from you with a short note on Amazon reviews. (A sentence or two is really okay!)

  Hell’s Flower Playlist

  Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi

  This Life by Dominik Hauser

  America’s Sweetheart by Elle King

  Love the Way You Lie by Eminem & Rhianna

  Seven Devils by Florence and the Machines

  Breath of Life by Florence and the Machines

  See You in Hell by Hinder

  Take Me to Church by Hozier

  I Bet My Life by Imagine Dragons

  Monster by Meg & Dia

  Chains by Nick Jonas

  Day is Gone by Noah Gundersen

  Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless

  Mission Statement by Stone Sour

  Just Tonight by The Pretty Reckless

  8 Seconds by Texas Hippie Coalition

  Bitter End by Stone Sour

  Angel by Theory of a Deadman

  Playlist available to listen on Spotify:

  https://play.spotify.com/user/12145921835/playlist/4gFr6uTV3N7KIboEWcMyzZ

  To the women taking names and kicking asses

  Prologue – Mace

  “MACE, YOU’RE A MISERABLE fuck to be around with Trina not being here,” Creep, my best friend, says from beside me at the bar.

  Trina, my ol’ lady, is out of town for the weekend. She went to go visit her family, and since they really don’t approve of me, I chose to stay behind this time. As much as I don’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks of me, I try not to start shit with her family.

  I glare at Creep and throw back, “What, just because I don’t want to go out and find girls with you I’m a miserable fuck now?”

  “I need my wingman! I haven’t had any luck getting ladies without you there, too.”

  “The fact that you need me there for you to even get laid is pretty fucking miserable, dude.” Shaking my head, I turn back to the bottle of beer in my hands.

  “Mace!” Pops yells from the direction of his office. Rolling my eyes, I stand up from the bar and walk over there.

  Walking through the doorway to his office, I park my ass in the chair opposite of him. “What’s up, old man?”

  Before he says anything, he hands me a bottle of Jack from his stash he keeps in here. “When was the last time you talked to Trina?”

  “Yesterday before she left. Why? What’s going on?” I take a big gulp of the Jack and my insides warm from the amber liquid.

  Instead of answering, he picks up the remote lying on his desk and point
s it at the TV, pressing play. Before we get even five seconds into what’s being played, I jump up out of the chair, knocking it over.

  “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” I roar.

  Trina is on the TV, bruises and cuts all over her body. She has a bag over her head, but I can hear her sobs. “Pops! You tell me what’s going on right now!” I start pacing back and forth, waiting on him to answer my fucking questions.

  The sound of multiple gunshots brings me out of my pacing and I jerk my head back toward the screen. Trina was the only one on the screen the whole time. There’s nothing in the frame that would give any specific location away. Pops told me the tapes from the front of the club don’t show anyone dropping anything off. There is no way for any of us to track down who did this.

  I know who did this. I know who fucking took her from me. Tracking them the fuck down and making them pay is all I can think about right now. Charging out of the office, I punch the wall right outside with a roar.

  Leaning my head against the new hole, my chest heaves. Pops comes up behind me and places his hand on my back, not offering me any words. I told her I would always protect her. I failed.

  Chapter One – Raven

  “YO, RAVE!” DAD YELLS from in his office.

  “What?” I yell back without losing focus on the GTO I’m currently working on. Nice ride, but it’d be even better if it wasn’t all stock. It belongs to some pretty boy rich kid, whose parents think it’s best to spoil the sucker for graduating high school. Right. See how far that gets you in life.

  “Come in here when you get a chance,” Dad hollers in the midst of chewing his daily dose of Cheetos. With a sigh, I drop the wrench from my hand and grab the rag tucked into the back pocket of my jean shorts. I love my dad. I love this small shop he decided to open. I absolutely love to get my hands dirty working on cars and bikes, but today—today I just want to throw in the towel. Bitchy customer, after spoiled customer, after bitchy customer. All damn day, on repeat.

  I walk through to his tiny box of an office and plop myself down in the ratty old plaid chair placed in front of his desk. Bending over under the hood of a car all day surely does a number on your back. Allowing myself to relax for a moment, I kick my feet up, perching them at the edge of his desk, crossing them at the ankle.

  “Is it really necessary to put your dirty boots on my desk?” Dad gruffs.

  “You have the remnants of every single thing you’ve eaten in this box in the past month, and my boots bother you?” I raise an eyebrow in silent challenge.

  He doesn’t even bother to respond. Instead, he rolls his eyes with a sigh as he rubs his temples with the tips of his calloused fingers. “Why don’t you call it a night, Rave? You were the first one on the clock this morning. You shouldn’t be the last one to always leave.”

  He sounds tired. I take a few seconds to look him over and for the first time, I see how worn out he looks. His thinning chestnut hair is dusted with speckles of silver. More wrinkles than I remember line his blue-silver eyes and mouth. Bags shadow his lower lashes.

  Smirking, I inform him, “I’m not the last one to leave. You’re still here.”

  “This is my shop. Do you see anyone else around? Jazz locked up a bit ago. Everyone’s gone,” he shakes his head. “Raven, I love that you love being here, but… and don’t take this wrong,” he adds quickly, holding his hands in the air, palms facing me. “You need to get a life.”

  “I—I have a life, Dad. But I love working here. What’s so wrong with that?” I can’t believe he thinks I have no life. And why the hell did Jazz leave without a word? I was hoping I could convince her to blow off some steam tonight with me. Not that that would be hard.

  “I know you do, but from now on, I don’t want you here before nine in the morning, and you’re done by five. You’re a twenty-three-year-old, start acting like one. Shit, you’ve been dressing as one since you were fifteen.”

  “I blame Jazz for that,” I wink before standing and walking toward the door. “Alright, Dad. I’m out. See you tomorrow.” I throw a peace sign over my shoulder and walk out the door.

  “Act your age, but be safe!” he yells after me.

  “Always!” I reply before slamming and locking the back door behind me.

  The warm Midwest humidity slaps me across the face as my lungs work overtime to pull in and release air. It’s nearing the end of August and we’re just finally getting hit with hard summer weather.

  Pulling my shades from my leather messenger bag, I slip them on, covering my bright, bluish silver eyes from the blazing sun. I pull the hairband from my thick, wavy, chestnut brown hair and let it fall free. For nearing six o’clock, it is still disgustingly hot. I was hoping we’d get lucky with a cooler night, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.

  After searching for my keys with success, I flip my eyes to the most beautiful sight they could ever see. My mouth begins to water as the beauty of a 1969 burnt orange, Chevy Chevelle, complete with a 4-speed with Hurst shifter, blower, and slicks fills my vision. If I were a man, my dick would be rock solid.

  This baby, my baby that I refer to as Kate, is my pride and joy. Some idiot was going to scrap her, so I bought it off him for dirt cheap and then rebuilt her with a few modifications—like the blower. Not only does it make her hotter, but the power it gives Kate is out of this world. When I take her for a drive, I feel free. This is one car I would kill to have sex on. Of course, with the right person. The wrong person could ruin my baby and it just wouldn’t be worth it.

  I slide onto the hot, black leather of the seat and mentally curse myself for forgetting to place the towel down this morning after I got here. “Damn,” I mutter as I continuously lift my legs up from the burning touch. While waiting for my skin to adjust, I rev the engine and smile as I listen to my baby purr. Turning the A/C on full blast, I pull my phone from my bag, look up Jazz’s number, and hit send.

  “Finally took you’re head out of the engine?” Jazz’s deep, soulful voice greets my ear. Her real name is Jasmine, but she has a voice that could rival any blues or jazz singer. Hence the nickname.

  “Ha ha. Thanks for just leaving!”

  “Hey, I told you three times I was out and you never responded. Figured you’d call me when you came back down to earth. So, what’s up?”

  “Nothin’. I could really use a night out. Today just seemed to take forever. Not to mention every customer had a giant stick up their ass,” I whine. “I don’t like talking with customers. I just want to play with their toys.”

  Jazz’s deep, boisterous laugh rings loud. “You do realize not everyone who owns a vehicle or motorcycle considers them as toys, right? To most people, they’re just transportation.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Most people are fools and they suck,” I say as I relish the feeling of the ice cold air kissing my face.

  “You don’t mean that. You’re too nice to mean that.”

  “Not today,” I mumble under my breath. “So… Dad thinks I need to start acting my age. He actually told me I now have set hours of nine to five. No earlier, no later. What the hell is that about?”

  “Raven,” she says softly, “when’s the last time you got laid?”

  My jaw drops, my cheeks burning. I’m no virgin, nor am I a prude, but to admit how long it’s been… well, it’s pathetic.

  “Raven?”

  “Ugh! Really, Jazz?”

  “It was Jeremy, wasn’t it? That was, what, two years ago?”

  “No! It’s…” I pause to do a quick mental count of how many months have passed. Shit. “Eighteen months,” I whisper into the phone.

  “And how were the sexcapades with good ol’ Jeremy?”

  “What are you getting at?” She’s really annoying me.

  “There’s this club I overheard some people talking about. Maybe we could go check it out tonight? I mean, since now you get to sleep in every morning. If my vag is begging for attention, God knows yours is!”

  She’s right. I know she’
s right, but fuck her for making me realize how embarrassing and pathetic my life has become. “First off, you’re a bitch! Second, what club?”

  “Storm’s Fantasy.”

  “Whoa! Hold up. The sex club? No. Fucking. Way!” Is she nuts? I haven’t even had a one-night stand in the past eighteen months. Why the hell would I want to go to a sex club?

  “Come on, Rave! Live a little! Besides, if you don’t come, I’m going by myself. Are you really going to let your hot best friend go to a sex club, for the first time, by herself?”

  Damn, she’s good.

  “You’re such a bitch. Meet me at my place in an hour.” I don’t wait for her response and disconnect the call, tossing my phone on the passenger seat. I put Kate into drive, roll down my window completely, and put the pedal to the metal.

  Chapter Two — Mace

  THE HUM OF THE TATTOO gun is drowning out the voices of all the boys as they stand around, waiting for their turn. There’s something therapeutic about having a needle jammed into your arm repeatedly. It’s like my own special form of releasing my demons.

  And I carry a lot of them.

  Each time he stops and wipes the excess off gives you a short reprieve before starting again. And before you know it, your skin is numb to all feeling. I imagine this is what someone experiences when they cut themselves. That euphoria of all feeling gone. No care in the world. Nothing matters except that high.

  And, like it never fails, someone is always waiting right there to fuck it all up.

  “Hey, Pres. We, um, have a problem,” the prospect stammers. If this kid can’t get his stammering together, I’m going to kick him out myself.

  “What is it, Benny?” I’m trying to hold on to the last little bit of euphoria before it completely dissipates.

  Before he can utter a single sound, Creep, my VP, butts in. “Bug called. Said we have a couple vanilla ladies in the club. Look innocent as hell, I guess.”