Love & Curses (Cursed Ink) Read online

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  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Love & Curses, Cursed Ink Book 1

  Copyright © 2012 by L.J. Garland and Debbie Gould

  Copyright © 2012 Cover art by TygraPro Designs

  Published by Garland & Gould

  Look for us online at:

  www.garland-and-gould.blogspot.com

  Also by L.J. Garland & Debbie Gould

  Sins of the Mind – The Red River Series

  In My Sights – Pararescuemen Book 2, A 1Night Stand Story

  ***

  Also by L.J. Garland

  Dead or Alive, A 1Night Stand Story

  MechMan

  Dreamspell Nightmare (Anthology)

  Cadence, Interrupted

  On the Fringes

  ***

  Also by Debbie Gould

  Second Chance – Pararescuemen Book 1, A 1Night Stand Story

  Mountain’s Echo

  November Rain

  Infidelity

  One Touch, One Glance (Anthology)

  By

  L.J. Garland & Debbie Gould

  Tattoo artist, Ben Walker doesn’t believe in curses…

  But curses believe in Ben Walker…

  And this cursed ink marks his very soul.

  Dedication

  To my co-author and friend,

  who took a chance…

  and believed.

  Chapter One

  “I’d hoped you understood.” Annoyance settled heavily in Ben’s belly, creating a familiar lead weight that threatened not only to ruin his good mood but also attempted to tether him to New Orleans. Hell, since he’d turned sixteen, he hadn’t been tied to any one spot, and today certainly wasn’t the day he would change. Rolling to his side, the sheet slipping from his hip, he reached over to smooth a dark lock of hair from his lover’s forehead. “I thought we were on the same page here, Calista.”

  Bright gold eyes turned toward him. “I thought we were, too.”

  “Good.” He trailed his fingers over her collarbone and down to her chest where he drew lazy circles over her damp, bronze skin. Damn if she hadn’t ridden him like a female jockey. Got them both across the finish line, too. If only she’d had a whip—

  “I just don’t understand why we can’t go out to a restaurant and have an actual meal together.” She sighed, her breasts rising and falling enticingly. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

  Not a big deal? One meal turns into two, and next thing, she’s picking out fucking china. Hell no. Ben gave her his special smile—the one that more than one girl had admitted made her panties wet—and ground his pelvis against her thigh. “C’mon, baby. We’ve had two weeks of fun, why ruin what we have by getting dressed? Le’me order us a pizza.”

  “It’s been ten days.” She shoved him away and sat up.

  He nodded. “Yes, we’ve been eating way too much pizza. Chinese. How about Moo Shu Pork?”

  Scooting her long legs over the side of the bed, she perched on the edge of the mattress with her back to him, shoulders hunched. “So, what is it? Do I embarrass you or something?”

  Ben scrubbed his hands over his face. This was exactly why he didn’t care for relationships. Games, wordplay, the struggle for control, insecurities—all of it a waste of time. Amid that were about three hours of hot, sweaty sex—sometimes more if the girl he was with understood the score.

  Calista did not.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re gorgeous.” He moved closer to her, the thin sheet sliding away and the cool air wafting over his heated skin. As he reached to brush her long black hair to the side, a shudder coursed down his back. “And the tat on your shoulder makes you sexier than ever.” He trailed his fingers over his work, the tribal-style bird he’d inked two weeks—no, ten days ago. “My little sparrow.”

  She twisted toward him. “So, you think of me as something you can keep caged?”

  He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes closed. Damn it. Here we go. “No. Nobody’s caged. No one’s controlling anyone else.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “That’s the point.”

  Her jaw tightened, and she swallowed. “So, all I am is a good time, right?”

  “You sure sounded as though you were having a good time when you were riding me like there was no tomorrow.”

  Her expression darkened, and tears welled in her eyes. Aw, hell. Didn’t anyone have a sense of humor anymore? Ben flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes, you did.” She shoved to her feet. Snatching her shorts from the chair, she stepped into them and jerked them up. “You meant exactly what you said. And I might be a little slow on the uptake, but I’m not stupid.” She yanked her T-shirt over her head sans bra. “For some reason, I thought we had something good going here. Something that might last. But I get it now.” She threw her arms out to the sides. “It was just sex.”

  “Calista….” He left the bed and crossed to her.

  She held her hand up, warding him off. “No. Don’t say anything else.” She grabbed her panties and bra from the floor, wadded them into a ball, and stuffed them into her purse.

  He tried not to stare at her heaving chest while she yelled at him, but her tight nipples pushing against the thin shirt fabric were too distracting. Damn, he wished he could’ve played things out a little longer, had another tumble or two before it all had gone to shit.

  She stepped into her sandals and marched to the door, and he followed after her.

  “Okay, sooo….” He faced her, naked from head-to-toe, giving her one last chance to check out what she was giving up. “I’ll call you tomorrow, then.”

  Her hand on doorknob, she stopped, a strained laugh erupting from her throat. “Sure, Ben. You call.”

  Jerking the door open, she stormed out, slamming the cheap panel of wood behind her.

  “Well, all right,” he muttered. With a sigh, he checked his watch. Five o’clock. He had another client scheduled at the parlor for six thirty. Just enough time to get a shower, grab some grub, and get there.

  ***

  Calista made it home in record time, dodging most of the stares from people on the trolley and sidewalk. She didn’t need their pity-filled glances to know she looked a mess. She’d thrown her clothes on in a haphazard manner, and her damn tears had caused her mascara to streak down her face.

  God, what an idiot she was.

  She turned the corner of her street and slammed into another pedestrian. Ducking her head, she mumbled, “Sorry,” and stepped to the side to scurry away.

  “Calista, dear, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  She lifted her chin and grimaced. Crap, Aunt Nadya.

  “I was just giving up.” Her aunt gave her a good look. “Oh my! What’s wrong, my dear?”

  She cringed. She so did not want to get into this with her wacky aunt. “It’s nothing. I got something in my eye, and it hasn’t stopped watering since.”

  “Hooey. It’s that boy you’ve been seeing, isn’t it?”

  Unable to hold the tears back any longer, she broke down, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, Auntie, I thought he might be the one this time. I really did. I know we were together just a couple weeks, but there was something about him. He was funny and smart and mysterious, and my foolish heart bought every bit. Hook, line, and sinker.” She
wiped at her nose with the back of her hand and shook her head. “To top it all off, it will be impossible to ever forget him because of the stupid bird I let him tattoo on me.”

  Her aunt hugged her tight then wiped away her tears. “Don’t you worry, my dear, your soul mate is out there. All you have to do is open your eyes and see him. As for your tattoo? You can always have it removed.” She patted her shoulder. “Now, go home and have a nice warm soak. Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

  Calista embraced her aunt once more and continued down the street to her house. A soul mate? If only she could believe her aunt’s words.

  ***

  Ben glanced at his watch and then rolled his shoulders. Midnight. It’d taken him six hours to ink an intricate Celtic knot snake on some dude’s thigh—and he was damned thankful it’d been his leg and not the guy’s junk. Finished cleaning all his equipment, he headed toward the door.

  “Damn fine work, Walker,” the owner, Big Ed said.

  “Thanks. Night.” Ben patted the doorjamb twice on his way out. From behind him came a “bye” and “see ya” from fellow artists, who were finishing cleanup.

  Outside, the humid New Orleans night air engulfed him. Sounds of partiers floated to him from four blocks away. He walked down the sidewalk to the parking lot next to the building.

  He dug in his pocket for his phone, his fingers grasping the familiar rectangular object. He hesitated. Hmm. Since Calista had freaked out and needed some time to chill, it would probably be best to wait till tomorrow to call her like he’d told her he would.

  He strode across the gravel lot, the dull fluorescent lamplight casting a long shadow to his side and up the wall of the parlor. As he approached his car, he pulled out his keys but paused before using the fob to unlock the doors. Maybe he should drop by the festivities over on Bourbon Street and check out the hotties having a good time.

  Stuffing his keys back into his pocket, he rounded toward the party four streets over and the prospect of an easy lay with a drunken co-ed. But as he turned, his feet stuttered. Some old woman, dressed in a long skirt and a loose shirt, stood a half a dozen feet in front of him.

  “Benjamin Walker.” Her voice sliced the space between them.

  He frowned. “Yeah.”

  She twisted her hands together, twining and untwining her fingers. A string of incoherent sounds flew from her mouth.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You okay?”

  Heat lightning flashed in the distance.

  “I curse you, Benjamin Walker.” She pointed a shaky hand at him and muttered a few more unintelligible words. “I curse you to roam the world, watching those around you find true love while you continue in your self-absorbed existence.”

  He glanced around, searching for his co-workers. “All right guys,” he called out with a disconcerted chuckle. “Good joke on the new guy. Now, call the old biddy off.”

  No one stepped from the shadows to end the prank.

  The woman waved her arms. “You give people tattoos, give them the illusion their life will change. I curse you, Benjamin Walker, for breaking a young girl’s heart. May the ink you use on others mark the truth on your very soul.” She lifted her face and hands toward the sky.

  A fork of lightning cut the darkness overhead, and a sudden breeze blustered through the parking lot. Long strands of hair danced around the old lady’s head, her clothing whipping against her thin frame. When the wind wrapped around Ben, tearing at his shirt and pants, clawing at his hair, he jolted at the unexpected frigidness. Icy tendrils seemed to pierce his skin and invade his body, squeezing his lungs, crushing his heart.

  A moment later, the pressure vanished. Released, he sucked in a greedy breath. What the fuck?

  Raising his head, he glared at the old woman as anger crashed through him. “This is about Calista?” he roared.

  She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

  He strode toward her, closing the distance in three steps. “That freaky bitch put you up to confronting me, told you to wave your arms and say some mumbo-jumbo to get even with me?”

  “No.” She gave him a menacing look, her eyes the same golden hue as Calista’s. “The curse was all me. And now, it is done.” She pivoted and walked away, her movements surprisingly agile considering her rickety appearance.

  Ben stared after her as she disappeared around the corner of the tattoo shop.

  “Hey,” he yelled and jogged to catch up. But as he rounded the building, he found only an empty sidewalk. The old lady had vanished. “Damn.”

  He rubbed his hand across his chest, trying to erase the twinge of cold, which was no longer there. The pain he’d experienced still fresh, he pressed his palm to his sternum. Yeah, his heart was still beating. He glanced up and down the unusually quiet street, his nerves on edge. The whole thing had been seriously freaky, beyond real.

  The frivolity from Bourbon Street danced on the air, beckoning him to partake. Instead, he stalked back to his car, no longer in the partying mood. Jamming his hand in his pocket, he drew out his keys, popped the fob, and opened the door. He twisted to peer over his shoulder in the direction the woman had gone.

  “Curse?” He shook his head and settled into the driver’s seat, closing the car door behind him. Starting the engine, he looked out the window. “Bullshit.”

  Chapter Two

  Calista balanced the takeout bag of Red Beans and Rice in one arm, her mail, purse, and law school books in the other. Keys held between her teeth, she climbed the back porch steps. Halfway up, the heel on her shoe broke. She struggled to keep her balance but lost, and screamed as she tumbled down the four steps, landing face first in a mud puddle next to the stairs.

  “Damn it.” Her ankle and knee throbbed in pain. She slapped the wet soil beneath her and gingerly sat up. Okay, add scraped up elbow to the list. Glancing over her shoulder, she found her dinner strewn over the walkway, her mail scattered in the wind, and her textbooks open and submerged in the muck.

  Didn’t it just figure? Her whole day had been a disaster. It only seemed fitting her night would end up in a big, fat pile of mud.

  Irritation broke the last bit of control she’d held on her emotions. Enough, she’d had enough of it all. Leaning against the bottom step, she gave in to the tears that had threatened all damn day, covered her face with her damp, grimy hands, and let them flow.

  Her life was friggin’ pathetic. Two weeks had passed, and she still couldn’t believe how her relationship with Ben had ended. She’d done it again. Given her body and heart to a man who didn’t want them. Oh sure, he’d wanted her body—he’d been abundantly clear. But a good time was all Ben Walker had been after.

  She’d been so stupid. Listened to his pretty words and totally ignored the signs staring her in the face. The way he’d only wanted to see her at night…in his room. How he’d never even wanted to get a meal with her or meet her friends or do any damn thing that meant getting out of bed.

  Stupid. God, she was such an idiot. The things she’d told him, shared with him. She’d poured her heart out like a fool, and he’d never wanted anything more than a good lay for as long as it would last. Shit! Even after their argument, he expected her to call him.

  Why the hell did she keep falling for these losers? Why did she keep offering her heart and getting it tossed back in her face? All she wanted was someone to love and for them to love her back. Was it too much to ask?

  She shook her head. None of it mattered because she was done. Done putting herself out there. No more. If she had to go through life alone, then so be it.

  She shivered, the realization bringing a fresh round of hot tears flowing over her cheeks. She was still nothing but a pathetic, stupid, stupid woman. And crap, why did it still hurt so damn much?

  “Calista?”

  She cringed, the concerned voice of her neighbor grating her ears. Oh God, a witness to her humiliation. Could this day get any worse? “Go away, Andy. I’ll be fine.”

  He let out a small chuckle. Lor
d, was everyone laughing at her?

  “I don’t think so, honey. Your knee and arm are bleeding, and your tears are falling harder than the rain we just had.” He gathered her things and placed them on the steps. “Come on, give me your hands, and let me make sure that pretty face of yours is okay.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t want him seeing her red-rimmed eyes and puffy face. Truth be told, he already thought she was a major fuck up. She didn’t need to give him any more proof. He was one of those rare, stand-up guys. He’d watched her cry and listened to her whine for almost two years.

  Five years older than her twenty-eight years, Andy had his crap together. He owned his own restaurant for shitsake and was so far out of her league. Tall, lean, and good-looking in a down to earth sort of way—he didn’t compare at all to the bad boy type she always fell for. But for some reason, he continued picking up the pieces for her when one of those bad boys broke her heart again. God, what he must think of her—a freaking emotional charity case.

  Ben would be the last. She didn’t have any more heart left to be broken. Lesson learned well this time.

  Reluctantly, she lowered her hands from her face and stared down at the sodden ground where she sat. Andy knelt in front of her, tucked his finger under her chin, and lifted her face to meet his gaze.

  “Well, no blood here. Just some mud.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “And lots of runny mascara. I thought they made the stuff waterproof these days.”

  She smiled. He had a way of making a bad situation seem bearable.

  She slapped his arm. “I should stock up, huh?”

  He shook his head. “No, you should find someone who won’t cause you to need it.”

  She sucked in a breath. “How…how did you know?”

  “Because the only time I ever see you give in the way you are now is when some asshole has treated you bad.” He took her hand in his and tugged. “Come on, let’s see how much damage you’ve done. Can you stand?”