by Jenna Jacob
With an inward curse, I turned my back on the too tempting view and slathered my hands with shower gel. After a quick glance over my shoulder, I was relieved that Syd was gone. As I glided my soapy hand over my arm, white-hot agony screamed from every cut and burn, stealing the breath from my lungs. Biting back a sob as a thousand swords sliced the flesh off my bones, I let my tears mix with the water cascading over my face.
I was glad Syd couldn’t see me now. After his soul-stealing kiss, I didn’t want him seeing me fall apart again. I’d shared enough vulnerability with him. It was time to rebuild my walls. Sliding my soap-soaked hands over my legs, I trapped an unholy cry deep in my chest and quickly rinsed the burning lather away.
My whole body quaked under the overload of pain. My limbs felt like rubber but moved like cement. The walls of the shower started to sway as black spots ate at my periphery. I reached for the faucet to steady myself but misjudged the distance and fell to my knees with a bone-jarring thud. I closed my eyes and sucked in several deep breaths, then tried to blink the inky spots away.
The shower door suddenly opened with a sharp clatter.
“Dammit. Why do always have to be so fucking hardheaded?” Syd barked angrily.
I tried to wave him away, but he was already turning off the water and hoisting me into his arms. Muttering and cursing, Syd carried me to the bedroom and carefully placed me on top of the oh-so-soft mattress.
I peered up at him as the spots faded away and the scent of food punched my senses.
Syd was dressed in a pair of nylon shorts with a dark tee stretched tight over his rugged chest. I wasn’t sure if it was the food or the sight of him that was making my mouth water. Probably the latter.
“Why didn’t you… Never mind. I know why you didn’t call for me,” Syd scowled as he gently toweled the water from my body. Like before, his anger didn’t transcend his touch.
“It’s not like I planned on falling.”
“You sure you didn’t pass out?”
“I didn’t pass out. I just got a little light-headed.”
“Light-headed, hardheaded, makes no difference when you nearly faceplanted in the fucking shower, Caris.”
Syd continued to grumble as he patted my legs dry. I bit back a smile. He might be a famous rock god now, but in many ways, he was still the same old Syd.
Back in the day, things hardly ever fazed him. He took the good with the bad and merely shrugged it off. But once in a while, he’d reach his limit—usually when I’d push his buttons too hard—and get angry and start ranting…saying things that didn’t make a lick of sense. Like now with his whole light-headed, hardheaded, makes no difference speech. Light-headed and hardheaded were two totally different things, but I didn’t think now was a good time to point that out.
“I swear to fuck, Caris, if you weren’t already beaten to shit, I’d turn you over my knees and spank your sexy ass red.”
A naughty thrill slid through me.
“So, you’re into kinky sex now?”
The second the question left my lips, I wanted to take it back. I had no idea why I’d asked. It wasn’t like Syd was going to magically open up and tell me all his dark, dirty secrets. The man had been like Fort Knox when it came his feelings, aspirations and what had happened in his past before we met. I, on the other hand, had stupidly confessed every wretched detail of my life when we were together. Syd knew I’d felt safer aimlessly roaming the streets than trapped in a foster home with unstable and alcoholic fake parents.
The night Syd had spotted me huddled against the frame of a grocery store loading dock, he didn’t say a word. He simply sat down a few feet away and scoped out the alley. After a couple of hours of sitting there silently, he glanced over his shoulder and told me to get some sleep. Told me I was safe and that he wouldn’t let anyone mess with me. His fierce, protective nature stole my heart then and there. We stayed together, hiding from the cops and social workers, for over a year. Syd rarely failed to find us a safe place to sleep or food for our bellies. He listened to me ramble on about becoming a famous artist and opening up my own gallery one day, never once laughing or making fun of my lofty dreams.
Yet in all those months we’d spent together, he’d never once told me why he’d chosen to live on the streets, too. Each time I’d broached the subject, he’d change it or promise to tell me later. Of course, later never came.
To this day, I still didn’t know why Syd had been wandering the streets, lost and alone, like me.
“Maybe. Why? Does that turn you on?” His suggestive tone awakened my traitorous hormones.
It does, like a damn a lightbulb.
Everything about Syd turned me on. Then and now. Of course, I had to save that secret and the naughty thoughts filling my head until I was back home, alone, in my bed.
“The food sure smells good,” I said, nodding toward the room service tray, praying he wouldn’t call me out for changing the subject.
“Yeah, it does.” A knowing smirk tugged his lips. “When you’re up to it, I’ll help you into the pj’s Mia dropped off for you,” Syd said, gripping a flat stack of white and yellow fabric in his hand. After crossing the room, he eased to the mattress bedside me. “Then we’ll eat.”
“I’m ready.”
I sat up and Syd helped me drag the silky top over my head. The material was soft but still scraped against my wounds.
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, focusing on the balcony instead of my screaming nerve endings. “Would it be all right if we ate outside?”
“It might be a little chilly, but we can if you want.”
“It’s way warmer here than it is back home.”
“It’s still warmer at yours than it is mine.”
Earlier, when he mentioned a house on the lake, I imagined a huge log cabin with a massive wraparound porch, surrounded by tall fir trees. Syd had always loved the water and nature. The two summers we’d spent hiding in the woods, we’d wait until midnight, then go skinny-dipping in the lake that surrounded Diamond City. I could easily picture Syd’s place having a huge covered dock lined with various speed boats.
When I’d first discovered Syd was the bass player for Licks of Leather, I wasn’t at all shocked. Strumming his old beat-up guitar—his one and only prized possession—Syd would sing me to sleep each night after we made love beneath our big pine tree in the woods. His songs not only soothed me but provided an escape from the harsh realities of life.
Yeah, I was jealous he’d made it out of Diamond City and achieved monumental success. Syd hadn’t let his fucked-up youth hold him back or down. I envied his courage, but of course, it was one of the many reasons I’d fallen in love with him from the start.
“If it’s too cold, we can come back inside.”
“That we can.” He nodded.
As he carefully drew the matching capri pants to my thighs, I swallowed a hiss and stood. Gripping his shirt, I clenched my jaw as he gingerly dragged them over my hips. He patiently waited as I sucked in several deep breaths and worked through the pain, then released my death grip on his shirt.
As he threaded his fingers through mine, a long-forgotten sense of security slid through me. Crossing the room, he paused and plucked a black blanket off the plush love seat before escorting me outside. After I settled into one of the thickly padded chairs, Syd darted back inside to get our food.
I tucked the blanket over my lap and around my legs. The air was cool, but compared to the bitter Arkansas weather I’d left last week, it felt wonderful. Even the smog was a welcome respite after spending two days locked in Zattman’s torture chamber.
Being free again felt damn good.
When Syd had whipped off that ski mask inside Zattman’s house, I’d thought I was dreaming. When I’d realized I wasn’t, it had thrown me into such a state of shock, the only thing I could think about was escape.
I still hadn’t taken time to really process what had happened. But now that I was safe, the horr
or of the last forty-eight hours began flashing through my mind. From the handsome smile that adorned his face as Zattman approached my table to waking up in a foggy haze, then bursting with panic and fear, discovering I’d been bound and gagged, to each excruciating cut, burn, punch, and vile threat that hideous monster delivered.
Swallowing back the bile rising in my throat, tremors of fear racked my body. My stomach coiled like a snake before I shook the visions away and focused on the traffic cruising up and down Hollywood Boulevard below me.
Monica and I had spent five fun-filled days exploring LA’s famous restaurants, stores, and nightclubs. We’d spent an entire day at the beach, drinking in the sun and bronze, buff hunks jogging along the sand.
I still couldn’t believe Monica had up and flown back to Arkansas—with my luggage—and left me behind. I had no idea if she’d called the police and filed a missing person report, or simply hadn’t bothered, thinking I was dead. Surely, she didn’t think me heartless enough to blow her off, without so much as a goodbye, to start a new life of my own. She should have known me better than that. But then again, maybe not. We’d worked together for years and shared a lot of laughs, but I’d never confided in her. Never shared my hopes, dreams, or secrets.
The only person I’d ever let inside my soul was Syd.
Yeah, and look how that turned out for you, the snarky little voice in my head chided.
Chapter 3
Syd
As I reached for the room service cart, I noticed my hands shaking and cursed. Caris had me strung tighter than an overstressed guitar string. I’d nearly snapped in the shower when she started rubbing her lush, naked body against me, and feasting on her wicked mouth damn near destroyed me. The only thing that stopped me from gripping her ass and sliding her sweet cunt up and down my swollen cock until we both exploded in ecstasy was the angry, red wounds welting her pale flesh.
Though I’d tamped down my bloodlust enough to rescue her, I hadn’t yet worked the rage from my system. Finding Caris crumpled on the shower floor after our delicious kisses only intensified the demand to kill Zattman, slowly, painfully. But revenge had to wait, and sadly, so did sex. Right now, Caris needed food, medical attention, and sleep. I had to find a way to keep my shit wired tight and provide them for her.
Gripping the cart, I pushed it toward the balcony. After placing the food on the table beside her, I waved my hand with a dramatic flourish.
“Dinner is served, madam.”
Her throaty chuckle and genuine smile eased my tension, slightly.
“Thank you, monsieur. It looks delicious and smells even better.”
As I dropped into the chair beside her, Caris leaned over her bowl and started shoveling soup into her mouth.
The sight of her inhaling the food ignited the memory of the bone-chilling night Caris and I huddled together beneath a thin wool blanket in the woods while a massive blizzard howled around us. I’d given up trying to stay warm and focused on merely surviving, but the flimsy lean-to I’d constructed beneath a big fir tree was no match for the blustery winds and swirling snow.
I’d done my best to shield Caris with my body, but my limbs had grown numb, and all I’d wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. Somewhere I’d learned about hypothermia and knew that if we didn’t find a better shelter, we’d be dead by morning.
I’d wrapped the dirty blanket around her, then we’d ducked our heads and trudged through biting wind and knee-deep snow. I’d planned to pick the lock on the loading dock at the sawmill on the outskirts of Diamond City. Since we’d been labeled runaways, we couldn’t risk being seen by anyone. But a half mile from town, the wind inhaled, and I’d spotted a light on at Old Lady Halloran’s farmhouse. I’d been so fucking cold and miserable I’d decided to take a chance.
When I’d started leading Caris toward the house, she’d dug her heels in the snow and shaken her head. “Are you crazy? She’ll call the sheriff.”
“Then you run and take shelter someplace safe, then do whatever it takes to stay alive.”
Caris had fought me every step of the way, but I’d clutched her tighter and dragged her with me until we’d reached the back door. I’d peered inside and watched the old woman stir a steaming pot on the stove. I could smell the food she was cooking, and it made my stomach growl. After I’d swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth—along with my pride—I’d lifted a numb hand and knocked on her door.
The old woman had opened it and scowled. “The chickens are locked in the barn. You won’t be stealing any of them tonight, you little thief.”
I’d been shocked she’d known I was the one who’d pilfered several of her birds and a whole lot of eggs. But instead of cowering or admitting my guilt, I’d simply lifted my chin.
“I’m not here to steal your chickens,” I assured, shoving Caris toward the old woman. “I’m here to ask if you’ll let her warm up inside and feed her something. I haven’t seen any rabbits or squirrels since the weather turned cold, and she hasn’t eaten in three days.”
The weathered lines on the woman’s face and her rheumy blue eyes softened. “When was the last time you ate, Sydney Wilston?”
The fact that she’d known who I was had sent my panic spiking. But then I’d realized, she’d never called the cops or social services and turned me in. So, instead of yanking Caris from the cozy, warm kitchen, I’d waited to see what the old woman would do.
“You ran away from the Andersons eight months ago,” she’d scolded. “Why? They’re salt-of-the-earth, God-fearing Christians, doing all they can to help you. And you repay them by running out in the middle of the night, taking this sweet girl from her foster folks, too. For what? So you can live like a couple of hermits out in the woods and steal my chickens in the middle of the night?”
I wasn’t about to tell her that almighty, God-fearing Herbert Anderson liked to sneak into my room late at night, place a rusty knife at my throat, then fondle my junk while he jacked off on my stomach. Or that he’d promised to use that same rusty knife and cut out my tongue if I ever told anyone about his special visits.
“I got my reasons,” I’d answered softly.
“Get your skinny ass inside, boy. You’re letting all the cold air in,” she’d ordered, then nodded for me and Caris to sit at the table.
When she’d placed two big bowls, brimmed with chicken and noodles, in front of us, the robust aroma was enough to make me weep. I’d lifted my head, met her sad blue eyes, and thanked her, while Caris grabbed her spoon and—like now—shoveled the food into her mouth as fast as she could.
Blinking the memory away, I found Caris intently watching me.
“Where’d you go just now?” she asked.
“Old Lady Halloran’s house the night of that blizzard.”
Without taking her eyes off me, Caris set her spoon down and leaned back. A tiny smile curled the corners of her lips. “She never did turn us in.”
“Nope. But she sure tried to make everyone think she was a badass.”
“Everyone but us.” Caris chuckled. “We would have starved that winter if not for her.”
“Probably.”
“I sure miss Emma Halloran.”
“Miss her? You mean, she’s…”
“Dead? Yeah, six years ago…heart attack.”
“Damn.” I shook my head.
“She told me about that money order you mailed her after joining the band.”
A rush of embarrassment zipped through me and I dropped my chin. “She did, huh?”
“Yeah. She said you paid her eight thousand dollars for the four chickens you stole. She said if she’d known those birds were worth so much, she’d have sold them all and bought a mansion in Little Rock.”
We both started laughing, and for a precious second it was as if the years we’d been apart vanished.
“I should have moved us into the barn like she’d asked us to,” I murmured.
Caris’s smile faded. A haunted looked filled her eyes before she lowered
her lashes and shrugged slightly. “We talked it out together. Remember? We decided we didn’t want her to get into trouble for aiding and abetting us juvenile delinquents.”
“I know, but if we’d moved into the barn, we never would have broken into that house in Lead Hill.”
Caris held up her hand, shot me a look of warning. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Why not?”
“What’s done is done. Leave it alone.” Her tone was colder than a nor’easter in January.
“But I want to know what happened after I”—ran away like a coward—"left.”
“You became a famous rock star and I became a waitress.”
Her flippant response was expected, but the haunted look in her eyes told me she was holding something back…something major.
“I’m talking about the night we went to Lead Hill.”
“We got caught…well, one of us did.”
My stomach knotted and my heart sputtered as a wall of guilt crashed down upon me.
“You mean you didn’t get away? You got caught? That’s why you didn’t come back to the woods that night?”
“Why else wouldn’t I have met you there?”
“I-I thought you were pissed at me for talking you into robbing the place.”
“Oh, I was pissed, all right.” Caris launched from her chair and stormed to the opposite end of the balcony. “In fact, I’ve spent the last fifteen years being pissed as hell at you.”
“I fucked up, angel. I didn’t know you’d gotten caught. I-I’m sorry.” I stood and started toward her, but when Caris turned, the fury etching her face and flames shooting from her dark eyes had me stopping in my tracks.
“You’re sorry?” she screeched. “What exactly are you sorry for, Syd? Are you sorry you turned and ran? Or are you sorry you never looked back?”
“I thought you were behind me.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” she bit out.
“Christ, Caris. I didn’t know.”
“Because you didn’t look.”
“I’m sorry,” I barked, tossing up my hands. “I was a sixteen-year-old kid, scared to death.”
