Catch Me When I Fall

by Jackson, A. L.

  One way or another, our lives were about to change.

  “All of you are about to be on the other side.” Royce was leaned casually back in the leather seat, the man obviously no stranger to luxury, one elbow propped on the armrest, the other sure and firm around my waist. “Are you ready for that? Last chance.”

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  Karl Fitzgerald would be waiting inside. We’d gotten word that we’d be having a formal meeting at 9:30 in one of the house offices. Apparently, Reuben didn’t mind opening his house to Mr. Fitzgerald in the middle of a party, considering Mylton Records had plucked him up when he was young and shot him to the top.

  He’d been hanging out there ever since.

  “After tonight, where we belong couldn’t be clearer,” Rhys raved.

  Leif scrubbed a hand over his face, still trying to break up the shock that we’d actually performed at the ACB Awards. That this was now his life. “That was some kind of spiritual shit,” he agreed, looking around. “Not sure we’ve ever played like that before. There was just . . . something in the air. Something that hasn’t ever been there before.”

  “It was all those lights shining on your face.” Melanie grinned, unable to stop herself from getting in the tease.

  Rhys chuckled. “Blinded by the light. Rest assured, if that’s the case, then I don’t want to see.”

  “No turning back now,” Richard said, looking at me.

  Royce tightened his hold around my waist, as if he were telling me that he would stand beside me, either way. That even if I walked now, he would still defend me, even when I knew he had so much to gain by us signing, that this was the mission that he’d been sent to do.

  I sucked in a breath. “Let’s do this.”

  “Let’s do it,” they all agreed.

  Rhys tossed open the door, not waiting for the driver to come around to let us out. He slipped out and stood, accepting the flute of champagne a server waiting on the curb offered, waltzing up the stoned walkway that led to the front door as if he’d walked it a million times.

  Richard, Leif, and Mia followed. Melanie slid out behind them. I waited for a second, until we were alone, so I could turn around and grab Royce by the face. “Thank you for this, Royce. For believin’ in me when I didn’t. I’m not sure we would be here today if you hadn’t come when you did. You unlocked something inside of me that was holding me back, and I will forever be grateful for that.”

  Onyx eyes flashed. He reached out, took me by the chin. “You are a star.”

  My teeth clamped down on my bottom lip to stop the blush. “We should go.”

  “I’m right here with you, Emily. Right here.”

  I scooted out, trying to keep my dress smoothed down as I stood, and Royce slipped out after me, the man covering me in a towering shadow from behind.

  An ominous protector.

  I’d never felt so safe.

  He moved up to my side and threaded his fingers through mine, brought my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back. The man seemed to tremble. His aura agitated.

  Distressed.

  His jaw clenched tight.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, glancing up at him.

  I could have sworn his smile was a grimace. “Give me an hour, and I will be.”

  A frown pulled between my brows, and I started to ask him what that meant, why he was worried, but he tugged at my hand and started up the walk. “We should get inside.”

  Clinging to his arm, I rushed to keep up with his strong stride, my heels clacking on the stones.

  We took the three curved steps that fronted the entrance to the massive house. At the landing, the door was opened, another server there with his offering of hors d'oeuvres. Everything about this party was swanky, upscale, sent my nerves shivering through my body as we stepped inside the lavish mansion.

  “Oh, my goodness,” I muttered under my breath. I mean, we’d splurged a bit over the last year or two, feeling as if we’d finally made it, but I didn’t think we had the first clue what making it really meant in the music world.

  Because this was over-the-top.

  Extravagant on a level that I wasn’t sure I’d ever aspire to.

  A simple life with a comfortable house and a horse and maybe a baby or two sounded about right.

  Royce leaned in. “You’re nervous.”

  A shiver curled down my spine. “I think I might be in over my head.”

  “You deserve all of this and more.”

  “And what if I don’t want that, Royce? What if I want something humbler than this for my life? Would you be okay with that?”

  I shifted my gaze to him, searching the lines of his mesmerizing face, wondering how it was that I felt as if I knew this man better than anyone and somehow knew so few of the details about his life.

  About what he wanted.

  Royce backed me up to a wall to get out of the bustle of servers and the slew of guests that rambled down the hall. The smile that curved his full lips was almost sad. “You’re worried about the kind of lifestyle I want to lead?”

  I gave an erratic nod. “I know so little about what you want in this life, Royce. I know your job is important to you. So important. That you’re good at it. I also know you’re based in L.A. And not that I wouldn’t want to live there or couldn’t live there, but God . . .” I trailed off, realizing I was rambling, that I was getting so far out ahead of myself, and I didn’t know how to stop.

  Thinking about a future we’d only hinted at.

  Wincing, he reached out and twirled a lock of my hair with a tattooed finger, his nose close to brushing mine. “Lifestyle doesn’t matter to me, Emily. I’ll live in a shack if it means my sister is safe. If it means you’re safe. The only thing I care about is you accepting me, loving me, when you figure out who I am.”

  With a shaky hand, I reached out and cupped his face. “I know who you are, Royce Reilly. I see you, feel your beautiful heart that is beating behind that menacing exterior.”

  Those eyes flashed, and he cleared his throat, taking me by the hand. He led me deeper into the house. Royce grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing server since we had fifteen minutes until we needed to meet with Mr. Fitzgerald. Royce drained his while I sipped at mine, watching the mingling groups.

  The rich and the famous.

  The view totally surreal, me standing there, ill at ease and trying to play it cool while Royce watched on like some kind of soldier.

  Hard and brash.

  A furor rippled through as a group made their way inside, showing at the end of the hall, shaking hands and returning the enthusiastic hellos as people vied to get a chance to meet them.

  Sunder.

  What had to be the hottest band in the world.

  It appeared as if they stood in a spotlight, stealing the attention from every other celebrity in the space.

  I was no fangirl, but my belly knotted. I’d met them a couple of times through the years, but always from afar. That and the fact that Leif and Mia felt like an extension of them. A part of their world that had been tied to ours.

  But that didn’t mean it lessened the impact of being at the same party as them.

  Royce squeezed my hand. “We should go say hi.”

  I remained frozen to the spot. “Are you crazy? That is Sunder.”

  Okay, so maybe I was a little bit of a fangirl.

  He chuckled low, cutting me a glance from the side. “Are you starstruck, Emily Ramsey?”

  Redness flushed.

  “They’re the most down-to-earth people you’ll ever meet.”

  “You know them?”

  “Yeah,” he said, though it seemed like admitting it almost bothered him.

  As if it were some kind of sin.

  “We go way back.”

  He hauled me by the hand across the posh living room to the group that had gotten accosted at the end of the hall. One of the guys lifted his hand when he saw Royce approaching.

  Lyrik West.<
br />
  Oh my god.

  “Royce, my man, how are you, dude? It’s been forever.” He went in for one of those man-hugs while I awkwardly shifted on my feet.

  Royce hugged him back as if they were the oldest of friends. “I know it. Too long. How are things in your world?”

  Lyrik wrapped his arm around the waist of the woman at his side, hugging her close and stealing her attention. “World is perfect, man. Fucking perfect. Only because I get to call this one wife. This is my girl, Tamar.”

  She reached out to shake Royce’s hand.

  The woman was stunning, wearing a black leather and lace dress that few others could pull off. Sleek black hair and covered in tattoos, she was the perfect match to the devastatingly wicked man who stood at her side. The lead guitarist of Sunder was imposingly tall, nothing but lean muscle covered in a canvas of ink.

  I peeked between Royce and Lyrik.

  I guessed they kind of matched, too. The vibe they threw. The two of them larger than life. Commanding all the attention in the room.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Tamar. I heard someone finally lassoed this asshole.” Royce seemed sincere, but still, he kept looking around.

  On edge.

  I wanted to reassure him that we were a done deal.

  He could relax.

  It was the rest of us that were suffering from rampant nerves.

  Tamar canted a sultry grin up to her husband, who was looking down on her as if she were the brightest sun. “Someone had to do it.”

  He smirked down at her. “Think the real answer to that is there was only one person who could do it. Only you, Baby Blue.”

  I swooned.

  Was it hot in here?

  I almost had to fan myself.

  Royce wrapped one of those strong arms around my waist.

  A belt of possession.

  Energy flashed.

  “This is Emily.”

  I swooned a little harder.

  At this rate, someone was gonna have to carry me out of there.

  “Miss Carolina George.” Lyrik chewed at his lip as he said it, appraising, and oh god, I was pretty sure I needed to find a closet where I could hide. “Great to meet you,” he told me.

  “It’s an honor to meet you.”

  Tamar waved an indulgent, tattooed hand in the air, the huge black diamonds she wore on her fingers flashing under the light. “I’m pretty sure the honor is ours. I nearly wept when I heard you sing up there. God . . . that was just . . . amazing. Straight-up amazing. I heard you sing several times back in Savannah when I used to work at Charlie’s. . . but you were some kind of spectacular tonight.”

  The blush I’d been fighting swept across my face, rushing like a wildfire down my neck and across my chest. “Thank you.”

  Tamar smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you do.”

  “She’s going to do amazing things. That you can count on.” Royce squeezed my side.

  “Holy shit . . . Royce Reilly. The motherfucking king.”

  I jerked my attention to find Ash Evans pushing through the crowd so he could get to Royce. Ash didn’t shake his hand. Oh no. He threw his arms around him, lifted him off his feet, and bounced him all over the place. “I missed the fuck outta ya. Where the hell have you been my whole life, man?”

  Royce laughed, though it was with a bit of discomfort. “Working.”

  “Wrong line if you’re asking me.”

  “I wasn’t,” Royce answered, a little harder than I thought necessary. Confusion pulled through my senses, and I was trying to keep up, put the pieces together.

  It took me a second to remember that Sunder had once been under the Mylton Records label before they’d branched off and their original lead singer, Sebastian, had started his own production company when he’d decided to retire from the road.

  Still wanting to dabble his fingers in music but wanting it in a different way. I fully understood that.

  Ash laughed a loud, raucous laugh, the guy so easygoing that he could put a raging bull at ease. “Gotcha, man. Gotcha. No sweat.”

  He turned his blue eyes on me, a big smirk lighting his face. “Hey there, darlin’. I’m Ash.”

  Right, because I didn’t know who he was.

  “I’m—”

  “Emily fucking Ramsey. You think I could forget your name after that little stunt you pulled onstage tonight? You might as well get over that because you are unforgettable.” He swiveled his attention to Royce, flapping his index finger in my direction. “This one . . . don’t let her go.”

  Royce slanted those eyes to me. Pinning me to the spot. Expression as hard as his words. “Don’t plan to.”

  Ash smacked a hand on his shoulder. “That’s my man. You find something good? You wrap your hands around it, protect it with all you have, and well . . . yeah . . . you got it . . . don’t fucking let it go.”

  Ash snagged a woman from around the shoulders and planted a sloppy kiss to her cheek. “Like this one.”

  She swatted at his chest, though she snuggled in to rest her head on it, all too willing to get swamped in his overbearing hug. “Hi, I’m Willow. Ignore this brute.”

  He gasped in feigned horror. “Now why would someone want to ignore me? I’m the best around, baby. A superstar. Best bassist in the land.”

  A giggle slipped from my mouth. “Well, don’t tell that to our bassist, Rhys. He’s been trying to give you a run for your money for years.”

  “Tell him to bring it.”

  “I’d gladly throw down some Benjamins for a friendly wager. And where the hell is Leif? Dude needs to get his ass whipped for sneaking in and snagging our Mia right out from under our noses.”

  Willow frowned through a laugh. “No betting for you, big boy. No ass kickin’, either. Leave poor Leif alone. I think he got plenty enough crap from Lyrik.”

  “Are you trying to wreck my fun?”

  “Totally, babe, totally. Goal of my entire life is to strip you of any joy.” She rolled playful eyes.

  I couldn’t stop my smile.

  They were adorable.

  “Is Baz here?” Royce asked, looking through the group, antsy and anxious.

  Royce let his gaze move over Austin and Zee, Sunder’s lead singer and drummer, who were chatting with a group that had gathered around them.

  “Be here in twenty. He was videoing with the kids before Shea tucked them in for the night,” Lyrik answered.

  Royce nodded his head, rubbing his hand over his mouth, looking around the growing crowd. “All right, tell him I’m here when you see him, yeah?”

  “Sure thing, man.”

  They fist-bumped each other.

  Then Royce gathered my hand again. Squeezing it hard. “It’s time.”

  Nerves scattered, a bluster of energy, excitement and worry and dread. “It was nice to meet you all,” I said with a little wave.

  “Great to meet you,” went up in a small chorus, and I let Royce lead me through the throng of toiling bodies.

  Laughter and conversations were getting louder and louder as drinks were poured freely from the open bar. The mood growing rowdy.

  Royce shouldered through, edging deeper into the crowd before taking two steps up out of the sunken room to a higher level.

  As soon as we got to the top, Royce stopped in his tracks. Though there was no missing the way his spirit lurched out ahead. Hatred blazed from him, so acute I could feel it blasting through the air.

  I froze at his side, my focus moving to where his attention was fixed.

  Cory Douglas.

  Nausea sloshed in my stomach, and bile rose in my throat.

  Suffocating sickness.

  I was again hit with the urge to run.

  Royce squeezed my hand in a vice grip. Tucking me close while we watched Cory move through the crowd in all his cocky arrogance. Smiling his fake smile, dimples denting his carved cheeks.

  Was it wrong I was almost relieved when I saw he was with a woman, her hand twined with his as the
y strutted through the group?

  The woman I knew from pictures as his wife.

  She was super tall, brown hair so dark it was almost black, cut in a sharp, long bob that swung around her slender, toned shoulders. She wore a red dress that was cut at different angles, a dipping neckline that lanced to the side, one side of the dress shorter than the other, a trapezoid cutout revealing her ribs on the right.

  I was pretty sure he’d plucked her out of a magazine because she looked like a supermodel.

  Part of me wanted to rush her. Grab her by the arm and shake it, warn her of who was lurking under that charisma and charm. The other part felt trapped. As if I’d gotten stuck in a tragedy, and I didn’t know how to get out.

  Royce’s nostrils flared, and his hand clamped down on mine, so hard I winced. Or maybe I was just wincing because Cory was slowing, too, his attention raking over the two of us. His attention locked on where our hands were woven.

  I swore I saw it.

  Something flashing through his eyes.

  Something sinister.

  That was the blip of a second before a smirk was pulling to his perverted face, and he wrapped an arm around the woman in the sort of scornfulness that wasn’t hard to decipher.

  The woman’s dark eyes dragged over Royce in a flicker of familiarity before she was turning her face.

  My attention jerked to him, just in time to catch it, just in time to know.

  Agony written on him. Deep gashes of turmoil.

  Murderous animosity.

  Anguish squeezed my heart, and my knees went weak.

  But I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t help from searching the woman who shifted in discomfort. I nearly puked on her shoes when I saw the X that barely peeked out from the cutout in her dress. Her scar faded to just a shade lighter than her skin.

  Oh my god.

  My hand went to my mouth, and Royce must have felt me getting ready to splinter because he towed me down the hall without saying anything. His dress shoes and my heels clicked on the marble, echoing in our haste, my pulse stampeding in a slosh of trepidation.

  So loud I was hearing a dull hum start up in the back of my head.

  “He won’t touch you,” Royce growled beneath his breath.