Echoes of the Heart

by Casey, L. A.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  FRANKIE

  I should have known better than to challenge May Acton.

  After a pretty outrageous morning at work, I shouldn’t have been surprised to find myself in May’s sitting room at half nine in the evening. After Risk and May had had their breakfast, May demanded I accept his challenge to a Guitar God duel. My threat of playing circles around him really riled him up. It didn’t help that Risk was whispering in his ear, baiting him every chance he got. I accepted the challenge with a smile. Risk and May left not long after and I put the duel out of my mind as I worked. I finished my shift at three, went to the hospice and spent time with my mum until half seven, then I hit McDonald’s drive-thru on the way to May’s house. I got there at eight sharp and I shouldn’t have been surprised to find that May had been out and purchased a Guitar God console and accessories, but I was.

  I walked into the sitting room and stared at the massive plasma screen on the wall. The room wasn’t very big, and the TV took up most of the space on the wall above the fireplace. The game’s home screen was opened, and every single one of the instrumentals for every Blood Oath song available on the game’s online store was on the screen.

  I know to the guys, and everyone else, Guitar God was a silly game people played to pass the time. To me, it was so much more. I was a Sinner before Sinners had a name. I loved Blood Oath’s music, I loved rock and roll, but when Risk and I broke up, I had to cut Blood Oath out of my life to keep my sanity . . . then Guitar God was released.

  I couldn’t hear Risk sing or listen to the lyrics he wrote, that was entirely too much to ask of myself. Blood Oath’s music, however, was a different thing altogether. I knew they all had a hand in writing the music to their songs, so knowing I could hear their music on Guitar God was like getting the chance to peek into a window of Blood Oath’s life to see how they were doing.

  Blood Oath didn’t release instrumentals of their albums until recently so Guitar God gave me the chance to hear them . . . without hearing Risk. It connected me to the band, to Risk, in a safe capacity. I loved the game for that reason alone.

  There was only one song I wasn’t very good at on the game. It just so happened to be ‘Cherry Bomb’, the song Risk wrote about me when he was in a bad mental space. Ever since I had heard it, I tried desperately to forget the lyrics that made my heart clench. I know it was about me and that I should have never listened to it. It was like my subconscious knew I’d hate it.

  I really hoped that song wasn’t picked because I was supposed to show May up, not let him show me out.

  “Have you been practicing, December?”

  May snorted at my question and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the guys. “They’ve been playing most of the day, I’ve been biding my time until you showed up. I don’t need practice to beat you, little girl.”

  I snorted. “We’ll see about that, big boy.”

  Risk grinned happily from the sofa, when my eyes slide to his, he crooked his finger, beckoning me his way. I was in front of his parted thighs before I realised I had moved. I leaned down so I could give him a hug, but Risk surprised me by kissing my lips.

  “Missed you.”

  His words were murmured, but I heard them. Felt them.

  “Missed you too.”

  I straightened, hugged the others in greeting then I put my game face on as I removed my coat, draping it over the arm of the chair.

  “I should get to choose the song.” I looked at May as I picked up one of the toy guitars and hooked its strap over my head. “Ladies first and all that jazz.”

  May rolled his eyes, his guitar already in his hands and positioned.

  “Like that’s gonna help you, midget.”

  “I’m gonna take pleasure in this, August.” I narrowed my eyes. “Risk, record this for proof.”

  “On it, Cherry.”

  May glanced over his shoulder. “Proof of what?”

  “Of me,” I said when his eyes returned to mine, “spanking you like the little bitch you are.”

  All of the guys burst into loud, gleeful laughter at my threat, even May was giggling like a little girl with his hand over his mouth. Their laughter was fuel to the fire May ignited within me. Their lack of faith in me was all I needed to want to whoop May from here all the way to London and back again. I turned my focus to the flat screen on the wall and gave it my complete focus. I was good at Guitar God, I had racked up hundreds of hours playing Blood Oath songs and I was about to prove just how good I really was.

  “‘Black Space’.” I selected the song I wanted to play. “That is my song choice. You ready, little dick?”

  May sucked in a dramatic breath.

  “That was hurtful, you little piece of bum fluff, and for the record,” he growled. “My dick is huge, thunder thighs!”

  I tried not to laugh but it was hard because May’s clapbacks were always so quick and personal but so funny at the same time. He bloody well knew it, too.

  “My thunder thighs keep me warm at night so with your next insult, make sure it cuts deep, Nutty Professor.”

  The guys were a mess of laughter behind us, we didn’t pay them a lick of attention. May’s eyes narrowed at me, but his lips twitched repeatedly, which told me he was trying to keep a straight face as much as I was. That was the thing about me and May, we insulted one another brutally, but we never meant it and we both knew it. Nothing had changed between us since we were kids, it seemed.

  “We talking, or jamming?”

  “Jamming.”

  “Loosen your arms then,” he ordered. “They’re too stiff, don’t grip the guitar like it’s a weapon. Hold it against you warmly. Love it, caress it.”

  I looked down at the plastic toy.

  “This is too big for me to caress.”

  “I’ve heard those words often,” May winked. “Just start with the tip, everything else comes easy after that.”

  “May!” My face burned. “I’ll hurl this guitar at your head. Don’t embarrass me!”

  Laughter filled the room once more and I considered using the guitar as an object to bludgeon May to death with. He was getting entirely too much joy from my red face.

  “How’s this?” I followed his instruction and mirrored the way he held his guitar. “Do I look like a rock chick now?”

  “There’s not a scrap of black eyeliner on your face or a stitch of black clothing on that curvy body of yours so nope.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Not every girl Sinner looks like a princess of darkness,” I told him. “Some of us are Plain Janes, thank you very much.”

  “There isn’t a plain thing about you, gorgeous.”

  I looked over my shoulder to Risk. He was sitting on the sofa with Hayes and Angel. He held his phone up, pointing it in mine and May’s direction but his eyes were lowered to my behind and when they lifted to mine, he grinned when he saw he had been caught checking me out. I had known for a long time that Risk was an arse man, it was lucky for me, really. I had a fat bum, but my breasts were non-existent. The curse of a pear-shaped body meant I was a head member of the itty bitty titty committee.

  “Behave.”

  “Hell no, Cherry.”

  I looked at May and cocked my eyebrow.

  “Ready to play, May boy?”

  “Always, Frankie girl.”

  We positioned ourselves and just before I hit start I said, “Your arse is mine, Acton.”

  The song began and because it was on expert level, every single chord appeared on screen in time to the original song. No mistakes were allowed. You had to strum at the right time, hit the right chord and hold it for the correct amount of seconds before moving on. Expert level was all about precision, May obviously didn’t bank on that. I hit fifteen perfect notes in a row, he only hit nine. I got a lot of greats and so did he, but he got a couple of misses as well which reflected in our scores that were in the top left and right corners of the screen.

  I glanced at May and gri
nned, he was struggling. His tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth, his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were unblinking as he gave the game his complete and utter focus.

  “Stop looking at me!” he shouted. “You’re distracting me on purpose.”

  “I’m just adoring May Acton in action . . . sort of. You kind of suck if I’m being honest.”

  The guys behind us barked with laughter. May told them all to suck his dick.

  “Boy, she’s whooping you,” Hayes chortled. “This is the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Try the sexiest,” Risk’s voice rasped. “Christ, this is so fucking hot.”

  “Shut up, Risk!” I barked at the same time May said, “Mate, shut up!”

  When the song wound to an end a couple of minutes later, it was obvious that I was the clear victor. When the results showed on screen, May glared at them like they were all that was evil in the world. I got an A and he got a C. For a beginner on expert, that was a bloody insane score . . . but for a famous musician who lived and breathed his guitar, this was like pouring salt on an open wound. I knew it and so did everyone else. I tried not to gloat . . . too much.

  “Guitar God isn’t for the faint of heart.” I reached up and patted him on the shoulder. “Anyone could lose. Don’t take it so hard, honey.”

  May cast a look of unchecked fury in my direction. “I helped write the fucking song, Frankie.”

  “Well, in that case . . . you’re rubbish.”

  May gripped his guitar so hard the plastic creaked under the sudden strain of pressure. He looked me up and down. Slowly. His eyes were calculating and I found myself willing to pay a lot of money just to know what the hell was going on inside of his head.

  “I’ve killed men for less than that, Fulton.”

  I grinned. “You have?”

  “In my head I have!” he hissed as he righted his plastic guitar. “Rematch. Now, hobbit.”

  I shrugged and turned my head back towards the screen with a grin.

  “It’s your funeral, June bug.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FRANKIE

  “For as long as I live, I’m never gonna let him forget that.” Risk was still laughing when we entered my cottage two hours later. “You whooped him four times in a row. He was so mad he smashed the plastic fucking guitar on the ground. Hayes had to stop him from picking you up and throwing you out of the fucking house. I couldn’t even move I was laughing so much. Angel was crying!”

  Risk had to rub away the tears that gathered in his eyes.

  “May’s so funny, but my god,” I chuckled. “He is the worst kind of sore loser, I never knew he was so competitive.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Risk sighed happily. “Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Of course.” I entered my kitchen and flipped on the light. “Would you like me to give you directions? My house is gigantic; getting lost is a serious problem.”

  Risk snorted. “I’ll manage.”

  He walked down the short hallway and walked into the open bathroom. I forgot to tell him that sometimes Oath liked to sleep in the bathtub, but he realised that as soon as he flipped the light on and yelped with fright. I heard a hiss then a whole load of movement. Oath scampered into the kitchen and jumped directly onto my stomach. Since I was standing up, he hooked his nails into my clothing to hang on tight. I felt every single one of those nails scrape against my skin. I winced as I took Oath in my arms and gently pulled on him until his claws released the fabric of my uniform.

  “It’s okay, baby boy.” I kissed and snuggled his head. “Did the big bad man scare you?”

  “Scare him?” Risk asked from the doorway, his tone incredulous. “I nearly pissed myself.”

  I laughed. “Are you okay, baby boy?”

  “Maybe you should kiss and snuggle me and I will be.”

  I laughed. “Go to the bathroom.”

  He grinned then left the room once more. Without even thinking about it, I filled the kettle with water and prepared two cups with tea-bags. I put Oath down on the floor and he pattered over to his food and water station. While Risk was in the bathroom, I cleaned out his litter tray and put the bag of dirt in the bin outside. When I returned, Risk was in the kitchen. He was leaning his bum against the counter, staring at Oath.

  “Look at him eyeing me while he eats his food,” Risk said. “He isn’t blinking.”

  Oath was doing exactly that.

  “He’s not used to anyone. Especially not someone like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “I’m small and soft spoken, you’re definitely not. You’re not a skinny, lanky kid anymore.” I titled my head. “You’re different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Well.” I raked my eyes over his body. “You’re a man now.”

  When I moved my gaze back to Risk’s, I swallowed. He was staring at me so intently it caused a soft pulse to thrum between my thighs. I was very aware of how alone I was with him and it was a nightmare trying to keep my head out of the gutter. I couldn’t stop my mind from conjuring dirty, explicit visuals that played on repeat. I wanted to touch him so much it actually hurt. I need to cool down dramatically so I turned around and busied myself with making us tea just to give me something to do with my hands.

  “I’m still the same person inside,” Risk said. “I don’t think I look that different either.”

  He had to be joking.

  “Puh-lease,” I snorted. “Your entire body is different. You’ve got muscles in places you didn’t before and I know you said you’re the same height, but I swear you’re taller.”

  “I’m not, I’m just broader.”

  “Well, you make me feel even tinier than you used to.”

  “Because you’re a little slip of a woman,” Risk murmured. “I could fit you in my pocket.”

  “I’m thirteen pounds heavier than when I was in school,” I teased. “I doubt you could still lift me—”

  I sucked in a sharp breath as I was suddenly picked up from behind. A lone arm was around my waist and I clung onto it for dear life. Risk laughed when I slapped said arm as he lowered me back to the ground.

  “I did that with one arm,” his breathy voice drifted into my ear. “You were saying?”

  His body brushed against my back before he stepped away and I could have sworn my legs turned to jelly because I had to grip onto the counter to keep upright. I pretended that the surprise of him lifting me up was the reason and not that him touching me was almost my undoing.

  “I nearly shat myself, Risk Keller.” I turned and glared at him as he leaned his arse against my kitchen counter and folded his arms across his chest, grinning my way. “I almost got air sick!”

  Risk tipped his head back and laughed, and the visual, as well as the sound, made me smile too. His tone was so musical that even his laughter sounded like a beautiful melody. I loved his laugh. I remembered how I used to crave hearing it when I was younger. It would make my heart happy . . . it still did.

  “You were barely off the ground.”

  “I was a whole foot higher off the ground than what I’m used to . . . you know I’m scared of heights.”

  Risk was so amused that he snorted.

  “Remember,” I pointed dangerously. “I’m closer to a certain part of you that I could punch before you could blink.”

  Risk’s demeanour changed completely and I quickly realised I just spoke about his dick.

  “Punching my cock isn’t very nice.”

  I practically jolted the second the word passed his lips.

  “Don’t say that word,” I scolded. “It’s so . . . dirty.”

  Risk’s eyebrows rose and a mischievous glint filled his ice-blue eyes.

  “Is it now?”

  I turned back to the cups and fidgeted with them as the kettle continued to boil.

  “I love a good cuppa,” I chirped. “Don’t you?”

  “Don’t be such a killjoy, Frankie. I’m only teasing
you.”

  I bristled. “I’m not a killjoy, I just don’t wanna talk about sex.”

  “Sex?” Risk repeated. “I wasn’t talking about sex.”

  “Good,” I shifted. “Because we don’t need to talk about something like that. You get enough of it from your harems.”

  I couldn’t believe those words had left my mouth. I had no idea what possessed me to say them. I heard my tone when I spoke, I sounded pissed off. It was sudden, unexpected and I knew it.

  “My harems?” Risk repeated, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he sounded a little taken back. “Sounding a little jealous there, Cherry.”

  I was so jealous of any woman who touched him before. It killed me inside.

  “Hardly.” I tried to act unbothered. “I have a pretty lively sex life myself. Not harem standards, but I do okay.”

  The biggest lie in the entire world left my mouth.

  “Really?” Risk practically hissed. “You wanna tell me about how you’ve had sex with other men, Frankie?”

  Twice. I had sex with two different guys in separate years. They both came to town for the weekend before returning to their home countries. It had been five years since the second, and last, one-night stand. Both times I didn’t enjoy myself, I was too busy comparing the men to Risk and by the time it was over I faked both orgasms. I never attempted to have another one-night stand again. I had nothing against them, they just weren’t for me. I realised after the second time that I was the kind of person who had to have feelings for the person I was making love to. I wasn’t a wham, bam, thank you ma’am kind of woman. I was the kind of woman someone kept.

  “Hardly.”

  “No, no,” Risk pressed. “Since we’re on the subject, tell me how many guys you’ve fucked. Go on.”

  Forget sounding jealous, he sounded bloody furious.

  “Am I supposed to remain celibate?” I quizzed, turning to face him. “You certainly haven’t been from what I’ve heard.”

  He scowled. “The press twists everything and you know it.”

  “Does that mean you haven’t fucked dozens, if not hundreds, of groupies who’ve thrown themselves at you over the years, or maybe even a supermodel or fifty? I hear you’ve been collecting actresses, models and singers and adding them to the endless notches on your bed-post.”