by Kat Mizera
“How’s your arm?” Madeline asked me, staring at the bandage.
“Sore, but not bad.”
“Do you want to press charges?” she asked.
“Depends on if he wants to press charges. If he does, then I will. If not, I just want to go home.”
“Right, well.” Theodore was looking at some papers. “He did want to press charges, until they informed him that you most likely would as well, and since you’re the only one who was injured, and he was the only one with a weapon, it wouldn’t go well for him. They’re blustering about some disorderly conduct nonsense, but it’s not going to fly.”
“Oh, not if I have anything to say about it,” Madeline murmured.
Theodore smiled at her and their eyes both glittered with what I might have called lust if I hadn’t had a feeling it was more to do with some kind of legal hard-on than sex. This guy Tyler had called was supposedly one of the best in the state and had a reputation for terrifying his opponents in the courtroom. And I already knew how scary Madeline was.
“Look, I can’t read your minds,” I said after a moment. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“This is all going away,” Theodore said pleasantly. “It’s just a matter of getting the dill weed in the other room to realize he’s not getting any money from you just because you’re a rock star, and that you’re pressing charges if he doesn’t let it go. He can’t even afford a lawyer, so he’s been blubbering in the other room for hours.”
“Then why the hell am I still here?” I demanded. “I’m fucking starving, exhausted, and my arm is throbbing. I couldn’t even get a damn Tylenol.”
Madeline immediately opened her purse and pulled out a container, dumping two white tablets into my hand.
“Thank god.” I downed them dry, without even water, and closed my eyes. “Thanks.”
“Now,” Theodore began. “Just a little patience and—”
There was a knock on the door and the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen in my life came in. In a straight black skirt, white long-sleeved blouse, and the highest black heels I’d ever seen her in, Lindsay came bustling in with a stack of papers. She was all business, cool and professional, and it practically got me hard.
“Everything is ready to go,” she said. “They just need you to sign your statement, Mr. Killorn, and we can all get out of here.”
I stared at her, fighting an overwhelming urge to kiss her, but merely nodded instead. “Where do I sign, Ms. Sager?”
She briefly met my eyes but put the papers on the table and handed me a pen. Madeline picked them up and quickly scanned them before putting them back down and letting me sign everything.
“Mr. Killorn.” The policeman who seemed to be in charge around here came in with a serious face. “Thank you for your patience. I just want you to know the young woman you told us about—she’s here. She told us everything. Your story has been corroborated.”
Had I been anywhere else, I might have burst into tears, but instead I merely nodded. “Thank you. Good to know.”
“She asked if she could thank you in person.”
“Er, yes. Sure. Can we do it in private, though? I’ve had about enough of the press in my business.”
“I can bring her in here, if that’s okay?”
“Absolutely.” I looked over at Theodore. “Thanks for all your help today. I don’t know what arrangements Tyler made with you for pay, but—”
“It’s all taken care of,” Theodore said, smiling. “You and Tyler will have to work out the details between you.”
“Right, well, thanks again.”
“I’m just going to stay until the young lady comes in. We don’t want any surprises.”
“All right.” I turned as the door opened and the young woman from last night came in. She looked different today, her face devoid of makeup and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Without makeup and wearing simple jeans and a T-shirt, she didn’t look a day over seventeen, and I suddenly realized I’d have done it all again, even knowing I’d wind up at a police station.
“Stu.” Her eyes puddled with tears and then she launched herself at me. “Thank you! I’m so sorry you got into trouble for me, but it took me until now to get my mom to bring me down to the station.”
“It’s all right.” I hugged her for a moment and then gently pulled away. “Don’t cry. Everything’s okay now.”
“I didn’t know anything had happened to you.” She looked up at me with tear-filled blue eyes. “I was at school when I saw the news on Twitter and then it took forever for my mom to understand how important this was. I hadn’t told her where I’d been last night—she thought I was at my friend’s house—and so I had to tell her everything and then she had to get permission to leave work…” She sniffled. “I’m so sorry you were in jail all night because of me.”
“You didn’t know. It’s okay.” I patted her shoulder. “But thank you for coming in. That took guts. What’s your name?”
“Brooke.”
“I appreciate you doing the right thing, Brooke.”
She gave a sad little smile. “My mom’s still gonna ground me.”
“How old are you?” I asked her curiously.
“Seventeen.”
I blew out a breath. “I’m glad I got there in time. But you shouldn’t have been at a bar by yourself like that.”
“I wasn’t. My friend was there but she hooked up with some guy and…” Her voice trailed off. “It was dumb. I just wanted to meet you guys but I couldn’t get close enough and then that jerk lured me outside, saying a few of the guys were coming out to smoke, and then he was all over me…” She bit her lip. “I was dumb.”
“Maybe a little, but now we’ve met.”
“Do you think we could take a selfie? I’m probably not going to be allowed out again for a year.”
“Sure.” I took her phone and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before snapping the picture. We both looked fairly somber in the photo, but afterward, as she looked at it, she smiled like I’d just given her a million dollars.
“I have to go.” She nodded at me. “My mom has to go back to work. Thank you again. I know he would have raped me if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
“Be safe,” I told her.
“Stay in pairs,” Lindsay said to her softly. “Whenever you’re in a place like that, where there’s drinking and partying and men looking to get lucky—hang with a friend. And never ever go outside alone with someone you don’t know well.”
“I won’t,” Brooke said as she walked to the door. “I promise.”
“That’s it for me,” Theodore said, getting to his feet. He shook my hand, nodded at Madeline and Lindsay, and then was gone.
“Food,” I said immediately. “If I don’t get some food, I’m going to get ugly.”
“There’s a car waiting to take us wherever we want to go,” Madeline said. She looked at the officer in charge. “Can we go?”
“Absolutely. And, Mr. Killorn, you were a hero last night. Brooke is Mayor Leyton’s daughter.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter whose daughter she was, I wasn’t going to stand by and let a man rape someone without getting involved.”
And I meant it.
31
Lindsay
The press had been staked out outside, waiting for Stu to come out, but the police snuck us out a back door and they never saw us. We got into the Town Car we’d used to get there and headed to the hotel.
“I’m sorry you had to make the trip,” Stu told Madeline. He still hadn’t really acknowledged me, and I honestly didn’t know what to say either. I was mentally exhausted, emotional, and unsure how to behave, so I focused on staying professional.
“It’s my job,” Madeline said. “And anyway, I wasn’t going to let you get tried in the court of public opinion before there were facts. So Lindsay and I caught the first flight to Santa Fe.”
“I appreciate it.” He finally glanced in my direction, but I pretended to be
doing something on my phone.
“I know you don’t want to,” Madeline said, “but you need to make a statement. I don’t care what outlet you want to talk to, or if you’d rather we put together a press conference on our own, but you’re not going to be able to get away from talking about this until you at least say something. If you don’t, people will start making shit up, and you don’t need that nonsense either.”
“They don’t listen when you tell the truth,” he muttered, “so why bother?”
“Your attorney last time around was a putz,” Madeline said, shaking her head. “I, however, am not.”
He snorted out a laugh. “You definitely are not.”
“So let’s get to the hotel, order food, regroup with the band, and make a plan.”
“I need to get some sleep,” he said.
“I know, but you have to eat, so we can talk while you eat.”
He nodded wearily and I ached to touch him, to smooth back the long locks that often flopped in his face. To soothe the frown lines that marred his handsome features. Despite the fact that everything had turned out okay in the end, I knew him well enough to know how wound up he still was, and wished I could help. But he was being distant so I had to proceed with caution.
“You should call your grandmother,” I said, not looking up from my phone. “She’s really worried.”
“Did you talk to Gran?” he asked in surprise.
I nodded. “She called me when you didn’t answer your phone and she’d heard on the news you’d been arrested.”
“I was never arrested,” I muttered.
“I told her that.”
Our eyes met and his were…warm? Caring? The look in them was hard to read but it gave me a little hope. I didn’t know what I was hoping for at this point, but I’d take any olive branch that was extended.
“My phone is dead,” he said after a moment. “I’ll call as soon as I charge it.”
“Okay.” I went back to looking at my phone and was surprised to feel him put a gentle hand on my arm.
“Linz?”
“Hmm?” I didn’t dare look up.
“Do you think we could talk before you head back to L.A.?”
“I’d like that.” I glanced at him through the side of my eyes and he was watching me intently.
“Food and a planning meeting first,” Madeline said. “Then you two can do your thing in private.”
The car pulled up to the entrance of the hotel and we walked into the lobby together as the driver got our bags.
“Stu!” Tyler and the others were all about to go into the hotel restaurant and the group came toward us instead.
“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Ariel hugged Stu tightly.
“What happened?” Bash asked. “You all right?”
“Let’s take this up to the suite I booked,” Madeline said. “We don’t want to talk here in the lobby.” She went over to the desk and came back with a room key. “See if they’ll deliver lunch to my suite. Room 1140.”
Tyler made arrangements and then we got into a couple of elevators as we went to the eleventh floor. I got into the car with Lexi, which wasn’t the one Stu took, but I needed a minute to breathe.
“Have you talked?” Lexi whispered in my ear, putting an arm around me.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Looking good, Linz,” Ford said, winking at me. “I like the Lindsay-the-power-attorney look. It’s badass.”
“Just make sure you pay attention when I’m walking in these heels because I’m always terrified I’m going to topple over. But Madeline said they make me look intimidating.”
“I’m a little intimidated,” Ford agreed, laughing.
We got out and filed into Madeline’s suite and I kept my distance as Stu talked with Tyler and Ariel. He was closest to them, especially Ariel, and I didn’t want to intrude, but I hated being on the outside instead of part of his inner circle.
“It’s going to be okay,” Lexi said softly, watching me watch them.
“Who is this sexy goddess?” Kingston asked, joining us.
I blinked a little because rock gods like Kingston Knight didn’t call me sexy or a goddess, and though we’d never met, I would have recognized him anywhere. He was beautiful too. Not Stu, of course, but gorgeous nonetheless and my cheeks burned a little as I turned, extending my hand.
“I’m Lindsay Sager, an associate of Madeline Aronson and lifelong best friend of Lexi Hagen.”
He took my outstretched hand and instead of shaking it, brought it to his lips. “Well, I’m Kingston Knight and very happy to meet you.”
“Linz.” Stu was suddenly there beside us, his eyes a little dark as he gave Kingston a look. “Do you think we could chat for a bit?”
“Um, sure.” I smiled at Kingston and turned to Stu. “Here?”
“Yeah.” To my surprise, he took my hand and led me into the bedroom, shutting the door behind us.
Despite how much I’d wanted to talk to him, I was annoyed, too, by his completely transparent jealousy. “What, you don’t want me but no one else can have me either?”
He quirked a brow. “Never said I didn’t want you, lass. I said I couldn’t trust you. They’re not the same thing.”
“Well, it amounts to the same thing, so if you still feel you can’t trust me, and that what I did was unforgiveable, I don’t know what there is to say.”
“You keep putting words in my mouth, lass. I never used the word unforgiveable either. I’m still struggling with what you did, but I’m not mad anymore, and seeing you again makes me realize how much I’ve missed you.”
“Did you?” I was shaking on the inside, but we had a lot to work through so I couldn’t throw myself in his arms the way I wanted to.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think and I realize I can’t just forget about you the way I have all the other women over the years. There’s something different, something special, between us and I’m not sure what to do about it.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.” I looked up and met his eyes, searching his face for signs of what he was feeling, thinking. If he couldn’t tell me he loved me, then there was no point to this. Forgiveness was one thing, but love was something else entirely.
“I’ve read the note you sent me a thousand times,” he continued after a moment. “I’ve memorized it and think about it all the time. I also think about how you accepted me for who I was, even before you knew I wasn’t the one driving the car.”
“Because it didn’t matter to me. You’re not a cold-blooded killer; you were in a car accident and someone died. Even before I knew you weren’t driving, that’s not the worst thing in the world. There was an accident like that at my high school. A bunch of dumb kids driving home from the state fair after drinking all day. The two football players in the back seat died. The driver’s girlfriend, in the passenger seat, had two broken legs and a punctured lung. The driver didn’t go to prison, and I see on Facebook he’s a teacher now. He got on with his life. He doesn’t have ‘M for Murderer’ tattooed on his forehead, you know?”
“I think it’s different when you’re a teen, versus when you’re a grown man, but yeah, I know. I figure I probably need to go back to therapy, dig into why I’ve struggled so much with putting it behind me.”
“Because you’re a good man and you still feel the guilt of letting him get behind the wheel?”
He smiled. “Maybe.”
“What I don’t understand is, why doesn’t it ever come up? I mean, in the O.J. Simpson trial, they made a huge deal out of the fact that despite the evidence, he never stopped saying he didn’t do it. Why weren’t you given that same privilege?”
“I don’t know, but that’s why I never want to talk about it, because I’m not given the benefit of the doubt. Or, at the very least, they never mention that I’ve always said I wasn’t driving, a million times, yet it never matters. Of course, I was found guilty, so the press doesn’t have to give me anything. I just want it to go aw
ay.”
“And that’s why I wanted Gavin to come forward,” I whispered. “If he says it, if he admits he saw Freddie behind the wheel when you left the house, then the discourse has to change.”
“But it doesn’t change the outcome. Freddie’s still dead, I’m a convicted felon, and—”
“You’re a wrongly convicted felon,” I interrupted. “It makes a difference.”
“To whom? It doesn’t change my record, the verdict, or any of it.”
“I know. And I realize that now, but I need you to understand why I did what I did. It wasn’t meant to hurt you, and I honestly don’t give a damn how it impacts me because Madeline hired me knowing I loved a man with a record.”
He reached out slowly, bringing his hand around to cup my face. “Now that I’ve had a chance to think, I do understand. I’m not mad anymore.”
We stared at each other a long time, not saying anything, not moving, as if there was still something there between us. I knew what it was, or at least I suspected, but I didn’t know how to talk about it. I was so close to having him back, to having everything I ever wanted, but it wouldn’t work between us if we couldn’t sort out the distance between us.
“There’s still—” I began.
“I think—” he said at the same time.
We both chuckled.
“Go on,” he said. “Ladies first.”
“I think there’s still…stuff we have to talk about.”
“I feel the same.”
I swallowed. “I can’t live with the secrets, Stu. The way you keep everything bottled up. If you can’t open up to me, about everything, I don’t know that it’s going to work between us. That’s the other part of the reason I did what I did—I need you to be able to talk about that night, about your time in prison. If you can’t share that with me, then we can’t truly be intimate, can’t truly be together.”
His face was shrouded as he nodded. “I understand, lass. I do. And maybe that’s the breaking point for us. Not because I don’t want to try, but because I honestly don’t know if I can.”
