The Girl of Sand & Fog

by Ward, Susan

  Krystal’s eyes widen. “You used mine? How? It’s password protected.”

  I lift my brows. “I cracked your password in like a half second.”

  Krystal’s eyes flash, and then she laughs. “I’m glad we’re talking again.”

  “Me, too, baby girl.”

  “Everything is finally getting good. Dad seems really happy the last few days. I think he’s calling and texting Mom. I think they’re talking again. He’s on his phone all the time.”

  I frown. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “That’s because you are always cutting out on the family stuff”—she makes her silly lovey-dovey expression—“so you can hang out alone with Graham.”

  I glare. “That’s not true.”

  “It is so true and Graham is totally not interested in you. You’re just too vain to see it.” Krystal grows serious. “Are you and Bobby talking yet?”

  I shake my head.

  “I thought maybe you were. You’ve seemed kind of happier, too, lately.” Krystal makes a compassionate face. “It’ll be OK, Kaley. If Mom and Dad can start talking again anything is possible.”

  “I hope you’re right. I miss Bobby so much.” I lean forward and kiss her on the forehead. “You’re a pretty good sister.”

  “You’re a pretty good sister, too.” She makes a comical face that so resembles Chrissie. “Someone around here has to be the calm, logical one. You, Mom and Dad are definitely the extreme, unpredictable personalities.”

  I start to laugh and then choke it back when I see Mrs. Barton glaring at us.

  “Do you really think everything is OK with Mom and Alan?” I ask.

  She nods enthusiastically. “Yep, and I’m so relieved. I really miss Mom.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I hope she gets here soon.” She crinkles her nose. “Maybe Jen will go away. I can’t stand her. Can you?”

  I shake my head. The way Krystal says that causes a knot to form in my stomach. “Why don’t you like her?”

  She does a shudder. “Jeez, are you blind? She’s always hanging on Dad, flirting with him, even when we’re there.” She leans closer. “She sent him the grossest text message ever when we were in Melbourne. Even worse than the ones you used to send Bobby.”

  I blow past this latest Krystal spying confession, more desperate to know what she knows about Jen and Alan. “How do you know?”

  “Oh, I hacked your phone a long time ago when we first moved to the ’Sades.”

  I groan, frustrated. “No. The other part. About Jen.”

  She does a soundless gag. “Dad left his phone unlocked and I read it—don’t get mad, I heard a notification and I wanted to see if it was from Mom because he was happy—but no it was her. And just gross.”

  I pale. “What did it say?”

  Her cheeks grow brightly pink. “I can’t say it. It’s too embarrassing. The same kind of stuff you text Bobby the nights after you pretend to stay at Zoe’s.”

  Oh fuck.

  “I don’t know why she does that,” Krystal whispers.

  Duh, Krystal, Alan isn’t happy about Mom; he’s seeing Jen and that’s who he’s playing salacious phone text with, not Mom.

  “I wish she’d stop. It’s so obvious that Dad loves Mom,” she adds, annoyed.

  I stare at my sister, feeling like the air’s been punched out of my lungs.

  “What’s wrong?” Krystal asks, worried.

  I shake my head—everything and it’s all my fault, no matter what Graham says. My fault.

  That momentary respite I had from my guilt abruptly ends.

  I lower my gaze. “I just miss Mom. I wish she were here, too.”

  Krystal smiles sweetly. “She’ll be with us soon. I know it.”

  A door opens and I turn to see Alan exiting his bedroom, sharply dressed and looking like he’s going somewhere.

  He doesn’t look at us as he crosses the room. Not making eye contact with us; not comforting.

  He checks his watch and then stops at the table. “We all good here?”

  Krystal frowns. “Where are you going?”

  I shift my gaze to her. Oh crap, she’s suspicious, too, and I don’t need one more thing to add to the list of things I’ve done wrong—like tipping off my baby sister that I think Dad’s messing around.

  He drops a kiss on each of the boys’ heads and then on Krystal’s. “I have something I’ve got to do. A last-minute schedule change. Don’t wait up. I’m going to be late.”

  He turns quickly toward Mrs. Barton, and is even smiling at Prune Face. “Things might run long. You probably shouldn’t expect me until after morning. Don’t go anywhere with the children. I want them in the room until I get back.”

  Oh, he’s definitely avoiding eye contract with me. Ding. He checks his phone. I catch a not completely contained smile.

  He clicks off the phone and moves to the door.

  He opens it and I see his security team waiting in the hallway. “No fighting. No calling. No texting. Nothing. I don’t want to hear from any of you unless it’s a real emergency.”

  Oh God, he’s never said that before.

  He quickly disappears into the hallway.

  Krystal stares at me. “That was weird.”

  I fight to keep my emotions from my face, but weird doesn’t cut it. Very overt and very busted.

  Fuck, that’s it.

  If Mom finds out, next stop divorce court.

  It’s suddenly very hard to breathe.

  I spring from the table and head for the door.

  “Where are you going?” snaps Mrs. Barton. “Back to the table for another half hour.”

  Ignoring her, I continue into the hall only to be stopped by Graham.

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Where are you going?” he asks, stepping in front of me so I can’t get to the elevators.

  I stare up at him, frantic. “I just want to talk to my dad, OK? Can you call him back? Please?”

  “I can’t call him back and I can’t let you go, Kaley. No one is to leave the room. Those are my instructions until tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow, great.

  Tomorrow, too late.

  Tomorrow none of the good of the past three weeks will matter.

  If Alan hurts Mom, I’ll never forgive him.

  * * *

  I lie on my bed, the hotel walls closing in around me. A handful of minutes and it feels like eternity. I’m never going to survive a full night of this torturous uncertainty. It’s like there is a heavy rock in my stomach, turning over and over, and I can’t stop it.

  I’m so tired of hurting. So tired of the guilt. The collapse of my life is like a slow-moving film, frame and then pause, frame and then pause, and with each change a new misery.

  Bobby dumping me.

  Being dragged away from Mom to here.

  And now the terrible certainty that I’m the one—after everything my parents have survived together—to end Chrissie and Alan after more than twenty years.

  I just want to feel young and laugh, and not hurt and worry 24/7. Guilt is a terrible thing. The aftermath of hurting people you love is inescapable.

  For one night, I want out of this smothering cage. I want to be eighteen and not give a shit about anything like the rest of the kids my age. A normal girl. With a normal life. Just for a little while.

  I grab my bag, sneak from my bedroom and into Alan’s. I open the walk-in closet door and find the service exit against the back wall just like in every hotel penthouse on this tour.

  Now I know why the fucking door is there.

  I carefully ease it open and peek into the hallway. Nope, just as I thought, no one there. Alan’s gone, so security is not here.

  I jog down the hall and step into the emergency exit stairwell, and after a dozen flights I cut through the lobby and out the front door.

  Free. For the first time in nearly a month.

  I blend into the people on the sidewalk and start hurrying down the street. I pass trendy restaurants and a f
ew clubs, but then I spot one without a rope line and duck in there.

  No cover. Not exactly an upscale place, but it will work and hopefully no one will think to look for me here.

  The room is dark and full of strobing light, and I settle at the bar. When the bartender comes I order a bottle of tequila and a glass. When a guy sidles up on the stool next to me, I offer him a drink.

  I want to get drunk.

  I want to laugh and dance and flirt.

  I want not to remember.

  I want for one night to be only eighteen.

  CHAPTER 27

  An hour later, I’m full of tequila shots and whooping it up on the dance floor. The vibration from the music and the alcohol pumping through my veins makes me feel good for the first time since I left California. The small area beneath the DJ is hot, crowded, the lights are flashing, and the guy I’m dancing with definitely has moves. His body rubs against me and I melt into him.

  His hands tighten on my waist, pulling my ass to brush against his cock as we bob with the beat. He kisses my neck.

  I tense.

  Too familiar.

  I pull away from him without missing a step.

  I open my eyes.

  Oh shit.

  Graham Carson is standing on the edge of the floor with his tree-trunk-sized arms crossed in front of his chest. How the hell did he find me? Delta Force training, no doubt. He looks pissed.

  I wait until the song finishes. I tell my partner I have to go, and then cut through the people on the floor. I stop in front of my bodyguard. It’s so obvious what Graham is with his iron body neatly encased in all black. I can feel more than a few people staring at us.

  I stare up at him. “Can’t you be cool for one night and let me have fun?”

  He doesn’t even look at me, just continues to surveil the crowd. “Being cool is not part of my job, Kaley. Making sure nothing happens to you, that’s my job.”

  I roll my eyes. Yep, he’s angry.

  “How did you know where I was?” I ask, frustrated.

  His eyes bore into me. “Bin Laden was hard to find. You’re easy. Predictable. Nearest place you’re not allowed to be where you can do something that you shouldn’t. This club is four blocks from the hotel. I don’t take you for a long walk kind of girl. But you’re smart. You skipped the car service and the taxis thinking that would slow me down on finding you. No trail. Nice touch.”

  I flush.

  “I just want one evening without you guys making me feel like a total freak show. One night alone. I’m only dancing. Can’t you cut out and pretend you didn’t find me? I won’t tell anyone.”

  His gaze shifts to me. “A girl like you shouldn’t be hanging around in clubs filled with assholes like this. Boy, your instincts suck. This is not a place for you to be, Kaley. No, I can’t pretend I didn’t find you. Your dad would kick my ass if I left you here.”

  My temper flares.

  “Oh. A girl like me? What the fuck does that mean?”

  His expression changes. It smothers my anger.

  “A beautiful, intelligent, talented girl with a rich father and every opportunity in life. You shouldn’t be risking all that to hang around with low-life players like these. They’ll only use you. Hurt you. Take advantage of you. You deserve better. Don’t forget that.”

  I take my lower lip between my teeth. That was really sweet.

  “Do you want to dance since you’re here? Or is dancing not Delta Force sanctioned?”

  “Not sanctioned,” he says.

  I make a face.

  That was a little funny.

  He could have given me a laugh.

  I try again. “Have one shot of tequila and I’ll go willingly.”

  He gives me a pained look. “The only thing we’re doing is going back to the hotel.”

  I exhale. I wish he’d just lighten up. We’re in Australia. How dangerous can that be?

  “Nope. Not leaving without having a shot with you. Consider that an order, solider.”

  Nothing.

  And why is his gaze shifting around the room that way?

  “Hey, I just want to have fun for one night—” Something crashes in the club. All around me voices grow louder and people start running. I turn my head to find a glass shattered against the ground only inches from my feet.

  “No bitch walks away from me,” I hear shouted from behind me.

  I look over my shoulder.

  Is that the guy I’ve been dancing with?

  Oh fuck, is that a knife in his hand?

  The way he is charging toward me fills me with panic.

  I fling myself into Graham’s chest, wrapping my arms around him. I tense, waiting for my bodyguard to do something. Waiting. Waiting. Why the fuck hasn’t he sprung into action. He just stands there. Nothing. I hear loud voices. I turn my face. My hip-hop Casanova is five feet away arguing with another girl.

  I stare up at Graham.

  He shakes his head at me. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  I blush. Crap. “Which part?”

  “All of it,” he instructs harshly. “You don’t cover me with your body. Not ever. You freeze if there’s trouble. I cover you with me. You really need to move your hand. Your fingers are where my gun is. Please, relax your arms and step back now.”

  “Gun?”

  He grins. “No gun. Not in Australia. I just thought it would get you to move your fingers from my ass faster.”

  I grimace and release my hold on him.

  “We’re leaving. Now, Kaley.”

  The way he says that leaves me no room to argue. But in honesty I don’t want to stay any longer. The last few minutes have pretty much a buzzkill.

  Graham is right. Galling, but right. This is not my type of scene. Most of the guys are definitely losers. I should never have come here.

  I let him guide me out of the club. The cool air outside sends the alcohol rocketing through me. I’m suddenly feeling off-balance. I must have drunk more than I realized. I’m buzzed. Nope, beyond buzzed. I’m sloshed.

  Graham’s hand closes around my arm and I’m shoved into a black SUV, the door slams behind me then he climbs in up front beside the driver. He won’t even sit with me, and I hate riding alone in back.

  Nice touch. Message received. You’re pissed off. Fine.

  It’s a short drive to the hotel. My door is jerked wide and I climb from the backseat to join Graham on the curb. The lobby is nearly empty when we enter. I’m escorted into an elevator and he uses his card in the panel so he can select the penthouse floor. The ‘P’ lights up and it flashes in my head. Why I broke the rules and cut out tonight. Why I don’t want to return tonight to my dad’s suite.

  The doors close and the elevator starts to move. I push the hair from my face. I lean back against the wall. Graham looks totally disgruntled.

  I stare up at him. “I don’t want to go to my room. Can we go hang around in your room for a while?”

  His eyes flash. “No way. You are not going to my room. I like my job. I need it.”

  I push off the wall and step into him. “You also like me,” I whisper. “Don’t take me back. Not yet.”

  He eases away from me and shrugs. “Not doing it. And of course, I like you. I wouldn’t risk taking a bullet for a client unless I liked them.”

  My brows hitch up. “Bullet, my ass. You probably haven’t carried a gun since you became a bodyguard.”

  The dimples appear in his cheeks.

  My eyes widen. “Busted. Can’t we just have some fun for once.”

  “Kaley—”

  “I want to go to your room. Spend the night there.”

  He shakes his head and doesn’t look directly at me. Fuck, he’s a gorgeous guy. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, then wet it with my tongue, and his breathing changes. A thrill pulses through me.

  He’s saying no, but wants to say yes.

  He needs a push. “If you want to keep your job, taking me back to my dad’s suite drunk isn’t a good
move. It’s better to let me sleep it off somewhere.”

  We stare at each other wordlessly. His jaw flexes. His muscles tense, but his gaze doesn’t lower from mine and I’m not sure what he’s debating: the point I just made or whether he wants to risk his job and fuck me. Then I watch as he takes me in from head to toe, and then stopping at my eyes again.

  He leans around me, his arm brushing against me as he hits a button for a different floor.

  “Just for a little while,” he groans in warning. “And only if you promise to drink some coffee to sober up a bit.”

  I ease my body into him. “Anything you say. Coffee. I’m up for anything.”

  The doors open and he jerks back from me.

  He motions me out of the elevator and into the hallway. The floor is noisy and crowded. I recognize more than a few guys, roadies and security, traveling on tour with us. I lean against the doorframe as he slides his card into the lock.

  He looks at me. “A few cups of coffee then I’m taking you up to the penthouse. That’s all I’m up for tonight. Are we clear?”

  Graham’s eyes are serious.

  Probably worried about his job again.

  “Roger that, solider,” I say in a silly way.

  I step around him and into the room.

  Graham switches on the lights and locks the door behind him. I start wandering around the mini-suite. It’s nicer than I thought it would be, considering he’s just a bodyguard. I look through an open doorway. Separate bedroom. King-size bed. Nothing like the penthouse, but it’s nice.

  I drop down to sit in front of a coffee table. I hear water in the next room. Christ, he really is making me coffee.

  “The security guys. Do you work for my dad all the time or are you contractors?” I ask.

  “Contractors.” He pokes his head out of what I assume is some sort of small kitchenette. “Your dad hired me from mercenaries’-world-dot-com.”

  My body goes cold. The way everyone takes drive-by pokes at me over Kaley’s-World.com is past old. Worse, it reminds me why I’m trapped on tour with my dad, what I did to both my parents, why I lost Bobby, and why I feel so miserable all the time.

  I lift my brows and struggle for a neutral response. “Very funny. Ha, ha. Did you think that up on your own or did one of the PR assistants write it up so you’d have that one handy to use tonight?”