Fuckers.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but get your ass back here.” Gabe’s first voicemail scorched his ears. “If this is another one of your stunts, so help me, God…”
Elijah deleted Gabe’s message along with the others. Now that he had a taste of freedom, he wasn’t going back any time soon. He scratched the stubble on his chin and contemplated the road in front of him.
With his guitar slung over his shoulder, he kept walking, thumbing a ride here and there, playing a few sets at local bars, and talking to people. Real people. Not slick agents bent on seducing him into their agency, or label executives pretending to like him until he left the room. He spent the next six nights in cheap hotels or on the sofa of someone he’d just met. Complete strangers showed him more kindness after five minutes than his team had shown him over the past ten years.
On the bright side, his hands had stopped shaking. Fresh air filled his lungs. Opportunity stretched far and wide before him. He’d lived life at breakneck speed, under someone else’s direction for so long, he had no idea what to do with himself. He only knew he needed to make a plan. With one bar left on his dying cell phone, he typed out a quick text to the two people who would never turn him away.
By nightfall, he’d reached his destination. He stood on the sidewalk, palms sweating, and gazed at the building in front of him. Luke and Tasha lived on the eighth floor. They’d spent a crazy summer together, and in typical fashion, he’d fucked everything up between them. The last time he’d stood in this spot, he’d been in a totally different headspace. He’d been confused and angry and broken but for completely different reasons.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Tasha opened the door. Bold hazel eyes raked over him. Brown hair with burgundy streaks hung to her waist. He knew that beneath her long-sleeved black T-shirt, her arms were covered from shoulder to wrist in colorful tattoos, and her nipples were pierced. He waited for the familiar dip of his stomach, the jerk of his heart, but they never came. Instead, he felt warmth and familiarity and affection.
“Tattoo Girl,” he said. He used the nickname he’d given her, and waited, nerves jangling and pulse racing.
They stared at each other for an interminable minute before she fisted a hand in his shirt and jerked him in the door. “You’re all over the tabloids,” she said, dispensing with formality and diving right to the heart of his problem, as if it had been two days since their last meeting instead of two years. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“You’re so fucked.” Luke appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He was tall and dark with amber eyes and full, sensuous lips. He hooked an arm around Tasha’s waist, pulling her into him. The possessive gesture marked her as his, something Elijah knew all too well.
“Hey, man,” Elijah said. “Good to see you, too.”
Once, years ago, the three of them would’ve hugged. Now, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. After an awkward beat, he offered his hand to Luke. The grasp that took his was warm with a firm grip and achingly familiar. Their eyes met, and the tension eased. Despite their crazy past, these were people he could trust. They might not understand him, but they accepted who he was.
“I’m done,” Elijah said. He followed them into the living room and sank onto the sofa, staring at the floor. Two words encompassed his entire future. “I’m not going back.”
A tremor shuddered through him at the thought of all those clutching hands begging for autographs, tearing at his clothes, shoving him on tour buses and into airplanes. Faceless girls, sometimes guys—and sometimes both—had shared his bed in an attempt to fill the emptiness. Drugs and alcohol numbed an endless pain. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he didn’t want that. Not anymore.
Tasha kneeled in front of him and took his face in her hands. A wave of guilt bowled him over. He’d been cruel to her, played with her, and ended up loving her when it was too late. He never understood why she still cared. The empathy in her eyes humbled him.
“It’ll be alright,” she said. Her quiet words soothed his panic. “We’ll figure this out.”
They put him up for the night in the guest room. Two years ago, he would’ve shared their bed. Back then he’d wanted them both. The way they looked at each other left no room for him. They didn’t need anyone but each other. No one ever looked at him like that and probably never would. The harsh reality of who he’d become and where he was headed glared at him like a menacing demon. If he wanted anything close to what they had together, his life had to change.
The next afternoon, the three of them sat on a blanket in the park near Tasha’s apartment. Fluffy white clouds drifted in a brilliant blue sky. A light breeze ruffled the leaves of aged trees. Across the lawn people chatted, joggers swept past, children played on swings, and a cluster of college-aged kids kicked around a soccer ball. He’d forgotten days like this existed.
Tasha held a tablet in her lap, eyes intent on the screen. Luke lounged at her feet, stroking a blade of grass along her bare calf. They’d both called off work to help him make a plan. Tasha owned a tattoo studio, and Luke worked as a graphic artist for an advertising agency. They’d found their passions, lucky bastards.
“What do you want to do?” Tasha asked for the tenth time.
“Hell if I know,” he replied. He dug his bare toes into the grass. The blades tickled the soles of his feet, cool and soft. Their sweet, fresh mown scent filled his nose. “It’s always been about the music for me. I don’t really know anything else.”
“That’s where you should put your focus,” Luke replied. He opened a can of nuts from their picnic lunch and shoved a handful into his mouth.
Elijah rolled onto his back, hands tucked beneath his head, and studied the sky. He searched his mind for inspiration and came up with nothing but panic where there had once been a wealth of words and notes. “I think I’ve lost it,” he said, throat tightening around the statement. “I don’t have anything left.”
“Then take some time off. Do something new. Get inspired.” Tasha looked up from her tablet to meet his gaze. “Shake things up a little.”
“Like what?” he asked. A bird flitted from branch to branch in the walnut tree overhead, while an incensed squirrel berated it with angry chatter.
“I don’t know. Go bungee jumping or skydiving,” Luke suggested.
“Done it and done it,” Elijah replied, but he lifted to his elbows, his interest piqued.
“Sorry. I forgot you’ve already been everywhere and done everything.” Luke groaned and tossed a peanut at him. He caught it in his mouth with a snap of his jaws, the way he had when they’d lived together a decade ago.
Silence stretched between the three of them. The group of college kids had drawn into a tight cluster a few yards away. Their frequent glances and furtive whispers suggested they’d recognized him. His chest began to constrict and his palms grew damp. Any second now, they’d gather their courage to approach him.
“I’ve got it,” Tasha said, her voice brimming with triumph. She lifted the tablet to exhibit a picture of American soldiers sitting in a desert camp.
“You want me to join the Army?” he asked. His eyebrows strained upward to his hairline.
Luke burst into laughter. “Right. Like that would ever happen.”
“No,” she said. A slow smile spread across her face. “I’ve got a much better idea.”
CHAPTER 3
TWO MONTHS later…
On most days, time had a way of slipping past Lauren Caldwell like boxcars on a speeding freight train. Not tonight. She sat alone at a table for two in a swanky lakeside restaurant, the chair across from her empty. She glanced at her watch. Her date was twenty minutes late.
“Madam?” It was the maître d’, dressed in a somber black suit and pristine white dress shirt. “I’m so sorry, but if you aren’t going to order, would you be willing to move to the bar?” Like the waiter, his face brimmed with unspoken judgment. “There are seve
ral guests waiting for your table. You understand, I hope?”
The heat of embarrassment flooded her cheeks, followed by the immediate prickle of indignation. She sighed and cast a glance at the dark, undulating surface of the lake outside the wall of windows. Tiny lights sparkled on the far side, where the rich and ostentatious lived. A full moon floated in the sky, round and perfect like a pearl.
“He’s hot,” Tasha had said. “Ultra hot. And he’s in town for a few days. You’re gonna want to meet this guy. I promise you.”
After Tasha’s call, Lauren had shaved her legs, put on her best dress, and taken a cab to the trendy restaurant. She didn’t know anything about her date aside from his first name and that he’d already humiliated her. Usually, that didn’t come until the second or third date. At least the hard part was over. She could call an end to this ridiculous fiasco and move on, preferably to a hangover.
“Fine. I’ll move to the bar,” Lauren told the maître d’. She gathered her purse and took the walk of shame to the bar, where she could hide under cover of dim lights, dark wood, and anonymity. Preferably with a tequila chaser.
“Thank you, madam.” The maître d’ backed away, his eyes flashing approbation, and tucked the menu beneath his arm. “I do apologize. Can I bring you an appetizer—on the house?”
“No. It’s fine,” she said through clenched teeth. Her appetite had disappeared along with her self-confidence. Rejection had a way of doing that to her. When the man walked away, she withdrew her phone from her evening bag and hit redial.
“Hey,” Tasha’s voice boomed over the phone, brimming with laughter. She was on vacation at the beach with Luke, and from the sound of it, having a terrific time.
“Just so you know, he stood me up,” Lauren snapped.
“What?” The humor drained from Tasha’s voice. “No way.”
“Yes, way.” Lauren sighed. “So I’m going to drink a bottle of their most expensive wine and send you the bill. I knew this was a bad idea. I should never have let you talk me into this.”
She slid onto a barstool and smoothed the skirt of her flirty dress over her thighs. It was a beautiful dress, hugging all the right places and skimming over the less desirable ones. A dress like this deserved a man who could appreciate it. She cancelled the wine and ordered a shot of tequila instead. The bartender quickly complied.
“Hold on. Luke’s calling him right now.” Tasha’s practical calm did nothing to ease Lauren’s pique. “Just give him a few minutes. He likes to make an entrance. I guess I should’ve warned you.”
“Are you kidding me? What is he? Some kind of diva?”
Several pairs of eyes from a neighboring booth bored into Lauren. She swallowed and tried to lower her voice, but it still shook a little. The tequila heated her blood and loosened her inhibitions. She sucked on the lemon and shivered at the burst of sour juice on her tongue.
“Another, please,” she told the bartender. “Paybacks are hell, Tasha. Just remember that.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Tasha replied, the laughter returning to her voice. Lauren heard the sound of surf and wind in the background, the faint jingling of reggae music. “He says he’s in the lobby right now. He had some kind of trouble with his chauffeur. You know how those car services can be.”
Chauffeur? Seriously? Lauren’s stomach lurched in a sudden show of nervous panic. She wasn’t at all prepared for this. Somehow, she’d imagined a regular guy with a regular job, not some limousine-riding, grand-entrance making, tardy ass-hat. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me he’s high maintenance.”
“He’s a little high maintenance, but so are you. And I’m telling you, he’s worth it.”
What did she know about this person, anyway? Nothing. Tasha said he was a good guy, lonely, well traveled, and intelligent. The perfect man for a hook-up. No expectations. No strings. No commitments. Just fun and temporary distraction—two things desperately needed in her life.
“I don’t see him,” Lauren growled.
“Wait for it.”
She lifted her eyes and searched the room. A pair of middle-aged businessmen followed the maître d’ into the dining area. “There’s no one there. He’s not coming,” she said. She was about to give Tasha another piece of her mind when her gaze was drawn to a sexy piece of sin striding between the tables, cell phone glued to his ear. Black silk dress shirt untucked and open at the throat. Long, long legs clad in black leather pants. Leather pants. On anyone else, they might’ve looked ridiculous, but on him…well, they were downright mind-blowing. The way they molded over muscular thighs and narrow hips. She blew out a breath that lifted her bangs. Their eyes met. He smiled and lowered the phone. She swallowed hard as he moved toward her with slow, deliberate grace. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, certain he was heading to a destination behind her, to someone else.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she breathed, her anger shoved to the back burner in the face of such masculine perfection.
“Yep, that’s him. You’re welcome. Call me in the morning and let me know how it went,” Tasha said. “Hanging up now.”
The dial tone buzzed in Lauren’s ear, but she continued to hold the phone in place. New panic surged as the man stopped beside her barstool. She looked up, up, up into his eyes. They were aquamarine and crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her. Blond hair, messy and chaotic, like a woman had gripped it in the frantic throes of passion seconds earlier, spilled over thick eyebrows. A well-trimmed strip of beard outlined his square jaw. She realized she still held the phone to her ear and set it on the bar beside another shot of tequila.
“Lauren, right?” He held out a hand in greeting. She stared at it, at the artistic fingers with their neatly trimmed nails, a yin-yang tattoo on the web of his thumb. “I’m Eli.”
“You’re late,” she said. “Very late.” He might be beautiful, but it was no excuse for such inconsideration. His large hand engulfed hers. Rough, dry callouses rubbed her palm. A small thrill jolted up her arm at the skin-to-skin contact.
“My driver got lost.” He slid into the chair next to her. “He said it was his first day on the job.” His thigh brushed hers, the smooth slide of buttery-soft leather against her bare leg. “I should’ve rented a car instead of using a service.”
“I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes. You could’ve phoned or something.”
“I don’t have your number,” he replied. The weight of his gaze made her squirm. There was something disturbing about his eyes, the way they looked right through and into her, like he knew all her secrets, like they’d seen a thousand lifetimes.
“That’s it? No apology?” she finally managed to sputter. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to wait for someone for half an hour? They were ready to throw me out.”
“I doubt that,” he replied. Was it her imagination, or were his eyes filled with amusement? He was laughing at her.
“This was a mistake,” she said and went to slide from her barstool. There was no point in wasting more precious time when there were so many other things to be done in life.
One of her high heels caught in the bottom rung of the stool. She pitched forward, stool and all, into Eli’s lap. He caught her by the elbows and righted her seat, all in one smooth movement. His biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt. The power in this gesture didn’t go unnoticed.
“Wow. You really take your punctuality seriously, don’t you?”
“I’m going to kick Tasha’s ass,” she mumbled beneath her breath and disentangled her foot from the stool.
“Wait.” He stood and touched her shoulder. She flinched and moved away. “I’m not good at this. And I’m used to people working around my schedule. I just got off a plane from Bahrain, and my internal clock is all messed up. And that’s a shitload of excuses. None of them very good.” He shoved a hand through his hair and frowned. The scowl heightened his masculinity. “Please, Lauren. Stay with me. I really would like to get to know you.”
> The way he said her name sent a thrill into her ears, down her spine, and straight into her nether regions. He had an unusual voice, smooth and scratchy all at the same time. His tongue rolled over the consonants, liquid and languid, and conjured up visions of lazy mornings in bed among tangled sheets. As she stared at him, trying to place his face and voice, it occurred to her that she might be the tiniest, smallest, teeniest bit drunk.
“My time is valuable, Eli.” She kept her tone even and pleasant. “I went to a lot of trouble to be here tonight. I had to trade shifts with someone else at work. I don’t get much time off, and when I do, I try to make the most of it. Please respect that.”
“Okay. Point taken. Believe it or not, I had to cross a few hurdles myself to be here tonight.” He had the good grace to look abashed. “Look. Can we start over?”
She drew in a deep breath and studied his face. He had unbelievable bone structure, chiseled and sharp in all the right places, a square jaw, and a flash of dimples. A face like his belonged on the big screen or the cover of a magazine. She drew in a sharp breath and mentally cursed herself for being so shallow. Despite his behavior, he sounded contrite. Paired with her guilt and a firm belief in second chances, it was enough to make her reconsider.
“Alright.” She drew in a deep breath. “Convince me.”
He gusted out a heavy sigh. “This is the first date I’ve been on since high school, and I’m not really sure how to be…” His pause made her take a second perusal of him. “I’m not sure how to be normal.”
Since he’d arrived, the eyes of the other patrons kept drifting over to them. A busboy stood in the doorway to the bar and stared with blatant fascination. Nothing about this guy was normal.
“I find that hard to believe,” she said, gazing down at the empty shot glass in her hand.
“The dating part or normal?”
Felony Romance Series: Complete Box Set (Books 1-5) Page 73
