by J. D. Chase
I started when I heard the bassline start up. I turned my head and saw that Travis was on the stage and had joined in. I figured I couldn’t be doing that badly if he recognized what I was attempting to play and could accompany me. It sounded good—at least to my ears. I shot him a grateful smile and noticed in my peripheral vision that Chad was picking up his guitar too. I grinned wildly at him and he returned my smile.
I had to laugh when Travis shouted, “Are you going to get your ass up here or am I going to have to sing? I sound better than you anyway!”
“Fuck off,” retorted Ethan, but he jumped swiftly onto the stage and began to sing.
When the track finished, I couldn’t help twirling the drumsticks between my fingers, showboating just for the sake of it. I heard Lucas laugh and applaud with enthusiasm but I couldn’t see him because the guys had surrounded me, bombarding me with questions about my drumming skills.
I confessed to Lucas on the way home that the evening’s practice had taken its toll on my arm muscles. I knew I would ache in the morning and I’d agreed to practice with them again the following day . . . for as long as it took for me to learn their newer tracks. I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to last the full set but Lucas assured me that the playlist would be amended, at least initially, so that they’d play more of their slower, acoustic stuff and the demands on my body weren’t so great.
We’d just walked back through the door of his apartment when my cell rang. Angel. I heard her squeals of excitement as soon as I answered. I held the phone away from my head and Lucas shook his head good-naturedly. It turned out that excitement was an understatement. Angel was ecstatic that I’d be on the tour bus with the boys. She confessed that she’d felt a little apprehensive about being the only female. Travis’ girlfriend, Jenny, couldn’t get time off work to go apparently.
Angel was determined to hear firsthand what had transpired with Trey and insisted that she and Chad came over immediately he got back from taking the band’s instruments home with the van he’d been forced to hire since Scott had taken off. I hastily got Lucas’ permission—it wasn’t my home after all and I knew how much he valued the privacy of his apartment. I managed to get her off the phone and Lucas called down and instructed Clark to bring them up in his private elevator when they arrived. Then he called his favorite restaurant and arranged meals for the four of us to be delivered later in the evening.
I quickly showered and changed while Lucas had a meeting with Carter in his office. I left my hair to dry unaided and grabbed my laptop. I had some research to do before he returned and I became totally absorbed in my task. So much so that I didn’t know he’d returned until I heard him ask, “What’s that you’re doing?”
I guiltily slammed the laptop shut and jumped up to find him standing right behind me. Oh God. Had he seen? “Oh, nothing. How was your meeting? Is there any news on Scott or Ava’s whereabouts?
His brow was furrowed and he looked at me with a dubious expression before he replied. “Unfortunately not. They both appear to have disappeared without a trace.”
I shook my head in frustration. “Has anyone reported them missing?”
An emotion that could have been irritation crossed his features fleetingly. “No. It’s a little soon for that.” His gaze was suddenly hard and uncompromising which seemed odd. Or perhaps it just seemed odd to me because I disagreed.
My gaze was just as determined as I replied, “I think you’re wrong. I’m going to call the police department and report Scott as a missing person. I’ll tell them that we suspect Ava is too.”
“No you’re not.” The way he said it made it clear that he expected me to comply. I bit my tongue as I struggled to understand his stance. Then it occurred to me that he wouldn’t want the police sniffing around because of Joel’s blackmail attempt.
“You won’t let me call the cops because of Joel. Because of his blackmail attempt. But this isn’t directly connected. You aren’t calling the cops to report the blackmail attempt, I’m reporting missing persons. Joel can’t renege on his terms because of that.”
He stood, stony faced and unresponsive.
“Lucas, anything could’ve happened to them. I’m not having that on my conscience. I’m calling it in.”
He leaned in towards me slightly, his expression cold and hard. “I said no,” he growled, almost menacingly.
Anger and confusion at his unreasonableness bubbled up inside me. I stared back unblinking, wondering who the hell he thought he was to speak to me like that. I wasn’t one of his employees. I was supposed to be his lover. I felt angry tears spring unbidden into my eyes. There was no way I was going to back down so I blinked them back and whispered, “Fuck you.” Then I bent down to pick up my cell, fully intending to make the call.
His hand gripped my arm like an iron vice as I reached for it. I instinctively tried to pull away, causing a total loss of balance. I fell awkwardly to the side, the movement making my trapped arm twist back. Searing pain shot through my shoulder, making me cry out. Instantly, he released my arm and I heard him curse as I fell to the floor. Although I fell onto my other side, the impact jarred my shoulder causing me to cry out from another bolt of agonizing pain. I cradled my arm in my other hand and lay there, hoping the pain would abate.
Immediately, Lucas was on his knees looking distraught. “Oh my God. Issy, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? If you are I’ll fucking kill Joel with my bare hands. I’ll make him wish he’d never been born. Oh fuck! Issy, speak to me.”
I took a deep breath and realized that the pain wasn’t so bad. “I’m okay,” I whispered. “No really!” I added when I saw him shake his head.
“Oh thank God. I’m so sorry, Issy. You know I’d never hurt you. Not intentionally. You know that, right? That was so stupid of me. I just couldn’t let you call the cops,” he babbled, almost hysterically.
As I watched him, two things sprang to mind. Firstly, that my suspicion the day before was correct and I was glad that my research had yielded some useful avenues to pursue. And secondly, that there was more to him not wanting me to call the cops than he was letting on. I decided that the first could wait, at least for now, but whatever was going on with Joel, I needed to know, right there and then.
He was still apologizing and beating himself up.
“Lucas, I’m fine. Honestly. Now shut up and tell me what the hell’s going on. I know there’s more to it than you’re letting on. Why can’t I call the cops, exactly? And don’t think of bullshitting me . . . I know you too well. Show me some respect and be honest.”
His shocked expression showed that my words had hit home. He shook his head in defeat. “Why couldn’t you just leave it?” He sighed heavily. “Let’s get you up off the floor and then I’ll tell you everything. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you or implicate you in any way.”
“Implicate me?” I frowned, trying to figure out why I’d be implicated, and, more to the point, how I’d be implicated.
“Hush now. Let’s get you on to the couch. Are you sure you’re okay? Should I lift and carry you?”
“No, I told you I’m fine,” I muttered, crossly. But when I released my arm, to push up off the floor with the other, the tiny movement caused a sharp pain in the front of my shoulder. I resisted the urge to cry out, not wanting to distract Lucas from telling me what was going on and gritted my teeth as I rolled on to my side, sat up and got my feet underneath me. I managed to push myself up into a standing position but it was somewhat ungraceful and I noticed Lucas looking at me suspiciously.
I smiled in an attempt to disarm him and quickly walked and sat on the edge of the couch, being careful to keep my arm against my body to avoid causing any more pain. Lucas was watching me with a frown.
“Come. Sit. Then tell me what it is that you’re hiding from me,” I said, deliberately sounding brighter than I felt.
He pursed his lips, giving his cheekbones a truly chiseled finish. “I’ll fix us a drink then be right wi
th you,” he muttered, letting me know exactly how reluctant he was.
“Oh. Am I going to need one?” I said, attempting a joke.
He looked at me pointedly. “Issy, I’m not stupid either. I know you already do.” Then he turned on his heel and went to sort the drinks.
He returned with a large brandy for me and a Scotch for him.
I thanked him and waited patiently for him to begin. It wasn’t long before I needed the brandy for more than medicinal reasons.
He turned towards me on the sofa after taking a large sip of his drink. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and his tone matter-of-fact. I knew he was still reluctant to talk to me but that he’d resigned himself to it. “I received another demand from the blackmailer this morning. Well, it was more of a threat actually. And it was definitely from Joel.”
My eyes shot wide open in alarm. “A threat?” I shrieked. “What’s he threatening to do to you now?”
Lucas shook his head and his mouth turned down in the corners. “See—this is why I didn’t want to tell you. You can’t do anything except worry. He didn’t threaten to do anything to me. He implied that he’s holding Scott and Ava hostage. So it was more of a ransom note.”
My eyes must have been like dinner plates. “He’s got Scott and Ava . . . oh my God, so what was the threat? Is he threatening to harm them if you don’t go along with his plans? What’s he going to do to them? And how do you know it’s definitely him?”
He smiled wryly. “You and your questions . . . I know it’s him because he addressed the note to Loser. That’s what he called me when I was a child. He didn’t specify what he’d do to Ava and Scott, just that they’d be in danger if I didn’t acquiesce to his request. And he helpfully pointed out that I only have until close of business tomorrow to sign everything over. So you see, the one hope of escape that I had, to disappear into the sunset with you, is no longer an option. Not if he’s holding Scott and Ava.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Anger surged through me. It was bad enough what Joel was doing to Lucas, but at least they had history and it was all about money and assets—well except for the part about Lucas never seeing me again. That was pure spite. Scott and Ava had done nothing wrong and yet they were being held captive, against their wishes. I just hoped he was treating them well until Lucas did what Joel wanted. And he would have to, I was sure of that. Then they’d be freed unharmed, hopefully, if Joel was a man of his word. I wasn’t sure about that part but I thought he’d surely not risk harming them when there was no need. That would just make them more likely to go to the police and for the police to take their complaint seriously. No, Joel was evil but he wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t so sure about Lucas though. Surely he hadn’t really expected us to take off and live our lives in the middle of nowhere, penniless, after he’d signed everything over to Joel.
“Lucas, I told you. That was never an option. Anyway, I’m sure Joel will be too busy gloating over ruining you and running your empire to be bothered about what we do. Once the dust settles, he’ll lose interest in us. We just have to be patient, pretend that we’re totally estranged and bide our time.”
He laughed but it wasn’t a nice laugh. His face was contorted contemptuously. “You don’t know Joel, or what he’s capable of. He’s relentless in his desire to see me suffer. He blames me . . . well, you know what for. I’ll never be free of him, Issy. He’s sick and twisted with hate for what I did—”
“But you didn’t do anything! What happened was tragic but it wasn’t your fault!” I cried as frustration bubbled up within me.
“I was born, Issy. Carrying me made my mother very ill. Giving birth to me killed her. Joel holds me to blame and let’s face it, if it hadn’t been for me, it wouldn’t have happened.”
I clenched my fists, closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, telling myself to calm down. I took slow, deep breaths until I felt myself begin to relax. “Lucas, you need help. You should have had therapy as a child. There’s no point in me telling you that’s a load of crap, you need expert help so you can accept it for yourself. And there are also therapists who specialize in . . .” I broke off, not sure this was the right time or the right way to tell him what I strongly suspected.
My eyes were still closed but I knew he was looking at me. I also knew that his eyes would be narrowed and that he wouldn’t let it go. “Therapists who specialize in what exactly?” he said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully.
“Never mind. This isn’t the time. So what’s the plan? How does Joel want you to sign everything over to him?” I asked, springing my eyes open with a forced smile.
His face was impassive. “Therapists who specialize in what exactly?” he repeated.
Oh God. I knew he wouldn’t let it go. “In the BDSM lifestyle,” I muttered, looking away suddenly unable to meet his gaze. All over my body, my skin prickled a little and my palms began to dampen slightly.
“And what’s that got to do with me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I opened my mouth to say that I just hadn’t realized such therapists existed. But something told me that he wouldn’t believe me. Perhaps he’d seen what was on my laptop screen when I was researching therapists for . . . well, for his issues. I suddenly felt trapped, like prey cornered by its hunter. My palms were sticky and my skin crawled. I shifted in my seat and cursed inwardly when I saw him register it. He knew how uncomfortable I was but still those glossy, midnight-blue eyes pinned me with determination. There was nothing for it but to tell the truth.
I took a deep breath and tried to prevent my words tumbling out in a careless rush. I wanted to choose them carefully. I knew I was heading into a minefield.
“I think it would be good for you to speak with a qualified professional about your issues with consensual sexual pain,” I replied eventually.
“It’s not an issue, Issy,” he snapped. His jaw muscles clenched repeatedly and his mouth formed a thin, hard line. He raked his hand through his hair before pinning me with angry, black eyes. “I don’t and, more to the point, I won’t do it, so how can I have issues?”
I tried to keep my tone light in an attempt to prevent further antagonizing. “That issue cost you your relationship with Ava so I disagree.”
He smiled but it didn’t reach those cold eyes. “But if I was still in that relationship, we wouldn’t be in a relationship . . .”
I sighed. “But it still happened, Lucas. You’ve told me that there was at least one other girl before Ava where the same issue raised its head. And, when we met, you’d been celibate for several years because you’d given up on finding someone who enjoyed being dominated without the pain element.”
The muscles in his jaw were now working overtime. Maybe I’d gone too far . . . but then, surely I needed to if it was a deeper issue, as I strongly suspected.
“But I found her. I found you, Issy. And it’s no longer an issue because you don’t want that part of a BDSM relationship, do you?”
I felt my cheeks begin to flush and the more I tried to stop it, the worse it got until my face felt like it was aflame. The look of comprehension and then horror on Lucas’ face only made it worse. I tried to speak but I couldn’t. Besides, what was the point in denying it? Lucas knew.
He reached forwards, desperation edged on his face, grasped my hands and managed to choke out, “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me you’re not like the rest.”
As he raised my hands, I felt unbelievable pain in my shoulder and couldn’t hold back a cry. Lucas dropped my hands as though they’d burned him. I pressed my other hand against my shoulder, exhaling a long, calming breath as I did so.
Lucas was beside himself. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Issy. I knew you’d hurt yourself but I’d forgotten about it. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Honestly. I’d never hurt you.”
The irony of his words wasn’t lost on either of us. “Lucas, it’s not that bad. I think I’ve just pulled a muscle or something. It’ll be fine by morning. Would you just calm down, plea
se?”
He looked dubious. “I think you should get it checked out. Can I take a look to see if there’s any bruising or swelling?”
The look on his face as he uttered those final three words made me start. It was like an epiphany. Suddenly I knew why he could inflict some pain during sex but nothing major—no matter how much it was wanted by his partner. He can’t leave marks! Perhaps it’s the idea of lasting pain or marks on the flesh. Yes, I’ll bet that’s it.
I thought about it for several seconds. Should I voice my suspicion or leave it? I doubted that I’d get a more appropriate chance to bring it up and he was on the back foot, thinking that he’d hurt me. I decided to go for it but I’m not sure the butterflies in my stomach approved. I swallowed and took a deep breath.
“Lucas, the reason that I think you should get therapy is that I don’t think you’ve fully come to terms with your mother’s death.”
His eyes narrowed and his expression hardened. I continued before my confidence deserted me. “You weren’t supported emotionally when you were a child—that’s bad enough, but what happened with your father and Joel is fucked up. I don’t know how you got through it. And still Joel is trying to ruin your life, making you pay for something you didn’t do.”
He sat there. Silently brooding. He wasn’t looking at me; he was staring seemingly unseeing across the room. I didn’t know whether he was shutting me out because he thought I was talking nonsense or whether he didn’t want to hear it because it struck a nerve. I didn’t even know whether he could hear me but I had to get it off my chest.
“I think somewhere, deep inside, what you were accused of has taken root. And that’s hardly surprising. Part of you feels responsible for the death of your mother and . . . and . . .”
My confidence shrank when he looked me squarely in the eye as I was about to say the thing I found most difficult to share.
“And what, Issy?” he whispered so quietly that I barely heard him.
