by Cari Quinn
Reality hurt.
She’d taken pills and abused alcohol and basically done whatever she could get her hands on. For a while, she’d even dealt. The money had made her feel as if she wasn’t just a waste, even if the feeling had been fool’s gold.
Somehow she’d fought her way back from all that. Her brother had helped. The guitar had helped. And oddly enough, even watching her twin fall in love had made her want to be more. Despite all the distance that had grown between them, she’d always been so attuned to him, and his joy had made her greedy for her own.
Probably why she’d stumbled into bed with far too many schemers. More fool’s gold.
And all along, her big brute of a dude had been lurking in the shadows of her own tour bus, just waiting for her to see him. To figure him out the same way he was unlocking her secrets, one by one.
She dropped down on the arm of the sofa and ran her fingers over the nubby cushions. She’d sat right here in this spot with Nicky, fumbling her way through Beatles’ classics her mama had sung to her back in the day. Everything circled around to her mother. She couldn’t run fast enough to escape her memories. Even with all she had now—and God, she had so much, so much more than she’d ever dreamed—she still couldn’t help looking for her mama’s beloved face in a crowd of strangers.
Even now, she was still begging her to love her.
Tears filled her eyes and she bowed her head, letting them come. No one could see them here. No one knew. They were just more salt to fill the wounds bore in this place years ago. The struggles of a little known band called Oblivion, who had somehow managed to take over the world.
Snake had been here too, though she didn’t think he’d ever lived here. She couldn’t be sure. She and Nicky had been closer to strangers than siblings during that time. He’d been disgusted by her behavior. She’d always told herself it wasn’t her he was disgusted by, just the drugs. They had taken over her life, just as they’d taken over Snake’s. Eventually, greed had superseded even the chemical highs for Snake.
She’d been the one to end him to save her brother’s life. There was a sort of poetry there, if she was a fanciful sort. She wasn’t. She just saw it as repaying what she owed her twin for those years she’d ditched him to cozy up to cold white powder, among other things.
She wiped her eyes and stared up at the Oblivion poster tacked to the wall above the rotted out fireplace. Probably didn’t even still work. The poster was from their earliest days, right after Jazz and Gray had joined the band and they were all so fresh-faced and eager. Nicky was hard, as always. Still seemed that way to this day, though his outer candy shell was about as thick as milk chocolate now. He’d been softened by the love of a good woman and his babies and his music. He had everything too.
Somehow, two kids who’d come from nothing had been granted it all.
And she was making Mal wait. Stonewalling him with silence, causing him to worry. There wasn’t even a probably needed there. Of all the things she doubted in this world, that he loved her wasn’t one of them. She still didn’t understand all the hows and whys. It just was, just as she loved him with all of her heart.
She just couldn’t face him right now. Not because he wouldn’t understand. He would somehow. But she couldn’t say the words. Couldn’t face her neediness just yet. He was so strong and had basically shunned his parents when they’d hurt him without looking back. Door slammed shut, no regrets.
Her, on the other hand? She would’ve taken her mother back into her life without even an explanation for where she’d been for twenty years. As long as she promised never to leave again.
“Weak,” she whispered into the dusty darkness, watching as the trapped motes floated through the air.
She sank onto the sofa, scarcely feeling the anal probe spring that tried to get to third base. She shifted around to find a comfier spot and braced her cheek on her fist, her eyes sliding closed.
Where she sat until the door swung open against the wall and she jerked upright, only to be blinded by the glare from a flashlight—and as she shifted her gaze, the gaping end of a gun.
Spots danced in her vision, probably accounting for the gun she thought she’d seen. But she knew he had one from his wide-legged stance. Trained on her, just as she’d trained a gun on someone last fall.
Right before she killed him.
“Police! Put your hands up where we can see them.”
Even as she rushed to comply, she remembered the baggie in her boot.
Oh, shit.
Fucking shit.
Six
He got the call when he was in the shower. Again.
He wasn’t a clean freak by nature. In fact, he’d been known to go days without bothering—at least pre-Ricki, whom he made much more of an effort for. Also, he enjoyed regular sex—very regular—and his girl wasn’t one to get off on eau de too much sweat. But he’d come back to his place alone, carting her bag with his and feeling utterly alone in a way he hadn’t since…ever.
She was a fucking light, and without her, he was fumbling in the dark.
He’d walked around at loose ends for an hour. Maybe more. Calling her again seemed futile. She knew his number. She also knew he was looking for her. He’d be damned if he became one of those spineless wimps who went postal when his fiancée split for a while.
Except this wasn’t like she’d gone off to the spa for a girls’ weekend. She’d seemed fine onstage and then she’d just taken off without a word. It wasn’t like the woman he loved.
Hell, it wasn’t even like the woman he’d spent several years in a band with. Ricki didn’t do that shit. She hated letting people down or making people worry.
Druggies don’t give two shits about anything but a score.
He hated, absolutely hated, that his mind veered there. He didn’t believe it. She’d been clean and fucking sober every damn day with him. If she wasn’t, he would’ve known. Not just because he knew the signs, but because he knew her. Her eyes had been clear, her reflexes sharp, and her sunny personality never wavered. No matter how dickish he was, she dished it right back to him with a smile and usually a pat on the ass or a biceps pinch. Never letting him get away with a thing.
Just the way he liked it.
One night, she’d turned to him in bed and asked if he’d smoke pot with her. Just flat out asked it. He hadn’t known if she was testing him or if she needed it, but he’d told her the truth.
He would, but he wouldn’t like it.
And she’d nodded and gone to sleep with her head on his chest as if he’d made all the sense in the world.
So, no, he didn’t think she’d slipped. Or jumped. If she’d been craving something, she would’ve come to him and told him. He believed that down to the marrow of his bones.
But she still wasn’t calling. Still hadn’t come home. To his home if not hers, because she still insisted on keeping that piece of crap apartment of hers. One little bit of safety she wouldn’t release. Maybe she didn’t trust him as much as he thought.
Maybe there were more fucking cracks in the ground beneath them than he would’ve ever guessed.
He just didn’t know.
It was easier to tell himself he needed another shower because his was built to his size and he’d missed washing half his ass in that coffin back at the club than to admit the truth.
He was going out of his mind and even soaping up gave him a momentary task. At least the stabbing hot water offered him a minute’s respite from the endless loop of thoughts circling through his brain.
Ricki in pain.
Ricki hurt.
Ricki needing him and somehow unable to contact him—
And then his phone blared through the bathroom.
He’d set it on the counter right beside the shower so he could easily grab it. But the ringtone didn’t belong to his girl.
“Li?” he barked. “What is it?”
“I’m with Ricki. She’s fine. She’s fine,” she repeated calmly as he fought to bre
athe through the panic fisting his throat. “We’re at the jail.”
“What?” He knew he roared it and maybe later, he’d regret it. Right then, there was no tempering his reaction. “What the hell happened?”
“Why don’t we let her tell you that, okay? But she’s a little shaken and in person is better. Meet us here.”
When he snarled and demanded to speak to Ricki, Lila shh’ed him like a damn boss.
Or like the former stepmother he’d never had any use for.
“Malachi, she needs you. She’s fine, but she needs you. So get your behind down here and remember I’m starting to think you’re not a total asshole. Don’t prove me wrong.” She clicked off.
He finished his shower in record time, then dressed in the same shirt and jeans. He barely had time to give his teeth a quick brush. Ricki was his only priority.
God, no wonder he’d been fucked up all night. She had to be a mess being at the jail.
Not in jail. He didn’t believe that for a second.
Li said she was okay, and she might sugarcoat, but she wouldn’t snow him. He had to believe Ricki was okay, though he wouldn’t truly be certain until she was in his arms.
And then he wasn’t ever letting her go.
He drove to the jail, swearing at every car in his way, then parked and headed inside on auto-pilot. He asked person after person where he could find Richelle Crandall and got a variation of fuck off, wait your turn every time. His next plan was to rip the door off the wall keeping him from the back when Lila sailed out, as cool and calm as could be though it was the middle of the damn night. Only as she approached could Mal see her eyes were red-rimmed.
His gut clenched. “Let me see her. Please. God, tell me she isn’t locked up.”
Lila swiftly shook her head. “No, she’s not. Her lawyer got her out. They’re just finishing up some paperwork and she’ll be on her way.”
“What the fuck happened? Why is she even here? Christ, if someone doesn’t tell me what the hell’s going on, I’m going to—”
“Pitch a temper tantrum? Too late, already happened.” She grabbed his arm and steered him away from the hub of activity and into a relatively quiet corner. “She was picked up for B & E. And caught carrying. The bright side is that said B & E occurred at a property owned by one Simon Kagan, and he’s not pressing charges. As for the carrying, she said it’s all a misunderstanding.”
“Carrying what?” Mal managed through gritted teeth.
“What appeared to be cocaine, though at the very least it was cut with a synthetic.” Lila squeezed his arm as every muscle in his body went rigid. “But there’s an explanation, and I’m inclined to believe her. Besides, there was a small snafu and it looks like the possession charge will be dropped in any case.”
“What snafu?” His mind was whirling. Absolutely fucking spinning.
“The merchandise disappeared. Strangest thing that. She’ll be cleared of all charges.” She looped her hair over one shoulder, and it was only then he noticed she was wearing what looked like some kind of silky pants that definitely weren’t her standard work wear. “I know you’re probably not listening to me right now, but it was all just a big misunderstanding. If I have to pull strings to make sure it doesn’t go on her record, I won’t hesitate.”
Mal glared into Lila’s angelic blue eyes. “Are you serious right now?”
“Deadly.” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “I’ll let her tell you, but she’s not high and she didn’t buy the coke with the intent to use. She just did something dumb—a couple dumb things tonight. And she needs you to hold her and stroke her hair and maybe fuck her into unconsciousness. Whatever you do.” She waved a hand. “Just don’t come down on her like a hammer because you’re not getting the whole story. Give her a chance to tell you.”
He started to reply, to toss back more fury because he seemed to have a bottomless pit of it inside him, but a door opened. Ricki stepped out, looking pale and tired but completely in control of herself. She wasn’t shaking or crying. She had her shirt wound in a weird wrap around her head and her almost indecent lingerie top made him growl at the idea of other men seeing her that way, but she appeared whole and unharmed.
Thank fucking God.
When she glimpsed him and Lila, she marched over to them and held up a hand. “Can we just go?”
Rather than answer, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her skirt and hauled her close, covering her mouth with his own in a hot, hard kiss. He lost track of where they were and who surrounded them. Forgot everything but her soft, sweet tongue curling around his, flavored with her hunger for him and the wild flutter of her heartbeat against his chest.
She was safe and whole and his. Nothing else in the universe mattered.
“I didn’t mean the fucking should start here.” Lila cleared her throat. “Let’s go, shall we?”
Mal threw his arm around Ricki’s shoulders and silently, they walked out to the parking lot. Lila gave Ricki a quick forehead kiss and told her not to worry, then she lifted her brows in a wordless warning to Mal before slipping into her car and driving away.
Mal shoved his hands in his pockets and Ricki tucked hers under her arms. “You’re angry.”
“I understand why you didn’t call your brother first.” He stared straight ahead. “I’m guessing from Li’s outfit she made up some excuse to come bail you out.”
Ricki nodded miserably. “I hate when she has to lie for me. I’ll tell him soon. I will.”
“It’s her choice to lie. You aren’t twisting her arm. It’s also his choice to go freaking nuts when it comes to you.”
She said nothing, just exhaled audibly.
“What I wonder is why you didn’t call me first. I get it with Nick. I do. But I’m gonna be your fucking husband. Aren’t I?”
He hated the weakness in tacking on that final question. The long night had wrung him out, and if he needed some goddamn reassurance, so be it.
“God, yes, you are. Aren’t you?”
Her voice wobbled and he dipped back his head, staring up at the starless sky as a humorless laugh tumbled from his chest. “Christ, we’re a pair.”
“I know we’re really not in the space for it right now, and you’re probably pretty pissed, but do you think you could hold me? Just for a second.”
“Jesus. Like you have to ask.” He drew her in close and pressed his face to the top of her head, drawing in deep of the fragrant plum scent that clung to her. That scent was his favorite in the world.
It was mixed with the peppermint body wash from their shower, a holdover from the early days of their relationship in New York. He’d hated that stuff until he’d smelled it on her. Now when mixed with the plum, it was like fucking ambrosia.
Nothing better.
She sighed and burrowed against his chest, tucking her face into his neck. “This is what I needed. I shouldn’t have run. I’m sorry. Old habits die hard.” She let out a watery laugh as she eased back. “Sometimes, I’m just a dummy.”
“You’re not a dummy. Ever. But you did age me about fifteen years.” He cupped her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She sagged against him, the tension draining out of her body. “I love you. So much. Enough that sometimes it makes me stupid.”
“Dude, quit with the knocks against your intelligence. I’m not into dopey chicks.”
She laughed and touched the platinum chain around his neck. On it, he wore a flat, oval disk with their initials carved on the back. The first present she’d ever given him. Minus the onyx drumsticks he guarded with his damn life.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” she asked. “Anywhere. Not back to the apartment just yet.”
He nearly pressed her on that point too. The apartment meaning his place, when it should’ve been theirs by now. They’d been together since November and it was nearly June. She spent most nights there anyway, so why hang on to that rat-trap apartment of hers?
But she needed it for some reason
. So he didn’t push.
“The beach?” he asked instead of verbalizing the other crap in his head.
Her smile was a gift. “Yes.” Then her forehead wrinkled. “Maybe not Venice though? I was nabbed in Carson and well, kinda close for comfort there.”
“Nabbed. My hot little felon. Christ, woman.” He gave her a soft push across the parking lot. “Pretty sure they have other beaches. Handily enough, my brother has beach access with his sweet little pad.” He gave her earlobe a sharp bite as they walked. “Wanna go for trespassing twice in one night?”
Much to his relief, she laughed. “So you can be my hot little felon too? Not that any part of you is little.”
“Damn straight. Why you stick around.”
She sent him a sly look under her lashes. “Pfft. I’ve had better.”
“Dream on.” He smacked her ass and opened the passenger door of his vehicle. “You hungry?”
“Depends what you’re offering.”
“My dick and a chocolate milkshake.”
“Hmm, I could go for that. And maybe an order of fries.” She licked her lips. “You know how I love salt.”
“Uh-huh.” He circled around to the driver’s side and backed out of the lot, heading for that slice of private beach he had access to in Santa Monica, courtesy of his little brother.
It took longer to get there than he would’ve liked, not counting their side trip through a drive-thru. Throughout the drive, Ricki stared silently out the window and fiddled with her engagement ring. Normally, she would’ve played with the radio or chattered about the show or discussed their plans for the rest of the weekend. She was rarely quiet for long.
At first, so much conversation had taken some adjustment for him. Now? Silence felt like another wrong inflicted upon the night.
Once they’d parked and made their way to the foamy lip of the water, cascading onto the still warm sand, she kicked off her shoes and sat at the edge of the surf. He’d grabbed a throw blanket from the truck and lowered himself to the sand. Close but not too close. He sat watching her, still holding on to that throw like it was his favorite security blankie from childhood.
