Twisted Rhythm: A Dark Rockstar Romance (Twisted Rhythm Series Book 1)

by Lexxi Chase

  “Oh my God, stop!”

  It was Amanda screaming. She’d come upon them in the midst of her desperate race to the tiger building. In the throes of her fear and concern for Morocco she hadn’t been thinking about any other of Jake’s targets in his brutal quest for revenge.

  Battered and bloody, Jake turned to look at her. Standing shocked and quivering in her blue robe, thrown open at the front, loosened by her hastily tied belt.

  “Well, isn’t this fuckin’ priceless?” he rasped, staggering up to stand over Wade’s lifeless body. “Come to rescue this useless member of your backwoods cavalry? Too fuckin’ little, too late bitch. Now you’re gonna get everything he had comin’.”

  Shaken, Amanda stood frozen for a moment. She couldn’t take her eyes off Jake. His long, luxurious hair was dull and tangled, dripping in blood and caked to his shirt and the sides of his face. His t-shirt and jeans were covered in dirt and wet grass and were rumpled and torn. Scratches and dirt splattered his face and blood caked his swollen lips and dripped from his nose. But it was his eyes that riveted her. Smoldering with exploding rage and fire, they were savage, fierce and irrevocably crazed. Way beyond what haunted her from their final incident.

  “No...” she murmured and he smiled.

  She took a hesitant step backwards, just a small one, and he straightened, cocked his head and smiled even wider. Time to pay the ultimate price and she took off running. No doubt he would have easily caught her if he hadn’t slipped and skid sideways in the pool of Wade’s congealing blood.

  “Fuckin’ bitch,” he mumbled low and menacingly, stood back up and stumbled over to pick up his gun.

  For the few seconds of lead time it afforded her, Amanda felt hopeful, buoyant and optimistic that she might make it. Encouraged that she’d come out of this alive. But then she heard the pounding of his oncoming footsteps, at an all out race to their finish line.

  Jesus, she thought, where the hell am I running? The house is too damn far away. With almost nowhere to escape, she took a sharp turn. Desperate to steer clear of the tiger building and Morocco, she took off instead towards his empty outdoor pen. Damn, she remembered, she didn’t have the keys with her. She’d have to make it to the electronic control panel and punch in the code to open the gate.

  The grass was slippery and damp beneath her bare feet and she slipped and skidded almost more than she ran. Just as she raced past a huge pine tree, she tripped on an exposed root and fell down. Hard. Jake was getting closer. She had to stand. And run. But the wind was knocked out of her and sharp, stabbing pains pierced her side. She struggled to her feet in panic and got moving again by sheer willpower. He was coming and she couldn’t let him catch her. Oh God, she prayed, I don’t want to die.

  She made it to the pen’s main gate a few seconds before Jake reached her and fumbled with shaking fingers to punch in the access code. 4-5-6-2-4-7 she jabbed and wrenched the heavy gate open and rushed behind it. And almost had it swung shut when Jake arrived.

  “No way cunt!” he screamed as he reached for the gate and clutched its chain link fence.

  He held it fast and she couldn’t close it, even though she wrenched it towards her with all her might. They stared at each other for a moment as they struggled and she knew there was no way on earth she could talk to him, calm him or avert his insane mission. She released the gate, spun and took off running with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide.

  Morocco’s outdoor quarters were large and sprawling, furnished with lush grasses, brush and log piles, massive boulders, catwalks, a filtrated pond and twenty-foot waterfall. Swerving frantically around trees and smaller shrubbery, Amanda headed for the jagged rock wall framing the waterfall. It had stone ledges to rest on and she wanted to go high, as far up as her questionable climbing skills would take her. Maybe, she prayed, I can outmaneuver Jake on the rock ledges until help arrives.

  So she started screaming, hoping someone in the house would hear her. Not knowing Tyler was already on his way. Anyone, even the paparazzi stationed at her front gates would be welcome. Jake was breaking ground, gaining on her with horrifying tenacity. She slammed into the stone wall and scrambled to mount the first ledge on her way to safety.

  “Run bitch!” Jake was yelling. “Run for your life!”

  His voice was getting closer. His heavy panting and footsteps were only yards away.

  Christ, she smashed her knee on the next ledge as she struggled to mount it. Light spray from the nearby waterfall sprinkled her face. Her fingers slipped and feet skidded as she tried to gain another foothold. Jake reached the wall, she heard him panting and climbing behind her. Dear God, help me, was all she could think.

  She hoisted herself onto the ledge and reached for the next one, panicked and petrified as Jake grabbed her by the hair. He yanked her with such force they both went tumbling, crashing and rolling together down the steep wall to land thrashing and wrestling beneath the waterfall.

  That pond wasn’t deep, only four feet, and she twisted and kicked to get up on her feet. But Jake hadn’t let go of her during their tumble, and he held her fast and tight in his manic grip. Gagging and spitting up water she’d swallowed when they landed, she scratched and clawed at his shoulders and finally, thankfully, managed to pull away as he slipped from the sheer force of the falls.

  But precious freedom lasted a mere five or six seconds. He lunged forward and grabbed her savagely by the hair.

  “No Jake! I didn’t do anything!” she was screaming, and as his arm wound around her throat she was gasping for air.

  He spun her to face him and her frantic struggles washed them both underneath the falls. And there, standing with ice cold water brutally raining down on them, they stared at each other in frenzied amazement, both wondering for a second how things had gone this far. Jake released her wrists and slid his hands onto her shoulders.

  “Would you die for me?!” he screamed and plunged her underwater. “Would you die for me bitch?!” he yelled as he held her there.

  Momentarily paralyzed by the rush of water enveloping her, Amanda struggled to get back up on her feet. She hadn’t taken a breath before he thrust her under and her chest threatened to explode from the pain and pressure of not getting but desperately craving air. In the grip of madness, Jake had no idea how long he held her underwater. No idea how long it would take to render her unconscious, no clue when, in desperation, by instinctual reflex, she’d breathe deeply and take in water, and how long that would take to drown her to death.

  As water rushed up her nose and down her throat, Amanda knew it was over. Finished this time and ended for good. Through the shock and pain all she could think of was Jake and how they’d once been so happy, and Morocco, sweet, precious Morocco, how she didn’t really want to die for Jake and died to save her cat instead. His trusting, soulful amber eyes and round face swam before her. Then faded into waving shadows and then nothing at all.

  “Get away from her!” Tyler bellowed, running towards the tiger pen, raising his gun.

  Startled, Jake turned to look at him. He was still an acre or so away but approaching fast. Sure Tyler would blow him away any second, even as he was running, Jake backed away and raised his hands.

  “Outa the water!” Tyler screamed, now just a hundred feet from the pen.

  But Katelyn got to its gate before him, despite bolting from the house a few minutes after he left. Unlike Tyler, she knew where to run to, knew where Amanda had to be racing in such a hysterical and frenzied state. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would get her so crazy except danger to one or more of her beloved cats.

  Without stopping to think or fully assess the situation – Amanda was nowhere in sight and bloody handprints smeared the gate – she disregarded Tyler racing to the pen with his gun raised, and rushed to the gear crank controlling Morocco’s shift door. She spun it to release him into the enclosure, to stop Jake before it was too late.

  Jake stared in horror as the trap door rose slowly. Morocco’s growls and thundering
roars penetrated the night even before he was free. Paws frantically pacing and clawing at the obstacle, Morocco strained to get his huge head under the rising door. His mistress, adopted mother was in peril. He’d heard her frantic flight for freedom and Jake’s threatening, angry voice. And Jake was still here, thirty feet downhill from him. Morocco scrambled under the rising door as soon as space allowed. Standing proud and menacing on the hilltop overlooking the enclosure, he roared, crouched and leapt in the air.

  “Jesus...” Jake groaned, more frightened than he’d ever been, and in the split second Morocco pounced he lowered his right hand and grabbed his gun.

  Tyler didn’t notice immediately, his eyes were on Morocco. By the time he saw Jake raise his weapon it was too late but he raised his too. Two shots, from different directions, assaulted the night simultaneously. Jake crumpled even as Morocco went limp in mid-air. Already propelled in Jake’s direction, Morocco came crashing down on top of him hard. With ebbing strength and sheer willpower, he locked his massive jaws around his neck. Then, with the very last of his energy, he sank his three-and-a-half-inch canines deep into the soft tissue of Jake’s exposed throat.

  In the pond, Amanda floated lifeless across the surface and then all was silent. All was still.

  Chapter 22

  Katelyn crammed another blouse and pair of jeans into her suitcase and pushed down on it miserably, zipping it shut. Scanning her bedroom for anything she’d forgotten, her eyes fell on her laptop and the numerous files and papers on her desk. I’m not going to need that shit anymore, she thought bitterly, but crossed the room and packed her computer in its travel bag anyway. Looking long and hard for the last time at her elegant, plush surroundings, she recalled when, with Amanda, she’d first moved into the mansion and was allowed to claim this room and its adjoining bathroom as her own.

  She’d been filled with awe and wonder, heaping with enthusiasm and eagerness and excitement back then. Beast Mistress had become huge, the most sought after and extoled big cat show on the planet and Amanda finally had enough money to buy the estate of her dreams. Purchased as is for a cool eighteen plus million, Amanda easily spent another two million on construction of the cat buildings, outdoor cat enclosures and practice and training arenas and pens. Smiling and laughing, she’d proudly told Katelyn how she’d paid for it all at her lawyer’s, no mortgage, just cash.

  All the fame and money in the world she’d hoped for but where did it get her? Katelyn tossed her laptop bag over her shoulder and pulled her suitcase behind her morosely as she left the room. The hallway was quiet, the house empty. No more cops or crime scene investigators anymore. They’d been relentless, hard-nosed and domineering. This was their biggest case since Michael Jackson died suddenly in propofol-induced “sleep.”

  Her cab would be waiting at the front gates within minutes. Fuck him, she thought, and wandered to the kitchen. Her throat had been dry and tight since the “absolute final incident” as the press dubbed it, and she needed orange juice or a soda for the long, dreary ride to LAX. The TV was on, she’d forgotten to shut it off this morning when making coffee, and the mannequin-faced CNN reporter, not a long auburn hair out of place, droned on.

  Although it is now almost three weeks since the horrific events at the Wilder estate, the police continue to remain tight-lipped concerning what actually transpired there. Whether this frantic 911 call actually helped investigators piece together events is unknown. The call is now confirmed to be initiated by Rachel Colter, Wilder’s sister, before Katelyn DeLong, Wilder’s personal assistant, took the phone.

  Split screens slid into place, surrounding the news anchor, and the 911 call played, transcribed on the screen as it ran.

  Caller: Oh my God, help us, please help us! Send the police, send someone right away!

  911 Operator: Ma’am?...Ma’am, please try to stay calm for a moment. What’s the problem there?

  Caller: Oh my God, oh my God...(screaming)...Get over here, everyone’s dead!

  911 Operator: Everyone’s dead? What’s happened? What’s your address there?

  Caller: (screaming) I don’t know the f****** address! I’m at Alison...oh God, I mean Amanda Wilder’s. Hurry, hurry, hurry, they’re all dead!

  Katelyn snatched the remote off the counter and turned off the television. She couldn’t take anymore. The bloody mainstream reporters were no better than the fucking paparazzi. Gorging themselves on the horrific sensationalism of the incident with no thought what their needless, endless reporting did to everyone, including the friends and families of all those involved.

  Suddenly, the thought of juice or a soda was incredibly nauseating but she grabbed a Coke from the fridge anyway and headed for the front door. Halfway there, she was jolted by a rush of overpowering sentimentalism and, turning back, headed for Amanda’s office instead. The bright, sunlit room was exactly as Amanda had left it. Nothing out of place and everything where it should be. Jesus, Katelyn shuddered, why did I think this room would seem different now?

  Shaking slightly, she wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out at the exquisite expanse of lush green lawns and pine, carrotwood and gum trees. She couldn’t see the pool from this part of the mansion but gazed in the distance at the small visible portion of Morocco’s outdoor pen. Oh God, she winced, where everything happened. Where life as she and everyone knew it, literally came to an end.

  “Fuck!” she screamed, turning away from the view and covered her face with shaking hands.

  She regained control after a few staggering moments. Her bouts of depression and hysteria were slowly becoming less frequent and farther between. But then she caught a glimpse of the huge oak desk by the wall and the framed photo on its corner. Jake and Amanda smiling happily into the camera during their month-long vacation in Dubai. She bolted across the room and grabbed it, stared at it in disgust for a second and then smashed it, face down, on the corner of the desk again and again. The tempered glass shattered and the photo partially slid out as she threw it.

  “Fuck you Jake!” she screamed and ran over and stomped on the photo’s remains.

  Out of breath and out of energy, she stopped finally and gathered her senses. Until she looked at the bookshelf and remembered. How to Get Everything You Ever Wanted and More. God, she thought, why did I even come in here? But wandered over to the book and delicately fingered its spine. And cringed immediately as the unwelcome thoughts deluged her. Be careful what you wish for. This old adage delivered inside her head by her mother’s voice.

  “Christ Amanda,” she said softly, “you got it all, didn’t you. That, and way more than you ever bargained for.”

  Tears streaming down her face, she rushed from Amanda’s office. Fumbling with her bags in the hallway, she stumbled and nearly fell down. In shock and exasperation, still crying, she bolted out the door and ran down the long winding driveway all the way to the front gates without once looking back.

  ***

  “Already feed the lions?” Marcus asked as Alvirez walked towards him.

  “Yup. Just finished now.”

  They were in the tiger house and started stacking aluminum trays for cleanup since the tigers had already finished their meals.

  “What’s gonna happen now Markie?” Alvirez asked but Marcus just shook his head.

  “Don’t know. It’s all up to Tyler now. We’ll have to wait and see what he says.”

  They worked in silence for the most part, each deep in dreary thought, locked in bleak and dismal concentration overloaded with grim possibilities and questions spinning inside their heads.

  “I gotta get outa here for a bit,” Alvirez announced suddenly. “I’ll help you catch up in a little while.”

  He walked quickly out the door into the fresh air. He’d been standing there only a few minutes when he was startled by footsteps.

  “Hey Alv, what you doin?”

  He was shocked to see Amanda there. She’d been ordered pretty well continuous bed rest since her release fr
om the hospital and he’d seen her only once since she’d gotten home.

  “Amanda! What are you doin’ up? You OK?”

  She laughed cynically.

  “You seriously askin’ that?” she said.

  For a moment he stared at her in dumb silence. Fuck, he kicked himself, I never know the right things to say.

  “I just meant...I guess I thought...”

  “It’s OK,” she sighed, “You can stop walking on eggshells. Not like anything anyone says can hurt me any worse. I’ve already lived through hell and only kinda survived.”

  She wasn’t kidding. Literally looking like death warmed over, she was nowhere near to being her usual dazzling and exuberant self. Her hair hung limp and lifeless, unwashed for God knows how many days, and dark, deep circles exacerbated the prominent bags under her eyes. But at least she’s still with us, Alvirez thought, at least she’s still alive if not at all well.

  “Let me get you somethin’ to drink,” he offered. “Be right back and I’ll get you a chair.”

  Restless within seconds of waiting for him, Amanda took a slow deep breath and shuffled inside. She’d only come into the tiger building once since getting home from the hospital and this, her second visit, was no easier than the first. Strolling past the familiar shelves, tables and cages, she blatantly ignored Sahara, Kahari, Seh-Khan, Kontikki and even her cubs as they rushed forward in their indoor dens to greet her. She stopped in front of Morocco’s empty pen.

  “Wasn’t sure what you wanted,” Alvirez rushed to her side and handed her a Cranberry Raspberry Snapple.

  She took it shakily, “I gotta get back outside.”

  He gently took her arm and led her. This building was too much for her. Seeing absolutely any one of the tigers at this point was way more than she could take.

  “Let me walk you back to the house,” he offered. “You really oughta lie back down.”

  “I wasn’t in the house,” she murmured. “I’m sick of being confined in my bedroom and fuckin’ medicated. I was lying down by the pool.”