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

by Lexxi Chase

  “OK,” he said, “No problem, I’ll walk with you back there.”

  But she shook his hand off her arm decisively.

  “No,” she murmured. “I just wanna walk. Somewhere. Anywhere.”

  He watched her amble off into the distance, unsure if he should follow, wondering if he should run and find Marcus, phone Tyler or just leave her to walk and think and work things out in her own way. In her own time and space without anyone around to hover over her or interfere. Finally he settled on just leaving her alone for the moment. Me or Markie can check on her in a little while, he told himself. She’s not really going anywhere.

  Amanda ended up at the last place she wanted to. Her chest tightened and she shuddered as she punched in the code to open Morocco’s outdoor enclosure gate. It was hot, bright and sunny out but the world around her seemed to darken suddenly and horrid visions of the last time she’d entered assaulted her, invading her mind. Afraid to pause for even a second because she knew then she wouldn’t enter, she forced herself to remember that the pen had been sanitized and cleaned. Jake’s bloody handprints had been washed off the gate.

  She wandered unsteadily for a few minutes, weaving around trees and bushes and thriving shrubbery. Pretending she didn’t know where she was headed but making sure she got there anyway. She gazed at the pond and its breathtaking waterfall as she wound her way past a huge log pile and looked up, way up at the supporting rock wall and ledges that had seemed so impressive and magical before. She stopped suddenly, took a long, uneven breath and stared up at the hill.

  Morocco’s trap door was down, securely barred from lifting, because of course he wasn’t about to use the pen. But she’d been told, carefully and gently as possible, about the last time he’d used that shift gate. She’d been unconscious and hadn’t seen anything but the visions haunted her nonetheless. She pictured it all as if she’d been awake through it and heard, deep within the recesses of her mind, Morocco’s moans, deep growls and roars. All at once, the ground loomed up crazily in front of her. She stumbled forward from the dizziness but determinedly, resolutely, stood her ground. And continued walking.

  Every step was leaden, every move was torture. But, inexplicably she made it to where she was drawn to. Morocco’s last stand about thirty feet down the hill from the shift door, where he’d pounced so bravely and landed, consumed by devotion and fury, on top of Jake. This was the exact spot, she knew it, although everyone had refused to show her and take her there. All the blood and gore had been washed from the grass.

  She crumbled to her knees in agony, then crumpled further and sprawled on the ground.

  “Oh my God, what have I done?” she sobbed inconsolably. “Dear God, what the hell did I do?” she struggled for air and cried.

  Below, Marcus approached the pen after emerging from behind a row of pine and spruce trees spanning a portion of the property. He was returning from one of his tiger walks. The big cat on the leash strained forward when he saw Amanda.

  “Jesus...” Marcus mumbled under his breath, then shouted, “Amanda, what are you doing? You OK?”

  Stunned for a moment at the sound of his voice, Amanda sat up slowly. She’d blocked the world out when she’d collapsed on the hill. In her despair and misery, she’d literally forgotten the world was still there. She raked back the hair that had fallen across her face and tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe the tears from her cheeks and watering eyes. Before she could compose herself to say anything, Marcus veered towards the enclosure and yelled again.

  “Hang on, I’m comin’ to get you.”

  But she didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to talk. To anybody at the moment. And after what had happened, she didn’t want to greet or even see any of her cats. Standing unsteadily, she zigzagged down the hill. I can’t deal with this, she was thinking, and realized her legs felt almost like they weren’t even a part of her, like rubber stilts.

  “No, it’s OK,” she said as loudly as her strength allowed her. “I’m fine, just go on with what you’re doing.”

  But it was too late. Marcus and the tiger entered the pen. As she walked towards them shakily, Marcus noticed that damp dirt and grass streaked her tear-stained face. This isn’t good, he told himself dismally. Far from it, but he was at a loss for how to comfort her, how to even begin to help her deal with her pain. She staggered as she reached him so he put his hand on her shoulder to steady her, forgetting about controlling the cat. In his excitement to see her, the tiger reared up on hind legs and knocked her to the ground.

  “No!” Marcus corrected him firmly and tugged him away with the leash. “Sorry Amanda,” he grumbled apologetically, “he’s just happy to see you, that’s all.”

  When she stood up, said nothing and just stared at him blankly, he got an idea and gave it a shot.

  “Why don’t you take the leash and we’ll all go for a walk?”

  Apprehension and panic clouded her face.

  “I...I can’t,” she mumbled. I’m a monster, she was thinking but said only, “I can’t be trusted with the safety of my own cats...I don’t even deserve them anymore!” she burst into tears.

  Before Marcus could say anything, the tiger reared up again and slammed against her. Wrapping his front legs around her shoulders, he pulled her to him and ran his coarse pink tongue across her cheek and nose. Amanda stumbled sideways for a moment, then for the second time lost her balance and tumbled to the ground.

  “Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Marcus muttered. “I should have better control of him. Don’t worry, I’ll put him inside the building right now.”

  But he noticed she was finally smiling so he stayed put and waited, literally holding his breath.

  “It’s OK,” she said softly and got up on her knees and wrapped her arms around the big cat’s head.

  He moaned and chuffed appreciatively, rubbed against her shoulder, then sat down to stare at her expectantly. His consoling, gentle eyes warmed her face and finally melted the icy barbs of guilt and self-loathing constricting her heart. Her smile faltered for a moment as she caressed his soft, shiny fur with trembling hands.

  “How can any of you trust me now?” she whispered.

  Marcus nearly said something, then thought better of it. She had to come to terms with what happened and work her way through it on her own with all of her cats.

  “How can you still love me?” she whispered as a single tear rolled slowly down her face.

  The cat chuffed again reassuringly as she threw herself on top of his strong shoulder, wound her fingers gently through his fur and cried and cried. Marcus dropped the leash silently and walked away to sit in the grass by the enclosure’s entrance. I’m here if you need me, he thought, but knew in his heart she didn’t. This was the beginning of her healing and she needed no one but her cat.

  “Oh God,” she sobbed convulsively, “Oh God Morocco, you could’ve died!”

  Jake’s bullet had pierced Morocco as he sailed downwards towards him, shattering his shoulder bone and lodging in his lung. He’d quickly fallen into unconsciousness from the collapsed lung and rapid blood loss, then settled deeply into shock. After pulling Amanda from the water, Tyler and Katelyn had dragged Morocco to the farthest end of the enclosure so he wouldn’t be shot again once cops arrived. In hysterics, Katelyn had insisted on staying with Amanda but, hollering like a lunatic, Tyler convinced her that if Morocco died Amanda would somehow die too.

  “I’m so, so, so sorry big guy,” Amanda sobbed as she raised her head off Morocco’s shoulder. “If you’d have left me I would’ve come with you.”

  It took her another ten minutes to gather her thoughts and emotions and finally, she sat up and looked for Marcus. He rose from where he’d been sitting and came over, tears still clouding his eyes.

  “Come on Amanda, it’s gonna be OK now. Vet says he’s doin’ really really well. All he needs is lots of rest and minimal exercise as he heals.”

  “Christ Marcus, what would I do without you and Alvirez? I shoulda been taki
n’ care of Morocco myself.”

  Marcus shook his head slowly, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “No Amanda, you’ve had to recuperate and take care of yourself.”

  “What’s Tyler got you guys doin’?”

  Marcus smiled, “Why, you ready to outrank him and take charge again?”

  She hesitated but only for a moment.

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “Morocco and the rest of the cats need me to be here for them.”

  She took Morocco’s leash and walked with him and Marcus back to the tiger house and settled him comfortably in his den.

  “Time for a long overdue shower,” she told Marcus as she turned to head back to the house.

  After her near-drowning she’d been avoiding water but her heartening unconditional reunion with Morocco had given her new empowerment and strength.

  ***

  “What the fuck?” Amanda stopped dead in her tracks as she came out of the bathroom tying her bathrobe and towel drying her hair.

  The bouquet of red roses lay conspicuously across her pillow, still wrapped in clear paper, no note, no card. Tyler, she groaned inwardly, irritated. This was getting insane. He’d done everything he could think of to lift her spirits from the moment she’d regained consciousness. Hand delivered flowers on a near daily basis. Delicious meals she had no appetite for. Even a carefully designed scrapbook of her with her tigers and lions, special moments in and out of the limelight, before and after their fortune and fame.

  But roses displayed on her bedroom pillow snuck in while she was taking a shower? This was getting way too personal, way too uncomfortable and strange. I’ll have to have a talk with him, she told herself, and nix all thoughts he has of any renewed romantic involvement. She could never think of him like that ever again. Never think of anyone that way. Not after Jake.

  She walked over to pick up the flowers to put them in water anyway.

  “Don’t count ‘em.”

  She spun in amazement.

  “One’s missin’ from the dozen but don’t worry, I got it right here.”

  She almost dropped the bouquet as her heart began racing. Her world rocked and her mouth went dry.

  “Jake...” she whispered, not meaning to speak so softly.

  But it was all she could manage. All she could take. Smiling like a kid at a carnival boarding his first ride, Jake strode across the room confidently and placed his tray on the small circular dining table. Soup and a sandwich and a single red rose in a crystal vase.

  “Heard ya haven’t been eatin’,” he looked at her reproachfully. “That’s not gonna cut it if ya wanna get well.”

  She stared at him dazedly, trying to process his visit. She couldn’t believe he was even there. Shortly after the police revived her, arriving minutes before paramedics got there, she’d gasped and sputtered even though they told her to remain quiet and still.

  “Jake...” she’d croaked because deep breaths and her voice still eluded her.

  Her last memory before unconsciousness was Jake holding her underwater to drown her.

  “Don’t hurt Jake,” she’d begged, not knowing yet that he and Morocco had both been shot.

  It was two days later, when she’d been moved from ICU to the fourth floor of the hospital, that Tyler talked to her, in a low soothing voice with his eyes full of pain.

  “I’m so sorry Amanda but I have to tell you now that you’re stronger. Wade’s in a coma and Morocco...” he paused for a second, then labored on, “Katelyn let him out into the pen and he attacked. Jake shot Morocco and I shot Jake.”

  Before he could explain they were both alive, although clinging to life at the moment, Amanda screamed and dove at him like a lunatic. The entire wing of the hospital heard her, possibly the entire floor, before nurses and doctors came running to forcibly inject her with Valium and secure her in restraints.

  Once she’d calmed, Tyler told her Jake was struggling to survive his gunshot wound to the side two floors up from her and Morocco was heavily sedated and had a chest tube attached to a suctioning machine at the vet’s. Less than three hours later, stubbornly fighting the effects of the medication and rousing herself from drug-induced sleep, she’d talked a student nurse into giving her a telephone. She wouldn’t rest until she’d talked to Wade’s and Jake’s doctors and received an update about Morocco’s condition straight from her vet. When she was discharged two days later, she stopped by Wade’s hospital room briefly – he was still in a coma - and tiptoed into Jake’s, thankful to find him asleep.

  She was shocked at how horrible he looked, how pale and helpless. Nothing like the rock god his fans knew and worshipped. Nothing like the invincible carnal knight that had conquered her affections, twisted her world upside down and ravaged her soul while crushing her heart. Attached to frightening tubes and wires, he lay still and quiet. The heart monitor near the wall beside him bleeped his life noncommittally, the innocuous sound meted out impartially, the only thing standing between him and death.

  Shaking, struggling to breathe as her chest constricted and tightened, she couldn’t bring herself closer than five feet from his bed. Petrified he’d wake and she’d have to face him, but more afraid he’d slip away into oblivion right there in front of her. Without giving her a chance, once he was stronger, to confront him about shooting Morocco. Without giving her a chance to admit to herself how much she still loved him, despite her overwhelming, seething hatred for maybe killing her cat and almost killing her too. She’d staggered dazed and confused from his room.

  His calls and texts had started three days later as he lay restless in his hospital bed waiting for the doctor to come up and sign his discharge forms. By then she’d retreated to her bedroom, medicated to the gills and content for Tyler to take over care and supervision of her cats and for the rest of the goddamn world to leave her alone.

  She’d ignored Jake’s repeated phone calls, fast forwarded or erased his voicemails and glanced at only a small portion of his texts. He’d wavered between furious and apologetic, remorseful and enraged. A far cry from their previous “final incident” when he’d banished her and simply left her alone. She’d prayed for exile this time, then feared it would happen. Now, she had to face him, confused and alone.

  “Here Amanda,” Jake pulled out a chair for her, “have some soup before it gets cold.”

  Still holding the flowers, she stared at him warily. God, she thought, why does he have to be so fucking nice to me right now and why the hell does he have to look so incredibly, insanely good? With only a hint of lingering illness and debilitation, Jake had bounded back to his old self in all his magnificence and glory. He beamed in front of her, tantalizing and warm, his bright white muscle shirt hanging loosely over his light blue bicycle shorts. His long silky hair was loose and shiny, flowing seductively down his broad shoulders, over his biceps and muscular chest. But, she remembered suddenly, he shot and tried to kill Morocco, and she’d almost died too. She tossed his flowers back carelessly onto the bed.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said angrily. “You should go home.”

  His face clouded, his deep, blazing green eyes dimmed but only for a second. She’d ignored his texts and calls but he’d been certain she couldn’t resist him in person. He smiled sweetly enough to light the heavens, quickly regaining control of himself.

  “I mean it Jake,” Amanda insisted. “I don’t wanna see you anymore. I don’t even wanna talk to you ever again.”

  But he stood rooted, gazing at her intently, even though inwardly, he cringed.

  “That’s my line,” he crooned as if she hadn’t fazed him. “But lucky for you I decided this time I’d grace ya with my presence. You’d just hijack me again anyway after your sequel came out.”

  “You tried to kill Morocco,” her striking blue eyes darkened with rage.

  “No,” he said, smirking and cocking his head. “I aimed for his shoulder. I don’t miss when I shoot. If I wanted to kill him, he’d be dead.”


  “The bullet went through his shoulder,” she screamed, “and lodged in his lung!”

  “Because of the angle. He was leaping down on top of me Amanda.”

  “That doesn’t excuse what you did!” she yelled.

  He took a step towards her but she backed away.

  “Blame fuckin’ Katelyn,” he rasped. “She’s the moron that let him out into the pen. And while you’re at it,” he sneered, his face heating, heart racing - he was losing control, “maybe ya can smear some stinkin’ blame on Tyler. The motherfucker tried to kill me for fucksakes! Or is that outa the question? Ya fuckin’ screwin’ him again?”

  She backed away, afraid of his anger. Petrified he’d hurt her or Morocco again. But his look softened as he noticed her fear and agitation. He took a long, deep breath, raised his arm and slowly brushed back his bangs from his eyes.

  “Ya might as well tell me,” he said calmly, “if you and Tyler got somethin’ goin’ again.”

  “No,” she sighed, too tired and despondent to argue. “No matter what, I’ve got zero interest in Tyler.” She paused, then said dryly, “I’ve got no interest in anyone anymore.”

  “That include Wade?” Jake snapped.

  “Wade...and you,” she said.

  They stood staring at each other in bewilderment for a few moments.

  “What happened to winner takes all?” he finally said.

  “You’re not serious? After everything that’s happened?”

  Jake smiled, “Serious as I get.”

  But she didn’t believe him. This was a ruse, a part of some creative, vicious new game. He’d almost died as a consequence of her immature self-centered actions. That wasn’t likely something he’d ever forgive or forget. She was amazed he hadn’t as yet gone after Tyler for shooting him. No one, including the cops, really believed Tyler’s assertions that he’d been aiming for the cat. No, Jake wasn’t as calm as he made himself out to be. No way was he letting any of this go, today, tomorrow or a cunt hair short of a millennium.