“Very fucking touching.”
Stu was on his feet again and Roman turned to see him, he slime-ball smiled through bloody teeth.
Roman stepped in front of Kym. “She’s leaving with me.”
Stu smirked at Roman. “So? Take her; I don’t give a fuck, stupid whore. They’re all stupid whores—her, her fucking mother, and Bay. Oh, whoops …sorry. Bay was a whore.” He laughed.
Kym froze and stared at Roman. “What?”
Roman steeled himself. “He shot her. Stu shot Bay.”
Kym went white. “I knew it. Oh my god …is she …?”
Roman hesitated for a moment. “She’s dead.”
Kym gave a keening howl of agony as Stu cackled in triumph, and Kym rounded on Stu. “Why? Why did you do it?”
She was screaming now, up in Stu’s face while he grinned unrepentantly. “Because I fucking could. Because she was a pain in my ass. But mostly,” and he grinned nastily at both of them, “because I wanted to. And you know what? Putting three bullets in that bitch’s belly was the most fun I’ve ever had.”
Roman punched Stu across the room then, his fury and his love for his friend, Bay, overwhelming his senses. He wanted to kill Stu, for Bay and for Tom. Stu fought back and Roman was surprised at the other man’s strength. They rolled around the floor, each trying to get the other under him to knock him out cold. Stu managed to get on top of Roman and was pressing his weight down on Roman’s throat. Roman, gasping, saw black at the corners of his eyes as his air was cut off. He gasped for air, then saw Kym behind Stu, her face blank. She raised the butt of a pistol in the air and brought it down hard onto Stu’s head. Roman scooted away from him, shocked to the core. Crumpling to the floor, Stu clutched his head, groaning.
“You fucking bitch!”
Kym bent down and pressed the cold steel to Stu’s forehead. “How does it feel, Stu? To know that I’m going to shoot you. That’s how Bay must have felt when you shot her. You shot her. You didn’t need to do that. You didn’t need to kill her. She was half the size of you and she was unarmed. You promised me.”
Stu sneered. “So fucking what? Just another pretty, dead whore …”
Kym flicked the safety off. Roman stepped forward. “No, Kym …”
“Why not?” Kym didn’t take her eyes off Stu. “He didn’t think twice about killing her.”
“This isn’t the way. Don’t let him take your life too. He’s going to jail for a very long time.”
Stu laughed. “If you can prove it was me.”
Roman smiled humorlessly. “Oh, we can prove it, asshole.” He looked at Kym. “Kym …”
A tear dropped down her cheek. “Roman …just let me finish this.”
“I can’t. I won’t let you suffer anymore.” Roman was surprised at the words.
Kym slowly lowered the gun and Stu crowed just long enough before Roman silenced him with a kick to the head.
Kym slumped by Stu’s unconscious body, the gun still in her hand, defeated, sobbing. “You didn’t have to kill her …” Her voice was barely a whisper now as Roman pulled her away and out of the door.
“We need to call the police.” He wrapped an arm around her shaking body and tugged his cell phone from his pocket. A minute later, he made her look at him. “Look, they’ll be questioning us for a long time. Just tell the truth. It was self-defense.”
Kym was trembling uncontrollably. “Bay’s dead …”
Roman sucked in a breath and steeled himself. “No. I lied. God, Kym …I wanted to hurt you. I was so mad at you for not turning him in. He shot a defenseless woman. Three times. Bay’s not dead, but she’s been in unbelievable pain. She nearly died, twice, but she pulled through. She’s been desperate to know if you’re okay.”
“I did this,” Kym said blankly. “I let her down.”
Roman drew in a deep breath. “No. Stu did this—and he’s going to pay. In the meantime, we need to get you back to Seattle …”
“No,” Kym looked panicked. “I can’t. I can’t face Bay, Tom, and Pete. It’s better that I stay away. I’ll testify, of course, but …”
“For the love of god!” Roman got up, frustrated, then realized that the traumatized woman probably didn’t need him yelling at her. Kym was frozen and Roman’s conscience pricked.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Bay’s really going to be okay?”
Roman smiled. “You bet she is.”
A police car pulled into the lot then and Roman stood and went to greet the officers. Kym shivered, her entire body aching from stress and from Stu’s beatings. If the police had any doubt that it had been self-defense, she thought, they’d only need look at her bruised and battered body. Bruised and battered, but still alive—still breathing.
Kym let out a long breath as Roman and the officers came over to her. Come on, baby girl, she willed Bay silently. Keep getting better. We’re survivors, you and me, it’s what we do. It’s always what we do. I love you.
I’m sorry.
Tom met Shae as she came back to the hospital the following morning. She smiled at him.
“Hey …Bay’s being released today. Did she tell you? Of course she told you. Stupid question.”
He walked with her into the hospital. “Looking forward to getting her home.”
Shae pressed the call button for the elevator and grinned at him. “Now you know the drill. No sexy shenanigans until the doctor says so.”
She meant it as a joke, but then flinched. The memory of that day in the supply closet with Otis was still fresh. The day she had left him. Tom, luckily, didn’t notice.
“I need to ask your advice.”
Shae looked surprised. “Go for it.”
“Roman found Kym. She’s okay.”
“Oh, Tom, I’m so glad. That’s wonderful news.”
Tom nodded. “It is. Just …Kym isn’t coming back to Seattle. She doesn’t want to see Bay. Roman says she’s adamant. He thinks she feels guilty.”
Shae sighed. “The victim blaming themselves. Jesus, the things people do to each other. What does Bay say?”
“That’s it. I haven’t told her. Not that part. I’ve told her Kym’s safe, of course. Should I tell her the whole truth?”
Shae didn’t hesitate, nodding. “Kym’s absence, whether voluntary or not, impacts the band. Bay and Pete need to know if they need to replace her; it’s their life too. Of course you should tell her.”
Shae listened as Tom relayed Kym’s decision to Bay. Bay was calm, just nodding. “That’s her prerogative.” Tom and Shae looked at each other, surprised.
Bay stuffed the remainder of her possessions in her bag, then smiled at Shae, going to hug her. “You better stay in touch, doc. Thank you for everything, Shae. I mean it.”
Shae hugged her back. “I’ll call. I promise.”
Bay started to let her go, then hesitated. “Give him a chance, Shae. He really is wonderful under all that surface sheen. Don’t waste love; you never know when it’s too late. Believe me. You both deserve to be happy.”
Shae gave her a half smile.
Otis knocked on the door. “You ready to go?”
Bay beamed at him. “All discharged. Thank you, Otis, for everything.”
Tom grabbed her bag. “Come on, I’ve been waiting too long to take you home, woman.”
Bay grabbed Shae’s hand. “You’ll come to the wedding?”
Shae nodded, not looking at Otis. “Try and keep me away.”
Bay winked at Otis. “Well, we’ll leave you to alone to discuss …surgical instruments. Supply closets. That sort of thing.”
She dragged a grinning Tom out of the door and closed it behind her before reopening it and sticking her head back in. “Nurses are chatty and closets aren’t soundproofed.” She giggled and shut the door.
Tom took her hand. “That was subtle.”
“Well, I have a new lease on life. And they’re crazy about each other, so screw subtlety.”
Tom shook his
head, laughing. “God, I love you, you lunatic.”
He helped her into his car, then threw her bags in the trunk. Slipping into the driver’s seat, he leaned over to kiss her. “Let’s go home, baby, and worry about this couple right here.”
She kissed him back. “No more worry and no more pain. Just love.”
“I’m gonna marry you, woman.”
“You bet your ass you are.”
Shae looked down at her hands. Something was making her stay in the empty room with the man she was crazy about but who she had rejected. This is one messed up situation.
Otis cleared his throat. “So …I have a total joint reconstruction at two. Want to scrub in?”
Shae smiled gratefully, glad he was keeping his tone light and professional but friendly. “Love to. Complicated?”
“Routine, but we can have some fun. Surgery is always fun.”
She laughed. “Is this you trying to be carefree?”
“Is it working?”
“It’s kind of weird, but yes.”
Otis nodded to the door. “Come help me organize tomorrow’s surgeries, would you?”
She followed him out into the hall and down to his office. As they walked, she caught the scent of his soap, woody and fresh. She breathed the scent in deeply as he reached past her to open the office door.
Before he opened it, he paused and looked at her, his face an inch from hers. Her breath caught as she gazed into his eyes.
“Shae …”
“Sssh,” she whispered. “Don’t spoil this moment by talking.”
Otis smiled, but stayed silent. He opened the door and Shae gently pushed him inside, locking it behind her. Shae put her finger over his lips, then, with her other hand, touched his face, smoothed out the line between his eyes, and traced a pattern across his cheekbones. Here, now, he was just a man, a man whose brain excited her and whose body had conquered her. It frightened her how much she felt for him and how much she wanted him. Everything told her to run, but what Bay had said had flipped her switch in her brain.
Don’t waste love. You deserve to be happy.
Slowly, Shae moved her finger away from his lips and pressed hers to them. They kissed, hesitantly at first, then the fire ignited and the kissing became deeper and more intense.
They finally broke free, gasping for air.
Otis leaned his forehead against hers. “Shae, let me say this …let me ask this. Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me?”
Shae, breathless, started to giggle.
“What?” Otis was grinning, a confused look on his face.”
“You know that’s the first time you’ve ever actually asked me to dinner? You usually just tell me we’re having dinner.”
“Really?” Otis laughed. “I’m appalling. Why do you put up with me?”
“Lord knows. Because you’re a genius. Because you’re gorgeous. Because you infuriate me more than any other person.”
Otis considered. “I can live with that if you can. Can you?” His face was suddenly serious—and vulnerable.
Shae slid her arms around him. “I can, Otis. I can give this another try …and another try…”
When he kissed her this time, there were tears on her cheeks. “My wonderful, beautiful Shae …”
“I’m yours, Otis Ford.”
“And I’m yours, my darling.”
She smiled, glancing around the darkened office. “Is this thing sound-proofed?”
Otis grinned. “No …and we have rounds. But I tell you what, after dinner tonight …I’ll hold you to that promise you made.”
Shae feigned ignorance. “What promise? I didn’t make a ...” She didn’t get to finish the sentence before his lips found hers again. “Okay,” she sighed. “I promised.”
Otis rubbed her nose with his. “Good. Now for the hottest sex talk you’ll hear from me …let’s go see the sick and needy.”
Later, after a morning of rounds, they stood beside each other in the scrub room. The nurses were already in theater. Otis was talking Shae through the procedure. “Every patient is different, of course, but this one should be straight forward. Oh, and I love you.”
“I do know how to do this procedure,” Shae, blushing furiously, looked Otis in the eye.” I’ve done them thousands of time and I love you too.”
Otis nodded, his smile spreading across his handsome face and his eyes sparkling. “Well, then, Dr. Groves, shall we go give this man back the use of his legs?”
“Why, yes, Dr. Ford. Lead on …”
Quartet #4
Ache for You
Seattle
Kym Clayton stood in front of the bathroom mirror and braced herself for the reflection she’d see. Come on, she told herself. It’s not as if all the bruises and wounds haven’t long since healed.
She drew in a lungful of oxygen and looked up. Just see what’s there. Slim face, long blonde hair, blue eyes lined with kohl, smoky gray shadow. Rock ‘n’ Roll. A nude lip. All about the eyes, baby. And that was the problem.
Fuck.
What was killing here was there, in her eyes. Guilt. Fear. Heartbreak. Kym clenched her hands together; the hands that hadn’t fired the gun that pumped three bullets into her best friend’s stomach, but may as well have. She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing those shots over and over again. When Stu taken her down to California, she’d tried to pretend she didn’t know what he had done. All those weeks, zip-tied to various motel beds, she had practiced telling herself that Stu—her drugged up, fuck-head of a boyfriend—hadn’t shot Bay in cold blood. Her mantra was, he’d never do it. He didn’t do it.
When Roman Ford, all six-foot-two of him, had kicked in the door of that slum motel, her first thought had been joy—wild, delirious joy. He was here to save her.
And he did. He did save her. Then he’d said two words and her body felt like it was being shredded slowly through metal teeth.
She’s dead.
Bay, her beautiful, soulful, warm best friend, was dead. Murdered. Her soul had collapsed in itself. She had taken Stu’s gun and pressed it against his head, wanting to do to him what he had done to Bay. Roman had talked to her gently, and in the end, she hadn’t had the courage to kill Stu …or herself. More cowardice.
When Roman had told her Bay was alive, she was so overjoyed that she brushed aside Roman’s reason. I wanted to hurt you. To punish you.
Now, she smirked in the mirror, thinking of it. She didn’t bear Roman any grudge—in fact she thought he had been too kind in admitting his reasons. I deserve your hatred.
Kym quickly glanced at the staid, navy blue suit she wore. Court. Today she would have to face them all for the first time since Bay was shot. Was it fucked up that she was more comfortable seeing Stu than her own friends? She could take Stu’s hatred.
Bay and Tom. Peter and Hank. Emily and Dash. Otis and the new girlfriend, the other doctor. She imagined their eyes on her, blaming, loathing, and cursing her.
Roman—the only one who knew where she’d hidden herself—would be there, of course. He had told her over and over that it would be okay and that no one hated her. How he, of all people, could say that—every time she met him, she saw the pain in his eyes and the recrimination.
He’d had to beg her to testify for that very reason. She wanted to …but seeing them all … He made her a deal; she could hide away until the trial and he wouldn’t tell anyone, not even her parents—not that they cared. Where had they been when she was missing?—where she was, if she testified. He’d thrown in an apartment in San Diego and gave her money for food, clothes, and bills without flinching. Even when she’d been an utter bitch to him, throwing his generosity back in his face—Mr. Fucking Billionaire—he’d remained solid.
He sometimes came to eat with her, their dinners silent affairs. He’d come every Friday and knock on her door. After the first few times, when she’d resisted, she’d simply come to accept that this is what he did. He would often cook, his flair in the kitchen astonishing her.
Afterward, they would watch a –movie—in silence, of course—then without fail, he would ask her if she needed anything, nod politely, then leave.
She couldn’t make the man out. Roman Ford didn’t seem like someone who would be lonely. He certainly didn’t need any help attracting women. She had often seen him in the society pages, at exclusive benefits and fund-raisers with a beautiful woman on his arm. And why not?
Roman Ford was the kind of handsome that would cause sane women to lick him in public. Dark, short hair and the deepest brown eyes she’d ever seen—even Bay’s warm dark violet eyes weren’t as bottomless as that brown. A girl could get lost in them. But it was his stillness, his presence, that fascinated her. She would never tell him, but she found him …serene.
Fuck’s sake, get a grip woman. Kym flicked the bathroom light out and stepped into the hotel bedroom. Even now, Roman had brought her to this luxurious penthouse. Kym crossed the room to the wall-to-ceiling windows, pressing her hands and her face against the glass. God, she had missed this city, with the ever-present rainclouds and the Olympic Mountains rising up across the bay—Mt. Rainier hiding itself in the dark, bruised sky to the south of Seattle. Kym watched the elevator in the Space Needle making its journey to the viewing deck, stuffed with tourists, and the Monorail gliding back and forth between the Seattle Center and Downtown.
A knock. Roman didn’t wait to be asked in, but she didn’t care. He nodded at her, unsmiling.
“Ready?”
She nodded and grabbed her purse. A corner of Roman’s mouth hitched up at the corner as he took in her formal attire. “You look …uncomfortable.”
“You have no idea, dude.”
In the car, Roman was his usual quiet self and Kym was glad of it. She didn’t want him asking if she was scared or nervous because she was concentrating on not being those things.
As the car drew up outside the courthouse, Kym’s palms started to sweat and her heart banged against her ribs.
“Kym?”
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. “I just need a moment.”
“Take your time.”
Damn it, stop being so nice! Kym grounded her teeth and opened the car door. Maybe later, after this was over, she’d finally be free of him. A sharp pain hit her chest then, but she ignored it. She stalked into the massive, gray courthouse, not looking left or right. As she stepped into the marble-floored foyer, she stopped her throat closing.
Rockstar Untamed: A Single Dad Virgin Romance Page 93
