Reckless Road

by Feehan, Christine

  Just getting into the pink Cadillac should have made her smile. The car was polished and pristine, inside and out, just the way Lizz Johnson kept it. A dark dread crept over her, just as it had in the store, making her feel tired and depressed. She wanted Mama Anat. Just to lie on the bed with her the way she had when she was a child and be comforted by her.

  Her grandmother would stroke her hair and make that wonderful trilling sound that vibrated through the room and then turned into a hum that filled her with joy. She would know the world was right. Balanced. That was what she needed. The world to stop being off-kilter. It felt that way. As if she’d walked into a storm and the earth had spun wrong, shifting off its axis just enough to throw her off balance.

  Once the Cadillac was safely tucked away in its home in the garage at the Johnson home, she gave the keys to Lizz at the door, trying her best to pretend not to see the tears as she hugged her. Francine had clearly taken the car without permission, although Lizz didn’t admit it. Her shock was enough to give the truth away. Zyah debated for a moment whether or not to mention the jewelry, but she didn’t want Lizz to have a heart attack if she discovered it missing. She casually brought it up, saying she thought Francine looked gorgeous on her date with Perry, wearing the blue diamond star necklace and earrings. Lizz paled visibly. She gripped her bathrobe tightly and then nodded, thanking Zyah, kissing her on both cheeks and telling her to give Anat her love.

  Zyah had barely registered the sound of the approaching motorcycle during her conversation with Lizz, her heart was so heavy. She turned and he was there. Just standing there. Tall. Broad shoulders. Wild hair. Those blue eyes focused completely on her. She took one step into him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Home. Player felt like home to her. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the feeling because she desperately needed comfort.

  “Something’s wrong, Player.”

  His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her to him, fingers massaging her scalp. “Let’s get you home, baby. Hot bath. Relax. We’ll talk it out. Figure out what’s wrong together. We’re getting good at that. Or you can sleep for a while. I’ll stay awake and watch over you so nothing can go wrong. Either way, we’ll figure it out.”

  His voice was magic. Soothing. He was so tuned to her. She wanted to just stay there in his arms, feeling safe, although her feet hurt. Maybe he could pick her up.

  “Let’s get you home. I brought you a jacket and gloves to wear.” Player brushed a kiss on top of her head and then tucked her under his shoulder as they walked together to his motorcycle.

  “Keys or Destroyer called you.” She looked up at him. At his jaw. So strong. She needed him to be strong when she felt everything was dark and wrong. She touched his jaw, ran the pads of her fingers over the strong bones.

  “They were worried about you. They worry, I worry. You should have called me, Zyah. I would have come to you.”

  “What would I have said? ‘I have this bad feeling’? ‘Francine upset me’? ‘She brought this dark cloud and I can’t shrug it off’?” She pressed her face against his chest again, borrowing his strength, because the lurching inside her made her physically ill. “Something is really wrong, and I should know what it is. It was right there in front of me, Player. Right there. I had it and it slipped away from me. Francine slipped away too. For one moment I saw her. The girl she was back when we were children and her mother was alive. Her mother was so awful.”

  Player tipped her face up and brushed her eyes with kisses, her nose and then the corners of her mouth. “You’re so beautiful, Zyah. Inside, where it counts. You hurt because you see the good in people. You see it in us the way Blythe does. You see with different eyes than most. I love you for that. One of the million things I love about you, but that particular trait stands out. I love you. I do. You don’t have to accept that. Or hear that. But I don’t think there’s another woman on this earth that can measure up to you.”

  His voice was soft. A mere whisper of sound. Barely there. That declaration. She almost thought he hadn’t said it. I love you for that. I love you. I do. He’d said it. His voice might have been low and tender, but it held honesty. She didn’t have to be barefoot.

  He terrified her. After pushing her away for so long, he’d just capitulated and wanted to be with her. Accepted her. He thought he loved her, but his reasons weren’t really the right ones. Were they? She was so confused and mixed up. But right now she didn’t care, she just wanted to be near him. And she wanted to go home, where she could see her grandmother was safe, because she felt edgy and a little scared.

  “Who’s with Mama Anat?”

  Player shook out a heavy jacket, holding it so that she could put her arms in it. He zipped it up and handed her gloves. “Savage and Maestro. Trust me, no one will get near her with those two in the house, and you know there’s always someone outside, unseen.”

  He swung onto the motorcycle with his casual, fluid grace. Every time she saw him do that, her stomach did a slow somersault. She put her hand on his shoulder and knew he could feel her trembling. She hadn’t acknowledged his declaration. Had she hurt him? If she had, he hadn’t showed it. He hadn’t changed expression or treated her differently. When she put her arms around him, he locked her even tighter to him. She wanted to melt into him. She pressed her hands against his abdomen, all those muscles she knew were beneath his jacket and shirt. She knew if she took her glove off and slid her bare hand under his clothes, he wouldn’t object. He’d probably just press her palm closer to his skin.

  The bike roared between her legs. Player’s body was warm. There was comfort in just riding with him, which she’d never thought would ever happen, being on the back of a Harley late at night. They didn’t go fast because this was Sea Haven and it was late. Destroyer and Keys rode behind them. She realized that ever since she’d started working for them, she’d been absolutely safe. So had Anat. She knew Lizz was safe. Someone watched her house. Inez was safe. The Dardens were looked after. Torpedo Ink was stretched thin trying to watch over them, and she feared there were a few people who would be more afraid if they saw the bikers close in the middle of the night.

  She waited as he put his Harley in the garage, lifting a hand to his brothers as they rode away. She almost hated to see the two men go. That dread in her hadn’t left. It stayed right there, in the pit of her stomach. She actually pressed her hand there while she waited to walk into the house with Player.

  “I need to see Mama Anat,” she whispered. “She usually stays up waiting for me.”

  “I know, she’ll be semi-awake. I played for her until Destroyer and Keys let me know you were upset. She was falling asleep then, but she resists until she knows you’re inside. I should never have admitted to her that someone tried to kidnap you, but I didn’t want to lie to her, and she asked me straight out.”

  “She would have known you were lying,” Zyah assured. “She always knew when I didn’t tell the truth when I was a child growing up. I couldn’t get away with anything. Not that I wanted to. I loved her so much that I couldn’t bear to do anything that might disappoint or hurt her. I never could understand Francine and how wild she got when Lizz would be so worried about her. Lizz was so good to her, and Francine would just do these horrible things. The cops would pick her up and drag her home from parties and warn Lizz that they’d take her away, but that never stopped Francine.”

  Player helped her out of the jacket and hung it just inside the door, slipping the extra pair of gloves inside his pocket. He followed her down the hall to her grandmother’s room. As always, there wasn’t a whisper of sound when he walked, even in his motorcycle boots. How did he do that? His hand was on the small of her back. Warm. No, hot. She felt his palm like a brand.

  “Zyah?” Anat called out as she stood in the doorway.

  “I’m home, Mama Anat,” she said. Love flooded her. Warmth. Just as she had known they would. She went straight to her grandmother, inhaling her scent. Jasmine. Lavender. The scent of love. “
Are you all right? Did you look after all the bad boys today?”

  Anat laughed softly, the sound so like beautiful music Zyah wanted to weep. She took her grandmother’s hand as she brushed kisses on her cheek, needing to be close to her.

  “They aren’t so bad.”

  “They’re very bad,” Zyah corrected, “especially this one right here. Don’t let their charm fool you.” She jerked her thumb toward Player. “I’m going to take a long, hot bath. You go to sleep. I’m home safe now.” She wished her heart didn’t feel so heavy. Even now, surrounded by the two people she loved most in the world, her heart ached.

  “I love you, girl.”

  “I love you too.”

  Player reached around her to take her hand and tug until she reluctantly let go of her grandmother’s hand and let him lead her out of the bedroom. She just followed him up the stairs. That was how tired she was.

  “I stopped by the Floating Hat in Sea Haven today and picked up some things for you,” he said, his voice that same low, gentle, oh-so-casual sound that brushed through her mind with velvet strokes. “I think they’ll be just the thing to help combat the fatigue tonight. Put your hair up, baby. I’ll run your bath. Hannah, the owner, suggested some bath products when I told her you’re on your feet all day. She gave me some lotions and creams for your feet and legs. We can try them when you get out.”

  He went on through to the bathroom, and she heard the water begin to fill the tub. He’d stopped by the Floating Hat? She couldn’t imagine him walking into the shop, let alone talking to the proprietor and specifically asking her what would be helpful to someone standing and working long hours. That melted her heart. She had no idea what he’d come home with, and it really didn’t matter, because it was the fact that he’d thought about her and wanted to do something for her. She was surprised that he’d even noticed or thought about it, especially with his head hurting so much all the time.

  “I put this in the bathwater,” Player said when she walked in, her robe wrapped securely around her. He handed her a tall, beautiful bottle of sparkling purple and blue crystals. “They dissolved and turned the water a pretty color. I hope they don’t turn your skin that color.”

  It took willpower to force her gaze from his face to the water. Steam rose, but the water shimmered, a soft, inviting, almost magical pool of deep blue with a purple beneath it. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to sink into it. That water called to her, when she felt so exhausted and worn. When her heart was so filled with dread and unease.

  “I recorded some music for you.” This time there was less confidence in his voice. He sounded almost as if he half expected to be rejected, as if his offering couldn’t be nearly as good as what he’d found at the Floating Hat. Her heart gave a funny little lurch. “Just something to relax to when you’re tired.” He handed her an iPod. “I’ll be in the other room. When you get out, I’ll massage your feet for you. Hannah gave me this killer lotion and cream and showed me a couple of techniques.”

  She lay in the hot water, wondering at what was in the crystals he had put into the bath, because her sore muscles had never felt so good. Even the dread was dissipating a little bit, the deep blue of the water rippling, carrying her worries away with every little wave. The music was Player’s guitar layered sound over sound and it was beautiful. Intricate. And oh so perfect. The sound blended seamlessly with the blues and purples of the water that surrounded her. She felt transported and let herself be carried away for just a little while.

  She needed this. Her mind actually hurt after the long day, fighting her growing certainty that a dark shadow was looming over them and yet she couldn’t find it. The long day after no sleep. Francine with her drunken jealousy and Perry with his entitlement. Player had gifted her with something unexpected and special. She closed her eyes and soaked in the music and blue water until the heat finally began to dissipate.

  Player was waiting for Zyah on the bed in her room. Already, the hot bath had made her muscles feel loose and so relaxed she was almost a noodle. He indicated for her to lie back with her head on a low pillow of lavender and, to her shock, jasmine. The pillow had a place for her neck to fit, so she was completely surrounded by warmth.

  “Another thing from the Floating Hat?”

  “Yes. It’s a combination of lavender and jasmine. I asked for both scents specifically because your grandmother always smells like them and I know they comfort you. I thought if you had a headache, the scents might help.”

  She could barely bring herself to look at him, veiling her eyes with her lashes, afraid she might burst into tears. Was he really that thoughtful? Had he been all along and she’d been so busy wrapped up in hurt she hadn’t noticed?

  He picked up her foot and began to pour lotion into his hands and then rubbed it into her left foot in a slow, circular massage. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. The lotion sank into the soles of her feet, where she’d thought nothing could ever take away the ache. Not only did his hands feel good, but the pressure was perfect. The lotion was heating up just right, somehow reacting with the crystals in the bathwater.

  Zyah moaned. “I’m going to have an orgasm if you keep that up.”

  Player laughed. “Prepare to have several, then. I just learned how to do this, and I have to practice to get good. This is only my first time. She showed me on my arm for all of five minutes. You’re always doing things for me, so it’s my turn.”

  She was prepared to let him have his way. Definitely. She watched the concentration on his face as he massaged his way up and over her foot to her ankle and then her calf before picking up her right leg. He took his time, his movements unhurried.

  “Lizz Johnson is extremely wealthy, Player. Really wealthy. Francine talked her into taking part of her jewelry collection out of the vault at the bank and bringing it to their home so it could be worn to a charity event later next month. In light of the fact that these robberies are taking place, it’s so absolutely ridiculous and foolhardy, I can scarcely believe Lizz would do it, but Francine could always talk her into anything.”

  “Why would she do such a thing? Do you think Francine is involved?”

  “No, she’s just always been selfish and thoughtless. She likes to show off, and Lizz has always felt guilty because Moria, Francine’s mother, was mentally ill, and Lizz’s son refused to do anything to help her. He was like Perry. An entitled spoiled brat. He drank with Moria instead of trying to get her sober. Neither one of them seemed to care about Francine.”

  His hands on her foot were more than magic, making her feel boneless. Even discussing a difficult subject was easier because she was floating.

  “I’ve reached out to her over and over as often as I could at various times, but she always seemed to resent me. Tonight, when she came to the store, she was driving Lizz’s Cadillac. The thing is, I know her license was suspended because she’s had multiple DUIs. I also know Lizz prizes that Cadillac. It’s her baby she takes out of the garage, drives around the block to show off and then puts back to bed, so to speak. Francine shouldn’t have been driving it, and she was already on her way to being drunk. I was fairly certain she took it without permission.”

  Player put her leg down, reached lazily behind him and pulled a jar of cream to him. He once again picked up her feet and put them across his thighs. He didn’t say anything but looked at her with his eyes, twin blue flames, silently telling her to keep going. The next thing she knew, he was using the cream and pressing deep into the soles of the feet with his fingers in a deep tissue massage. The entire time he watched her expression for her reaction to see if it was too hard or not hard enough. As far as she was concerned, he knew her intimately, because he applied the exact amount of pressure she needed.

  “She was wearing the necklace and earrings to an extremely valuable set of jewels Lizz has. They’re worth millions, more than just about anyone here would have in their homes, and like an idiot, Francine just walks out of the house unattended with them on. Then she goes
out with Perry. That’s how drunk she is, Player. I tried to stop her, but by that time she was so angry with me and she’d turned on me. I should have just called the cops and turned her in instead of thinking how Lizz would feel.”

  “What made her angry with you?” His voice was quiet. Washing over her so gently.

  Instead of answering, she asked a question of her own. “How did you get the name Player?” Zyah hadn’t known she was going to ask—the question just came out. In the darkness, between the two of them, for some reason, her inquiry sounded soft. Quiet. Intimate.

  His gaze flicked to hers. Those blue eyes of his, so like ice at times. So like flames other times. Right now, alive with pain. With memories. She felt them moving through his mind. He could have locked them away, the way he did when his past escaped, but he kept massaging the cream into her feet, ankles and calves, creating a miracle of relief.

  “Sometimes Alena or Lana would come back to the dungeon and they were so bad. So torn up.”

  His eyes met hers again and her heart nearly convulsed, there was so much pain there. Zyah swore she caught the sheen of tears in all that blue before he looked down at her leg. His hands remained absolutely gentle, never wavering once. Never stopping. A part of her wanted to stop him, but it was so huge that he was going to share something voluntarily with her. She wasn’t seeing it, snatching it like some peeping Tom from his mind. He was giving it to her, and she wanted that from him. She would treasure it.

  “When they were little, they would call out for the ‘Player.’ I could make music out of just about anything. Turn the silliest things into instruments. My name, Gedeon, was sometimes hard for them when they were so hurt, so they called me Player.”

  Zyah swore he was shredding her heart in a whole new way. The raw pain in his voice was so real, it filled the room to capacity and was impossible to contain. The walls expanded and contracted and wept for him along with her.