Love Resolution (Black Cat Records series)

by Michelle Mankin

  When the song segued into Robert Plant’s vocal climax, Bryan changed position, moving behind Avery. She felt the warmth of his body shift to her back as he pressed against her, his shortened breath stirring the hair near her ear. He placed his hands on her hips and she froze when she felt his fingers flex.

  Enough! Her brain screamed at her. This was all wrong and she had let it go on for far too long. She reached back to remove his hands when she suddenly had a horrible feeling. Dazed and confused, she glanced up, her stomach instantaneously dropping to her feet.

  Marcus.

  Legs braced apart, eyes blazing, Marcus stared at her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. He held her captive with his scorching gaze.

  Over her shoulder, she heard Bryan’s voice slice through the charged atmosphere. “Hey, we were just dancing, lighten up, Chief.”

  Marcus’ murderous gaze cut to him. His hands opened and closed as cell phone cameras flashed all around.

  The Zeppelin tune faded out and “Tusk” started, but Avery wasn’t listening to the music anymore. She was drowning in the look of betrayal Marcus directed her way.

  She stepped forward and put her hand on Marcus’ arm.

  He glanced down at it for a moment, and she could feel the pent up anger in him. A startled cry left her lips as he jerked his arm back. She watched helplessly as he spun around and stormed out of the club, people diving right and left in their hurry to get out of his way. She didn’t blame him. She’d seen him angry before but never like this.

  “Red.” Bryan’s warm hands squeezed her shoulders.

  “Don’t.” She stepped out of his reach and whirled around to face him, the tightness in her throat making it difficult to speak. “I shouldn’t have danced with you.”

  His expression was hard to read. Surely it was only mild disappointment she saw, maybe even irritation that they’d been interrupted. It wasn’t likely that he really cared. They barely knew each other. She didn’t really know what to make of him. She did know that tonight had been a huge mistake. Her mistake. “I think it would be better if you stay away from me.”

  She sprinted out of the club, the tears balanced on the edges of her auburn lashes now falling unhindered down her pale cheeks as she hurried to try to catch up to Marcus.

  Marcus twisted the key in the ignition of the rented Jaguar. The engine roared to life. He felt completely blindsided by what she’d done. Furious, he ground the gearshift into reverse and glanced in the rear view mirror. Lightning flashed, and then he saw her.

  Avery.

  Standing alone in the dark. No jacket. Skimpy dress. She flinched at the loud crack of thunder, scanning the empty parking lot, her breath like a vapor in the damp night air. He wanted to pull out, press down on the gas, and get the hell out of there, but he couldn’t make himself do it. As angry as he was with her, he couldn’t abandon her.

  The rain started pouring down as he pulled up alongside her.

  She took a nervous step back. Obviously, she didn’t recognize the car and couldn’t see him through the tinted glass. He pushed the button to roll down the window.

  “Marcus,” she breathed on a sigh.

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Get in the car,” he told her gruffly, calling himself a million times a fool.

  “Stop!” Ray shouted as he jogged up and insinuated himself between Avery and the car. He gave Marcus a pointed look. “Boss, you know you shouldn’t be driving right now. Not in the rain. Not in your condition.”

  “I’m fine.” Marcus ran a hand across his face.

  “Yeah? Then how many drinks have you had tonight? Can you even remember?”

  He couldn’t. He remembered having a couple of beers and a lot of Crown and Coke. What he did know for sure was that things between him and Avery had just taken an ugly turn. One that pissed him off and completely obliterated the good buzz he’d had going on. Yeah, so he might be a little unsteady. Who wouldn’t be after that scene? And anyway it wasn’t a long drive back to the hotel.

  “You’re getting soaked.” He leaned forward so he could see around Ray, spearing Avery with a sharp look. “Get in the damn car!” he ordered.

  As though pulled toward him by an invisible wire, she moved to the passenger side of the Jag.

  “Avery, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ray cautioned.

  “Stay out of it,” Marcus told him as Avery climbed in.

  Ray put a hand on the open window frame.

  Avery glanced up at him. “I’ll be ok, Ray,” she said softly.

  “Buckle your seat belt,” Ray instructed, brows knitting together with concern.

  Ignoring the implicit warning in the bodyguard’s eyes, Marcus looked down and put the car in drive.

  Ray tapped the frame twice, straightened, and took a step back.

  After merging into the busy line of traffic along the waterfront, Marcus risked a glance at her.

  She sat stiffly beside him, wringing her hands together in her lap.

  He opened his mouth tempted to say something to comfort her but couldn’t. The words wouldn’t be sincere. Tension permeated the small space of the Jaguar’s luxuriously appointed interior. The dashboard lights glowed softly, illuminating Avery’s pale, frightened face.

  “You wanna tell me why the hell you were doing the bump and grind with the Tempest guitarist tonight?”

  “It was just dancing.” She turned her head to look at him. “It was innocent.”

  “Bullshit!” he exclaimed. “That’s fucking bullshit and you know it.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Don’t even try to blow this off. The fact is you were dancing with another guy when you’re with me. You have my ring on your finger. I had enough of this kind of duplicitous crap when I dated Veronica.”

  “Don’t you dare compare me to her!” Avery’s green eyes flared with anger. “I’m nothing like that woman.”

  “Tell me how you’re not,” he challenged, wagging an accusatory finger in her face. “Tell me how was I supposed to interpret what I saw, huh?”

  “Lower your voice,” she bristled, brushing his hand away. “Stop yelling at me. You’re scaring me.”

  “You’re scared?” He answered his own question. “Good, cause so the hell am I! I thought I could trust you.”

  “You can,” her voice trembled. “Marcus, you can.”

  “Really?” he snorted. “I don’t think so. Dwight was right. I think we moved too fast.”

  Two faint lines suddenly appeared between her drawn brows. “He said that?”

  “On the night I proposed.” Marcus nodded. “Tried to talk me out of it beforehand. Said I should wait a bit. Give us some more time together as a couple before I made that kind of a commitment.”

  She made a low hurt sound in the back of her throat.

  “After tonight, I’m thinking he had it right.” His sharp words punctured her. Avery’s shoulders collapsed. Her chin dropped to her chest.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “To think that I told him he was dead wrong,” he relentlessly continued. “That time wasn’t going to change how I felt about you. That I knew all I needed to know about you already.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I never, not in a million years, would have imagined that you of all people would do something like this to me, Ace. Did you even stop for one single moment to think about how it would make me feel?”

  “Yeah, actually I did.” Her head turned to the side, eyes shining. “I thought it’d serve you right, if you wanna know the truth. Maybe make you think twice before you start tossing back drinks. Before you snap my head off. Before you shut me out. Before you tell me again how great your life was before I came along.” Her fingers curled into fists. “So I danced with a guy. That’s all it was. That’s all it was ever gonna be. For just a couple of minutes, I wanted to be with someone who was treating me like I was his equal instead of his child.”

  His chest burned beneath the weight of the accusations she’d j
ust leveled at him.

  “That’s all I ever wanted from you,” she finished, gaze sliding forward. “Marcus!” she suddenly screamed.

  His head snapped forward. Too late he saw the stopped car in front of them. He jerked the wheel to the right, the car hydroplaning on the rain slickened pavement, and he lost control. Instinctively, he threw out his right arm to shield her.

  The impact was sudden and brutal. Glass shattered and metal twisted and groaned, reshaped by the violent deceleration against a light pole. His airbag deployed. It stung him like being slapped in the bare chest by a giant open palm. The breath whooshed out from his lungs. He tasted coppery blood in his mouth. Heart in his throat, he glanced over at her side of the car.

  “Avery!” Her airbag hadn’t deployed. Her face and the dashboard were covered in blood. Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t moving.

  The ugly gash over Avery’s right eye was bleeding profusely. Trembling, Marcus touched her face. She didn’t respond. He quickly drew his cotton t-shirt over his head and pressed it against the wound. With his other hand, he slid his cell out of his pocket.

  “911. How may I assist you?”

  “I’ve been in a car accident!” he choked out, fear gripping his throat. “My fiancée’s hurt. She’s unconscious and she’s bleeding!”

  “We’ll send someone right away. What’s your location?”

  The fumes of spilled gasoline made his eyes water as he peered out through the shattered rain soaked front windshield and squinted to read the street sign. “Western Avenue and Lenora.”

  “Help’s on the way. Stay on the line.”

  “I will.” He stared at Avery again. She was so pale. “Please hurry.”

  Fear and self-recrimination consumed him. Cradling her face, he breathed a soft prayer. After what seemed like an eternity, a squad car rolled up alongside them. Two officers jumped out of the vehicle, hurrying to either side of the wrecked Jaguar.

  One of them opened the driver’s side door. “I’m Officer Garza. You ok, sir?”

  “I think so.”

  “Can you get out of the car?”

  “Yes.” Marcus undid his seatbelt. “But my fiancée’s hurt.”

  The patrolman’s dark brows drew together. Lips flattened in a concerned line, he passed a glance to his partner. “Tung. Can you get in on that side?”

  “The door’s buckled,” the other officer replied, after a few hard tugs. “I can’t get it open. I’ll get the pry bar.”

  “An ambulance is on the way,” Garza told Marcus.

  Marcus managed to nod, his stomach rolling as he realized that the t-shirt he held over her forehead was soaked with blood. A wave of panic engulfed him. Finally, the sound of a siren reached his ears.

  The metal creaked and groaned as Officer Tung finally broke the jammed door loose. Two EMT’s jogged up with a stretcher.

  The EMT’s quickly assessed Avery before placing a cervical collar onto her neck and carefully extracting her from the wreckage.

  As soon as they loaded her limp body onto the stretcher, Marcus threw open his door to follow. He swayed unsteadily on his feet, reaching a hand back to the wet car to keep from falling.

  By now a small group of onlookers had gathered to gawk.

  Suddenly, Officer Garza appeared at his side. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You been drinking tonight?”

  Shit. The blood drained from his face.

  Garza didn’t wait for a response. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to step over to the squad car for a breathalyzer test.”

  “No.” Marcus shook his head, watching the ambulance doors close, an ominous feeling washing over him. He took a step toward it, but the officer moved to block him.

  “Sir, I can’t let you leave the scene.”

  “She’s my fiancée. Please let me go with her,” Marcus pleaded, freezing rain soaking his torso and trickling down into the waist band of his jeans.

  “Sir, I’m placing you under arrest for suspicion of DUI. Now put both hands on the hood of the car,” he ordered, producing a set of handcuffs.

  “The name’s Marcus,” he said with gritted teeth, dragging frozen fingers through his wet hair. Helplessly, he watched as the ambulance drove away. “Marcus Anthony.”

  Picking at the dried blood and black fingerprint ink underneath his nails, Marcus waited alone inside the holding cell. He was stone cold sober now, agonizingly so. His mind circled endlessly around images of Avery… unconscious, bleeding, lying so pale and still on the stretcher as those ambulance doors closed and took her away.

  He wrinkled his nose, the rank aroma in the cell befitting the shithole his life had become in the last twenty four hours.

  “Marcus.”

  “Dwight.” His head snapped up at the welcome sound of his brother’s voice. He rose and crossed to him shoes catching on the sticky floor. A uniformed officer with a large ring of keys accompanied Dwight. “How is she?”

  “She’s gonna be ok. They’ve been monitoring her overnight at the hospital because of the concussion, and they had to put invisible stitches in to close the laceration on her forehead. The doctor said she’s lucky that it wasn’t a whole lot worse.”

  “Thank God.” Marcus closed his eyes and let out a broken breath.

  “What the hell were you thinking? You were lucky, too. You could have both been killed,” Dwight hissed in his ear as he exited the cell door the officer had opened.

  “I wasn’t.” Self-loathing coated his words.

  “Your bail has been posted. Come with me,” the officer instructed, stepping around the brothers and leading them down the long corridor.

  “You’ve got to get some help,” Dwight insisted, pulling him in for a quick, hard hug. “You can’t do this shit anymore. I can’t take it.”

  Marcus nodded mutely. Emotionally exhausted, he had nothing left in him to return the hug or acknowledge the plea.

  After completing the paperwork and agreeing to a court hearing in thirty days, they were sent to the release desk to collect Marcus’ personal belongings. Taking the bulging manila envelope from the clerk, Marcus shook the contents out onto the counter. Wallet, keys and watch slid out with a thump before a silver bracelet flecked with dried blood followed, clanging musically against the tile. He stilled, bowed his head, and covered it up with his hand.

  “Let’s go,” Dwight said giving him a worried glance.

  Outside on the city sidewalk, before Marcus could even take a single breath of fresh air after the most horrible night of his life, he heard them yelling his name.

  Shit.

  A pack of reporters descended, shoving microphones in his face. He ducked his head and hurried toward a black Suburban that had pulled up and double parked near the curb. Dwight opened the door and Marcus slid into the back seat.

  Effing Vultures.

  He glanced at the man who was driving. He was a stranger. Ray must be with Avery at the hospital. Good. That’s where he ought to be, and that’s how it was going to be from now on.

  “Mom and Dad know?”

  “Who doesn’t? It’s all over the news. You, Avery, Bryan Jackson. This is a huge cluster.” His usually affable brother looked totally frazzled, reddish blond hair awry and blue eyes bloodshot. “I’ll take you over to see Avery first. Then you’re on your own to face this shit storm. I really don’t know whose madder, Mom or Mary. But you’re gonna have to deal with them both.”

  He nodded. He’d expected no less. “I’m not going to the hospital,” Marcus said quietly.

  “Why the hell not?” Dwight asked incredulously.

  “She wouldn’t want me there.”

  “Yes, she does. She’s been pretty out of it but she’s been calling for you.”

  “It’s better if I don’t.” Marcus turned away and stared out the window.

  “What kinda crap is this?” His eyes narrowed on Marcus’ face “Did you hit your head, too? What the hell is going on with you and Avery?”

  Marcus was quiet f
or a long time. “She could have died, Dwight, and I would have been responsible.” He was sure his expression revealed the turmoil he felt inside. “I totally fucked up. Nothing I say or do can make it right. And I’m not going to go over to the hospital and make this an even bigger ordeal for her than it already is.”

  “I don’t get it.” Dwight scratched his head in obvious consternation. He pulled out his cell. “You’ve got to call her at least.”

  “No.” Marcus covered up his brother’s hand. “I don’t.”

  Dwight studied his face. “She’ll forgive you, you know.”

  Marcus wished she wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve it.

  Avery woke, ears ringing, forehead throbbing as if someone was whacking a hammer repeatedly against her skull. Opening her eyes had been like lifting a weighted garage door manually without the assistance of the pulley mechanism.

  She was in a hospital room, the heart monitor beeping beside her. The first person she saw was Ray, standing alone in the corner, staring down at his phone. He must have noticed her moving because his eyes shifted in her direction.

  “You’re awake.” He smiled softly and came closer, stopping on the left side of her bed. He glanced at someone on the other side.

  Carefully, she turned her head and saw familiar chestnut curls and grey eyes.

  “How are you feeling?” Sam asked softly, squeezing her hand.

  “Like my head just got split open,” Avery admitted truthfully. “What happened?”

  “You were in a car accident.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You have a concussion, and a pretty nasty cut on your forehead.”

  Avery winced, reaching up in exploration.

  “You don’t have to go back to the doctor to get the stitches out. They’re the invisible under the skin kind that dissolve on their own,” Sam reassured her. “They also told us they think the scar will fade in time.”