FLOWERS ARE RED

by Mary J. Williams

  "I can't get rid of you here. Too close to Theo. How would the bitch like a nice long ride in the trunk of my car?"

  Blaine seemed to be talking to himself. But his words galvanized Belle. One thing she knew for certain. If she let him put her in that car, she was not coming back alive. Forming a plan, Belle knew she had one shot. Blaine didn't expect her to fight back. That gave her a small advantage. But her biggest weapon was her will to live. Not matter what, she would bite, scratch, and scream to her last breath.

  Luck played into Belle's plan. That and a stray cat who chose that moment to streak across the lawn, right into Blaine's path. Already jumpy, he tripped, loosening his hold on Belle. She knew it was now or never.

  Digging her nails into his hand, simultaneously Belle raised her foot. With all her might, she brought the heel of her shoe down on his instep. It was enough to break Blaine's hold. As he staggered, Belle rushed forward, leading with her shoulder. With one hard shove, she sent him sprawling into a bed of roses.

  Belle didn't wait to see the results. Refusing to be one of those movie victims running like an idiot in high heels, she took just enough time to pull off her shoes. Barefoot, she ran like hell, screaming for help.

  ASHE CHECKED HIS watch. He was three minutes late. Not too bad considering. Getting away hadn't been as simple as he anticipated. Who would have guessed the band would have so many fans in this kind of crowd? It just went to prove music knew no boundaries. Any other time, Ashe would have gladly stayed to chat, sign autographs, and take pictures— or all of the above.

  Belle was waiting. That superseded anything else. Getting away looked like it was going to be problematic. To his happy surprise, his father turned out to be the solution.

  "Want to get away?" Randall asked. The enthusiastic audience hadn't descended on Ashe, but there were rumblings. Any second and the push would begin.

  "How did you guess?" Ashe looked right, then left. They were boxed in. Escape seemed impossible.

  "Father's intuition?" Randall laughed when Ashe sent him a skeptical look. "I saw you dancing with Belle Richards. And noticed you slip a note to one of the waiters. I can do the math."

  Ashe shook his head in admiration. The old man was as eagle eyed as ever.

  "Her engagement is a sham." Now that they were reconciled, Ashe didn't want to start out with his father thinking poorly of him.

  "Good. I had quite the thing for her mother. Unfortunately, Penelope was in love with Belle's father." Randall sighed at the memory. "But that's a story best left in the past. Head down the hall to my office and slip out the window. You don't want to keep the lady waiting."

  Bemused—and grateful—Ashe grabbed his guitar, following his father's instructions. Belle's mother? It had always been obvious that Randall and Bonita's marriage was far from a love match. They rubbed along well enough. But this revelation explained a lot. Not that Ashe blamed his father. If Penelope Richards was even a fraction as alluring as her daughter, how could he not fall for her?

  It was easy to forget that his father was once Ashe's age, filled with desire and need. And it was sad to think he spent most of his life living next door to the woman he could never have. It explained why the families weren't friendly.

  Ashe hurried along the path to the gazebo. He didn't want to keep Belle waiting any longer than necessary. His father had missed out on love. He wasn't going to take any chances on it slipping through his fingers.

  Jogging the last few yards, Ashe took the gazebo steps two at a time. Ready with an apology, it died on his lips when he found himself alone. He was certain Belle would be here. Perhaps she was delayed by a friend. Or Theo. That wasn't a pleasant thought.

  Ashe took a seat. He would give Belle five minutes before he went searching. Taking his guitar, he absently plucked at the strings. Music and moonlight. It was a cliché for a reason. Because it worked. Ashe didn't care if he rushed their relationship. Tonight, he would let Belle know how he felt. If she needed more time, he could live with that.

  There was no way in hell Ashe would go back to Los Angeles without putting all his cards on the table. He had no doubts. Belle was his future.

  Too impatient to sit, Ashe set his guitar aside. Getting to his feet, he stretched his arms over his head, breathing in the fresh air. That was when he heard the scream.

  "Help! Please! Help me!"

  Belle. Ashe didn't bother with the gazebo steps. He jumped over the rail, heading in the direction of her voice. Panic added to the surge of adrenaline.

  "Belle!" Ashe stopped, listening. "Belle! Where are you?"

  "Ashe?" Belle came into view, her hair a wild mess, her clothing torn. Without slowing down, she launched herself into his arms. "Thank God."

  Ashe held her tight, burying his face in her neck.

  "We need to get help. He's still out there."

  "Who?" Ashe turned, his body shielding Belle. "What happened? Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. At least I think I am." Belle's gaze darted toward the dark. "Do you have your phone? I dropped my purse near the house. Call the police. Now."

  Belle's word came out in a rush, but her words were clear. Without hesitation, Ashe dialed 911.

  "Can you talk to them? I don't know what to say."

  Hand shaking, Belle took the phone. Ashe pulled her into the circle of his arms.

  "Yes. My name is Belle Richards. I was attacked. Blaine… I don't know his last name. I was able to get away." Jesus, Ashe thought. "I shoved him into a rose bed and ran. The address? I…"

  After everything Belle had been through, Ashe wasn't surprised when she drew a blank. Gently, he pried the phone from her fingers, then rattled off the address.

  "There's a large party in progress. It might be best if the police came to the back entrance."

  "Stay on the phone. There is a patrol car in your area. It should be there in a few minutes."

  All Ashe wanted to do was get Belle into the house where he could take care of her. Her entire body shook, her arms felt like ice. He lifted her in his arms, following the lit path, his long strides eating up the distance. Ideally, he would have avoided the patio, but it was the fastest way of getting Belle out of the night air. At least a dozen people milled about, drinks in hand, laughing and talking, blissfully unaware that anything was amiss.

  Randall was the first to notice Ashe and Belle.

  "What happened?" He rushed forward.

  "Belle was attacked." There were several gasps. "We called the police but—"

  The incomprehensible yell of a crazy man filled the air. Blaine, his face and hands scratched and bleeding, rushed onto the patio. There was murder in his eyes, and Belle was his target. Ashe didn't think twice. He handed Belle to his father. Making a fist and leading with his shoulder, he stopped the man in his tracks with one mighty punch.

  Blaine crumpled to the ground into a heap. The sound of police sirens filled the air as the patio filled with curious party-goers.

  "Nice job, son," Randall said, transferring Belle back to Ashe.

  Ashe was aware of the raised phones. Pictures and videos would soon fill the internet. He didn't give a damn. All he cared about was the woman in his arms.

  "Can you take care of this?" he asked his father.

  "Go. Find a room and lock the door."

  Grateful beyond words, Ashe moved through the crowd. He looked down at Belle. She didn't cower or cry. His woman was tougher than that.

  "I can walk," Belle informed him, firmly, though her arms didn't move from around his neck.

  "I want to carry you. Do you have a problem with that?"

  "Nope." With a sigh, Belle laid her head on Ashe's shoulder.

  They were almost inside when Theo blindly rushed by, knocking into Ashe in his haste.

  "Blaine?" Theo sobbed, dropping to his knees. He grabbed the unconscious man's hand. "What did she do to you?"

  "Me?" Ashe felt Belle stiffen. He tightened his grip, worried she m
ight jump from his arms. Instead, she let out an exasperated sigh. "I was engaged to that idiot. What was I thinking?"

  "Beats me, sweetheart," Ashe said with feeling. "Beats me."

  BELLE SPENT THE next three days handling the aftermath. For her, that mainly involved answering a lot of questions, filling out an official police report, and dealing with her family. Not surprisingly, her father wasn't the least bit upset about the broken engagement. Having her ex-fiancé's boyfriend try to kill his daughter tended to put things like that into perspective.

  Letting others fuss over her was nice—for about half a day. After that, Belle kissed her parents, hugged her siblings, then gently—but firmly—pushed them out the door.

  "They mean well."

  Belle snuggled closer to Ashe. She couldn't get enough of having his arms around her. That wasn't a problem. He hadn't left her side. She knew it couldn't last, but for now, he seemed unwilling to let her out of his sight. Belle was not complaining.

  "I love my family. I'm grateful that they love me. But enough was enough. This apartment isn't big enough for all that hovering."

  "I hover. Do you want me to go?"

  "Absolutely not. You do it just right."

  "Good." Ashe kissed the top of her head.

  "Would you have gone if I asked?"

  Heart pounding, Belle waited for his answer.

  "Absolutely not."

  Able to breathe again, Belle took Ashe's hand, drawing it to her chest until it rested just above her heart. This was where she needed to be. In her home. With Ashe. Thanks to Tracy, her kitchen was freshly stocked—as was her liquor cabinet. There was no reason for them to budge from the apartment. Except for one thing.

  "When do you have to go back?"

  "Day after tomorrow. The band has already rescheduled two recording sessions. I can't ask them to do it again."

  Belle appreciated Ashe's honesty. She knew he couldn't stay—not permanently. It wouldn't be fair to ask. But she wanted to. More than anything.

  "Come with me."

  "What?" Belle hadn't expected that. "You want me to go with you to Los Angeles?"

  "Yes, I—"

  A loud buzz interrupted Ashe. The first day, the entrance to her building had been jammed with reporters trying to get a story. Ashe Mathison Thwarts Killer. It was big news. Huge. The headline had blown up the internet. Ashe made it a point of telling his friends that Belle saved herself. His actions came much later.

  Ashe stressed that fact to the band's manager. The official press release stressed her heroism—not his. The world didn't seem to care. Ashe was the famous rock star. He was the world's point of interest. Though he raged at the injustice, Belle was more than happy that the spotlight was on him.

  As far as Belle was concerned, the fewer people who knew her name and face, the better.

  After complaints from the other tenants, Ashe hired around-the-clock security to keep the entrance clear of reporters and rubberneckers. If someone wasn't on the guard's list, he didn't get through.

  "I better get that." Belle reluctantly left the sofa. "If it's Mom or Dad, they will never forgive me for not letting them up."

  "Let me."

  "Ashe—"

  "Belle," Ashe teasingly mocked, moving her away from the intercom.

  "The time will come when I have to answer that for myself." Belle didn't add, when you're gone. There was no need.

  Ashe raised an eyebrow, waiting until she returned to the sofa. With an exaggerated huff, Belle plopped down on the cushion. With a satisfied nod, he pushed the button.

  "Yes?"

  "Mr. Mathison? This is Jamison."

  The security guards always identified themselves by name.

  "Is there a problem?"

  "No, sir. There's a man asking to see Ms. Richards. He isn't on the list but—"

  "Belle?" The man in question yelled out, effectively circumventing the guard. Let me up. It's Theo."

  "You have got to be kidding me." Incredulous, Ashe turned to Belle. "Should I tell Jamison to kick the idiot's ass down the stairs?"

  It was tempting. From what Belle had been able to figure out, Theo was a big part of his boyfriend's meltdown. Not that anything excused attempted murder. However, there were some holes that Belle needed him to fill in. With Ashe by her side—and a burly security guard just a call away—she felt talking to Theo one last time might help her peace of mind.

  "Let him come up."

  "Are you sure?"

  "No. But do it anyway."

  Belle crossed her legs and waited. She knew how she looked. Exactly like a woman who was hunkered down in her apartment with no intention of leaving anytime soon. That morning, she had taken a shower. Brushed her hair and her teeth. Added a bit of moisturizer to her face. That was it in terms of grooming. She wore her most comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Ashe was dressed in a similar fashion. Since Belle had no intention of entertaining, she dressed for comfort—not style.

  Theo was not a guest. On their best days, she rarely worried about how she looked. Today, she couldn't have cared less.

  The knock on the door was tentative. When Ashe answered, Theo had the good sense to hesitate before crossing the threshold.

  "Belle?" Tentatively, Theo peeked into the apartment.

  "Come in, Theo." The man had been there less than thirty seconds and already he tried her nerves.

  If Belle and Ashe were the epitome of stay-at-home casual, Theo looked as if he was going to high tea at Buckingham Palace. Custom-made suit, matching tie, Italian leather shoes buffed to a high-gloss shine. It was an impressive ensemble. If Belle was his target, he had missed the mark by a mile.

  "You look—" Theo searched for the right word. "Well."

  "What do you want?" Belle's patience was on a short leash. Ashe sat, taking her hand. She didn't ask Theo to sit. Her lack of invitation didn't stop him.

  "My father decided not to disown me."

  "Okay."

  By the look on his face, Theo had expected a more enthusiastic response. He blinked in surprise before continuing.

  "In exchange, I am expected to attend a reorientation boot camp."

  "What is that?" Belle couldn't help herself—she had to ask.

  "According to the brochure, after ten intensive weeks, I will no longer be gay."

  That's what Belle got for giving into curiosity. One more example of how crazy people could be.

  "I hope you told your father where to stick his boot camp."

  "No. I plan to. If you'll help me."

  Belle should have known. Theo wasn't here to apologize. Or inquire about how she was doing. He wanted something. Some things never changed.

  "Your father won't listen to me."

  "My father won't listen to anybody."

  "What do you want?" Ashe hadn't spoken until now. The sound of his voice made Theo jump.

  "Is it necessary for him to be here?"

  "Yes." Belle and Ashe spoke as one.

  "Fine." Rubbing his hands on his pants, Theo sighed. "I have the money my grandmother left me. It's only five million."

  "Dollars?" Belle exclaimed, exchanging stunned looks with Ashe.

  "It may sound like a lot, but it has to last us a long time. I want to leave Boston. Start over. Maybe in Europe. With my inheritance and the money from selling your engagement ring, we should do okay. With time, I hope my father will come around."

  "Starting over is a good idea," Belle agreed. "I only have one question. Who are you taking with you?"

  "Blaine." Theo stuck out his chin defiantly.

  "Is he delusional?" Ashe asked. Belle shrugged.

  "You understand that Blaine is in prison. For attempted murder."

  "You don't know that he would have gone through with it."

  "Yes. I do."

  "Besides." Theo rushed ahead as if Belle hadn't spoken. "It's your word against his. Nobody saw what happened."

&
nbsp; "A security camera caught him grabbing me and dragging me away. The police have seen the footage, Theo."

  "That's unfortunate."

  "Unfortunate?" Belle stopped Ashe from jumping to his feet. "You need to leave. Now."

  "Belle." Theo sent her a pleading look. "If you drop the charges, they can't hold him."

  "Then you and Blaine will disappear, to never again darken my doorstep?"

  Theo's eyes lit with hope. "That's right. I promise."

  "Are you crazy?" One of them was. Belle's bet was on Theo. "It's not going to happen. Blaine is staying in jail. Hopefully for a long time. I wish I could press charges against you."

  "Me? What did I do?"

  "You made Blaine believe that I was keeping the two of you apart. That I wouldn't break the engagement. Do you deny that?"

  "No. But—"

  "Your boyfriend has serious mental problems."

  "I couldn't anticipate what he was going to do," Theo whined. "The car and the cat were one thing. He—"

  "I knew it!" This time it was Ashe who anchored Belle to the sofa. "Why didn't you tell me what he had done?"

  "I didn't want to get him in trouble." Sweat had popped out on Theo's upper lip. From the look of him, he was close to tears. "He kept pressuring me to tell my father that I was gay. It was easier to make you the bad guy."

  "You knew he was unstable. Yet you continued to push all his buttons until he went from mildly psychotic to full-fledged whack job." One more minute and Belle wouldn't be responsible for her actions. "Get out!"

  "But, Belle—"

  "Now, Theo. Never come back. Never."

  "You heard her." Ashe grabbed Theo by his perfectly pressed collar, hauling him to the door.

  Before Ashe could throw him out, Theo grabbed the door frame. "What about the engagement ring?

  "I sold it. I needed the money to help fund Strive."

  "That ridiculous pet project of yours?" Theo's eyes almost bugged out of his head. "The ring cost seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

  "I know." Belle smiled smugly. "Thank your father for me."

  Applying his foot firmly to Theo's backside, Ashe finished putting out the trash.

  "I'm glad I was here to see Theo's face when you dropped the ring bombshell."