The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  Her breath caught. “Stop it, Bry,” she begged in a rough whisper.

  “Give me a reason to stop, Lace. Or so help me, I’m going to take that blonde upstairs and pretend that she’s you. That’s what I do. That’s all I can do if you won’t meet me halfway.”

  Lace closed her eyes, her pulse beating furiously in her neck. I held my breath, waiting for her to answer.

  “Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said.

  “Huh?” I let go of Lace’s hands and turned to look over my shoulder.

  “I need to reorganize the suits,” a shop lady said. “You two on your honeymoon?” She raised a brow as she started to sift through the bin.

  “No,” Lace said before slipping past me and practically sprinting for the exit.

  “Lace, wait.” I caught her by the elbow.

  “Let me go.” Her voice was low, and she looked flustered as hell. “I can’t do this right now. I’ve got a meeting with Mary Timmons, and I’m already late.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “It sounded more like a threat,” she choked out.

  Fuck me, but I liked the defiant glint in her eyes. This was my Lace, the one without the drug haze. The one who didn’t back down from a challenge. The one who could believe, who could stand at my side and fight for us.

  “You know what I want,” I said.

  She shook her head, so I spelled it out for her.

  “I want you to tell War it’s over. I want to be able to stop hiding how we feel about each other. I want to hold your hand so everyone will know you’re mine. I want to laugh and flirt with you again. I want to walk and talk with you, take you out on dates. I want to be the one in the back bedroom with you on the bus instead of him. I want to make love to you and then hold you all night long. I want to wake up next to you in the morning. I want you, babe. Just you.”

  Lace closed her eyes. “I can’t give you what you want,” she whispered, but I saw the surrender written in her eyes when she reopened them. It told me everything I needed to know.

  What I wanted, she wanted too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lace

  I yanked my arm free from Bryan’s grasp and ran from the shop as if an animatronic Disney villain had sprung to life to pursue me.

  When I reached the bank of elevators in the center of the building, I stopped to catch my breath and glanced back. Bryan was leaning against one of the columns of the shop, one ankle crossed over the other, his hands in the front pockets of his dark jeans.

  To the casual observer, he might look relaxed, but I knew better. His gray-green eyes were watchful. His sculpted chest muscles and bulging biceps were coiled springs, ready to come unwound. I knew because I was just as tense. I felt exactly the same way.

  I watched a mother and her teenage daughter both do a double-take when they passed him. Bryan Jackson was every woman’s bad-boy fantasy—tall with long legs, a tight body, tatted arms, and handsome as sin. And what they saw on the outside was just a small part of all the amazingness that was him.

  The elevator door opened, but I paused before getting in. I was so tempted to run back to him. Who the hell wouldn’t be after what he’d just said? But I had to stop doing this. I’d made my decision, hadn’t I? However, I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been the right one.

  A man and his son hurried onto the elevator, and the man beckoned me. “Better hurry on,” he said, and I did, though numbly. “What floor do you need?”

  “Twelve,” I mumbled, giving him Mary Timmons’s floor number before moving to the back. I shook my head as if that was all it would take to clear away my confusion, fretting as the elevator zipped upward.

  What if Bryan went back to the blonde at the bar? The thought made me tremble with nausea. I didn’t feel good, kind of woozy like I had a fever. Forcing my thoughts back to the upcoming meeting with Black Cat’s CEO, I rubbed my chilled arms.

  When Mickey Mouse’s recorded voice announced my floor, I stepped out of the elevator and trudged down the monochromatic hallway to Timmons’s room. Outside the door, a woman with gray-green eyes almost as beautiful as Bryan’s smiled pleasantly at me. She had a cell pressed to her ear.

  “Just a second,” she told whoever she had on the line. Balancing the phone between her cheek and shoulder, she held out her hand to me. “Hi, Lace. I’m Beth Tate, head of PR for Black Cat.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I nodded and shook her hand.

  “Mary shouldn’t be long,” Beth told me, then ended her call. Sure enough, the door popped open a moment later.

  Surprisingly, Charles Morris came hurrying out. He straightened his tie and buttoned his suit jacket. As Beth slipped past the Zenith Productions exec on her way into the room, I noticed Charles had pink lipstick smeared on the side of his mouth. When he looked at me, I pointed it out, trying to be discreet while hiding my surprise.

  Was that Mary Timmons’s lipstick? This was an interesting development.

  Rubbing the color off with his thumb, Charles cleared his throat and ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Whatever Mary offers you, I’ll double it,” he said, his voice gruff.

  I didn’t know what to say, but I got the distinct impression that I was caught in the middle of something between him and her that was more than just a competition for my representation.

  “You still have my card from Atlanta?” he asked as the door cracked open again.

  “Charles,” Beth asked with a frown. “Are you still here?”

  “Tell Mary this isn’t over.” He glanced over Beth’s head. “I’ll see her in Miami.”

  “I don’t think . . .” Beth trailed off as he walked away with a dismissive wave over his shoulder. Her lips flattened, but her expression was neutral when she turned back to me. She opened the door more widely. “Come inside. Mary will see you now.”

  “Okay,” I said, entering and taking in the huge suite that dwarfed the standard hotel room War and I shared. It contained a large sitting area that took advantage of floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a gorgeous view of Bay Lake.

  Mary sat on the middle of a beige sofa with her spine straight and her shoulders back. “Have a seat.” She gestured to the orange chair beside her.

  As she shuffled through a stack of papers on the coffee table in front of her, I was surprised to see her hands shaking. An aftereffect of her encounter with Charles Morris? No doubt, the man was a force to be reckoned with. But I got the distinct impression that Mary Timmons was too, and was accustomed to getting what she wanted.

  She smoothed her short brown hair into place, and I heard the door click closed behind Beth. All business now, the exec leveled me with a serious stare.

  “I want to let you know up front that Black Cat is interested in signing you.” She tapped a finger against the manila file. “But there are a couple of things that came up in your background check that concerned me.”

  “Oh?” I raised a brow, affecting calm, but inwardly I tensed.

  “After graduation, you moved in with a man named Martin Skellin. Is that correct?”

  My throat too tight to speak, I nodded.

  “He’s a convicted drug dealer.” Mary tossed the file on the table. “I don’t know if you were aware, but he was murdered last week. Shot in the back of the head, execution style.”

  My eyes wide, I inhaled sharply. I hadn’t known, but I wasn’t surprised. Martin had been skating on thin ice with the higher-ups long before I’d left him.

  I gave the news of his death about ten seconds of my time, only a few of those seconds feeling bad about it. After all, he hadn’t felt the least remorse about beating me and turning me over to Strader, who I likely wouldn’t have escaped alive.

  “That’s awful.” I swallowed to moisten my dry throat. “But I don’t know how that’s relevant to me.”

  “People are often measured by the company they keep.”

  “Guilt by association. Great.” My hands balled into fists. “Look,
Martin Skellin was an asshole. He knocked me around. I left him when he tried to pimp me out to a competitor to pay off a debt. My time with him isn’t something I’m proud of, but who he was or what he did has nothing to do with me.”

  “Hmm.” Mary seemed to give that some consideration. “I understand you’re engaged to Warren now?” She glanced at my hands, I nervously twisted the engagement ring. “Isn’t that a little sudden?”

  Uncomfortable under this interrogation, I shifted. A fine sheen of perspiration broke out on my upper lip. “Not really. War and I have known each other for years. Why all this interest in my love life?”

  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from this meeting, but I was beginning to feel uneasy. I wished now I’d taken War up on his offer to come with me. He’d warned me Mary was a hard-ass. Now I realized he’d been way understating it.

  “It takes a strong personality to go solo,” Mary said, studying me. “I need to be sure you have what it takes to handle it. There will be no boyfriends or fiancés to hold your hand on the road.”

  “I realize that.” I straightened. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing that for a long time now.”

  “Yes, I know about your childhood. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you.” Mary’s expression softened. She stood and tugged at the hem of her suit jacket. “I can certainly sympathize, and I admire your resilience, Lace, really, I do. But I have my concerns.”

  She moved to the windows and continued. “You’re untrained. You’re young, and you’re inexperienced. But more than that,” she turned back around, her brow furrowed, “I’m concerned about your judgment. I’ve heard about all the partying you’ve been doing on this tour.”

  I gulped and looked down at my ankle boots. I was sunk. The woman didn’t miss a thing.

  “All that said, I’m still willing to offer you a signing bonus of thirty thousand. I just need your word that drugs won’t be an issue.”

  “They won’t be.” I nodded, telling myself it wasn’t a lie, not really. I was quitting. Drugs wouldn’t be an issue for me anymore.

  “Good. I can assure you that Mr. Morris wouldn’t match that much up front.”

  My head snapped up.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I know all about what Morris has been up to.” Mary tapped her fingers against her folded arm. “I think it’s very shortsighted of him to try to lure Warren and Bryan out of Tempest.”

  “What do you mean?” My eyes narrowed in confusion. “I was under the impression that Morris’s offer included all the guys.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Zenith’s deal is very personnel-specific. Morris is an unrepentant disassembler. He likes to take things apart and put them back together in a way he thinks is best.”

  I put my hands over my churning stomach as the reality of what Mary told me just sank in.

  War had been planning to sell out the rest of the group, just like he’d done to me with the RCA deal. This was what Bryan wanted me to know. I wished he’d just told me himself.

  It was obvious why War had kept this bit of damning information from me. Proposing to me on the same night he’d just brokered that sleazy backroom deal with Morris was a real manipulative move on his part, an obvious attempt to tie me to him.

  Did War honestly think I would overlook the betrayal of my brother or King and Sager, just because he put a ring on my finger?

  Bryan was right. War had changed. And if he thought I would turn a blind eye to all this . . . well, he didn’t know me any better than I knew him.

  “I put an end to it,” Mary said, oblivious to the fact that my world had just been turned upside down. “Morris has assured me that he’s withdrawing his offer.” She sat on the couch again and leaned forward. “But back to you. I know Charles has offered to increase whatever I offer you, but you’re smart enough to see through all those dollar signs. His offers are always back-end loaded and full of stipulations. Basically, if you don’t meet his demands, you get nothing. The most likely scenario is that you’d end up owing Zenith money.”

  She handed me a piece of paper.

  “Read this over. My offer is very simple.” She slid a check across the table toward me. “A thirty-thousand-dollar advance on a three-year exclusive contract with Black Cat. Do things my way, Lace, and I think there’s a good chance that you’ll be a star.”

  I picked up the check and stared at it. Mary’s signature was a wide scrawl, matching the one on the contract.

  My vision tunneled in on this moment. There really wasn’t a choice. Although I was still reeling from what I’d just found out about War, I was sure of this decision. I needed to do this. It was a chance for me to finally turn my life around.

  I picked up the pen and signed.

  The rest of our meeting passed in a blur. Mary shook my clammy hand, and Beth came back in to congratulate me.

  Soon I was on my way back down the hall, then inside the elevator to my floor, completely numb. In front of the door to my room, I inserted the keycard and went inside, grateful the room was empty. I didn’t feel up to a confrontation with War at the moment.

  Shivering, I leaned back against the door. The air-conditioned air felt too cold on my feverish skin.

  Suddenly, I realized what was going on. It wasn’t stress making me feel this way, nor was it the flu. I was having withdrawal symptoms from the heroin. I’d had bouts like this before when I’d tried to quit, but I’d never made it this long without a dose. And I’d never had symptoms this bad.

  I just needed one more teeny-tiny dose to get me over this hump. Just enough to get me through today.

  After that, I was done for real.

  I opened the safe and pulled out the small satchel. My hands were shaking so violently, I almost dropped the bag. I stumbled to the bed and sat down, then flicked on the lamp and unzipped the bag.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Bryan

  In the lobby, beneath the concourse level where the bar and gift shop were, I stuck out like a bad ink stain in my all-black outfit of jeans, shirt, and boots, sitting on the corner edge of a beige suede sectional. A modern sphere mobile spun lazily overhead while I tapped my fingers impatiently against my leg.

  Where is Lace? She should have been down here twenty minutes ago.

  I ran my hands across my face and up through my hair. The light sweet scent of her vanilla fragrance still lingered. I wanted her soft curves back in my hands. I wanted my mouth on hers. I wanted to hear that low sound of arousal she made whenever our tongues touched.

  I wanted her. Now.

  I shifted, glancing at War at the other end of the sectional, where he sat talking to Dizzy.

  Everything was so fucked up. War was the wrong guy for her—I could finally see that. Sure, I’d once made a promise to him, but this wasn’t high school anymore. And I never promised I would stand idly by while he let her spin out of control. I had to get Lace to acknowledge what was between us. I was her first, and dammit to hell, I would see to it that I was her last.

  “Where is she, man?” Making eye contact with War, I threw up a hand. “Did she text you? It’s not like her to be late.”

  “I dunno.” War shrugged, glanced down at his phone, and then looked over as King and Sager burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?”

  “King,” Sager said with a smirk. “And his response to this cop who was hassling him at that truck stop in Richmond. I recorded it and put it on our YouTube channel. Come over. You guys need to see this.”

  War, Dizzy, and I moved over to the chairs where Sager and King were sprawled. We leaned in over the laptop, and King turned up the volume.

  “You been smoking some marijuana?” the cop on the screen asked in a condescending tone.

  “Not yet,” King said with his usual sassy grin.

  The cop’s brows rose. “I’m just checking. I don’t know if you knew, but a lot of drug deals go down in the area around here.”

  “Really?” King bowed up. “I ge
t my drugs somewhere else.” He folded his arms over his barrel chest and stared down at the much shorter uniformed man. “Are you telling me this because I’m Hispanic? If you don’t mind, Officer, could I have your badge number?”

  I watched the cop and King, but zoned out on their conversation as my ears picked up the unmistakable sound of my raised voice in the background.

  “I’ll never forget prom and how it was between us.”

  Fucking shit.

  I glanced nervously at War. Oh yeah, he heard me.

  He frowned as his gaze slid to me, and then back to Sager. “Play that part again. And turn up the volume.”

  My heart damn near stopping, I said, “War . . .”

  “Just shut the fuck up!” War growled.

  My muscles locked tight as the tape replayed. With the volume up, you could hear pretty much the whole incriminating conversation between Lace and me.

  There was a long moment of stunned silence when the clip finished. No one moved, and no one spoke. Even the lobby noise seemed to fade away as War and I stared each other down. I felt the dynamic between us shift forever.

  “You lying asshole!” War shouted, his face a furious mask. “How long have you been fucking my woman behind my back?”

  “It’s not like that—”

  But I never got the chance to complete that thought. Without warning, War’s fist flashed out and connected with my jaw.

  I staggered back, gingerly touching a thumb to the blood on my lip. My gaze narrowed. “I’ll give you that one, but let’s take this somewhere else. I don’t want to talk about this out here.”

  “I don’t care what you want!” he shouted, and my guts seized up at the anger and betrayal in his gaze. “I trusted you, Bryan. Like a brother.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

  “I love her, man.”

  “Don’t we all.” War’s lips twisted and he turned to Dizzy. “Did you know about this?”