The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  “Daniel gets mad and he banishes Marta,” Michael interrupted again. “And that’s all we know.” He grabbed my hand. “Tell us what happens next, April.”

  “I’m sure Dizzy has better things to do than stay here and listen to my silly story.” I gave him a pointed look.

  “On the contrary.” Dizzy settled back into his chair, lifting his studded brow. “Sounds intriguing.” He turned to my Michael. “What does this Daniel guy look like? Is he handsome?”

  Michael stared into space brow scrunching, but it was John who answered, “Chocolate hair, golden eyes and he has an earring in his ear, a silver hoop one, like the one on your lip, and he has studs just like you have in your eyebrow,” he added thoughtfully.

  “Very interesting,” Dizzy concluded pinning me in place with a wry look.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Dizzy

  “Thanks again for giving me a ride to the airport on such short notice,” Justin told me as I shifted gears on the Granville Bridge. “I’m sure you have lots better things to do on a Saturday afternoon.”

  “Forget it. It’s no big deal. Really.” Which wasn’t exactly true. His dilemma had taken me away from April mid-story, but I’d heard enough to know a couple of things, for one, she was an incredible story teller. The little details she added completely transported the listeners into the tale. I’d gotten irritated in more ways than one when Lace texted me about what had happened between Justin and Bridget. I’d been just as eager to find out what happened next as her brothers were. Secondly, she was into me. That character Daniel, the hero, was definitely me. Which meant she’d been thinking about me. A lot. Most of all, what April wouldn’t say when pressed about her husband’s vices told me all I needed to know. She didn’t like it. That was clear. And she didn’t love him. She’d already confirmed that in the storeroom right before I’d almost kissed her.

  She was wrong. She so needed a rescue.

  “I thought you and Bridget were solid.” I glanced over at our new lead singer. Even in profile I could tell he was barely holding it together. He had one hand on the backpack in his lap and a passport in the other, a death grip on both. His muscles were coiled so tight, I half expected that he would jump out and run into the terminal before I could get the car completely stopped.

  “We were.” A whirlwind of heavy shit swirled in his eyes. “We are,” he clarified. “Only I’ve got an ex from hell who somehow managed to convince her otherwise.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but I knew better.

  We were both silent for a while. I had troubles of my own. April monopolized my mind. Even when I was away from her she consumed my thoughts. It was nothing new, but it had only gotten worse after Whistler. I hadn’t nailed another chick since then. I was horny as shit, but I only wanted April.

  I was so screwed. Figuratively, anyway.

  I dodged an erratic taxi, and glanced at Justin. I understood Lace and Bryan, as a couple I mean. They’d had a connection for years. Everyone in the band saw it coming, except for War. Justin and Bridget on the other hand… not so much. Justin got around a lot, at least the way my sister told it. Bridget was pretty. But she was a single mom, introverted, shy, and the kind of woman that required a commitment.

  “First time I saw her,” he said softly while staring straight ahead as if reading my thoughts. “I knew she was different. The more we hung out, the more certain I became. She’s the real deal. Genuine. Compassionate. Stronger than she realizes. You know what I’m saying?”

  I actually nodded my head.

  I did know.

  Man, did I ever.

  • • •

  April

  “You wanna tell me what’s going on now?”

  “Mom...” I squeezed my eyes shut, my grip tight on my mug, the heat radiating from the ceramic burning my fingers.

  I felt her hand cover mine. Tears sprang behind my eyes, making my vision watery when I reopened them. Across the kitchen table from me, her expression was soft, her eyes nonjudgmental. “Are you having an affair with him?”

  “No.” I knew who she meant. At least with that I could be honest.

  “But you’re thinking about it?” She gave me a knowing look.

  I nodded, remembering the way Dizzy had looked as he’d passionately argued with me in the rain, his sexy hair wet and dripping into his fierce golden eyes. Yes, I wanted him wicked bad, but it could never happen. I sighed. “I don’t even know where to begin.” Or where to stop and how much detail to reveal that would be enough to satisfy her curiosity without compromising her safety.

  “Just tell me about you and James, honey.” She squeezed my hand, then leaned back in her chair and blew on her tea. “It’s obvious you’ve been having trouble since we lost Quinn.”

  My stomach clenched, blood draining from my face. The force of her name brought with it loss as fresh as it’d been the moment the doctor gave me the news. That I’d never be able to hold her, kiss ringlet curls I’d imagined she’d have, or hear the sweet sound of her laughter. I blinked rapidly trying to rein in my emotions before they spilled away like all my dreams for her.

  I couldn’t do this. I pushed the cup away and started to rise.

  She gathered my hands in hers while tears like silent raindrops fell from my eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, honey. The doctors said…”

  “I know what they said, Mom.” I sniffed. “But if I hadn’t…if we hadn’t…” I couldn’t talk about the specifics with her. Sex was supposed to be safe even in the third trimester. But not the kind James liked, not the kind I used to enjoy, before he got too rough. Before it became clear that what he really enjoyed was hurting me.

  “You have to stop blaming yourself,” she stated firmly. “As much as you loved her, maybe she wasn’t meant to be born.”

  “No.” I shook my head vehemently. “I don’t believe that.”

  She came around the table and wrapped her arms around me, laying her cheek on my head. “No one knows why these things happen, honey. Like with George. We either let them break us or use them to make us stronger.”

  “Yeah, well. I guess I failed then,” I mumbled.

  “No, you haven’t, but sometimes it’s the second guessing we do to ourselves that causes the most harm. It’s not too late to pick up the pieces.” She sat back down and leaned forward, hands clasped together, beseeching. “Have you considered marital counseling?”

  “No,” I answered so quickly her eyebrows rose.

  “Why not? Don’t you want to save your marriage? You used to be happy with him.”

  “I know.” This was the tricky part. The part she couldn’t know. What I wished I’d known before I married him. His connections. The ones he brandished like a weapon the one time I’d tried to leave him.

  I gathered my courage and drew it around me like a protective mantle. I had to shield her and my brothers at all cost. They were what mattered. That was something I could control. “It’s not fixable, Mom. Not by therapy, ok? It takes two for that to work, and he’s not willing.” He’d started fooling around after the accident. Had kept his hands off me until after I tried to run away. He didn’t love me. I was just another one of his toys now. A possession.

  “I’m sorry.” Her face fell, and her shoulders slumped.

  “Me, too, Mom,” I lied. “Me, too.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Dizzy

  Pick between my lips, I twisted the tuning key on my SG tighter until the tone lined up on my Snark. Then I closed my eyes, and leaned back against the headboard, thinking about April.

  Big effing surprise that.

  I remembered the passionate expression on her face as she’d told her story.

  I wanted to see that look on her face again. While I undressed her. Caressed her. Made her come.

  To me the band she wore on her left hand was no longer a deterrent. She didn’t love him, and that asshole definitely didn’t deserve her.

&
nbsp; I strummed through a couple of chords that sounded good before tucking the pick underneath the strings near the headstock and grabbing my beer off the nightstand. I took a long swig before returning to my task. I wanted to capture through music the indescribable way she made me feel.

  Wicked’s just the way I am

  Couldn’t really give a damn

  Some might say

  But sin feels better than it should.

  If you’re ready we can play

  Black and white have blurred to grey

  Underneath the sheets tonight

  You could make my wrongs all right.

  You got me

  Burnin’ down the straight and narrow

  On fire to the marrow

  Never thought that someone could

  You might make my wicked good

  Some before have tried to change me

  Wouldn’t let them rearrange me

  But I’d let you rule my night

  My dark angel be my light.

  You got me

  Burnin’ down the straight and narrow

  Comin’ at you like an arrow

  Didn’t quite believe you could

  You sure make my wicked good.

  How had Justin put it?

  Oh, yeah. I’d known April was different from the rest the first time I’d ever laid eyes on her.

  “Yo, Dizzy!” Lace’s voice carried back to my room. “You decent?”

  “As close as I’ll ever be, sister mine,” I called out. “I’m in the bedroom playing my guitar. I’ve got my shirt off, though.” For some reason I played better that way, the way we performed on stage. Lace wouldn’t care. She’d been around me and all the guys in various states of undress since we’d started the band in high school.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” she asked, breezing in my room, all fresh and lovely.

  “Good.” I gestured toward the beer. “You want one?”

  “No, Diz.” She tsked. “I don’t drink anymore, remember?”

  “I forgot.” I raked the hair out of my eyes. “High on love and all that shit.”

  “Actually yes, asshole.” She flopped down bouncing on the mattress near my bare feet. “What were you playing? I heard it when I let myself in. Something new?”

  “I was just messing around.” I shrugged.

  “Play it again.”

  “Sure, but it’s not ready yet.”

  “I know, Diz. I know how you are. You’ll pick it to death, but sometimes it’s good right from the start.”

  I nodded, and went through what I had without changing a thing.

  “One more time,” she demanded, closing her eyes, tilting her head to the side, her severely shortened blond hair sliding over one cheek. She hummed a counterpoint bass line while I played this time.

  “Shit, Lace.” I stopped playing and grabbed a pencil and sheet music from the bed. “That’s bloody fantastic!”

  Her brows rose. “I know right!”

  I jotted down the notes quickly. “Sucks not having you in the band anymore.” I looked her in the eye.

  She stared right back, lips pressing together as if choosing her words carefully before she spoke. “It was my life at one time, but it’s not as important anymore. Except for Bryan, that is.”

  I nodded. “I see that. I’m happy for you both.”

  “Even though we broke up the band?” Her expression revealed the turmoil and guilt I knew she still felt.

  “Yeah, even so.”

  She sighed. “Thanks. It means a lot for you to say that.”

  “I mean it, Lace.” A crease formed between my brows, and I sucked on my lip ring, giving my next words the same careful consideration she’d given hers. “I haven’t always made you a priority the way I should have.” Seeing April and her family and the way they stuck together, willingly sharing the burden of her stepdad’s care had opened my eyes to some things. “You probably would’ve been with Bryan a long time ago if I hadn’t interfered.” I’d pressured Bryan into choosing allegiance to the band over Lace, and that had driven a wedge between the three of us. “Because of me you ended up with that loser Martin instead.”

  “It’s ok, Diz.” She looked away. “It all worked out in the end.”

  “Yeah, but at what cost?”

  She turned back, eyes the same amber shade as mine swirling with intense emotion. “We all have our scars from the past.” She set her hand over mine where it rested on the guitar. My eyes glassed up. We weren’t a touchy pair. Thanks to our fucked up upbringing. The art of simple affection didn’t come naturally to either of us.

  “Yeah, I guess we do.” I agreed softly.

  “Dizzy, I worry about you. Do you ever…” She trailed off, looking down and fidgeting with microscopic lint in the bedcovers. “I still think about those times when we were kids, after Bryan moved in downstairs. I remember you crying. It was always after Sean and his thugs came over. The times you made me hide under the sink. Tell me he didn’t…”

  “You don’t wanna know,” I cut her off. She looked at me, and I knew that she did know.

  “Dizzy, no.” She covered her mouth making a choking sound in her throat. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Her voice was muffled and raw.

  “Think you know the answer to that one.” I moved off the bed, my movements agitated, turning my back to her. I could feel her eyes on me as I put away my guitar.

  “You need to talk to someone. You can’t let stuff like that fester. Just like the crap Martin did to me. It messes you up.”

  My hands shook a bit as I closed the latches on my case, but when I turned around, I had it together. “You asked. I told you.” My voice was as clipped as my words. “Now don’t ever mention it again. To me. To Bryan. To anyone. I’m not gonna say more about it. Ever. As far as I’m concerned it’s over and done with. In the fucking past. My shit to deal with how I see fit. Not fucking yours.”

  She flinched, her face closing off even before she looked away.

  Shit. How did I start out with an apology and end up here?

  I let out a shaky breath. “Sorry.” I sank down on the mattress beside her, forcing myself to reach for her, to touch her. She stared at our joined hands for a moment before she lifted her head, her eyes wet with regrets we both shared thanks to our worthless mother.

  “It’s ok,” she whispered. “I always knew, I guess. I’m sorry, too, Diz. So sorry.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  April

  I was running late. I never ran late, but I couldn’t seem to keep my mind on track since Saturday.

  Dizzy Lowell, rough edged inner city rocker right there in my suburban stereotypical family two car garage childhood home. It’d been surreal, yet it hadn’t been, and that was the thing I kept coming back to, how right that collision had felt.

  I shrugged out of my wool jacket. Snap out of it, I told myself for the umpteenth time as I spun the combo to open my work locker in order to hang my jacket on the peg inside. He only fits because you want him to. I had been busy building a vivid fantasy world around the guy, the fact which he was quite aware of thanks to my innocent little brothers.

  A beautiful fragrant pink peony greeted me as I opened the door. A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. I quickly closed the locker, glancing around, my heart slamming against my ribs.

  Reassured that no one else had seen, I crouched down to retrieve the note while bringing the perfectly shaped flower to my nose and inhaling deeply, its fragrance so real and fresh. “Risk. Daring. Beauty.” The words were handwritten in a definite masculine scrawl on the outside of the folded paper. I peered inside it. My breath caught. “You’re too good for him.” It was signed by the man who dominated my thoughts.

  Well that wasn’t going to get any better after this.

  Serious total swoon.

  But I wondered how he’d gotten into my locker, and why he’d bothered

  I thought I had made it pretty clear the way things were in the hallway at my mom’
s house. But apparently he hadn’t gotten the message. I would have to clarify the next time I saw him, but for now I was really way behind. I shoved the note into my pocket, snagged a freshly laundered bar apron off the shelf, and hurried into the club. I had a lot of prep work and a busy night ahead.

  By the time I got the open tabs transferred, the place was hopping, the music pumping, and customers were lined up in front of me. I completed at least twenty orders before I finally had a moment to catch my breath. I was scraping some lime slices into the condiment holder when I heard his velvety voice.

  I suppressed a shiver.

  But since my whole body was attuned to him, and because I obviously had no willpower where he was concerned, I lifted my head. I found him standing near my end of the bar, his ever present black leather jacket, chocolate and cream locks artfully styled, brandy hued eyes sparkling. King and Sager were with him, and so was a throng of women showing tons of skin in revealing tops and short skirts. They were obviously in the mood for a little back room rock star quickie, and I wondered how long it’d take before Dizzy took one of them up on the offer.

  Shit. The thought made my chest incredibly tight. I wasn’t in the mood to watch him score chicks. His concern was sweet. He certainly seemed caring, but I’d let myself forget the type of guy he really was. I reached under the bar, took a long sip of my water and told myself to get a grip. I had no right to feel proprietary with him, no matter how many flowers or notes he gave me.

  I purposefully ignored him and focused on my work, filling orders as quickly as they came in, scooping ice into tumblers and hustling back and forth between the blender, the barware, and the service well until I saw him approaching. I froze.

  “Hey,” Dizzy said in his decadent voice, his eyes traveling the length of me carefully as if searching for clues. There weren’t any new bruises to hide. Thank God. James had been working at the club later than usual.