Damaged Desires: A Frenemy, Military Romance

by LJ Evans

  “No?”

  “No, I think I need to call you Isis because you will definitely either save me from or lead me to my death.”

  I laughed, the heaviness from our talk in the room hours before easing away.

  He pulled my hand into his, and we walked into the penthouse that way. Joined. A unified front. Brady and Lee were waiting for us with Tanner and the enormous man I recognized as Agent Malone. They all had flutes of champagne, and Lee offered us each our own. Nash declined any, but I lifted one to my lips. Nash leaned into my ear, whispering, “If the champagne gets to touch those lips, I should have been able to as well.”

  All I could do was smile and wink.

  “You look gorgeous, Dani,” Lee said, elbowing Brady who looked up from his phone.

  “You do. Completely beautiful. Alice did a great job.”

  “She’s beautiful regardless of what Alice put on her,” Nash said behind me, and Brady’s face broke into a huge grin.

  “Truth. But it’s kind of fun to hear you growl it,” Brady said.

  I laughed because Brady was a flirt with everyone, male or female, but Nash hadn’t even seemed to notice. Instead, he was listening to something in his ear.

  “They’re ready for you. We’ll go out the side entrance, through the alley, and then up to the front of the red carpet. I’d still prefer we skip the entire pre-show, but I’ve been overruled,” Nash said.

  The theater hosting the AMAs was next door to the hotel as part of a major entertainment and convention center complex in the heart of L.A. We wouldn’t need to drive anywhere to get there, although it would probably be strange for us to be emerging from an alley instead of getting out of a limo.

  “Look at it this way, you’ll get to experience the red carpet without the hassle of ever having to make a song or a movie,” Brady said to Nash.

  Nash didn’t respond. Other than the kiss and sexy look, Nash was in game mode, his SEAL persona surrounding him. The flash of the gun at his waist was only one of the weapons I was sure he was sporting beneath the layers of his tux.

  Nash and Tanner were going to accompany us down the press corridor. It would cause more rumors in tomorrow’s media storm, but I was certain it was the only way Nash had approved of my being a part of this whole scenario. He was determined to keep me close.

  Our entire group made our way out of the suite, down the hall, and into the elevator. Nash reached for my hand, and I gave him a wide smile to let him know I was truly okay. I even winked at him, and his eyes squinted, looking down at my lips which now tasted like champagne instead of lipstick. If we’d been alone in the elevator, I might have done something completely daring, and as if he could read my mind, Nash’s hand brushed against the hem of my dress in a casual, slow movement that reminded me just how painfully and gorgeously slow his hands could move over my body.

  When I looked back up at his face from his hand touching me, it was his turn to give me a grin and a wink. Challenge accepted.

  We hit the service hallway that we’d arrived in earlier where even more men waited. We had two in front and one on each side with Tanner and Nash taking up the rear. Malone disappeared in a different direction, and men with FBI vests lined walls as we walked. Alice was right; it was all over-the-top. When we emerged from the alleyway, the fans in the street roped off from the entryway burst into screams, calling Brady’s name. Brady waved and gave them his wide smile which wound them up to an almost fevered pitch.

  As we hit the red carpet, Brady put his arm through mine and turned a smile toward the press corps. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Smile, or they’ll think I paid you to come.”

  I laughed, and I swear I could feel Nash tense up from three feet behind me.

  Brady’s face was still next to my ear. “Shall we really make him go apeshit?” And before I could respond, he was placing a kiss on my cheek. The cameras flashed at such a fast pace; I was sure I was going to trip over my own feet from being blinded. When I risked a look behind us over Brady’s shoulder, Nash’s face was a deep scowl which only made him look exactly like the military man he was.

  “Don’t torment him,” I said in Brady’s ear. “You’re lucky he hasn’t killed you himself just to be done with all this.”

  Brady chuckled, and we stepped forward to the next stop on the long line to the door. There were certain members of the press who were allowed to ask questions and some who were just allowed to photograph. It was going to take at least thirty minutes to get to the theater entrance.

  At the next mark on the carpet, Brady and I stood with his arm around my waist and my hand on his chest. “Brady, tell us why you disappeared for real. Was it to whisk your stunning PR manager off to some hideaway?”

  We both smiled, and Brady just shook his head. “You know better than that, Sheila. But I do have to agree; Dani looks stunning.”

  It didn’t look like Nash was watching or listening—he had his face directed at the crowd—but his eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched tighter into a fist at Brady’s words. I didn’t want him to be jealous. There was no reason for him to be, but it also hit some inner cavewoman in me that was relieved and turned on at the possessiveness of it.

  As we moved down to the next stop, I said, “You have to stop torturing him. He’s here protecting you.”

  “No, he’s here protecting you, and I get the benefit.”

  I couldn’t argue that. I doubted Nash would have ever shown up in Florida if I hadn’t been there, and as mad as I’d been at the time, I knew now that it said something about us I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge then: we were tied together somehow. The ebb and flow of us unable to exist without the other. The moment we’d joined lips at Tristan’s, something had happened. Magic. Fate. Souls tying a knot along the weave of time.

  We finally made it into the theater and were shown to our seats in the second row on an end. Brady would be up and down to sing as well as for any awards he received. Alice had given us a schedule of events with breaks listed, but for the majority of the next few hours, we would be stuck in the seats.

  I’d been warned not to drink anything that wasn’t given to me by a member of the team. As I was not anxious to repeat the Tallahassee performance in front of an entire theater full of the music world’s elite, there was no way I was drinking anything unless Nash himself gave it to me, which he did, handing me a water bottle before he took his position near the stage to the side of the cameras. He could see almost the entire theater from his location, but I knew he’d taken the spot because it was as close to me as he could get.

  The entire event felt surreal, almost as if that dreamlike world we’d been living in at Wellsley Place had followed us into the real world. The list of performers whom I admired and who were sitting around us was a little staggering. Touring with Brady hadn’t seemed quite this big. Sure, I’d seen the screaming fans chanting his name at the concerts and people accosting him on the street outside his apartment in NYC, but sitting next to some of the world’s music icons, I was suddenly overwhelmed with just how big Brady was. He always acted humble, an easy-to-approach, flirt of a man, and I’d never really taken in everything he’d accomplished by singing the songs he wrote with Ava, my brother’s best friend’s wife. Maybe because they were all so close to me personally, it hadn’t felt like the enormous achievement it was.

  Brady was grinning when he looked over at me. “Seriously, you keep letting that smile slip, and you’ll be fighting off a whole host of rumors about you, me, and how miserable I am to be around in tomorrow’s news.”

  I plastered on a smile but then said, “Brady. You. You’re kind of incredible.”

  “Don’t let the Otter hear you say that.”

  I laughed. “Not like he’s incredible to me. I’m just saying, stop and look around you. You’re up for five AMAs. Five!”

  He smiled. “You’re my PR manager; weren’t you already supposed to know that?”

  I slapped him on the
shoulder. “Stop deflecting. I want you to really look around, take a breath, and then let it set in. You’ve made it. All your dreams have come true over the last three years.”

  His smile lowered a level. “Three years, six months, five days.”

  “What?”

  “That’s how long it’s been since I signed my contract with Nick. Three years, six months, five days. Two years ago, I was here for New Artist of the Year, which I didn’t get. The next year, I was here for Video of the Year, which I won. Now, my second album is out, I’ve got my own headlining tour in major stadiums, and I’m up for five awards. It isn’t lost on me, Dani. The only thing that would have made any of this better is if I’d been able to talk Ava into doing it with me.”

  “You haven’t let the fame go to your head,” I said. “After being here today, I kind of can’t understand that, and it makes me want to work even harder as your PR manager.”

  I could have sworn he blushed a little. “I have parents who won’t let me forget exactly who I am.”

  “Yeah? Who’s that?”

  “The kid who lost the dog and his sister all in one night.”

  “You did not.” I chuckled.

  “I did. I’d finally earned enough money to get my guitar, and I was so lost playing it that my little sister went to walk the dog without me, made a wrong turn, and ended up three streets away. Thankfully, nothing happened to her, but I lost the guitar for another few months because my parents were so pissed at me.”

  “Let’s just keep all of that under wraps, shall we?”

  He laughed and then said, “You better send your man some I-love-you looks or something. I think he’s having a heart attack because you’re laughing with me.”

  I turned to look at Nash, and sure enough, he was shooting daggers into Brady. I thought about texting him, but I knew he’d never take the phone out of his pocket while he was on duty. So I just tried to give him my best smile and, like Brady said, send him an I love you with my eyes.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  Brady was up early to perform so it wouldn’t mess with any of his nominations. When he left, one of Malone’s FBI agents sat with me. The man was so nervous sitting amongst the celebrities that I thought he wouldn’t have seen a snail if it crawled up to him, let alone any danger. I tried to get him to relax, but he wouldn’t look my way.

  When Brady finished his song, the crowd gave him a standing ovation, and I joined them, lost in the happiness I felt for him. He returned to his seat only to have to get right back up for winning both Favorite Country Album and then Favorite Male Country Artist. I clapped until I thought my hands would bleed, shooting Georgie texts with pictures whenever I could. My brain was still trying to grasp how unreal it was that Georgie herself had been partly responsible for Brady getting his record deal. She’d been the one to sponsor the open mic nights at her hair salon in New York where he’d been discovered. It wasn’t a thing you’d ever think to hear about—an open mic night at a hair salon—but she’d gone in with the coffee shop owner next door to her, and now one of the acts she’d had on her little stage was up on one of the largest stages, winning multiple awards. It was a full-circle kind of moment for her and me as her sister-in-law.

  After his second thank-you speech, Brady was escorted backstage to talk to more media. I decided it was time for me to use the bathroom so I’d be back when he returned. The water Nash had handed me had gone right through me. There was no way I was waiting another hour until his next nomination. I signaled the attendant who went to find a seat filler, and then I made my way down the aisle to where Nash was standing. As I reached him, his entire body went still, and he whipped out a hand to grab me and pull me behind him.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, heart thudding.

  “Tanner needs me on the upper deck. He thinks she’s there,” Nash said.

  “Go!” I said.

  “Not until I hand you off to Marco.”

  “Marco’s backstage with Brady, isn’t he?”

  Nash didn’t respond, but we both knew he was. At the door, we were met with one of the FBI agents.

  “I’m just going to the ladies' room. Certainly, this highly trained agent can take me. Go get her for us,” I said.

  Nash looked doubtful. I pushed on his chest. “Go.”

  Nash looked to the agent with eyes ready to kill. “Take her straight to the restroom and then meet me back here. Do not go back into the theater until I’ve given the okay.”

  Then, he turned to stalk toward the stairs.

  “Nash,” I called out.

  He turned back to me. “Please be safe,” I said.

  He came back, kissed his fingers, and then placed them on my lips. “Keep this with you until you can give it back to me.”

  My entire body convulsed as he walked away. Love. Without the words said, but there. I had to shake myself out of my trance in order to turn to the agent who’d just witnessed one of the sweetest, most romantic things that had ever happened to me.

  The agent and I journeyed to the nearest restroom with my heart pounding at a rate that I thought might have me keeling over in my spiked heels. If it were Fiona, it would all be done, because I doubted she could do anything to the military men and highly trained FBI agents tracking her down. She’d started a shitstorm she was going to be lucky to get out of alive.

  The agent cleared the bathroom and then stood aside for me to enter.

  I glanced at myself in the mirror and, for the first time in a long time, didn’t see a pale reflection of myself. I saw the “me” I’d been before the attack but also stronger. On top of that, I was relieved that the entire situation with Fiona was coming to a close. I allowed myself a small smile of victory. The Dani I was now had come a long way in a year.

  I entered the bathroom stall, grateful to not have a long ballgown on for once.

  The door to the restroom swung open and then closed, surprising me. I didn’t think the agent would let anyone else in with me. I finished, flushed, opened the stall, and located the other woman at the sink before I moved, listening for signs of any other person in the room like Nash had taught me. I gave her space, skipping a sink to wash my hands, eyeing her from my peripheral vision. The woman was a tall blonde, hair piled high, gorgeous cat-eye glasses on her face.

  I tried not to stare just as I’d tried not to stare all afternoon at the sea of beautiful people who had filled the theater. I went to grab paper towels, and suddenly, the woman moved, wrapping a hand into the thick layers of chains I was wearing, bringing them up and twisting them tight at my throat just as I tried to spin away as I’d been taught.

  “If I can’t have him, you can’t either,” the woman hissed in my ear.

  My brain barely registered that it was Fiona.

  As I turned, trying to face her, the jewelry slammed tight against my windpipe, making it impossible to breathe, Fenway’s threat of a belt around my neck bursting into a warped reality.

  “You took everything from us,” she grunted as she pulled the chains harder.

  I launched an elbow into her gut, and she gasped but didn’t loosen her grip. I took my spiked heel, raising it to drag it down her shin, but it tangled in her long, red dress. The movement caused us both to go tumbling to the ground, and yet, she still didn’t let go of the chain.

  My brain was whirling with the word “us” and thoughts of how she’d gotten into the building. Everything started to get dark, and all I could think about was the pressure on my windpipe and the burn in my lungs.

  “We deserved everything we had, and he took it all away, so now I get to return the favor and take everything from him,” she said. It wasn’t a scream. It was a scary sort of monotone as if she was on autopilot.

  Flashes of Nash and the future we were trying to form together caused anger to pool in my belly. Anger at Fiona trying to take it away. Anger at Fenway. Anger at everyone who’d ever said shitty things behind my back. People who thought I was wea
k and who had, briefly, made me think it, too. But Nash had taught me that I was strong.

  Every single move Nash and I had practiced flew through me in a mad rush, adrenaline spiking in a different way than when I’d tangled with him, but still adrenaline. Before I even thought about it, I’d lost my pumps and flipped her over, forcing her hands to let go of the chains as I straddled her and pounded my fist into her face. The first punch broke her glasses, slicing my knuckles, and the second one caused blood to spurt from her nose. She went still, the blonde wig she’d been wearing sliding off her head and onto the floor, revealing auburn hair she’d shaved to almost nothing. The reflection of the military cut was not lost on me.

  She wasn’t dead, but she was knocked out. I scrambled off of her and headed for the door. As I did, I heard movement behind me. She wasn’t knocked out at all. She’d feigned it, and I’d bought it, but I didn’t wait, I just kept my momentum going forward as the door slammed open to reveal a Nash so cold and deadly I wasn’t sure I even knew him.

  Fiona was screaming, “Stop, you bitch!”

  Nash had his gun raised, and I just kept running to him. As I got close, he fired the gun. Once. The bullet flew through the air near enough to me that the sound registered in my ear. Twice. The next bullet let loose just as I collided with a strong chest and an arm that wrapped around me. He rotated his entire body to put me behind him as he aimed the gun backward for another shot he never took.

  I looked back to see the blood spilling from Fiona’s forehead and nose, the maroon color spreading across the chest of her red dress as she fell to the ground with her gun clattering to the floor with her.

  Nash

  ANGEL

  “You're the reason I live

  You're the reason I die

  You're the reason I give

  When I break down and cry.”

  Performed by Aerosmith

  Written by Child / Tyler

  When I got to the upper deck, Tanner was nowhere in sight, only Malone. The man was a monster. Huge. Deadly. I’d had some grudging respect for him right up until this moment.