by Ward, H. M.
His dark eyes stare at the drink for a beat too long, but he finally takes it. “Just for the record,” he says, staring at the floor, “I admire you.” His gaze flicks up and he lifts his glass.
What changed? I’m not about to ruin it and ask him. Maybe he has rock star PMS. “Well, coolness.” I smile at him, sincerely this time, and look at my shot glass. “And just for the record, I’m a total fangirl. Your music is awesome, plus you have guts. So, I guess I admire you, too.” I lift my face so he’s looking right at me. “Truce? Or is it too late?” I hold out my hand, hoping he’ll shake it.
That smirk teases his lips into a full grin. “I couldn’t hate the future Mrs. Ferro, not when it’ll piss off Sean to know exactly how much I like you.” He laughs, clinks his glass to mine, and downs his drink. I do the same and head back to the stage.
As I pass Mel, she’s still staring at Trystan, muttering to herself. “Well, don’t just stand there, go say hi.” I smack her back towards him.
Mel walks over to him like he’s made of magic, as if the illusion will disappear if she moves too fast. Her voice is uncharacteristically soft. “Oh my God—it’s Trystan Scott.”
34
Sidney and I are laughing hysterically, dancing on the stage, each of us with a drink in hand, when I feel eyes on us. Mel’s been blabbering at Trystan for the past half an hour, going on and on, rambling and poking him like he’s a mirage. It’s kind of funny. Nothing fazes her, but put a rock star in the room and she’s gone brain dead. Trystan takes it well enough. He just laughs and pats the arm of the chair and tells her to sit.
Then, two things happen at the same time. Mel’s spine straightens—I see her out of the corner of my eye—she’s a curve of shadow. And then, the rigidness turns to mush and she falls. I stop dancing and stare past her—there are also more shadows moving in the back of the room—people that I didn’t see before.
Trystan scoops up Mel and sets her down in his chair. “Avery, your friend didn’t even drink anything.” He looks up at me and then at the back of the room. “Hey, guys.” Even with my hand shading my eyes, I can’t see who’s back there, not past the glare of the spotlight.
“Avery?” a familiar voice asks, walking toward me. “What on earth have you done to Sidney?” Peter Ferro, uh Granz, walks toward me quickly. I lower myself and hang my legs off the side of the stage. The room tips a little bit and I blink hard. Peter seems tense, and in that moment he reminds me of Sean. Damn, it’s late. When is Sean going to get here?
“Nothing,” I reply. “She asked about stripping, so we’ve been dancing.” I grin broadly at him. “Ask her to show you what she can do with the pole.”
Sidney giggles and nearly doubles over. Peter looks up at her. “Is she drunk?” Peter’s head snaps back toward Trystan with a pissed off glare and he could easily double as Sean in that moment.
Trystan is fanning Mel, trying to get her to wake up. “Don’t look at me. They’re the ones that swallowed.”
All of a sudden, Sidney starts laughing. It’s way too loud, and she realizes that no one else thought the line was dirty, so she slaps her hands over her mouth and cuts off the sound. Peter rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes and sighs.
I feel sheepish. “I’m sorry, Peter.”
“It’s not your fault.” He smiles up at his bride-to-be. “Come on, cupcake. Let’s take you home.”
Peter holds up a hand, and Sidney walks over to the edge of the stage. The way she looks at him is the perfect combination of lust and adoration. The emotion is so raw, so intense, that I avert my eyes and look at the floor. Peter’s wearing saddle shoes, black on brown, and vintage from the look of them. She sits next to me, and then Peter reaches up for her. She slips into his arms and he holds her like that, and walks to the door, whispering things that make Sidney giggle softly.
My head tilts to the side and I’m repressing the urge to say, aw.
There’s a sweet smile on my face as the rest of the people come into view. One guy is tall and built, with dark hair, and bright green eyes. There’s a wicked grin on his face as his eyes travel over my body. “Hey, stripper girl. I have some ones. Wanna have a fun time?” The guy that’s with him slaps Green Eyes in the back of the head. “What?”
“Sean will kill you.” As the man steps toward me, I see the resemblance. The dark Ferro hair and bright blue eyes, the lopsided grin, and perfectly smooth skin. He looks like a younger version of Sean. “I’m Jonathan Ferro. This asshole is my cousin, Bryan.” He jabs his thumb at him. There’s a girl behind him wearing a blazer and a blanket and not much else. She won’t meet my gaze.
“I’m Avery Stanz. I’m—”
“She’s my fiancée.” Sean’s voice booms from the back of the room. No one heard him come in, but everyone turns to look at him.
35
I slip off the stage and rush at him, darting around empty chairs and tables. The strain on his face is horrible. I can’t imagine what he’s been through tonight, what horrors came flashing to the front of his mind. Without a word, I fling my arms around his neck while the others gasp and whisper.
I kiss his cheek and plaster my palms to the sides of his face, forcing him to turn his tired eyes on me. “Are you all right? What happened?”
There are dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his neck and shoulders makes his body feel like stone. Leaning in close to my ear, he whispers, “Not now.” I stay there like that for a second, and then peel myself off of him even though every urge I have says to hang on tight and never let go.
Sean walks past me and glares at his brother. “Well?”
Jon steps up to him. Damn they look alike, but Jonathan doesn’t have the fine lines etched into his face. “Sean, this isn’t your concern.”
“I see. So, you’re going to piss away your future. Good plan.”
Jonathan stiffens and gets in Sean’s face. “Since when do you care?”
Sean laughs, but it sounds more like Jonathan shoved a stake through his heart. Sean doesn’t reply this time. Instead, he shakes his head and turns away, taking me by the hand and leading me backstage. He yells over his shoulder, “Your decisions are as abysmal as the company you keep.”
Someone yells something back, but their words don’t carry. Sean’s jaw is locked tight and he’s barely breathing. Once we’re back in the dressing rooms, he sits me down in a chair, kneels in front of me, and looks me over. “Are you hurt?”
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I shake my head. “I’m fine. Are you all right? What happened? I was so worried about you.”
“Did they mistreat you?”
At first I’m not sure who he means, but then I guess he’s talking about Trystan, Jonathan, and Bryan. Touching his hand, I smile at him. “No, of course not. Trystan was actually very nice to me, so was your brother—both of them.”
“Pete was here?”
I nod. “So was Sidney. I’m fine, Sean. Mel’s fine, except for the passing out part.”
“Is she drunk?”
“Nah, she’s got the hots for Trystan.” I laugh once and smile at him, pushing a lock of dark hair away from his eyes. “He talked to her and she fainted.”
That makes him grimace. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, apparently she’s got a weakness.”
Sean nods thoughtfully and then looks up at me. Our eyes lock and I can’t help but notice the massive amount of worry in his. “Thank God that’s her only weakness.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have to tell you something.” His voice sounds like he doesn’t want to tell me at all. “The police know the woman found in my room was a call girl, and that she was killed with a knife—one stab in her side, and then another, fatal, slash across her throat.” Sean’s voice is so still and devoid of emotion. I know what he’s trying to tell me, what he means, but I don’t want to admit it.
Shaking my head slowly, tears form in my eyes. “No, she couldn’t have—she didn’t…”
�
�She did, baby.” My breath catches in my throat and I lean into his shoulder as the tears start to fall. “Mel killed that woman and we need to find out why.”
36
Sean and I stay like that for what seems like hours. His hands run down the back of my head and smoothes my hair as he whispers soothing words into my ear. At first I’m not sure why I’m crying, but then the images float through my mind and I know. After everything Mel’s been through—after fighting tooth and nail to climb out of the slum she grew up in, getting that scholarship, selling her body to pay the bills—it was all for nothing. She’s back where she started. If the cops catch her, there’s no way they’re going to call it self-defense, not with the wounds Mel inflicted. The thought makes me cringe even more. What would make her so frightened that she’d respond that way? She had to realize that she was giving up everything the moment she drew the blade across the woman’s throat. I close my eyes and hold onto Sean tighter.
“Do they think you did it?” I ask the question that I’ve been dreading. Everyone hates him, even his own family seems to have a distaste for Sean, but I can’t see why. Jonathan stormed off, but from the look of things Sean was trying to help him, the same way he helped Peter. Why can’t Jonathan see that?
There are more things at play in the Ferro family than I can see, issues that lay far beneath the surface. Even Peter, who for all practical purposes seems normal, is far from it. What the hell happened to them?
Sean’s chest rises and falls in a steady motion as he holds me close. His voice is soft and strained. He kisses the top of my head. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Fuck. “So they didn’t clear you? They think you’re a suspect?” Pulling back, I look up into his tired eyes. “How? You were with me the entire time.” Sean presses his eyes closed and steps away, turning his back to me as if he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s losing his composure. “Sean, talk to me.” I reach for his shoulder and touch it gently.
He doesn’t shake me off, but he doesn’t turn. Sean runs his hands over his face and speaks softly, making sure no one else could possibly hear. “I’m not a suspect, not yet, but close enough and it’s because of Amanda.”
A chill runs through me and settles in my stomach. The sensation is so horrible that I want to cry and I know that it’s only a fraction of the emotion surging through Sean. I don’t wait for him to look at me. Instead, I step around and look into his face. There’s a glassy sheen on his eyes and he evades my gaze.
I say what I know, the thing that no one else realizes and the one thing that Sean is desperate to forget. “You’re a good man, Sean. No matter what they say, no matter what they see.” I touch his cheek and smile warmly at him. “You hide it so well that even you forget at times.”
He touches my hand, smoothing his fingers over the back of it. “You scare me more than anything I’ve ever encountered, and at the same time, I love you for it. You see through me, Avery Stanz, down to my mangled soul, and you stay. Every time, you stay.” Sean’s voice is uncharacteristically soft and he closes his eyes for a moment, and presses my hand more firmly to his cheek.
I don’t worry about shattering the moment this time. I’m sure of myself—and even more certain of us. I know what he needs, but I can’t give it to him here, so I take his hands and pull him to a clearing backstage. Sean follows without protest. When I stop, I take his hands and slip them around my waist and place my hands around his neck.
We dance slowly, saying nothing, until Sean bows his head and rests it on my shoulder. We stay like that for a long time, occasionally stepping as if we’re still dancing. It doesn’t escape me that Sean is letting me comfort him. He’s given up control for the moment and is relying on me to hold him together. This is so unlike him that it worries me. I don’t know if he’s growing emotionally or falling apart. Sometimes those things look identical.
A flicker of movement catches my eye when one of the curtains across from us stirs. I lift my gaze and see Jonathan standing there in the shadows, watching. Our eyes meet and I mentally beg him to leave Sean for the moment. I can’t stand to see him hurting any more right now, because it doesn’t matter what Jonathan thinks—Sean cares about him. The man would do anything for his brothers, I’m certain of it.
The anger melts off of Jonathan’s face and he stands there a beat longer than he should, almost shocked. His lips part slightly and his hands, which were fisted, unclench and linger at his sides. Has he never seen his brother hurting before? Sean the invincible is weakened at the moment, no doubt reliving the hellish night his wife took her life.
Maybe the embrace, and the way he hangs his head, makes Sean seem more human, I don’t know, but whatever the reason, Jonathan shrinks back into the shadows and disappears without a sound. No one else comes looking for us either. We stay like that for a long time, and don’t break apart until we’re ready to face whatever comes next, even though I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
37
Mel. This whole goddamn mess stems back to her and I need to find out what happened. I’d assumed she wasn’t in the room after I found out that it wasn’t her dead body under the sheet. There was no blood on her clothes and no indication that she’d done anything wrong. It seemed like Mel left the hotel when she found out what happened, the same way I did. If one of us gets caught and it gets back to Black, we’re all screwed.
I don’t want to believe that my best friend killed someone, but this is Mel we’re talking about. I’ve seen her threaten people with knives and so it’s no shock she used one on somebody. Actually, I was under the impression that she’d cut someone up in the past for messing with her, but that was a past life, way before I met her.
The question that’s swirling in the back of my mind is why didn’t she run? Even after stabbing the woman, she stayed and slit her throat. Why kill her? Self-defense is understandable and forgivable—this isn’t. Mel’s ruined her life, everything that she was running away from has come back in full force. She’ll never finish college or have a career. She threw away her entire future and I don’t understand why.
Sean agrees to find the bar and give me and Mel some space. I walk through the worn curtain and wander toward the stairs that lead off the stage. Mel is awake and talking to Trystan who seems to be a night owl. Does anyone sleep anymore? I feel like a zombie. I’ve been running on fumes for hours and I’m pretty sure I’ll trip and smear my face on the floor in the next hour.
Mel is sitting in a chair across from Trystan. She glances up and beams at me, before lifting a finger toward Trystan. “It’s really him.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. “I know. He caught me outside. I pretty much fell on him.”
“You did fall on me, not that I minded.” Trystan sits up slightly and glances around. I’m sure he’s looking for Sean.
I roll my eyes as I fold my arms over my chest, and throw my hip out. It’s a naughty look that my mother gave me too many times. “Are you picking fights, Trystan Scott?”
“Psh, no.” He grins broadly, which contradicts his words.
I drop my arms and walk towards his seat. Trystan leans back and looks up at me when I sit on the arm of his chair. “Listen, Sean will skin you if you mess with him tonight. Do me a favor and leave him alone.” I wouldn’t have said it, but I don’t think Trystan’s a jackass. I’m guessing the disdain for the guy is coming from Sean, because I’m not feeling it the same way from Trystan. It’s more like Trystan is reacting to something. It’s hard to like someone when they hate you. I need to ask Sean what he has against the rock star, because he seems fine to me.
Trystan doesn’t promise anything, but his gaze meets mine and his smile changes. The corners of his mouth lose that teasing grin and his gaze softens to something that resembles understanding, and maybe even empathy.
Without warning, he glances at Mel and slaps his hands down on his knees. “So, I’m guessing you two want to talk.” Trystan jabs his thumb at Mel. “She’s had a rough night. Go easy
on her.” Then he’s gone.
I slip into his velvety seat and look at Mel. She looks picture perfect as always. Silence stretches between us and for the longest time neither of us speaks. When I can’t stand it anymore, I blurt it out. “What happened? Are you all right? How can you just sit there and pretend—”
Mel points a manicured nail at me and her expression flashes from pleasant to furious. “Don’t you dare act like you have a fucking clue about anything!”
I lean forward and my hands start flying while I speak, begging for an explanation. “Then tell me!”
“Don’t pretend you care about me. If this didn’t happen in your room, you wouldn’t have even spoken to me tonight.”
That’s it. She pressed my psycho-bitch button. I fly out of my chair and I’m on my feet, screaming in her face. “Bullshit! That’s total crap and you know it! You know what I thought when I went back to the room? I thought you were under that fucking sheet! I saw your hand lying there, limp and pale and I thought I lost you. I thought you were dead! So don’t sit there and act like I don’t give a shit about you!”
Mel is in my face with her lips smashed together, ready to verbally decapitate me when a deep voice cuts through the room.
“Sit down.” It’s Sean. We both glance over at him. He looks more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him. The tension that lines his face is etching deep groves into his beautiful skin. Sean has a drink in his hand and is walking toward us.
When neither of us moves, he growls again, “Sit.” Mel and I comply, and avert our eyes.
Mel lets out a huff of air as Sean steps between us. He glares at Mel. “You have no idea how much shit I went through tonight for you. Avery’s your friend, so stop acting like a child. You killed someone and we need to know why.”
Mel is grinding her teeth and stiffens in her chair. She doesn’t look at either of us and I know she doesn’t want to talk. Her nostrils flare as she breathes and her nails bite into the arms of her chair. She finally looks up at Sean. “I have trouble believing that you’d stick your neck out for me.”
