Replay: An Off Track Records Novel

by Shea, Kacey

  “This was the best not-my-birthday surprise ever,” Jayla murmurs low enough that Cal can’t hear. “Thank you.”

  Her appreciation is already apparent, but it makes me smile nonetheless. “Oh, it’s not over.”

  She glances at Cal as he calls the elevator to our floor, and then shoots me a look. “Austin, don’t be ridiculous. I can’t leave everything to Brian.”

  I shake my head, not surprised in the least that she’s concerned about leaving her staff high and dry. It’s the kind of person she is. But she’s earned this small break. Besides, ever since the FBI made an arrest for the bomb in Salt Lake City, we are all breathing easier. “I asked for three hours, and we’re taking full advantage.”

  “It’s not even my birthday.” She laughs softly.

  The elevator opens and Cal holds the door, pressing the button for the top floor as the doors slide shut.

  “Well, I’ve missed too many of them.” I take a step closer to her, lowering my voice. “Think of this as a make-up.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes dance with amusement. “That leaves you twelve others.”

  She’s teasing, but the thought of having her permission to go above and beyond at least a dozen more times brings me more joy than it should. “Done.”

  She opens her mouth, probably to argue, but Cal interrupts. “This is you. I’ll be back when your car arrives.”

  The doors slide open and we shuffle into the open hallway. Floor to ceiling windows reveal an expansive view of the city.

  “Oh,” Jayla says, her tone full of awe. Her steps are slow as her gaze drinks it in.

  There’s something about being above the city this way that I’ve always loved, but I’m captivated by her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  She glances over her shoulder. “This is too much.”

  With just the two of us alone for the first time all day, I grab her hand and tug her loosely into my arms. “There’s more.” I can’t help but brush my lips along hers for a kiss.

  “Austin,” she reprimands and presses her hands at my chest, but instead of pushing me away, she glances around the empty hall before claiming my mouth with a kiss that awakens every part of my body.

  “Come on.” I break the kiss and take her hand before we’re discovered or things get out of control and we’re arrested for indecent exposure. Besides, I can’t wait for her to see the next part. With my gaze on her, I push open the ballroom door and walk us inside.

  The space is mostly used for weddings and parties, but today there’s only one table set for two with our meals hiding under a pair of silver domes. On the stage is the local Motown band I hired. When we were teens and Jayla was in a good mood, she always put her dad’s old records on. With one nod from me they begin to play.

  I meet Jayla’s gaze, expecting a megawatt smile. But her stare is practically unreadable, and her eyes glass over as if she might cry. Well, shit. I didn’t mean to overwhelm her.

  “Jay?” I squeeze her hand to draw her attention.

  “This.” She shakes her head. “You did all this for me?”

  If I could pound my chest and not ruin the moment, I would. Her words, and the way she’s regarding me as if I’ve completely superseded her expectations, makes me feel like the king of New York. “All for you.”

  “This is too much.”

  “I have money.” I shrug. “Get over it.”

  “I’d rather you not waste it.” The words fly from her lips and she glances at the floor.

  “Not a waste.” I take a step backward and tug her closer to the band. “Dance with me.”

  “In here?” She glances around the empty ballroom, a shyness creeping into her usual confidence. “Just us?”

  “Please?” I ask her once more, praying she won’t turn me down. “Dance with me, Jayla?”

  She nods and I draw her into my arms, one hand settling on her hip while the other snakes around her waist. She lets me hold her close, and her hands find the neckline of my T-shirt where her fingers skim the column of my throat. I rest my forehead against hers, content to close my eyes and memorize the feeling. There’s nothing indecent about our embrace as we swing our hips to the music, but somehow that makes this more intimate. The band croons about finding lost love, and everything about this moment feels perfect.

  This is all I need. I savor it, memorize and capture the beauty. The feel of her curves against me. The way she allows me to lead. Together it feels as if we could take on the world. That we could be forever.

  Forever. I swallow back the surge of emotion that tightens my throat and makes it hard to breathe. I don’t expect I’ll be lucky enough for this to last. Someone as extraordinary as her will eventually come to her senses. I won’t be enough. Eventually I’ll fuck this up. That truth hurts.

  Jayla won’t want me forever, but for now I pretend maybe she could.

  31

  Jayla

  I don’t know how he does it. Austin has not only made me a liar, but in the span of two hours he steals another piece of my heart. If I’m not careful, he’ll have the entire thing. I’m not the kind of woman who’s wowed by big, flashy gestures, and I still think it’s insane he rented an entire ballroom just for us to dance. But I can’t deny everything about this afternoon was sweet, meaningful, and perfect.

  By the time Cal arrives to retrieve us, I feel totally pampered and recharged.

  “Thank you,” I say to Austin after we’re tucked into the town car and on our way back to the venue.

  “You don’t have to thank me anymore,” he weaves our fingers together on the seat between us. He lets loose a long sigh and drops his head back on the seat. “I don’t want to go back.”

  I nod, understanding the sentiment. He provided an escape where we didn’t have to think about work or life, or anything other than each other. A bubble away from the world. The only other time that happens is when we’re having sex. And while I first thought he snuck us to the hotel for just that, I’m glad today was about more than meeting the physical needs of our relationship. Besides, we’ll have time for that later tonight.

  Lost in my thoughts, his phone buzzes from where it rests on his lap. With his other hand, he picks it up to read the screen. The second he reads the screen his brow tugs into a scowl and his body tenses. A moment later his hand releases mine.

  “Everything okay?” I straighten in my seat.

  “It’s nothing.” He smiles, but it’s forced and doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He taps a few buttons and sets the phone back on his lap, screen down, but doesn’t reach for my hand again.

  “Austin?” I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling, or why he’s even trying.

  “It’s nothing. Promise.” He’s lying. It’s clear as day. He holds my gaze with that fake smile again and I can’t tell whether he thinks I’m stupid enough to believe him, or he’s protecting me from whatever it is he’s not saying.

  My stomach churns with unease. What is he hiding? The question bounces in my mind as I hold his stare. I won’t ask again. If he doesn’t want to tell me, he must have a reason. Right? My body grows anxious and I give in to the need to tap my heel. Austin glances away, feigning interest at the city outside.

  I hate how quickly uncertainty replaces the honest openness between us. Disappointment grows with each passing mile as I realize he’s shut me out. Does he not trust me? What’s going on? A million different scenarios race though my thoughts and none of them bring peace of mind.

  Maybe he has a good reason for keeping me in the dark. He better. I grasp the irony, because Austin isn’t the only one with secrets. I still haven’t told him about my phone call with Vince last week, and I don’t plan to. Every time Austin asks to film another video I’m conflicted and filled with guilt, but ultimately it’s the right choice. At least for now.

  When the car pulls in the secure entrance twenty minutes later we still haven’t said a word. I silently beg for him to break the silence, to put my fears at ease, but mostly for him to be honest and
real. Only Austin’s not a mind reader, and that doesn’t happen. Our car stops and the driver walks around to open my door.

  “Austin?” I don’t attempt to mask the hurt from my tone.

  His lips pinch as he meets my gaze, and for a second I think he might acknowledge this shift between us.

  My door opens. “Miss Miller?”

  I hesitate because I refuse to go back to work when we’re on such shaky ground. After everything Austin gave me this afternoon, he can make this right.

  “Later.” His voice rasps as if he has to fight to push out the words. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  I hold his stare, searching for truth, and give him a silent nod. Maybe he’s doling bullshit, but his promise to talk later pacifies my worries. At the very least, suspends them for the time being. Besides, we don’t have time for this. Not now. We’ve already had our vacation from reality, and something tells me our crash back down to Earth might hurt.

  * * *

  There’s still another two hours until we open the doors, but in my absence the security team stayed on task. Everything is ready to go, and after I make my rounds I head over to the green room to see Austin. Our parting was awkward at best and as busy as I’ve been tonight, I haven’t stopped worrying. Even now as I slide inside the room, Austin’s stare doesn’t quite meet mine. He just sits there, spinning his phone on top of the table as if it’s the most interesting object in the room. His quiet rejection hurts.

  “How’s your birthday?” Sean draws everyone’s attention to where I stand. His grin tells me Austin hasn’t mentioned anything about the uncomfortable end to our date on the car ride back. Everything changed with that one text, and hell if I can figure out what could have been bad enough to sour our perfect afternoon.

  “Oh.” I force myself to laugh. “Good, except the security team now thinks I was born on January twenty-first.”

  Everyone chuckles. Except Austin. I know this because I can’t keep my eyes off him. Maybe I should pretend we’re good, but I can’t stand the distance. Passing everyone, I walk over and pull out the chair next to his. I set my phone on the table and reach across to cover his hand with mine. “Hey, we good?”

  He lifts his gaze to mine and for a second I see his vulnerability. Fear. Hesitation. Then my cell vibrates on the table between us and his gaze leaves mine to read the incoming text. His mouth presses together and his brows knit with a scowl. “What the fuck is this?” he growls.

  I glance at my cell to the message from Glen, one of the guys I went through the academy with. We’re not super close, but he’s one of the guys I still meet up with to grab a beer every now and then. It’s a one-word text, hey, and Austin has no reason to be annoyed about it. Especially with how strange he’s been acting.

  My jaw locks and I meet his stare with challenge. “That’s my phone.”

  “Yeah, and who’s this fuckwad?” He points at my cell.

  I came over here to make peace, or at the very least to be understanding of his sudden change in mood, but now he’s acting like a jealous little man. I straighten my spine and cross my hands over my chest. “I think you can read.”

  “Who the fuck is Glen?” He leans forward on his elbows. “And why is he sliding into your DMs with a hey?”

  “It’s just hey.” I glance over Austin’s shoulder to find everyone staring, but they all turn around and act as if they aren’t. Maybe we shouldn’t do this here, with an audience and with tension already at a high. But then I remember how Austin pretty much cut me off when he got a text, and the double standard pisses me off.

  “We both know exactly what hey means.”

  “No.” I tilt my head. “Enlighten me.”

  “When a dude sends a hey, he’s looking to get laid.”

  “Oh, really?” I laugh incredulously. “Maybe he wants to say hi. Talk. See how I’m doing.”

  Austin scoffs. “Sure, if he wants to fuck you.”

  “You’re a pig.” I make a disgusted sound in my throat.

  Austin’s frown grows with his glare. “Who is Glen?”

  “We used to work together. Not that I owe you an explanation.” I pick up my phone and my chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “In the future, how about you respect my privacy?”

  “Why? You hiding something?” Hello pot, meet kettle. Aren’t we all. “We agreed no other guys.”

  I gasp at his accusation. It’s completely uncalled for and spiteful. My blood boils and I drag in a breath so I won’t yell. I lower my voice so only he hears. “Have a great fucking show.” Turning on my heel, I stomp out before he pulls me any deeper into this stupid argument.

  I can’t believe he alluded to me cheating. All because I received a text from a man! My pulse speeds and I’m still fired up as I stomp through the mostly empty concourse. I don’t have anywhere to be or anything to do until it’s time to let the public in, but restlessness causes me to pace.

  When I’ve calmed enough to think straight, I pick up my cell to find out what Glen wants. It’s most certainly not to sleep with me. Fucking, Austin.

  Me: Hey, what’s up?”

  Glen: I was gonna ask if you wanted to hit up Runyon this week, but I see you’re on tour . . .

  A moment later he sends a screenshot of one of the videos I did with Austin.

  Me: Ugh. You saw the video.

  Glen: LOL hell yeah I did.

  Me: Don’t start.

  Glen: What? It was good.

  Me: AND?

  Glen: You always were good at takedowns.

  Me: AND?

  The stupid bubbles appear and re-appear for what feels like forever before his next message finally comes through.

  Glen: Everyone in the department is talking about your ass.

  Me: Fucking hell.

  Glen: All complimentary.

  Me: I’m never coming to happy hour again.

  Glen: Oh, come on! Don’t make such threats.

  Me: My ass is the entire fucking frame!

  Glen: Please. You look the best you have in years. Baby got back.

  Me: It’s HUGE.

  Glen: You’re thick and you look good. I’m defending your honor as much as I can. I stuck Martinez on traffic stops for the month so they’re no longer making lewd comments.

  Glen: At least around me.

  Me: Thank you.

  Glen: One more thing.

  Me: Yeah?

  Glen: Be careful, okay?

  Glen is one of the good guys. The kind of person who considers everyone around him family. But he doesn’t need to be worried about me.

  Me: That’s why I’m on this tour. To keep things safe.

  Glen: No . . . I meant with your heart.

  It catches me off guard. Completely and totally. Glen’s been a friend ever since surviving academy together, and he’s one of the few people I still talk with after leaving the force. We meet up for beers on occasion, or to get in a run, but we don’t do personal matters and we especially don’t talk feelings.

  Me: My heart is in perfect condition.

  Glen: That rock star. Austin.

  Me: Yes?

  Glen: Fuck this, I’m calling.

  My cell rings a second later and I pick up, wildly curious as to why he’s concerned for my heart. “Hey.”

  “Sorry, I should’ve called first.”

  “What’s going on?”

  He exhales harshly. “I don’t trust that Austin guy. Keep an eye on him. Or better yet, stay far, far away.”

  “What are you talking about? You realize that’s impossible.” Understatement of the year, but Glen doesn’t need to know Austin and I are hooking up.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this, so let’s forget I am, but a buddy of mine works private sector. He’s a retired detective and ex-military. I think I’ve told you about him.”

  “Yeah,” I say, impatient. “What about him?” And what does he have to do with Austin?

  “Austin Jones hires him.”

  “For what?” Whe
n he doesn’t answer right away my irritation heightens to severe annoyance. “Glen, stop fucking around. Either say it or don’t.”

  “Sorry, it just pisses me off that you’re stuck working to protect a scumbag.” He clears his throat. “He pays my friend to find girls.”

  My gut churns with dread. “Girls?”

  “Young ones. Homeless. Prostitutes and drug addicts especially.”

  “What does he do with them?”

  “Does it matter? I can’t think of anything chivalrous unless he’s operating some program to get young women off the street, and we both know that’s not happening. If it was, that’d be all over the press.”

  He’s right. I know he is, but I refuse to believe this about Austin. From my time on the force and in private protection, I know better than anyone that people aren’t always who they claim to be. But Austin as a sexual predator? It doesn’t sit right with me. “Are you sure it’s the same Austin Jones?”

  “Positive. We were watching your YouTube video—that’s how it came up—and this guy . . . I don’t condone his lack of moral compass when it comes to his freelance work, but I’d trust him with my life.”

  “Thanks, Glen,” I say numbly, feeling sick and dizzy all at once. “For looking out. I gotta go.”

  “Always. Doesn’t matter that you quit on me, we bleed blue for life.”

  My hands shake and I fight back the urge to puke as I process this news. I can’t believe this is true. Not Austin. Not the man who comforted me when I told him about the assault I experienced as a young woman. Oh, God. My stomach dips. Did that turn him on?