by Cari Quinn
“Right. I’m certain you didn’t have time to pick up a phone after your active night and morning.”
“Look, I just said Zane interrupted us. We didn’t know shit was happening during our so-called active night. As far as we knew, Priscilla had stopped by to say hi to an old friend, and then she went back to tending bar.”
“As far as you knew, the band was under siege, and an act of such had probably happened that morning. You know better than to believe in coincidences. You also knew that this was not the time to be starting something with an understandably vulnerable woman. And you proved it with your very dangerous miss at the bar. You brought that stranger over to Teagan. Presented her with a drink that could have potentially killed her and caused serious harm to Zane’s reputation, if nothing else.”
Rage simmered in my blood. Worse than that was the shame layered underneath it.
“I’m sorry, I must’ve missed where the sex lives of my bandmates and I fell into the purview of Roth Security.”
“Cut the BS. Teagan’s a sweet girl. She has enough to deal with right now without—”
“Without a fuckup and deserter messing up her life? Is that what you really want to say? By the way, I thought you were supposed to keep it professional.”
Suddenly, I could think of nothing but our club party not that long ago when Teagan had been fawning over Daisy’s pictures of Noah and talking about how he had to be well-hung. Everyone had thought it was so funny. Except me. And obviously except Noah, who’d walked up at just the right time despite Teagan trying to play it off.
“And sweet girl, huh? Did knowing she had a thing for you get your rocks off, Jordan? Are you disappointed her little bout of hero worship is over now?”
“Are you sure that it is?”
That low question might as well have been a blade stuck in my ribs.
“I don’t know why I fucking called you. I thought you could see this unemotionally.”
“One of us is emotional, and it’s not me. From what I’ve seen, Teagan is sweet. Does that mean I fully trust her? No. It’s actually better for her if I don’t. Then I can keep my distance and my professionalism.”
“Yes, no one would dare doubt your almighty professionalism. I wonder what you’d do if one day you meet someone you can’t keep your distance from.”
“The job comes first. Always.”
“Yeah, so far.”
“It’s not going to change.”
“We’ll see.”
“The arson investigator will be looking at everything to evaluate who started that fire. Including Teagan.”
Little did he know I’d already been given that heads up from Cole. “You’re a goddamn bastard. How could you think she could ever do something like that?”
“I didn’t say I thought it.”
“No, but you did say you didn’t fully trust her. Not that much of a leap.”
“You take that leap. I’m not. I will say you are far too emotionally compromised to do her any good right now.”
“To you, caring if someone lives or dies is ‘emotionally compromised.’”
“Do you think your hotheaded reactions are going to keep her safe? You’re more concerned how I feel about your girlfriend—for good or bad—than who is pretending to be her friend to get close enough to cause her harm.”
I didn’t say anything. He was completely right.
“I know.”
He cleared his throat. “Is this line still working? I thought you said, ‘I know.’”
“I did. I’m messed up over her. I have been for a while. Now that she’s in danger, it’s even worse. And I missed something that could have shut this down at the source. If I’d caught that tell at the bar—”
“She would’ve found another way to get to Teagan. We don’t believe this person is working alone. Whomever is after Ripper has a bigger agenda than some rockstars.”
“You don’t think this is about any of us then. Nor is she just some crackpot.”
“We aren’t best friends, and I’m not sharing my diary with you. But if I had to guess, Teagan was targeted because she’s the newest. The untested one. From all appearances, she’s guileless and malleable. The perfect way into a band firmly ensconced near the top echelon of Ripper Records.”
I clamped a hand on the back of my neck. “You think someone is fucking setting her up.”
He said nothing.
“Why would they do multiple things at once? Why set a fire she hopefully would be blamed for at the same time you roofie her drink?”
“If no one catches on to the tampering, it sets up a pattern of unstable behavior. Combined with her breaking a door at Purgatory the night of the fire, it doesn’t look good. The authorities might think she’d concocted a story to cover her whereabouts at the time the townhouse fire was being set. And she’s had a difficult past. One she’s mostly kept under wraps. They knew exactly how to get to her to make her run out of that club.”
“But how would they know she would go there?”
“I don’t think they did. They were watching her, and they adapted.”
My gut was churning so hard I had to get up and walk off the fury inside me. “And Pat?”
“The ex?”
“Yes. What’s his role in this?”
“Are you under the mistaken opinion we’re colleagues?”
“Oh, no.” I laughed bitterly. “I’d never think for a minute you viewed me as on your level. I know exactly where I rank in your hierarchy.”
“Do tell.”
“That will have to wait. I don’t much care how you see me right now, but Teagan thinks something is up with that woman.”
“If she drugged her drink, I’d say so.”
“Not only that. Teagan asked her some basic questions and made some comments and the chick responded incorrectly about things she should’ve known. Like her dog in high school.”
“It’s been nearly a decade since Teagan was in school with her. People forget.”
“About your own beloved dog? And about your long-term boyfriend’s name? She agreed when Teagan commented on Priscilla being Prom Queen, and she was not. You know how women remember that kind of stuff. Secret princess fantasies and shit.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
I sat down again and tapped my fist on the smooth leather arm of the sofa. This guy was a piece of work.
Noah had his own complicated romantic history, no matter how he pretended he’d only been about the job since the womb. But he acted as if he’d never dated anyone, never mind more.
Never mind losing what he had.
Maybe that was how he got through. I shoved a lot of bones in closets myself.
But I didn’t deny the past. And I certainly didn’t behave as if I was beyond it.
Maybe that act was just for my benefit.
“Anyway, she’s a place to dig. Quickly.” I started to say more, and then clamped down on my tongue.
I’d intended to tell him about the Priscilla meeting tomorrow, but after this conversation, nope. Not happening. If he had any doubt Teagan wasn’t on the up and up, I wasn’t sharing shit with him.
I agreed with Teagan that this woman probably wasn’t who she said she was. I’d gotten some breadcrumbs online that made it seem that way, but the name Jones was far too common to be sure. Noah could ferret out the truth a lot faster than I could.
“Quickly, why?”
“Because she could disappear at any time.”
“Of course, but do you know a specific reason why she would?”
Faux Priscilla would probably vanish after tomorrow’s meeting didn’t go as planned. But I wasn’t sharing that.
While he was doing his research, I’d handle Teagan’s safety myself. No one would go as far as I would to ensure she was protected. If I needed backup, Ricki’s husband Mal was the size of a brick wall and built just as strong. We’d have it covered.
I blew out a breath. “Isn’t that the standard MO for these types?”
>
“Usually, but now isn’t the time to keep things to yourself.”
“I’ve told you plenty. More than you’ve told me or any of us. She’s the answer to this. If we can figure out her true identity then we can—”
The door shook with a series of heavy knocks.
I rose, my heart already hammering. My first thought was always the same.
Teagan.
“Gotta go. Bye.” I clicked off and strode to the door.
I opened it to Cole. He was about to speak when I heard the sobs coming from down the hall. “Fucking soundproof room,” I muttered, shoving him out of the way.
It was soundproof both ways. No one could hear what was happening inside, but I also couldn’t hear what was happening externally, unless someone knocked on the door.
That had been good for privacy for calling Noah. Not so much when it came to hearing Teagan when she needed me.
I rushed into the bedroom with Cole right behind me. She was sitting up in bed in the dark, with just the light from the hall offering a pale glow. She was still naked with the sheets drawn up to her chest, and her cheeks had wet tracks trailing down them that broke my heart.
“What is it, baby? What’s wrong?” I sat on the edge of the bed and drew her into my arms.
She only cried harder as she reached up to link her arms around my neck.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”
A quick look at the doorway let me know Cole had given us our privacy. I had to admit I was glad he’d been here to get my attention when Teagan needed me.
I stroked her back as my mind spun. A nightmare? A panic attack? Either one could’ve been possible. She’d been through so much the past couple of days, and I never should’ve left her to call Noah. What good had it really done us, anyway?
At least he’d search for the real Priscilla, but the jury was out if he’d even share what he learned with us. I’d probably have been better off calling in some favors with the few old Army buddies I had that still spoke to me and tapping their contacts.
Stupid. I was making dumb moves all over the place. And none of that mattered right now when my girl needed me.
“It’s okay,” I said over and over, holding her as close as I could. I’d nearly hauled her on my lap, and she didn’t seem to mind. “I’m here. Tell me what I can do to make it better.”
She shook her head. “I woke up, and you weren’t here.”
Fuck. “I was just down the hall in the music room. It’s soundproofed. I didn’t know you needed me. Babe, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Of course. You shouldn’t have to babysit me. It’s just—” Breathing hard, she held up a hand then climbed off my lap to sit on the edge of the bed. “I can’t catch my breath. I woke up and there was this…weight on my chest, and this crushing panic. I can’t breathe.”
“Take it easy. It’s all right.” I sat beside her, rubbing her shoulder. I wasn’t an expert, but I’d awakened in the middle of a panic attack more than a few times, and she had all the signs. “Just keep breathing, in and out. Put your head between your knees if you need to.”
Instead, she shot to her feet and crossed to the window, hiking it high. She did the same with the screen and braced her hands on the windowsill. Then she leaned out into the milky light of early morning, her hair blowing around her head as she dragged in great gulps of air as if she couldn’t get enough.
Feeling helpless, I moved to stand behind her and kept rubbing her back. “Try times tables,” I suggested, forcing myself to keep my voice even. Seeing her this way was killing me. “I have to break the cycle when I get them. Just do as many as you can. It gives your mind something to focus on other than the physical symptoms and the panic.”
“Okay.” She fumbled for my hand and squeezed my fingers before releasing me. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She sucked in more air. “I still have trouble with my 12s.”
I pulled back her hair and slowly worked my fingers through the silken strands. “They’re hard. Try doing them when you’re trying not to come.”
“I can barely do them now. So, that’s a real thing?”
“You don’t know the trials of having a dick.”
She giggled and bumped her head on the windowsill as she eased back in.
I tugged her into my arms. “Better?”
“Not really. I still feel like I ran a mile. The room was spinning. Stars at the edge of my vision.” She rested her head on my chest. “I think I had a bad dream, but it just spiraled. I woke up and didn’t…didn’t know where I was. Then I didn’t know where you were.”
“I should’ve—”
She leaned up to put her finger against my lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just panicked. Everything crashed down on me at once. All the fear. All the questions. I really, really wanted my mom.”
“We’ll go see them together. Today.”
Thankfully, I’d spent time with her parents a few times before, so the news their daughter was living with me for the foreseeable future at least wouldn’t be coming from a stranger.
I’d also been mulling talking to them about something else. It was completely crazy. I shouldn’t even be thinking what I was considering. At least not yet. But once the idea took hold, I wasn’t able to shake it.
Teagan was everything I’d ever wanted. I’d learned that well enough over the almost two years we’d been close. What sense did it make to wait for some arbitrary time in the future to ask her parents how they felt about us? That didn’t mean I was going to spring the question on Teagan yet. I would wait until it was perfect.
Or until I couldn’t wait anymore.
I’d been patient for so long. Now it seemed like my brain and heart were on overdrive.
She nodded and took a series of long breaths before tipping back her head. “God, I feel so guilty for not telling them yet about the fire. I should have right away. I just couldn’t deal with anything more. They’ll be worried and upset, of course, and my mom would have insisted I stay in my old bedroom, which would be comforting for all the wrong reasons. I have to stand on my own two feet.” Her eyes met mine. “I say that, yet here I am, leaning on you. I always do. And you’re always here.” She shook her head, her eyes filling again. “The moment you’re not, I break apart.”
“I want you to lean on me.” I cupped her cheek. “I lean on you too.”
“How?”
“You make me happy. No matter how dark my memories are, you’re my sunshine.”
I lowered my head and kissed her gently. She was still breathing unevenly, and she wasn’t quite steady on her feet, but I just kissed her until she could breathe on her own again.
In a matter of hours, she’d have to walk into a restaurant to meet with someone who likely wanted to bring her harm. But I would have her back.
I’d gladly lay down my life for hers. Without thought or question.
Until then, I would try to give her a slice of peace.
Slowly, we drew apart. “C’mere. I want to show you something.”
She glanced at the bed. “I’ve already seen it, but I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”
Not laughing was impossible as I held out my hand. “Something else. And maybe get dressed first. Not that I mind you naked, but we’re not alone here.”
“Unfortunately.” She rose on her tiptoes to brush a kiss over my jaw before pulling on her panties and a bra along with her floaty dress from earlier.
Then she placed her hand in mine so trustingly that my pulse skipped. Such a simple thing that meant so much.
So many people had lost faith and trust in me. I prayed she never did.
That I could do this one thing right.
I led her down the hall to the music room. She stepped inside and blinked as the motion-activated lights came up, revealing the room that was my favorite. Her gaze skipped over the drum kit in the corner situated in front of the brown-bricked wall to the few electric guitars hung up on the opposite one. Bookcases and
funky seating were gathered in groupings around low tables, one of which held an old record player with a stack of vinyl records. She wandered there first and picked through the pile, smiling faintly.
“Fleetwood Mac. The Killers. Earth, Wind and Fire. George Strait. Chaka Khan. Metallica.” She aimed a weak smile at me over her shoulder. “You have eclectic taste.”
“Musician’s curse.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, already tensing.
Soon, she’d see it.
She moved on to sit at the vintage upright piano beneath the lithograph print on the wall of a redhead with crazy curls wrapped around her pair of can headphones. She was laughing as she grooved to whatever music she was listening to.
The woman exuded pure vibrance. Absolute joy at getting lost in a song. She embodied beauty and mastery and even defiance, taking her pleasure simply because she could.
“That’s me,” Teagan breathed, her fingers faltering on the keys as she did a double-take. When I didn’t speak, she turned on the bench. “Isn’t it? Look at all her freckles.”
I nodded.
Gathering my nerve, I went to my song notebook on the leather sofa and flipped to a page I’d sketched last winter. It was a rough drawing. My skill was definitely based in rhythm, not design. But watching her in the studio one day while we’d been cutting a new single, I’d had to grab a pencil to try to capture her. She was happiness in motion. Energy and life, jumping right off the page.
I crossed the room and sat next to her on the bench before handing it over. She studied it, and then looked at me without speaking, her eyes brimming again.
I thumbed away one of her tears. “I know it’s bad, but try not to cry. I’m embarrassed enough.”
She sniffled out a laugh and ran her fingertips over my crude pencil drawing as if it was a priceless work of art.
“I commissioned that.” I jerked my chin toward the wall print. “I know what’s beyond my skill set.”
Silently, she set aside the notebook. She rested her head on my shoulder as she started to play, the effortless glide of her fingers entrancing as they moved over the keys.
I didn’t know what song it was at first. Then I started to grin.
The song she’d chosen was “You’ve Got a Friend,” by Carole King.