Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  I give him a cool look. “What am I trying to do to you? Don’t blame me for your impulse control issues.”

  “Why is he home?” He runs his hands through his hair. “He knows doesn’t he? You told him?”

  “I can’t lie to him, Andrew. Look on the bright side. At least I talked him out of killing you for trying to kiss me.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, why would you tell him that?” He rakes his hands through his hair again and tugs on the ends. “He’s going to hate me now.”

  “Did you honestly think if you broke us up, you two would remain buddies?”

  “I didn’t want to break you up. I wanted to—”

  “Fuck me. I remember.”

  He leans down, so we’re eye to eye. “Why are you so insulted?” His desperate question pulls no sympathy from me. “You know how many girls beg to jump on my cock?”

  “Andrew, I don’t know what kind of damage is in your past, but you really need to seek therapy.”

  He scratches his head. “I see someone once a week.”

  “Well, start going more often or find a new therapist.”

  “I told her all about you.” He straightens up. “Fuck, I had to have an emergency session with her after you left yesterday.”

  Fantastic.

  “She thinks I’m a sex addict.” A dark chuckle spills out of him. “She said it like it’s a bad thing.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Maybe. I also told you I’m in love with you,” he whispers. “Or did you forget that?”

  If only I could fry him with the power of my eyes. “You’re not in love with me.”

  “Trying to kiss my girl again, Andrew?” Chaser’s grim voice sends a shiver down my spine.

  Andrew’s face pales. “Just talking,” he answers without turning around.

  “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me. No need for secrets, buddy.”

  “You going to shoot me now?” Andrew puts his arms in the air and turns around.

  “That was my preference.” Chaser leans over and sets a glass of water on the coffee table. “Mallory talked me out of it for some reason.” He straightens up and points an imaginary finger gun Andrew’s way. “I’m always willing to reconsider.”

  “Bro, not funny.” Andrew’s fingers brush against his bullet wound.

  Chaser’s controlled his anger for an admirable amount of time, I have to admit. But he finally snaps.

  Faster than his injured foot should allow, he rushes Andrew. His fist flies through the air. The punch slams into Andrew’s cheek. He’s knocked sideways, landing on the hard tile with a smack.

  I gasp but don’t say a word or try to stop Chaser.

  “Don’t fuckin’ bro me ever again, motherfucker,” Chaser snarls. He cocks his fist back and punches Andrew in the face again. “You went after my girl behind my back.” Punch. “Lied to my face.” Punch. Punch.

  “I can’t help it, Chaser.” Andrew holds up his hands, blocking the blows and scoots backwards. “I’ve got a problem.”

  Chaser burrows one hand in Andrew’s hair and yanks his head back. “How many times did I tell you she was off-limits?”

  “A lot.”

  Without turning around, Chaser motions toward the door. “Go, Mallory.”

  “What? No way.”

  “I’m not going to kill him.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  Andrew lifts one hand in the air. “I’m not feeling reassured either.”

  “Shut up.” Chaser releases Andrew and limps over to me. As furious as he is, he’s gentle as he takes my elbow and guides me to the front door. “Go wait in the car so Andrew and I can talk for a minute. Please?”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chaser

  “Are we good now?” Andrew asks after Mallory leaves.

  He picks himself up off the floor and warily circles me.

  Not trusting his intentions, I track his every movement. “You’re joking, right? You hit on my fiancée and you think we’re cool?”

  He touches his jaw. “You punched me. Several times.”

  “That doesn’t come close to making us even.”

  “You know I’ve got a problem.” He leans his hip against the back of his couch and gives me that pathetic sheepish shrug that’s probably gotten him out of trouble his entire life. “She couldn’t reject me fast enough, so—”

  “If you’re waiting for me to say thanks, you can fuck off.”

  Shame seems to transform him. His shoulders slump forward and he hangs his head. “I’m really sorry.”

  “You don’t understand the meaning of sorry.”

  He rubs his fingers over his chest. “No, for the first time, I think I really do. It aches.” He squints as he seems to search for the right words. “It feels heavy in here. I don’t like it.”

  “That’s guilt.”

  “This is different. Usually I have some momentary disappointment when I don’t get my way. Or, I’ll be mad I got caught. But this…this is so much worse.” He rubs his chest again. “I can’t get rid of the hurt.”

  “Save your breakthroughs for therapy.”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

  Christ, he’s pathetic. “Do you even understand the damage all your shitty behavior causes?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t think—”

  “Yeah, you never think. That’s the problem. You let your inner child run loose and create havoc for everyone else to deal with.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “Fuck you and fair.”

  “This is another rock-bottom for me, Chaser. The shooting got me off drugs. And this… You’re one of my only true friends and I don’t want to lose you.”

  Some fucking friend. “I don’t think you understand friendship. I’ve put up with a lot of shit, Andrew. A lot.”

  “I know.”

  “You have some good qualities. I appreciate all the help you’ve given the band, but messing with Mallory and me, you crossed a line—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I believe you.”

  “What can I do to make it right?”

  “Nothing right now.”

  “Will we get through it?”

  I stare long and hard at his desperate hound dog face. “Give it time.”

  The spark of hope lighting up his childish eyes kicks me in the gut. I’m never getting this lunatic out of my life, am I?

  “Tell me what to do, Chaser. And I’ll do it.” He watches me, waiting expectantly for an answer.

  I blow out a long breath. “You’re never alone with Mallory again.”

  He holds his hands up in the air. “Done. Swear.” Slowly, he lowers his hands. “That’s probably for the best, anyway.”

  I growl.

  “No, no, I mean, she’s gotta be pretty pissed at me.”

  “Her feelings aren’t your concern.”

  He taps his chest. “Yeah, but that’s part of what feels so bad in here.” He jerks his shoulders up and down like he’s trying to will the bad feelings away. “Can I at least apologize? I was a real dick to her. I knew I was being an asshole but I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “Send it in a letter,” I spit out. Fuck, I knew Mallory held back some of the story, probably figuring I’d kill Andrew if she told me every ugly detail.

  “I accept that.” He holds out his arms.

  I stare at him in disbelief. “Are you shitting me, right now? I’m not hugging you. I’m not done punching you yet.”

  His eyes widen just in time to see my fist flying at his face again.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chaser

  “Quit being such a baby. You’ll live.”

  Andrew jams a tissue up his nose to stop the bleeding. I don’t even feel remotely sorry for fucking up his face.

  “Now…” I grab his elbow and steer him out into the living room, “…walk outside with me and wave, so Mallory knows I d
idn’t kill you.”

  He glances down at my foot. “Seriously, what’d you do to your foot? Is that why you came home?”

  “Don’t worry about why I came home.” I have no plans to toss Pamela into this theater of absurdity by admitting to Andrew that she called me. She’d probably be thrilled to know she caused so much turmoil. And he’d probably take it as a sign that she wants him back.

  “Mark let you leave?” he asks.

  “He gave us the weekend off.”

  “Damn. You must be doing good work. He never cuts us any slack.”

  I hate the part of me that wants to discuss the recording sessions and ask for Andrew’s opinion on a few of the things we’re trying out for this album. Out of all the musicians in Hollywood, why the fuck did I have to pick this chaos-addicted man-child to be my mentor?

  “Did he let you go because you hurt your foot?”

  I stop walking and give him a quick shove. “Jesus Christ, you nosy prick. Mallory broke your giant gaudy vase and I cut up my foot on the glass. Ya happy now?”

  “Fuck,” he breathes out. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “She broke it?”

  “You’re kinda focused on the wrong thing for someone who’s sorry.”

  “No, no, it’s not that. I really was trying to apologize to her. I didn’t mean to piss her off even more.”

  “It was an accident.” I give him a sideways glance. “She wasn’t going to change her mind and jump into bed with you, though. Roses or not.”

  He has the nerve to act insulted. “That’s not why I sent them.”

  “Sure it’s not.”

  “So, are you headed back to Vancouver now?” he asks.

  “Don’t worry about where I’m headed or when.”

  “I didn’t ask…because…She’s not why I asked.”

  “Yeah, but see, I don’t trust you anymore.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whines.

  “No more visiting Mallory at work.”

  “She told you about that too, huh?”

  I ignore his question. “I’m not fucking around. If you’re sincere, really sorry, still want to be friends or ever work together again—”

  “I am, Chaser. I swear.”

  “We’ll see.”

  I finally step out of his madhouse and he follows me, stopping to wave at Mallory.

  She hesitantly lifts her hand and wiggles her fingers at us but doesn’t get out of her car.

  Andrew twitches and bounces from foot to foot. I sense he’s planning to attempt another hug, so I back away.

  “We’ll talk?” he asks.

  “Give it time.”

  “Good luck with the album.”

  “Thanks.”

  I limp my way over to the car. Mallory starts the engine before I reach her. Guess she’s as eager to get the hell out of here as I am.

  “Nice touch having him come outside with you, so I’d know you didn’t kill him,” she says without glancing over.

  “Liked that, huh?”

  She snorts as she reverses out of his driveway but doesn’t answer.

  “He’s seriously fucked up.”

  She flicks a no-kidding glance at me before putting the car in drive. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  I blow out a long breath. Why the fuck do I feel compelled to tell her this? “He wanted to apologize to you. I guess he realized whatever he said to you was pretty shitty and he’s worried he hurt your feelings.”

  Her mouth twists from side to side. “I’m done talking about this, Chaser.”

  “Are you sure? You still sound pissed.”

  She’s silent while she pulls into our driveway and turns off the ignition. Before answering, she unsnaps her seatbelt and turns to face me. “I hate that you trusted Pamela more than me.”

  “That’s not true.” I stare out the window, not sure circling back to last night is the best idea when we should be moving forward. “It wasn’t Pamela.”

  “But you said she called you.”

  “She did. That’s why I came home.” I tap my knuckles against the window and stare at the shrubs lining the driveway. “When I got here, I realized how stupid that was. I do trust you, Mallory, I swear.”

  “But?”

  “Those flowers were delivered. He used to joke about giving pink roses to the girl he’s—”

  “Ohh,” she breathes out. “You know I don’t care about stuff like that, right?”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t even like roses.”

  I pick up her hand and kiss the back of it. “What do you like?”

  “Sunflowers, daisies, irises, tulips…but I don’t need flowers, I need you.”

  Should I really keep picking at every last thread? I think we need to if we’re going to move on. “You have to trust me too. When I called, you should’ve told me what happened.”

  She fiddles with the radio knob. “You know why I didn’t?”

  “You were afraid I’d be mad at you.”

  “No.” She squeezes her eyes shut and I can’t help reaching over to skim my knuckles over her cheek. My heart practically jumps out of my chest when she leans into my touch. Finally, she opens her eyes, staring into mine. “I didn’t want to do anything to mess with the recording of the album.” She touches her temple. “To take you out of your creative headspace.”

  “Mallory, I appreciate that, but—”

  “You don’t understand. I didn’t want anything to delay you finishing the album and coming home.” Tears shine in her eyes and she glances down. “I didn’t want you to be away from me any longer than you had to be.”

  I wish we weren’t in the car so I could pull her into my lap right now. “I hate being away from you too, you know that, right?”

  “I do.”

  She sniffles and a hint of a smile flickers over her lips. “Except for making up with you last night. I want to forget that the last forty-eight hours even happened.”

  “Couldn’t agree more.” I rest my hand on her leg. “Come back to Vancouver with me.”

  “What? I can’t. I have to be on-set Tuesday.”

  “So? That gives us two days. I can’t keep going these long stretches without seeing you. It’s making me crazy.”

  “I hate it too.”

  I reach over and capture her hand, tugging on it until she looks at me. “I love talking to you every night. But it’s not the same. I need to see you. Touch you. Otherwise, I’m miserable and can’t think straight.”

  “Chaser.” She cups my cheek, rubbing her thumb over my ever-present scruff. “I’m always a little lost without you.”

  “Let’s make a pact.”

  “What kind of pact?”

  “No more than…two weeks without seeing each other. No matter what.”

  “That’s so long.”

  “We’ve been through worse.”

  “Ten days?” she counters.

  My chest squeezes—she’s as into this idea as I am. “It won’t be easy.”

  I lean in, pressing my lips to hers to seal our deal. “Ten days.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Mallory

  Tuesday morning, I arrive at the studio early. Pamela slides up next to me in the parking lot, flashing a fake smile. “How was your weekend, Mallory?”

  God, I want to strangle her.

  Instead, I smile sweetly. “Lovely. Chaser came home and surprised me. We had an amazing time together. Truly electric.” Well, that’s one way to put it. “Then I went back to Vancouver with him.” I yawn, and hold up my arms, in a long, lazy stretch. “I got back late last night and I’m exhausted.”

  She blinks rapidly and purses her lips together.

  “Well, we’re going to be late. Come on!” I pull my script out of my bag and flip to my one short scene for this week’s show. It’s going to be a boring couple of days of sitting around doing nothing most of the time.

  “Can you believe this?” Billie, one of my fellow “lifeguards” wags
her marked-up script at me. “One week I’m possessed by demons. Now, I’m supposed to break up a fight between two rival gangs with the power of my boobs? Who writes this shit?”

  I cast a furtive glance around before joining in on her laughter. Good grief, it’s like we’re all begging to be fired from this crazy show.

  “Now, Billie.” I adopt the haughty tone of a movie critic. “It shows true artistic creativity that two historically chauvinistic criminal organizations were willing to listen to the heartfelt advice of a five-foot-two inch blonde-haired pixie,” I say with a straight face. “That would totally happen in real life.”

  “Holy!” Her eyes bug out and she explodes with laughter. “You should be writing the scripts, Mallory.”

  I bet she wouldn’t find it as funny if she knew how much experience I actually have with such criminal organizations. It was part of why the script seemed more over-the-top idiotic to me than usual.

  Will I mention it at our table read today? Nope.

  “Hey,” Cindy greets me with downcast eyes. “Uh, your friend canceled this weekend. I hope I didn’t do something to—”

  “Oh my God, no.” I squeeze her shoulder and she finally looks up at me. “It had nothing to do with you. Honest. I’m sorry I even roped you into it.”

  “Okay. Cool. I was worried.”

  I open my mouth, then close it. I don’t want to talk about the weekend here. Where certain people might overhear. “Everything is fine,” I promise her.

  Chaser

  The drama of the weekend’s firmly behind me when I limp my way into the studio Tuesday morning.

  “Have a nice trip?” Jacob sneers at me from across the room.

  “I did. Thanks for asking, dick. Where were you?”

  “Checking out the sights.” He scowls at my foot. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

  “Cut my foot on some glass. I’ll be fine.”

  Mark sits forward, concern etched in his face. “Are you all right to play? You were planning to experiment a little with a distortion pedal on ‘Lush Mountain’.”

  “I can make it work.”