by Rae, Nikita
“It’s very distracting playing to the one turned back in the room, y’know?”
The hundred or so girls standing behind him, all gawking, shoot me evil looks as the man of their dreams gives me his best fuck me grin. Not that he knows he’s doing it, though, right? That’s not Luke’s style. Or at least not a Luke I’ve ever met before, anyway. This guy is an entirely different person. And he’s so intimidating, I can’t even speak.
“I knew it was you. I need your undivided attention please, Ms. Patterson.” Luke takes another step forward. “Give it to me.”
The oxygen won’t travel into my lungs quick enough. I clasp hold of my empty beer bottle with both hands, my body tensing. The whole room has gone silent. I can tell Morgan’s watching the exchange with an open mouth, as are a few other girls in the audience. Luke smirks, closing the remaining gap between us. He extends a hand and takes my beer bottle, leaning close enough to brush up against me as he places it on the bar to my right.
He looks away briefly to make eye contact with the bartender as he says, “Two,” holding up his index and his middle finger. I hold my breath, a mixture of panic, anger and extreme arousal warring within me while Luke accepts the two shot glasses from the bartender and throws him a twenty. Luke holds out a glass. The amber liquid is filled right to the brim, and I can already smell that it’s Jack.
“I’m not drinking that,” I whisper.
“Why not?” His ruinous smile spreads even further. “I thought you liked Jack?”
“Only when I want to black the fuck out.” I cheer myself internally, because I sound like a stone cold bitch when I say that. Luke shakes his head, still smirking.
“I don’t want you to black the fuck out, Ms. Patterson. I want you to remember this.” Luke turns and grins over his shoulder, finally acknowledging that we have a crowd of mildly put out, horny college girls watching us. “You guys think she should drink?”
“Hell yes!!”
“Yeah!”
“Drink it, bitch!”
“I’ll take it!”
The response is deafening. Back on the stage, Cole, Pete and another giant guy with a shaved head sitting behind a tricked out drum kit, all start booing. Cole leans over and talks into the mic Luke left behind. “Better do it, mystery girl. We’ll be here all night otherwise and I wouldn’t mind finishing our set so I can grab a shot of jack myself.”
“I’ll buy you as much Jack as you want, sweetheart,” Morgan calls. Cole winks at her, and I know we’re all in trouble now. Looks like she’s well and truly over Tate abandoning her and hitting all those strip clubs. Luke raises an eyebrow at me.
“Come on, Ave. One shot.”
Morgan elbows me in the ribs. “Drink the fucking shot, girl. Jeez!”
I glare at her but then reach out and take the glass from Luke. “Fine. But then we’re leaving.” I can’t seem to make myself look up at Luke to see if this bothers him. I’m too nervous and pissed off to make eye contact. Instead I begin to lift the glass to my lips. Luke’s hand shoots out to stop me.
“Not like that, Patterson.” Confusion swamps me for a second, and I do it—I look up at him. Mischief, arrogance and lust all bear down on me from his gaze, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Who the hell is this guy? Luke slowly guides my wrist so that I lift up the shot glass to his lips, and I suddenly understand what he wants me to do. He wants me to tip the Jack straight into his mouth. My fingertips brush the rough stubble on his jaw as he presses his full, lower lip to the glass, daring me to finish the job with his eyes. Fine. I can do this. It’s not that big a deal. I tip the glass, the amber liquid flowing into Luke’s mouth, and he never takes his eyes off me. I snatch my hand back as soon as the glass is empty, but Luke doesn’t swallow it. He rushes forward and buries his hands into my hair, pulling me to him. He shoves his guitar behind him as his body slams into mine, and then Luke is pressing his lips firmly onto mine.
The crowd starts whooping like crazy, and I freeze. For a moment I just stand there trying to figure out what the heck is happening. Luke’s fingers entwine themselves even further into my hair as his kiss deepens, and my anger finally kicks in. What the fuck does he think he’s doing? Nothing has changed between us since the other night, not really. Even though he did drive all the way to Wyoming to try and clear my father’s name. I grasp hold of his arms with both hands, trying to pull away from his grip. Nothing. I’m well and truly being kissed. I’m seconds away from kneeing him in the baby maker, shame though that would be, when Luke’s tongue brushes against my lips, his body curving towards me, and everything changes. My mouth wants Luke more than my head wants to do him serious injury. He manages to tease my lips apart with his tongue and then suddenly fire is passing between us, burning and warm and so freaking hot. He’s sharing the Jack I just gave him.
Somehow, despite my usually terrible luck, I don’t choke on the warmed alcohol. I swallow it, and Luke groans into my mouth, pressing even closer up against me. He doesn’t pull away, I doubt in that moment that I’d let him. I kiss him back.
Understatement of the century.
I kiss him like this is my first kiss and I’m minutes away from dying a virgin. I kiss him like he’s just been called up to war and I may never see him again. I kiss him like he’s cared for me, looked out for me the past five years, shared his heart with me and given me everything he thinks I need. Because he kind of has. Applause fills the club, and when Luke finally pulls away, his arrogance has slipped a little. He tilts my chin up towards him with his fingertips, studying my face intensely, before he smiles again. It’s like sunshine breaking through clouds.
“Fuck, Reid, you’re giving us hard-ons up here. Get your ass back on the stage, damnit!” Pete yells. Luke backs away, still grinning, until the crowd swallows him and he makes his way back to the stage. They’re only halfway though their set and I know there’s no way I can hang around to watch it now. Not after that. Not after it feels like everything just changed. Cole is helping Luke back up to his mic when I decide I have to run. I glance and Morgan and she knows.
“You realize you’re ridiculous, don’t you?” she asks.
I nod. “Of course I do. Now get me the hell out of here.”
******
Leslie’s out at her sister’s again, so my apartment is empty when I finally make it home. I go to bed feeling exhausted but strangely wired at the same time. It’s the early hours of the morning when my phone buzzes. On silent, it shouldn’t have woken me, but the vibration on the nightstand has my eyes snapping open immediately. The lit screen shows a text from Luke.
Luke: You awake?
I shunt myself upright in bed, tucking my hair behind my ears, feeling a combination of annoyance and relief.
Me: Yeah. You at an after party or something?
Luke: I’m outside.
Outside? Like, here outside? I fling back the covers and push the blinds aside, flinching at the cold when I rub the back of my hand over the frigid glass so I can see out. I spy Luke’s Fastback parked illegally under a street lamp straight away. He is out of the car and leaning with his back against the passenger door, looking up at the window. Great clouds rise up as he breathes, highlighted by the yellowed sodium burn of a street lamp. His hands light up blue as he focuses on his phone.
Luke: Are you busy?
I let the blinds fall back. Why am I so relieved that he is here? My stomach tightens. I shouldn’t be. I should be worried after him kissing me so publicly, about what that means for him and for me.
Me: No. You want to come up?
A minute passes by and I hear nothing. What is he doing? I press my back into the wall and clench my eyes shut, waiting for the phone to buzz in my hand. It doesn’t. Shit. I draw back the blinds again and he’s still standing by his car. His head’s tipped down, though, and for a moment I can’t figure out what he’s doing. When his back straightens I see that he’s on the phone. I curse and throw my cell down on the bed, running my hands through my
hair. What the hell is happening to me? Why am I so jittery?
I growl at myself and storm to the wardrobe, tugging out a folded pair of jeans and a light grey sweater. Shoving my arms forcefully into the sleeves of my coat, I gather my hat and gloves and go out to meet him. As I close the apartment door, I notice that the Way Out of Wyoming poster is still there. Someone has drawn a Hitler moustache on my dad’s face. I scowl and stomp down the stairwell to the ground floor. My phone buzzes as I exit the building.
Luke: Sorry if I woke you, Ave. This is probably a bad idea. I can call you tomorrow. Go back to sleep.
“Little late for that,” I say, startling Luke, who is half in half out of his Fastback. The snow muffled my approach and he obviously didn’t hear me. His cheeks are blushed red, eyes incredibly bright in the dark. My heart twists when a shadow of concern darkens his expression.
“A little late for a lot of things, I guess,” he whispers. “I came to apologize.”
“For kissing me in front of a bar full of people or for calling me drunk the other night?”
He scuffs at the snow with the toe of his boot. “Yeah, I guess. For both. Mostly for the kiss. I get a little carried away when I’m in that environment.”
“So you share Jack with a girl every time you perform, then, huh?” That thought makes me feel pathetic and small. And also stupid for kissing him back.
Luke laughs softly. “No. Never. Only with you.”
A heavy silence steeps between us as I take that on board. Eventually he says, “I also wanted to come and tell you that I found something when I was in Break. Well, someone else found something. I thought you’d want to know.”
“At my parent’s house?”
“No.” His eyes are distant for a second. “There was nothing there. Only…memories.”
“You remember the place?”
Luke’s smile is sad. “I remember throwing up in your garden. And, of course, you smashing the window.”
“Oh. Yeah.” That probably wasn’t something you forgot in a hurry. I’d been hysterical. “I just thought maybe my dad…maybe he’d taken you there or something.”
A small shake of his head. “No. We always met at the diner. Your dad knew I loved the milkshakes there.”
“Yeah, he used to take me there for shakes, too.” Why had he never taken us together? Had Luke been that messed up as a kid? I shake off the awkward feeling and bite my lip. “Brandon said some new evidence has come to light?” Luke nods and I brace myself. “Was it in my dad’s favor, or against him?”
“Not sure yet. A video was handed into the station in Breakwater. It’s big, Avery. It looks like there was someone else there with your dad and the others the day he died.”
“A video?”
Luke nods and for a moment he looks like he’s going to smile again. “Yeah. They won’t tell me what’s on it yet, but they did say there was a fifth person.”
“Someone else?” The ground rocks beneath me. There was someone else there in that warehouse the day my dad died? Another person, a person who is still alive? Four bodies. They’d carried four bodies out of that place, and now Luke is telling me someone else witnessed what happened. My mouth works, trying to find something to say, but I remain mute.
“I know this is a lot to take in.” Luke steps forward and I am torn in half. What I really want to do is turn and run indoors so I can lock myself in my room and pace the floor, trying to figure out what this means. I clench my fists in my gloves instead, knowing the only way I’ll find out anything is if I concentrate and kept calm. “Tell me everything.”
“It’s freezing, Avery. D’you wanna sit in the car?” I eye the Fastback and then nod. We get in and he starts talking; he seems excited, his eyes quick and dangerously bright. I don’t know if that’s from the gig he just performed, or if this new information really is big. “Chloe, my ex partner? She called me earlier. She told me an anonymous caller informed the duty officer of a package outside the station in Breakwater. They thought it was a parcel bomb at first. After they decided it wasn’t going to explode, they opened it. That’s when the fun and games started. The FBI have seized the tape for their private investigation.”
“The FBI?”
“Yeah, they’re looking into Bright’s accusations against your dad.”
Fantastic news. The feds didn’t bother with the case the first time around, probably because it looked so cut and dried. Throw the deaths of fifteen teenaged girls in the mix and suddenly there are G-men all over the place. “And what are the suits saying?”
Luke places his hands on the steering wheel, grinning. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Why does he look so damned happy if nothing is being said? It makes no sense. He reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it hard.
“That’s the best outcome right now. It means they’re actually investigating the possibility that someone else might be responsible, Avery. Think about it. If there was someone else there and they were an innocent party, why the hell wouldn’t they come to the police once they’d escaped? If it had been someone your dad had kidnapped and was going to kill like Adam and the others, why wouldn’t that person report it immediately?”
“Well, they would have,” I say slowly.
“Exactly. So it stands to reason that if there was someone else there, they could have been responsible for the whole thing. It’s not easy to force someone to shoot themselves in the head. Your dad’s gunshot wound was to the throat—a complete mess. It could easily have been the result of him fighting as an assailant tried to pull the trigger.”
My head is swimming, and Luke’s rushed words aren’t making it any better. “But the pathologist said suicides often turn out that way when people attempt to shoot themselves. They hesitate.”
“That does happen, sure. But imagine just for a second…what if it’s true? This could clear your dad of everything. The killings in the warehouse, the murders of those girls. It could all be over.”
My hand is shaking in Luke’s, and I’m having trouble seeing. It’s only when a hot streak runs down my cheek that I realize I am crying. “I can’t imagine something like that, Luke. It’s too dangerous. We have no idea what’s on that tape. It could come to nothing.”
His energy seems to flag a little when I pull my hand out of his. “I know. I guess I just like choosing to believe in the best outcome.”
“And in your experience as a police officer, how often is the best outcome the most realistic one?” I can’t afford to be as optimistic as Luke. It will destroy me to start believing things like that, only to have my hopes crushed when my dad isn’t vindicated.
“Not very often,” Luke concedes. A sad look forms on his face. “But that’s not going to change my optimism. Or what I know about Max—what I know he would or wouldn’t do.”
Rage flushes through me at his words, a direct jab at me for not being as overwhelmed by the developments as he is. “Fuck you, Luke.” I scrabble with the door handle, trying to get the hell away from him. He leans across me and puts his hands over mine as I struggle. I try to shrug him off and get out but he grabs hold of my shoulders and pins me back. He isn’t rough, but there’s no way I’m going anywhere.
“Let me go!”
“No.”
“You don’t know my father better than me, Luke! You don’t get to accuse me of not believing in him.”
“I’m not saying that,” he hisses, exasperation coloring his voice. I lash out with my elbow, trying to get free, but it’s useless. “I’m just saying that I’ve never believed Max was a killer. Not like that. I knew he wouldn’t have touched those guys. Stop fighting me, Avery! Fuck! Can’t you just calm down for one minute?”
I fall back into the passenger seat, totally and utterly slack. My chest heaves as I fight not to sob. “You have to tell me, Luke. I’m never going to understand what he meant to you until you tell me why you were so close.” A heavy silence fills the car. I spin around to glare at him. Muted light washes in through h
is window, making his skin ghostly pale. His eyes are large and round, staring straight at me. His jaw clenches and I think he’s going to speak, but then he turns away to stare out the window. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“I can’t.”
“That’s such crap, Luke. You know all my dark secrets, and yet you refuse to tell me any of yours. You won’t even tell me the positive stuff.”
He clenches his jaw, his hands, every last muscle in his body. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you didn’t even tell me about your deal. Your band got signed! Do you know how huge that is? I watched you tonight, saw how amazing you are with those guys, and you never brought that up once.”
Anger chases away Luke’s sadness. “You think the music’s important to me? Compared to this? It’s an escape, Avery, something I do so I don’t have to be me all the time. It wouldn’t be the same if I quit being a cop and started living out of a tour bus six months out of the year. As for my dark secrets, some things are just so black and fucking awful that a person never wants to air them out in the light of day. If you knew…if I told you…”
“If you told me then what!”
“Then you’d run, Avery! You’d fucking run away from me, and it would be the smartest thing you ever did.”
I can’t believe he thinks that. “You don’t know me half as well as you think you do if you believe that.”
Luke drops his head into his hands, sighing deeply. “You say that now.”
“Maybe you should just give me some credit and try trusting me.”
Luke turns his head to look at me, still slumped over in his seat. He looks heartbroken when he shakes his head.