by Anne Malcom
“A bullet,” Killian replied immediately.
It shocked me. That cold certainty. That glimpse of the man I’d seen in the ring. The one who had been borne out of the skeletons of us.
“He’s severely mentally ill, Killian,” I said softly.
“He hurt you,” Killian gritted out. “He doesn’t deserve to breathe. Can’t believe the fuckin’ cops caught him before we could get to him.”
“We could pay someone, you know, on the inside to get him out so we can deal with him,” Sam added in from the sofa.
I glared at him. “Don’t fuel my murderous boyfriend please, Sammy. Go back to your coloring.”
His jaw was hard, but he turned his attention back to the book. Yes, he was coloring. It calmed him. It was quite a sight, seeing the muscled, tattooed rock star coloring, but not one that was most important to me right now.
“Can we please forget about him and promises of murder, honey?” I asked softly, cupping Killian’s face. “Let’s just be happy.”
Killian’s jaw softened slightly. “Doesn’t sit well with me, not getting revenge.”
I kissed him chastely. “Happiness is the best revenge.”
He kissed me back. “Bullets are better,” he muttered, but he stopped talking about murder, which was a win for me I thought.
“You’re goin’ to a fuckin’ Vanity Fair photo shoot, babe. I heard the word topless used in reference to that shoot. You think there’s any way you’re going to that without your man, you’re sorely fuckin’ mistaken,” he growled, back in the present. “Plus, the fuckin’ vultures are relentless. I’m not letting you wade through it without me.”
I stroked his face. “I’m used to it. Kind of comes with the territory.”
Though even I had to admit it was a bit crazy. There were hundreds of videos splashed throughout the media of Killian kissing me on stage then dragging me off. It was the story of the week. It was even bigger than Drew’s death, though there were all sorts of speculation about how I moved on “so quickly.” But mostly there was fascination with Killian. I found it quite funny. Killian did not. He’d actually started getting his own letters. I didn’t blame the girls; my man was hot. In addition to that, his Sons of Templar cut was clearly visible in the videos, so the story broke about that, and Zane and Cade were battling with media at their doors.
I didn’t think they were exactly battling though. Gage had done something, I wasn’t sure what, but I didn’t think it was anywhere near legal, to scare the paps off. They’d quickly fled Amber, but that didn’t mean there weren’t all sorts of stories going around about me and a “gang member.” I was sure Jenna’s head might actually explode at any moment from the sheer amount of press we were getting. It was doing wonders for the tour ticket sales apparently. The entire tour was sold out.
Though Mark had told me I had to do something to address the rumors flying around, hence the Vanity Fair article.
“You’ve got stuff to sort out with the club, I’m sure,” I tried to coax him out of coming. “Especially since you’re coming on tour with us in two weeks and leaving Gage in charge. You’ve got to make sure the new clubhouse has fire extinguishers. Lots of them.”
Killian didn’t budge. “I’m comin’.”
I sagged against him. “Fine, but you have to promise you won’t hit any photographers.”
Killian raised a brow and didn’t say anything. He’d already punched two. Two. I was waiting for the lawsuits.
Before I could say anything more, Wyatt came through the door. “This has nothing to do with me,” he said by greeting.
“What do you mean?” I started to say, but I was silenced by a small, angry person bursting through the door.
“You!” She pointed a manicured finger at Killian.
“Oh shit. Brace positions, people,” Sam muttered from the sofa.
I ignored this and stepped out of Killian’s embrace. “Emma,” I said in a soft voice.
She scowled at me. “I’ll deal with you later,” she snapped. Then, without saying anything else, she surged forward and punched Killian right in the face.
“Fuck,” Wyatt said, rushing forward to yank her away from Killian, who grinned. Yes, grinned.
“She’s got a better left hook than you,” he told Sam, who’d stood to get a better view. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by the violence. In fact, he was grinning too.
So weird.
“Let me go,” Emma commanded Wyatt.
His hands stayed around her chest. “Not until I’m sure you’re not gonna try and break your hand on Killian’s face,” he bit out. He looked to Sam. “Get some ice for her hand.”
Sam moved from his spot, doing what he was told for once.
“That was for hurting my friend,” Emma hissed at Killian.
I stepped forward. “Emma…”
She glowered at Wyatt. “Let me go. I’m not likely to hit my best friend.”
Reluctantly, Wyatt let her go. I didn’t miss the way his eyes travelled her petite body.
I had to follow that up, after I survived hurricane Emma.
“You’re back together?” she asked, pointing between us.
“I was going to tell you,” I said.
“When? After the wedding?” she snapped. “I found out from fucking TMZ, Lex. You know how shit that is? Letting a trashy TV show fill me in on my best friend’s love life?”
“I wasn’t quite sure how to tell you.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll tell you how it goes. You pick up the phone and say ‘Hey, Em, just to let you know, I’m back with the broody biker who broke my heart and we’re going to have beautiful babies who will grow up to be supermodels and mini badasses,” she snapped.
I resisted a grin. “I’m not sure if that means you’re happy or annoyed about this,” I hedged.
She threw up her hands. “Of course I’m happy!” she half yelled. Her gaze cut to Killian. “I will have to cancel the hit I’ve had out on you.” She sounded scarily serious. “But other than that, it was about fucking time.”
I widened my eyes. “About time?” I repeated when Emma snatched the frozen peas from Sam.
“Of course. You two are meant to be together, any idiot knows that.”
I looked to Killian. The corner of his mouth was turned up and he yanked me into his body, nuzzling my neck.
Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh stop before my womb explodes.”
I grinned and reluctantly left Killian’s arms to embrace my friend. “I’ve missed you, Em.”
She squeezed me back. “Missed you more, Lee.”
I let her go. “I hate to do this, but I’ve got a Vanity Fair shoot I’m already late to.”
She waved her hand. “Of course you do. I’m on my way to a Sports Illustrated shoot. I’m just here to give Killian a taste of what he’ll get if he fucks up again.”
I grinned at my insane best friend. “Want to come? You can hit on the photographer. I hear he’s dreamy.”
This earned a growl from Killian. “I’m definitely fuckin’ coming.”
Strangely, Wyatt’s grin disappeared. “She doesn’t want to get caught up in the craziness of the paps. She can chill here, get her hand looked at,” he said.
Emma glared at him. “She can speak for herself. No matter how famous or hot you are, you don’t get to do that. Ever.”
Wyatt folded his arms. “Try and go. See what happens,” he challenged.
I watched them with wide eyes.
“Down, kitties,” Sam cooed, putting his arm around each of them. “Before Uncle Sam has to put his foot down and spank you both.”
I giggled.
Sam looked up. “You go, I got this.”
“Dinner tonight?” I asked Emma.
She nodded. “And cocktails. Lots of them.”
I blew her a kiss and let Killian direct me out the door.
*****
“So,” Emma said, sucking d
own her fourth martini. “You’re happy?” Her voice was hard, but I knew the concern in her gaze was real.
I sipped my second. “Yes. That’s an understatement, but I am.”
Emma leaned over to squeeze my hand. “I’m glad, Lexie,” she whispered. “So fucking glad. I didn’t think I could live the rest of my life seeing those fake smiles on your face, seeing you try so hard to be happy when you were broken inside. There are people who are destined to be that broken, that deserve it. You are not one of those people.” She paused. “And as much I hate to admit it, neither is Killian. He’s a good man, despite the breaking your heart for your own good bullshit. Plus, holy fuck has he gotten hot. Jee-sus, I thought he was something when we were kids.” Her eyes went dreamy. “Those muscles. Tattoos. Shit, girl.” She fanned herself and I laughed.
“Tell me the sex is amazing,” she demanded.
I gave her a look. “It’s out of this world.”
She sucked down her margarita. The waiter came to our table. “Just in time, buddy,” Emma said to him. She pointed to her glass. “Keep these coming so I can drown my sorrows and forget that my best friend has a tatted bad boy all to herself.” She gave him a look. “Actually, keep those coming and add your phone number.”
I shook my head. This was not new behavior. Plus, the waiter was pretty hot. A bit too clean cut for me, but nothing to sneeze at either.
We were in one of our favorite restaurants in West Hollywood. A little hole in the wall that hardly anyone knew about and the owners had known us since we moved here. We had our own table that was slightly removed from the rest of the diners, which helped to stop people from recognizing us. A couple of people had shyly and subtly approached the table asking for photos but nothing that got out of control. Most people were genuine, noticing that I was having a night with my girlfriend and left us alone. It was the paps that didn’t. Luckily, we’d lost them. Or more accurately, Clyde had. That was the only way we’d been able to come without an alpha male chaperone. If Clyde drove us.
Both Killian and, strangely, Wyatt had insisted on this.
“Enough talking about me. I need to know about you,” I said once the waiter had left, giving Emma a long look. “More specifically, about you and Wyatt.”
Emma stiffened. “Me and Wyatt what?”
“Don’t play dumb. There was something.”
She frowned at me. “There was nothing.”
I raised my brow.
She sighed. “Just because you’re all in love doesn’t mean everyone else is. Stop it,” she snapped.
I grinned. “Wow, I hit a nerve.”
She scowled.
I stood. “I’m going to the ladies’ room, and then we’re going to continue this conversation,” I warned.
She didn’t say anything, just muttered something about harems and I shook my head as I slipped out of the booth.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to weave through the tables to go to the restroom. They were down a long hallway toward the back entrance that ran along an alley, one I thought Clyde might have to pick us up from if anyone else recognized us. He was currently sitting down the road, waiting for us. I hated that he just sat there, but he’d convinced me he didn’t mind. He was quite happy playing Sudoku.
I shook my head. Sudoku.
Abruptly, a sharp sting erupted in the back of my neck. I slapped the area, thinking a bee had somehow flown in here and stung me.
Whirling around, it wasn’t a bee I saw, but a dark shape before reality blurred and then disappeared completely.
Then there was only darkness.
“I’ll pay you two thousand dollars.”
Killian looked across at Sam. “No.”
Sam frowned. “Five thousand.”
Killian gave him a look. “I’m not takin’ your money to fight you, Sam.”
Sam grinned. “’Cause you’re afraid you’ll lose.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “No, you idiot, because he most likely doesn’t want to listen to Lexie complain to him about the drummer she used to know that he killed when he was stupid enough to challenge him to a fight.”
Killian chuckled and downed his beer. They were hanging out at Lexie and Noah’s Calabasas house. Now that the stalker had been taken care of, they’d been staying here since they got back. It should have intimidated Killian, seeing how fuckin’ rich they were, owning two mansions in an elite part of Hollywood, the places dripping with money. It should have fucked with him that he couldn’t financially take care of her, that she didn’t need him. It didn’t, not one bit. She needed him. He knew that. He’d also take care of her in every way, he knew that too. The house he was building her in Amber would be the house they grew old in. Raised their children in.
He’d pay for it, too. Every cent.
You would never think these guys had more money than they knew what to do with. They were still the same guys he used to hang around with. They still cared about Lexie. Killian was thankful for that. And grateful they’d managed to get over all the anger they had toward him and forgive him. He was more than fuckin’ thankful for that. This was Lexie’s family.
“They’ve been out for long enough now, don’t you think?” Wyatt asked, sucking down his beer.
Sam peered at him. “What do you care?”
“I don’t,” Wyatt protested. “But surely Killian does.”
Killian grinned, knowing this had nothing to do with Lexie and everything to do with Lexie’s tiny best friend who could throw one hell of a punch.
Before he could say anything, his phone rang. He frowned down at it. “Hey, bro,” he greeted Keltan. Despite their rocky meeting, Killian respected the hell out of the guy.
“Tell me you’re with Lexie,” Keltan clipped.
Killian’s body went still. “No. She’s out with a friend. What the fuck’s going on?” He already knew though; he heard it in Keltan’s tone. It chilled him to the bone.
“Fuck, man. Cops got the wrong guy. It’s not the one who broke in. Just a crazy that got into the property with dumb luck.”
“And we’re only finding this out now?” Killian snapped.
“Fucker’s been babbling incoherently since they brought him in. Haven’t been able to get straight answers outta him since then. Took that fuckin’ long for the idiots at the police department to figure out a man that can hardly string a sentence together is unlikely to be able to disable one of the most complex security systems out there.”
Killian stood, his entire body alert. His heart thundered in his chest, but his voice was calm. “Lexie’s in West Hollywood. You got any guys close enough to get her?” He was already walking toward the door.
“Send me the address. I’ll send them. She’ll be good, Kill.”
Killian closed the phone without saying anything. He tried to believe him, but the ice in his spine told him something different.
Hazy images filtered into my groggy mind and my brain pulsed in my skull.
My first thought was that I’d had way too many cocktails with Emma and that I was going to kill her for being a bad influence. Then I realized I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t bundled in Killian’s warm body. Instead, I was sitting uncomfortably upright, stuck there somehow.
It took a while for me to wade through the fog that had settled over my mind. I finally managed to open my eyes, but that didn’t help with my confusion much either. My blurry eyes recognized the stage I was on. The expanse of the room in front of me was no longer full of people like I was used to it being. It was empty.
“You’re awake.”
Okay, not completely empty.
Jean-clad thighs came into my vision and I craned my head up. “Eddie?” I squinted at him. “What’s going on? What are we doing here?”
My question was answered with cold terror settling over my clammy skin. There was a silver gun in Eddie’s left hand, and I belatedly realized my upper body was restrained to the chair I sat in.
“Edd
ie,” I said, my voice shaking. “Why do you have a gun?”
He knelt down, his eyes shimmering with insanity that hadn’t been there the last time I talked to him. If it had been, it was hidden better than this.
“I’m sorry to do this.” He pointed at me with the gun. Then his free hand stroked my cheek.
I flinched away from his grasp and his jaw stiffened as he stood.
“I didn’t want it to be this way,” he said, his voice hardening. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” He started to pace, but stopped and regarded me with eyes full of barely controlled crazy. “But then he came. Why, Lexie? Why did you let him in? You let him kiss you.” He stepped forward with fury, and I struggled to get out of the chair, but my limbs were numb.
“You drugged me,” I accused in a husky voice.
“I had no choice,” he said, his voice flipping back to that soft tone. “It was the only way. Don’t you see? It was the only way we could be alone and you could explain to me why the fuck you did that to me. To us.” His voice turned into a snarl at the end.
I blinked at him. I was finding it hard to fully grasp his words. They were slippery, the drug still holding dominion on my mind. “What are you talking about? There is no ‘us.’”
A sharp pain erupted in my cheek as Eddie backhanded me savagely. It rocked the chair, but I stayed upright.
“Don’t say that,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare. You know what we have. I know you do. I just had to get rid of that idiot actor for you to see, to give you time. I knew you’d come to me.” The pacing started again. “Of course, I’m not very patient.” He laughed and the sound echoed through the stadium and crawled up my spine like a spider. “So I had to try and get you myself.” He frowned. “I don’t blame you for running. It was dark. You didn’t know it was me. But I wish you hadn’t fought. That you hadn’t saved that brute keeping you from me.”
I blinked away the stars from his hit and finally was able to understand what all of this meant. “It was you,” I whispered in horror. “All of this, it was you.” My mind jolted to an earlier statement. “You killed Drew?”
Eddie knelt in front of me once more, resting both his hands on my thighs. I focused on the one holding the gun. My limbs weren’t working properly just yet, but I needed them. Eddie wasn’t big. He was tall and lean, but he needed the gun for dominance over me. Without it, I had a chance.