Closer to You (Grindstone Harbor, #1)

by Cat Mason

  “Kids,” he mutters shaking his head. “Always thinking everything has to be so goddamn complicated. Let me tell you somethin’, son.” Narrowing his eyes, he wags his finger at me through the window. “If this is about Bristol, and don’t tell me it isn’t, you have been a miserable shit ever since you left her this morning. Fix it. I don’t care how you fix it, or what you have to do. You love her?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Yes,” he repeats with a nod. “No buts. She love you?”

  “Yes, Unc, but—”

  “No buts,” he snaps, pressing his lips into a hard line. “Not one day goes by that I don’t regret not fighting harder for Jo. I was a stubborn fool and let her go, but I could never move on. I watched from next door as she fell in love with another man, took his name, and carried his child in her belly, when it should have been me.” Shaking his head, his eyes fill with sadness. “Crazy may run in this family, Tage, but you didn’t inherit stupidity. Swallow your pride and go talk it out.” Looking around me, he smiles. “And you might wanna figure out what you’re gonna say pretty quick.”

  Turning around, I spot Evan and Quinn, followed by Greer. My heart leaps into my throat. The guys head for the back booth, but not Quinn. She says something to Evan, then heads straight for me. Flipping her hair over blonde hair over her shoulder, she hops up onto the stool beside Bob, staring me down. “You’re on my shit list, buddy,” she says, pointing at me. “I have never seen Bristol so upset and I have known her since we were kids. I have bribed the men not to kill you, because I feel that there’s a perfectly good reason for why my best friend is locked in her room drowning in her own tears right now. But, if there isn’t, I’m fully equipped to claw your eyes out myself.”

  “She’s not here?” I ask, scanning the room.

  “Of course she’s not here, you dumbass!” she shouts, rolling her eyes. “Have you heard anything I’ve just said? She’s back at the house. Tanner stayed with her so we could come here to kill you and pick up dinner.”

  “Well, look who decided to come pretty up the joint,” Jimmy purrs, strutting up and planting a kiss on Quinn’s cheek.

  “Hi, handsome,” she replies, giving him a wink.

  “That delivery guy ever make it out your way?” Jimmy asks, wrapping an arm around her. “I’ll never understand why people trust those damned GPS contraptions.”

  “What guy?” she asks, knitting her brows together.

  “Big gray van. Illinois tags, I think. He stopped and got some lunch around noon at Foster’s, said he needed directions because he got turned around somehow.” Shaking his head, he chuckles. “These kids and they’re electronic gadgets. Nothin’ beats learnin’ how to read a good old fashioned map.”

  “Fuckin’ media,” Quinn grumbles, blowing out a breath. “Bet he was that short dude from the beach, hassling her about you and shit. Evan told me she handed it right back at him like a champ,” she adds, grinning at me. “That’s my girl.”

  “Boy, I tell ya, if it were my stuff, I’d call and see why he didn’t show up.” Scratching his chin thoughtfully, Jimmy takes the seat beside Quinn. “I didn’t catch the name of the company, but Chris seemed like a nice enough fella. Funny that he didn’t show up.”

  “Chris?” Quinn and I ask in unison, her blue eyes widening and filling with worry.

  The hair stands straight up on the back of my neck, a feeling of dread settling in my gut like a lead weight. Yanking my phone from my pocket, I type the name Christopher Payne into the search engine. Clicking the link, I zoom in on the picture of his mugshot from the paper. My blood boils just thinking about what he did to her, about what he would have done had Evan not stopped him in time. “Is this him?” I ask, flipping the screen to face Jimmy.

  “Sure is,” he replies, nodding his head. “I didn’t know you knew him.”

  “Oh my God,” Quinn says, the color draining from her face.

  Dialing Bristol’s phone, I curse under my breath when it goes straight to voicemail. “Tanner isn’t answering either. That’s it; I’m calling nine-one-one,” Quinn informs me, fumbling with her phone. “Evan!” she shouts, hopping off the stool and hauling ass his way. “We gotta go. Now!”

  “Tell them I’ll already be there.” Grabbing my keys from the hook, I leap over the end of the bar, bolting for the door. Jumping into my Jeep, I peel out of the parking lot so fast my engine roars and my tires squeal. Not giving one fuck about the speed limit, I slam the accelerator to the floor, and pray that I am not too late.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Photos That Tell A Story

  Bristol

  Shoving the laptop off my legs, I push to my feet and pace beside my bed. My eyes are glued to the photos of Tage and I captured by the paparazzi over the last few weeks. The media has zoomed in on my life, flashbulbs illuminating every crevasse, exposing everything at face value.

  Especially, what was lacking.

  Staring over at my partially packed suitcase, tears burn my eyes. I don’t want to go back to my big, empty condo in California. I can’t pretend that the last several weeks haven’t changed everything, because they have. There is no erasing Tage from my mind. Or my heart.

  I can’t get our argument out of my head. I felt vulnerable. It was as if, just after being verbally attacked by that psycho with a camera lens, Evan was right there to pick up where he left off. When I expected Tage to come to my defense, and he basically jumped on the ‘Evan is always right’ bandwagon, it was more than my over-taxed emotions could process. I felt like the whole world was against me.

  Like a wounded animal, I tried to retreat to lick my wounds, not expecting Tage to push the issue further. I snapped, lashing out at one person I wanted to pull closer to me. I needed him to hold me, to tell me that it was okay. I needed to know he had my back.

  Instead, I shoved him so far away that I wouldn’t be surprised if he never spoke to me again.

  Unlocking the door, I head down the steps to the kitchen for a soda. With Quinn gone, and not pacing outside my door like an angry wet hen, I figure it is now or never. The house is dark, except for the light in shining up the hall from the kitchen. “Tanner?” I call out, knowing that he stayed behind because Evan refused to leave me alone.

  Because another media shit storm would just round out my perfect fucking day.

  The backdoor is wide open and some of the drawers are yanked open. “Tanner?” I shout again. Looking down, I see Evan’s snack cabinet open again. “Oh, Moo,” I laugh, shaking my head. “You sneaky boy. Evan is going to kick your ass if you finished off that box of Donut Sticks he dips in his chocolate milk.”

  “I’ve missed you, my love.”

  I jolt at the familiar voice. Spinning around, I meet Chris’s eyes as he steps out of the darkened sun room. “C-C-Chris,” I stammer, slowly edgy back around to the other side of the kitchen island to put some distance between us. “W-what are you doing here?”

  His smile sends chills down my spine. “I came for you.” Holding up his hand, he scratches his temple with the end of a pistol. Oh God. Is he going to shoot me? “I knew when the charges were dropped that we were meant to be,” he says, his eye twitching. “It was the sign I needed to know for sure. You do still love me? I know it with everything I am. I’ve come to take you away.” He moves closer, placing his hands on top of the kitchen island. “I even brought you a present,” he says, tapping a blue photo album with the tip of the gun.

  “How sweet,” I say, stepping back until my ass hits the oven door. “I don’t have anything for you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming. No one told me,” I ramble, trying to think. Patting down my pockets, I inwardly kick myself when I remember dropping my phone outside earlier.

  “Open your present!” he snaps, his eye twitching. “It’s rude not to open a gift when it’s given to you.”

  “O-okay, C-C-Chris,” I stutter nervously. Flipping open the book, my blood turns to ice in my veins. All the photos are of Tage and I, except
with Chris’s face. “Are these all of us?” I ask, bile rising in the throat as I flip through the pages.

  “Well, of course,” he laughs. “We can’t do anything without the press following our every move.” Dear God, he is completely disturbed. He thinks that he is Tage? That he and I are the ones that are in the relationship? I have to stay calm and think on my toes here. I have to get away from him before he snaps and actually does hurt me this time. Snatching the book away, he flips it closed. “Let’s get you packed up,” he says, gesturing at me with the gun. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

  “Chris?” I ask, inching around slowly. “You know that I can’t just leave. Evan will be very worried if he comes back and can’t find me. I’ll need to call him.”

  “No!” he shouts, tapping the gun against his temple. His expression changes, turning more cold. “No phones. You can leave a note.”

  “Okay,” I jump, my hands shaking. “A note. That’s good,” I reply, letting out a nervous laugh. “Smart. I didn’t think of that.”

  “I’ve thought of everything, Bristol.” Reaching out, he snatches my arm, hauling me up against him. Looking down into my eyes, he circles my waist, the barrel of the gun resting against my lower back. “I’ve missed holding you,” he says, leaning in and pressing his forehead to mine. “Missed having you all to myself.”

  “Me too. Chris,” I say, swallowing hard. “Sweetheart, the gun is making me really nervous. I don’t even like if Evan is carrying one. Do you think you could put it away?”

  “Oh!” he says, pulling back. “Of course. Forgive me, my love.” Shoving the gun into the waistband of his jeans, he cups my face in his hands. “Now, where were we?” he asks, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to mine.

  Forcing myself to move my lips, I kiss him back. One of his hands slides into my hair as his tongue tries to force its way into my mouth. I have to be smart. I don’t know what happened to Tanner, but it is very clear that I am on my own this time. No one is coming to save me. Taking a breath, I open for him, then make my move. Grabbing the gun, I squeeze the trigger. His body jerks, the sound of the shot echoes off the walls, making me jump.

  “You fucking bitch!” Chris screams, falling to the floor. The gun drops to the tile, sliding under the island. “You’re ruining everything.” Blood oozes from between his fingers as he holds his denim covered thigh.

  Oh shit. My head starts swimming. My stomach rolling as I fight the urge to vomit.

  “Don’t faint, Bristol. Don’t fucking faint,” I chant inside my head. Knowing that I will be totally screwed if I hit the floor right now.

  I shift to run from the room. Reaching out, he curls his fingers around my ankle, yanking my leg out from under me. “Tanner!” I scream, falling face first onto the tile floor. “Tanner! Help me!”

  “Tanner isn’t coming,” Chris laughs frigidly. “No one is.”

  Tugging my leg again, he pulls me toward him. I scramble with my arms, trying to grab anything within reach to hit him with, but there’s nothing. Bringing up my other leg, I kick his injured thigh as hard as I can. “Bitch!” he shouts, losing his grip on me. Scrambling to my feet, I bolt through the house, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. Clinging to the wall, Chris chases after me. Making it to the front door, I twist the knob, but I’m not fast enough. Slamming into me, he spins me around to face him. His hand wraps around my throat, cutting off my air supply. I gasp for what little breath I can get, clawing at his hand with my finger nails. His eyes are wild and terrifying. “Is this any way to treat the man you love?” he asks, slapping me hard across the face with his other hand. “After everything I’ve done for you, what do you do to repay me? You fucking shoot me and try to run away. How do you think that makes me feel? Huh?” Grabbing my arms, he throws me onto the steps.

  Without missing a beat, I start scrambling up the steps, knowing that I have a chance to get away if I can get to my bedroom balcony. “Stop running away from me,” he shouts, grabbing at my ankles.

  “Leave me alone!” I scream. “You’re crazy.”

  “You’re not leaving me again. I won’t let you.” Grabbing a fist full of my hair, he leans on the railing and begins climbing the steps. Yanking my hair, he forces me to move with him. “The only way you leave me, my love, is in a body bag!” he shouts, bashing my face into the step. “I’d rather you were dead than lose you to anyone else.”

  My heart slams against my chest. The thought that I might die tonight is very real in my mind. I could die and never see anyone I love ever again. Tage. The thought of never seeing his face again, or hearing his voice, has tears streaming down my face.

  Reaching the top of the first flight, he steadies himself against the edge of the wall. “Stand up,” he orders, yanking my hair so hard that I can feel some strands being ripped from the roots. Taking a breath, I try to blink away the tears blurring my vision. Swallowing around the lump of dread in my throat, I square my shoulders and meet his eyes. I don’t want to die, but if Christopher Payne is going to kill me, he will do it looking me in the face. His eyes soften, his entire demeanor changing again. “Look at what you’ve made me do to your sweet face, my beautiful girl.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice cracking.

  His hand grips my jaw, squeezing hard. “No, you’re not,” he grounds out, “but you will be.” Cracking the back of his hand across my face, he lets me crumple to the floor. Bending at the waist, he grabs my shirt with one hand, balling his other into a fist. “Time to teach you a lesson.”

  “Please,” I beg, holding up my hands. “Don’t hurt me, Chris.”

  “I’ll make sure you never try to run from me again.”

  Charging out of the bedroom, Moo bares his teeth, sinking them into Chris’s arm. “Fucking mutt!” he roars. Stumbling, he tumbles backwards, sending him crashing down the stairs. His head bounces off the corner edge of the banister before slamming into the wall beside the front door.

  Moving to the edge of the stairs, Moo stares down at Chris’s unmoving body as if challenging him to get up. A scream leaves my lips, my chest heaving as I begin to sob. Gripping the banister, I pull myself up, steadying my shaky legs, preparing to run if he even so much as twitches.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dog of the Fucking Year

  Tage

  Seeing the gates standing wide open, and the van parked inside, had my heart stopping. Flinging the Jeep into park, I grab the gun I keep in my glove compartment for protection on late nights and leap out, running for the house. There is shouting and a loud crash, followed by Bristol screaming. Making sure the safety is off, I prepare to empty the clip into the motherfucker if he has even so much as touched her.

  “Bristol!” I shout, flinging open the door and barreling inside. Looking down at my feet, I stop just inches from the fucker’s limp body.

  “Here!” she shouts, gripping the railing as she slowly makes her way down with Moo at her side. Her face is a mess; her lip is split and swollen, blood is dripping from her nose and a big scratch on her cheek. “Chris was... and then Moo... Then he... Is he?” she asks, bringing a hand to her throat. “I mean—”

  “I’m not sure. Stay there,” I instruct her, pointing the gun at Chris’s body and kicking his hip. “You even move, asshole, I’ll unload every bullet I have into your goddamn skull.”

  Tires squeal as the SUV whips in and pulls up beside my Jeep. Evan and Greer climb out and run up the steps, their eyes filled with rage and worry. “Where’s the bastard?” Evan shouts, drawing his gun. “If he isn’t dead, he’s about to fuckin’ be.”

  “Find Tanner,” Bristol stammers, moving further down the steps toward us. “He wouldn’t answer me. Oh God,” she sobs. “I screamed for him and he didn’t answer. Why didn’t he answer?”

  “Give me a reason, motherfucker,” Evan says, pointing his gun at Chris when he starts to move. “You good, B?” he asks, glancing up at her.

  “Fine,” she breathes, stumbling sha
kily. “I need out of here.”

  Handing my gun off to Greer, I take the stairs two at a time, desperate to get to Bristol. “Are you okay?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her. She nods, her lip quivering. Helping her down the steps, we are met at the door by Roger Morgan, the Chief of Police.

  “You do that to him, Crosby?” Morgan asks, jerking his chin toward Chris who is groaning and sobbing in the floor.

  “Nope,” I respond, tucking Bristol tightly into my side. “That was my girl and the dog of the fucking year.”

  Morgan nods, “Medics are three minutes out.”

  Hoisting Bristol into my arms, I carry her down to where the cars are parked. Yanking open the rear hatch of the SUV, I settle her down. Without hesitation, Moo leaps up into the back, lying down beside her. Dropping his head to her lap, he looks up at her, nudging her hand with his nose.

  “Bristol!”

  Her eyes widen, relief filling her features the moment Tanner rounds the side of Morgan’s police truck with Quinn. “Tanner!”

  “Thank fuck,” he says, wrapping his arms around her. Moving around him, Quinn climbs up into the back with Bristol. “That bastard got the jump on me. Never even saw him coming at me before he hit me in the goddamn head. I woke up gagged and tied up to a damn tree on the side of the house.” Releasing her, he growls angrily when he sees her face and throat. His fists ball at his sides, his wrists and forearms are all gashed up. “I heard you screaming. Heard the gunshot. I thought,” he says, clearing his throat roughly. A tear rolls down his cheek as he breathes. He looks absolutely fucking gutted. “I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my life. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m okay,” Bristol assures him, but her frazzled nerves and shaking hands say otherwise. “Especially now that I know he didn’t—” her voice cracks, her beautiful brown eyes filling with tears. Quinn wraps an arm around her, but doesn’t say anything. Closing her eyes, Bristol drops her head to Quinn’s shoulder and sighs. “I’m okay,” she repeats, sounding a little more convincing this time.