He wasn’t fucking, which she guessed was a major relief. She wasn’t sure what she’d have done if he had been. Turned tail and headed home to England, perhaps. No, not really, not without putting up at least some fight. She wanted what they had too much to let it slip away so easily. Ash might be a tattooed bad boy on the surface, but beneath that was a decent, honest man, one she could have fun with and then happily grow old and settle down with. She even believed that’s what he wanted too, some day, just as long as he could stay wild on the side.
There were three women on the bed with him, one on either side rubbing grubby hands over his bare chest, and a third sitting astride him testing the boundaries of his unzipped fly. Ginny automatically clenched a fist. Ash was hers; how dare they? She’d pick every goddamned leech off him by hand if she had to, and throw them onto the gravel outside so hard they’d have scabs on their pretty arses for weeks. She started forward, only to pull herself up sharp. She had more sense than to start a cat fight. If she really wanted to get rid of them, there were better ways to go about it.
Two strides took her to the main light switch. ‘Cops! Clear out,’ she yelled, as she flicked on the overhead lights, dazzling everyone with harsh white light.
Instantly, all hell broke loose. Women shoving other women, people snatching up purses and bickering over possessions, and a hell of a lot of things she didn’t want to know about being shoved into places she didn’t want to think about. At any rate the bus cleared in less than two minutes, with the exception of the girl straddled across Ash’s lap, who clearly didn’t feel she needed to run from the police.
Ginny grabbed her hair just as her teeth teased the edge of Ash’s zipper. ‘You too, pussycat. Time to be on your way.’
‘Ash wants me to stay. Don’t you?’ she oozed, her voice all sickly sweet and buttery.
If he did, he gave no indication of it. Ginny wasn’t sure he even realised the girl was there. His eyes were vacant, like his mind had temporarily checked out. For a moment she feared he was high on something, but the whiff of alcohol from him seemed to suggest a more legal form of intoxication.
‘Out.’ Ginny dragged the skinny bitch off the bed and led her kicking and screaming to the door. She shoved her into the corridor, then slid the bolt to prevent her getting back in. She heard vicious thumps and plentiful curses, but thankfully the lock held.
‘Ash?’ Ginny whispered, gingerly approaching the bed. He hadn’t moved a muscle, perhaps hadn’t even blinked. His skin was pale and grey with exhaustion, except around his jawline, where the skin was speckled by the signs of burst capillaries. ‘Ash, I came to talk.’ He didn’t respond until she attempted to smooth the hair back from his brow, then he rolled off the bed on the far side from her and slouched against the back wall of the bus. His rumpled clothing made him seem gaunt, and whereas normally seeing him in a state of undress made her want to jump him, her only thought now was that he’d benefit from a nice cup of tea and a decent night’s kip.
‘Fuck off,’ he snarled, jerking up his jeans so that they covered his hips. ‘I don’t know why you’re here after what you did to me. Just fuck off.’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Not until you explain why you’ve ended it.’
‘As if you don’t know,’ he snarled.
That was just the problem, she didn’t know. She hadn’t the faintest idea, and hadn’t been able to find anyone else who could tell her either.
‘You’re like all the rest. I should have seen it. The evidence was there all along. I mean, we only met because you wanted to screw a rock star. Congrats on having accomplished that. Ash Gore –’ he nodded ‘– done him.’ He mimicked her drawing an oversized tick upon a giant scorecard. ‘I’ll just move right on and do his friend next.’
‘What are you talking about?’ She hadn’t fucked any of his friends. The closest she’d come was on the night they’d met, and Ash had been there and both witnessed and participated in everything. Throwing a wobbly about that now was ridiculously unfair. They hadn’t even been dating at the time. ‘I’ve no interest in any of your friends, only in you.’
‘Guess I must have imagined what I saw then.’ He snatched up a T-shirt and tugged it over his head, hiding the ridges and dips of his upper body from her view. ‘Must have been some other bitch called Ginny I caught with her knickers off and her tongue down another man’s throat.’
‘You what?’ She was still trying to get her head around the accusation when he stalked over to the bedroom door and nearly wrenched it off its hinges attempting to open it. The bus, cleared of revellers, looked a sorry mess. Elspeth stood in the middle of the detritus, nose wrinkled, scowling at the discarded beer bottles and cigarette butts. Seeing them in the doorway, she gave a disgruntled snort and padded up the stairs.
‘Ash, I don’t know what you think I did –’
‘I don’t think anything,’ he snapped, slashing the air with his hand. ‘I know. I saw you. You didn’t even care that I saw you. You just smiled and tootled off like the utterly despicable cow I’ve realised you are.’
‘No,’ she insisted. She refused to believe it of herself. She wasn’t always the most moral of individuals, and sexually, sure, she was adventurous and refused to let anyone make her feel bad about that, but she was not a cheat.
She never cheated.
‘Get out.’
Fuck, no! Up close she could see through the fringe of hair covering half his face to his eyes. Even the smudges of kohl around them couldn’t entirely mask their red rims, or the tears forming at their edges.
‘Just go away. I don’t want to see you again.’
‘No,’ she replied. None of this made sense. It didn’t tally with her feelings. She hadn’t gone home and set things in motion back there in order to come to Scandinavia and blow the future she hoped they were creating by doing something so moronic as quitting now. ‘I’m not leaving, Ash. We’re going to talk this out. There’s been a mistake somewhere. I didn’t … I wouldn’t … I love you.’
‘Damn funny way you have of demonstrating it. We’re over, Ginny. I can’t date a woman who thinks it’s OK to feel up my mate and to suggest we all bed down together for a threesome without consulting me.’
‘I did that?’ She swallowed slowly, sickened by the possibility that might be the truth. No wonder he was hurting. She’d feel exactly the same way if their situations were reversed.
Ash stared at her, mouth agape, the blue of his eyes so intense she could see it through his fringe. ‘Do you expect me to believe you don’t remember?’ Outraged laughter burst from his throat, which changed into a rattling cough that almost bent him double and had him dry retching.
Concerned, Ginny patted him between his shoulder blades. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course I’m not all right.’ He jerked away from her touch as if he’d been scalded. ‘I thought we had something. I trusted you. How could you do that?’
‘If I actually knew what I’d done then maybe I’d have an answer.’ She gritted her teeth, determined not to raise her voice. Yelling at one another wasn’t going to help. Her jaw soon ached from the strain. ‘Ash, I’m sorry for whatever it was I did, but I honestly don’t know what it is, beyond the few hints you’ve dropped. The whole of last night is missing from my head, like someone sliced it out. I’ve got nothing. Not a single detail.’
His lips peeled back from his teeth to form a nasty smile. ‘You know denial doesn’t really make up for it. Christ, Ginny, I go for a slash and come back and you’re all over Iain. I thought you said he was a prick. Obviously I misheard you, and what you really said was that you wanted his prick. He’s in the bar. If you trot over I’m sure he’ll take great delight in banging you senseless.’
Not waiting to see her response, Ash marched into the kitchen, where he snatched a bottle from the fridge and started pouring the contents down his throat.
It was Ginny’s turn to gape, because not for an instant had she imagined the name Ash would spit at her w
ould be Iain’s. One of the others, maybe – they were hot guys. Even Elspeth at a push, given that she’d obviously been out of her friggin’ mind to start with. But Iain? Not even the thickest beer goggles would do that. Even the thought of kissing him made her feel sick.
No way. No fucking way.
Outrage rapidly transformed into a deep unsettling cold. Ash claimed he’d witnessed it. She had no reason to doubt his account, which, combined with her memory loss, made Lykke’s assessment of the situation startlingly likely. What if someone had slipped something into her drink that had left her with no inhibitions and no sense of restraint? Then she might have done all manner of things she would never have normally done, and would have been ripe for being taken advantage of. Then she might have let Iain that close to her.
Ginny’s stomach lifted, sending a wave of nausea up into her throat. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she croaked.
‘Bucket’s right there.’ Ash went so far as to kick it towards her. ‘I’ve given it plenty of use today myself.’
She hunched, no longer sure her trembling legs would support her, and clenched the sides of the bucket.
‘How – how far did it go?’ she asked tremulously, not sure she really wanted to know the answer.
‘He had his fingers in your cunt.’
Suddenly, clutching the bucket wasn’t enough. She hugged herself tight, determined not to succumb to the hysteria lurking just beneath her skin. This was much worse than she’d anticipated – but then she had tried to ignore the possibility she’d been drugged, because, if she accepted it, she had to accept other things too, like the possibility she’d been taken advantage of.
She’d clearly been taken advantage of.
Iain had touched her in a way that made her feel dirty inside and out.
The soft patter of bare feet upon the lino alerted her to Ash’s approach. She could barely lift her head to look at him. He stood leaning against the fridge, holding something that looked suspiciously like water. ‘Can you really not remember anything?’ he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
She very gingerly shook her head, half-wishing that he’d say he’d exaggerated the situation or he’d interrupted the encounter before it got that far. ‘The last clear memory I have from last night is of you coming off stage and Tony speculating that those lights hadn’t come down by accident. After that it’s blank until Dani dragged me into the sunlight this morning.’
‘Where did you wake up?’
‘In my tent. Alone,’ she added before he suggested otherwise. ‘With the absolute hangover from hell. Guess I drank way too much?’
Ash swept his head side to side once to indicate otherwise. ‘You wanted to go down to the lake, so you were determined to stay sober. You had a glass of Southern Comfort early on and a beer while we were watching Drunk Alien Fuck.’
‘Drunk Alien who?’
‘You don’t recall the inflatable many-breasted alien?’
She bit her lip. ‘Did I do something embarrassing with it?’ Like that was her major worry. It was easier to focus on embarrassment rather than the potentially more sinister aspects of the night.
Ash scrubbed his face and sat down beside her on the floor. ‘What about Spin the Bottle? You remember that, I’m sure.’
‘Nope.’
‘Betting me forty quid I wouldn’t snog Xane?’
‘You didn’t, did you?’ She kind of knew he had, because Dani had mentioned it, but she’d assumed it’d been no more than a peck on the cheek. The way Ash said it made it sound rather more full-on.
Ash scooted his bum a little closer, until his denim-covered thigh was almost touching hers. Then he dug in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, which he opened to show her. The letters ‘IOU’ were written on it, next to ‘£40’ and her signature.
‘I’m not coughing up for something I don’t remember.’
Ash scrunched the paper again and dropped it into the sick bucket. ‘Nothing about what we discussed?’ He wrapped his arms around his bent legs and rested his chin upon his knees.
‘Nothing,’ she whispered, wishing like mad that there was something she could remember. It sounded as if he’d told her things she’d want to know about, the sorts of things that bonded people together.
‘Has this happened to you before?’ he asked.
‘Never.’ Ginny apprehensively chewed her lip. Then she blurted everything out in a rush – all her suspicions and all her fears. ‘I think I was spiked, and I’m scared to death about what happened. What you witnessed is bad enough. What if it went further than that? I might have done anything with anybody.’
Ash sucked in a long breath with a hissing sound.
Too agitated to remain still, Ginny pushed herself to her feet and began to pace the short gangway between the kitchen and bedroom. She wasn’t certain Ash even believed her, but she knew gut-deep that it was the truth: someone, somehow had drugged her. It was the only reasonable explanation for her behaviour the previous night and the symptoms that had hounded her most of the day.
‘Who by?’ he asked, getting to his feet too.
‘You tell me. Who went near my drinks?’ All two of them.
Ash didn’t immediately reply, he just paled.
Chapter 24
Spiked!
Fucking Iain had spiked her.
He hadn’t considered it, but ought to have. It made perfect sense.
Ash jammed his fingers into his eyes, trying to obliterate the memory that suddenly plagued him. ‘Just hang on to these, will you?’ he’d said to Iain, handing over his and Ginny’s drinks for him to watch, so that he could escape yet another of Iain’s talks about them getting some material together for a project that didn’t involve the rest of Black Halo.
Surely Iain wouldn’t have. He didn’t want to believe it of him but, if what Ginny said was true, it was the only logical conclusion. In his heart he believed her, even if his head wasn’t entirely ready to get on board. It had always been a little thick, though.
Shit! If it were true, then that meant not only was he friends with the worst sort of scumbag, but Iain had also brazenly lied to his face about what had happened.
Ash struggled, trying to decipher a motive. Why would a friend he’d known for years, someone to whom he’d just given a significant career boost, deliberately try to destroy his relationship with the woman he loved?
To split you up, you fool. It wouldn’t be the first time, whispered his subconscious.
But he had no proof of that, only the vaguest of suspicions.
He was involved. You know it. You’ve always known it. He’s always hated anyone capable of drawing your attention away from him. He only likes it when you’re his pet, and only his pet. You’ve forgotten, that’s all, suppressed the memories of his possessiveness. You moved on, let go, but he never let go.
Iain had relentlessly maintained their friendship over the years, even when Ash had let things slide to the point of rudeness. Letter writing wasn’t his thing. He sent the odd text, but he lost his phones so often he rarely managed to hold on to people’s contact details unless they were in his immediate circle all the time.
Iain wrote and called and even sent Ash’s mum Christmas cards.
‘Ash,’ Ginny whispered. She looked so wan as to appear ghostly. ‘Do you … do you believe me?’
The evidence was there: not just their history, and his handing over those beers for Iain to hold, but, if he was being perfectly honest, in his own physical symptoms. He’d drained the rest of Ginny’s beer along with his own after he’d witnessed the little scenario he’d been presented with – and not long afterwards he’d started feeling heartily sick.
At the time he’d put it down to shock. Seeing her touching and being touched by another man had made him feel as if his ribs had cracked and someone was yanking out his insides. He’d sought the oblivion booze offered, but the beers had gone in a few long pulls and did nothing to deaden the pain or melt the hurt of her turning
wordlessly away from him as if he’d never meant a thing.
Alcohol alone wasn’t enough. To truly block shit out required stronger stuff. Pills he had no intention of going near again, because he liked having his brain switched on. He’d run instead, round and round the perimeter of the vast campsite, until his legs gave way. He hobbled back to the tour bus as the sun was leering over the horizon, and because his calves had protested at the climb upstairs to his bunk he’d slept on the sofa beneath Cave Troll’s berth.
‘Ash,’ she prompted again, the quaver in her voice betraying her fear that he’d dismiss her claim.
‘Yes,’ he said simply, both wanting and hating that he believed her. ‘I do believe you.’
Relief briefly chased the careworn expression from her pretty face. She clasped her hands before her, fingers folded tightly over the knuckles, and pressed a kiss to them.
‘Thank God,’ he heard her mutter.
Thank God he’d come back from the toilet when he had, because he was acutely aware that things might have got a lot more ugly. ‘You didn’t have sex with him,’ he said, realising she might be fretting about that, and wanting to reassure her it hadn’t got that far. ‘He was kissing your neck and he had his hand up your skirt. I don’t know that he was actually fingering you. He may only have intended to give that impression.’
‘Why?’ she asked, blinking at him in confusion.
Ash crossed to where she stood near the bedroom door, and clasped her upper arms. ‘I think he meant to split us up, Ginny. And he very nearly succeeded. He played right into my deepest fears.’
‘That I’ll abandon you for someone else,’ she said perceptively, raising her hands to stroke the contours of his face. Her whisky-gold eyes filled with immeasurable warmth. ‘Why would I even look at another man when I have everything I could possibly want in you – bad-boy looks, a body to die for and mad, mad licking skills, and that’s before we move on to the big squishy nonsense lurking in here.’ She laid one palm against the centre of his chest.
All Fired Up Page 17