“Good evening! I’m Allison Avery-Franklin, chairperson of this evening’s event. Thank you all for coming and showing your support for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It is my pleasure to present tonight’s entertainment, one of Chicago’s most renowned musical acts: Archangel!” The crowd erupted in applause and shouts and a bright smile split across Allison’s face; her happiness was like a living thing. “Please give generously and enjoy the evening!”
The guitar faded away and the piano took over in a basic repetitive chord run of a song Alex recognized from his collection. The spotlight hit one of the guitar players as he began to sing and his instrument began to whine as the drums joined in with the strings. The crowd quieted, and Alex couldn’t argue that the music was good. It wasn’t long until the chorus hit and the background was filled with a female voice he’d heard before. His head snapped toward his brother, and even in the darkness, he could see Cole’s eyes on him. He got up and walked quickly around the table to where Cole stood.
“Is Angel on that stage?” Alex asked emphatically. He was filled with emotions he couldn’t define. Cole only nodded. He leaned in but had to raise his voice over the music. “Why the fuck didn’t I know about this?”
“At first, she wanted to surprise you, but after you guys broke-up,” he shrugged. “Well, she just didn’t want you to know,” Cole shouted back. “At least you know I didn’t leave her unprotected. I’ve been watching her the entire time.”
Alex couldn’t help the twinge of pain and regret that shifted through him. “This is her band then? The one from college?”
“Yeah! They’re awesome! I mean really great!”
Alex nodded but already his eyes were straining toward the stage, his ears picking out her voice from the harmonies. She sounded strong. Good. Amazing. His chest filled with pride.
“Wait until you see her. She’s really in her element. Gorgeous!”
Most of the stage was in darkness, the spotlight on the one guitar player singing lead. He was lean and tough looking, the dark T-shirt he had on had the sleeves cut out, exposing a few tattoos on his arms. The distance and Alex’s preoccupation with locating Angel made it impossible to determine what they were.
The music was loud and the crowd boisterous, the dance floor filling with people actually dancing and more gathering at the front of the stage like groupies. Overall, the crowd was younger than expected, though Alex had seen some of the more prominent Chicago philanthropists when he’d first arrived.
“Do you know where she is?”
“Playing keyboards,” Cole answered. “I didn’t realize she was so good.”
“There isn’t much she does half-assed, is there?” Alex asked with a grin. He was filled with an anxious need to speak to her, to see her, to make things right between them.
Cole just smiled and shook his head. He didn’t understand why his brother didn’t pull his head out of his ass and talk to her.
As the song ended, the lights came up slightly, illuminating the rest of the instruments, and Alex’s eyes darted to the keyboards, but a tall, gangly man was taking his place behind them.
Angel walked up to the microphone, and Alex lost his breath. Her hair was a wild mass of waves, her eyes heavily made-up, and her lips a dark shade of red. Against her alabaster skin, it was a striking contrast. The breeze from the fans blew the sparkling black mesh dress to hug the lush curves of her body. The material was transparent, sleeveless, and low cut, hanging loosely over a small, black skirt that hugged her low on the hips, and a tight strip of matching black fabric across her breasts emphasized the swells of her breasts. Her legs looked like they went on forever, her knee-high platform stiletto boots were sexy as hell.
Alex’s gaze moved up over her firm, bare thighs, the dress sparkling as it blew around her body, and the heavy curtain of her hair moving in unison around her beautiful features. The hands wrapped around the microphone were encased in fingerless gloves up to her elbows. She looked tough, untouchable, but hotter than hell. His body reacted even as his heart ached. His eyes barely registered the other band members; the huge Hispanic man on drums, a blonde woman in a tight black dress standing at a microphone on Angel’s left, along with two more men with guitars on either side of the stage, and Allison behind her. It all faded into nothingness around her.
Angel smiled brightly as the band began to play softly, her eyes scanning the room. Alex couldn’t tell if she saw him, but she paused briefly before speaking. Her voice was warm and rich as it traveled from the speakers out over the room.
“Good evening!” Applause broke out and she waited for it to die down. “Thanks for coming out and helping in the fight against blood cancers! Everyone here is donating their time, which is a true testament to the people of this city! Even the servers and bartenders are giving all their tips to the cause, so if they do a good job, please give generously!” More applause, whistles, and yells followed.
“It’s good to see you back with the band, Angel!” A man yelled from three tables away, and she smiled wider.
“Yes, it feels good to be back! What’d ya say we rock this bitch?”
Alex’s face split into a grin and the room erupted at the same time as the beating drums and wail of guitar amped up for the start of the next song.
Alex didn’t know how long he watched her, and though he didn’t realize how, he’d ended up away from his table and closer to the stage. He was fascinated. She had such a commanding presence as she moved across the stage, interacting with other members of the band and the audience, as naturally as if she’d been performing forever. Alex didn’t know a moment that he’d ever felt more proud; all the billion dollar deals paled in comparison. Even his acceptance to Julliard didn’t come close to the fullness in his chest. She was mesmerizing, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was sex personified, made worse because he had first-hand knowledge of the delights of her body, and how it reacted to his.
“Alex,” Whitney said from beside him, her voice elevated to compensate for the music. “I’d like to talk to you, please. Can we go outside for a minute?”
He’d seen her out of the corner of his eye a few times trying to get his attention, but he had no desire to engage in any type of conversation. “Not now,” he answered shortly.
Whitney’s hand shot out to wrap around his forearm, forcing Alex to rip his eyes away from Angel and look at her. Despite the darkness, Alex could see the tears swimming in her eyes when the lights from the stage flashed across her features. “Please,” she pleaded.
Alex turned to her. The pain he’d felt these past weeks making him more empathetic than he might otherwise have been. His hands closed around her shoulders. “This isn’t a good time.”
“Just for a minute.” Her face twisted in pain. “Please,” she said again.
Alex sighed. The band was announcing a break, and all he wanted to do was go backstage and get a chance to talk to Angel. He’d never been good at groveling, but he loved her and he realized he’d do whatever he had to do to get her back. The hundreds of male eyes trained on her for the past hour and a half convinced him not to waste any time. He wasn’t sure yet how he’d get her to listen, but he was damn straight going to try.
“Whitney, I’m sorry you’re upset. Really, I am, but I can’t right now.”
Alex left her and found the stairs that led up to the stage and pushed through the curtain. His eyes scanned the dim light as several of the band members moved off in the other direction. Angel had her back to him as the arms of the male lead wrapped around her small form. She hugged the man back as he lifted her off the floor, and Alex’s lungs were paralyzed as if caught in a steel vice. He clawed at the front of his shirt, trying to ease the tightness in his chest; the enthusiasm of a moment before exploded in shards of red light behind his eyes. This was surely Kyle; the familiarity between the two of them was eating away at Alex’s guts.
What the fuck am I doing? Running to her with my tail between my legs while she runs i
nto the arms of another man? Alex’s mind raced, conjuring all sorts of sickening possibilities he didn’t want to consider.
Each second felt like a year as he watched the embrace in slow motion, fingers gliding down her back to the bare skin of her midriff barely covered by the sheer mesh. As far as Alex was concerned, Angel belonged to him, goddamn it! So what was she doing cavorting with someone else? Kyle, still holding Angel, caught his gaze and leaned in to say something to her and touched her face with his hand before he walked away. Finally, Alex was able to read the tattoo on his shoulder and jealousy rushed over him in an angry wave.
Angel turned, a surprised look on her face that started to turn into a smile as her features softened
“Alex, I wanted to…” she began and took two steps toward him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he thundered at her, not hearing her words as his face twisted in jealous rage. “Prancing around like a peacock and letting men put their hands all over you!”
Angel was startled for a second before her face clouded and she railed back at him. “It’s none of your damn business! Oh, I know! Why don’t you just have Bancroft investigate me again? I thought you knew all about me, tracked my every! Fucking! Move! That was Kyle!” she said, as if that explained everything.
“I know who the hell he is!” Alex moved forward like lightning and grabbed her arm. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
“Clothes.” Angel rolled her eyes and grabbed a water bottle that was sitting on one of the oversized speakers, trying to ignore Alex’s aggression. “You know clothes? The things you put on when you’re not screwing someone’s brains out?” she snarked.
Alex yanked her back a few feet in an attempt to speak to her out of the others’ earshot. “Every goddamned man here wants to fuck you!”
“Really? Wow. That’s original! I bet you worked on that one all goddamned day!” she scoffed back, yanking her arm free and stomping off to the very back of the stage away from Allison and Crystal, who stood there agape.
“Damn it! Don’t you walk away from me!” Alex stormed.
She turned, abruptly, facing him, her arms flying into the air. “What are you doing here? Did you come just to screw me up so I can’t do the job I’m here to do? Well, fuck you!” Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her face becoming flushed and her eyes flashed furiously as she resumed her retreat.
Alex caught up to her in four strides and flipped her around by her shoulder. “I told you in the beginning, honey, all you have to do is ask! Anytime, anywhere, any way you want it.” Emotion clouded his objectivity and shook him to the core, and loosening his hold on control of his actions and words.
“Oh, for God’s sake! Shut up and leave! You’re making a scene and asses out of us both!” She stumbled backward, the heels of her boots catching on some of the cables of the electric instruments and she started to fall. Alex’s arms closed around her as her hand pulled back and slapped his left cheek as hard as she could. Frustration brought angry tears to her eyes as a sob rose up in her chest. “Don’t touch me!” she panted, her brown eyes shooting daggers. “Let go!”
Alex’s own pulse was pounding, his breathing labored as his eyes met his sister’s pained look behind Angel. Allison shook her head and put her hand to her mouth. Alex stopped dead; his green eyes searching Angel’s brown ones for something other than anger and hatred. Her jaw was pushed out defiantly, and her eyes glistening with unshed tears, as her breath huffed from between her open lips. Even though he was furious, the last thing he wanted was to hurt the woman he loved more than his own life.
Alex’s hand unwrapped from around her gloved forearm, consciously making the choice to release her. He was mad as hell and his chest ached, but he was who he was and he sure as hell didn’t let his emotions make an ass of himself. He was lucky the scene took place behind the side curtain and only a few people were there to witness it.
Angel moved to the keyboard on shaky legs and took her place behind it, longing to put something solid between them. She’d never seen him angrier, and still, he stood there glaring at her, his chest heaving with effort, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was so fucking beautiful, even then.
Her head fell to rest on tented hands as she struggled to control the quaking. She still had another hour and a half to get through, ten more songs to sing without a fucking crack in her voice. If he wouldn’t leave, she’d make it impossible for him to talk to her in the only way she had left. Her fingers slid over the keys, despite her bandmates not being in position; she played and raised her head, the tears glistening in her eyes.
What she saw next almost broke her resolve, and her fingers faltered, if only for a note or two. A blonde woman was standing off to one side just behind Alex, her long, red-tipped hand wrapped around his bicep. The woman pulled on his arm and said something Angel couldn’t hear, even as his eyes still burned into her soul, sucking away her life like a greedy sponge. She wanted to scream and cry and die. It had to be Whitney. Who else could it be after the phone call the night before?
“Leave!” she mouthed, hatred at his betrayal playing on her features.
She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. Jesus, it hurt, but when she opened them again she began to sing in an aching voice, emotion flowing through it and washing over Alex. The song she sang, a cover of Kelly Clarkson’s Hear Me, was one she could start without the others, one that told Alex what she needed to say to him.
Whitney’s hand slid down to Alex’s, and his clamped painfully around it as he turned abruptly and briskly walked away, pulling her behind him. The woman shot a smug look over her shoulder as they disappeared down the stairs and into the throng. The message was clear.
Angel watched in stunned disbelief as he walked away from her. It killed her. The pain was worse than she’d ever thought possible as he made his intentions clear. Angel tried to focus on her hands on the keys, letting her anguish invade her voice as the image of her man leaving with another woman engulfed her. Torturous images of the two of them making love flooded her head. She willed herself not to lose it. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t let him humiliate her more than she already was.
16
Love and War
Angel’s aching voice followed Alex through the crowd as he made his way down the stairs and past the table where his family was seated. He briefly met Cole’s disapproving gaze, ignoring his mother’s stunned expression, and he kept moving with Whitney toward the bar along the back of the venue.
He needed a drink. Several drinks, in fact. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but watching Angel with Kyle and seeing her name inked on his fucking shoulder had set his heart on fire. His insides burned with jealousy. She owned the other man just as she’d staked her claim on him, and the knowledge anyone else would be as connected to her made him insane. He’d even named the goddamned band after her!
“Scotch, neat,” he commanded and threw a hundred dollar bill on the bar. “Leave the bottle, and please get the lady anything she wants.” He turned, his eyes trained on the stage, his breathing shallow, and a soft sheen of perspiration breaking out on his brow and upper lip. He was far enough away that Angel wouldn’t be able to see him through the throng and the bright lights trained on her, but he could see her, still at the piano, her voice strong as she waded through the notes. His gaze darted to Kyle, who became the bane of his existence; the focus of his hatred from the minute Alex had seen him holding her when he’d run backstage like a lovesick teenager to beg her forgiveness! He huffed out loud and threw back the burning liquid. “Again,” he muttered at the faceless bartender as he shoved his glass forward to be filled.
“Alex,” Whitney began, but his hard glare effectively silenced her, and she took a seat to his left and quietly sipped on her piña colada. Alex grimaced. A fucking piña colada! How fitting! Convoluted, milky, cloyingly sweet and predictable. What a contrast to the rich earthiness, depth of color, and complexity of flav
or of the various wines Angel preferred, each one with individual nuances, a surprise each and every time.
Alex shook his head and burst out laughing as the parallels between the two women and their drinks of choice hit him right between the eyes. Whitney eyed him warily, her finely manicured brows lifting in question. She was clearly wondering at his crazed outburst. He laughed so hard half the scotch in his glass slopped over before he raised it to his mouth and downed the rest.
“Could this be any more goddamned ironic?” he asked to no one in particular. “I mean, seriously? Fucking hilarious!”
His shoulder was shoved back violently and he sobered, registering his brother’s large presence. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cole’s eyes skittered over the woman sitting beside Alex, her hand on his arm even as Alex ignored her. It was obvious Alex was furious, but he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. Despite the ridiculous laughter when he approached, Cole knew Alex well and he sure as hell wasn’t one to drink excessively or let emotions dictate his actions. To do so would mean a loss of that precious control.
Alex glared at Cole and reached for the bottle of liquor behind him on the bar and started pouring another drink. “Getting comfortably numb.” He was just barely feeling the effects of the alcohol. Scotch had become somewhat of a friend over the last month when he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t keep from turning on the radio, and couldn’t forget. Whitney’s hand tightened on his arm and, for the first time, he noticed she was touching him. “Maybe some much-needed recreation,” he said to Cole, taking a long pull from the glass, his eyes unavoidably drawn to the stage and the woman at the center of it. His chest tightened painfully. His mind was made up. He needed to purge the demon that possessed him.
After Dark: The Complete Series Page 56