by Jayne Frost
Cameron blinked at me, too stunned to speak.
“Yeah,” Logan continued. “Your brother’s got his own agenda. Seems Tori wants to offer him his own little piece of the pie. Executive Producer or some bullshit. That’s why my sister didn’t get the attention she needed.”
The sleeping giant yawning inside me roared to life. “You little fucker. It’s not like that. I told you—”
Logan shoved me to the floor, then dropped a knee to my chest.
“I left as soon as I saw what was going on with Laurel,” I snarled. “Now get the fuck off me. We need to deal with this situation. Your sister needs more help.”
More help than I can give.
Logan hauled to his feet. “I shouldn’t have trusted you to begin with. I’m taking Laurel home with me.”
He yanked a blanket off the back of the couch, swaddling his sister like an errant child.
“I wouldn’t do that, dude,” I warned. “She needs to go back to rehab. You can’t help her.”
“I can do a better job than you,” he shot back, pulling Laurel to her feet.
When footsteps echoed in the stairwell, I prayed it was Vaughn, but it was Calista who appeared on the landing.
“I did a sweep of Laurel’s apartment like you asked,” she said. “I found these in the refrigerator.”
Calista handed over a prescription bottle and a small bag of weed, and then wiped her palm on her jeans for good measure. She never broke a sweat, not even when faced with a room full of junkies shaking off their last high. But holding the weapons of your own destruction would make anyone twitchy.
Calista had demons under her skin—sleeping—waiting. Like mine.
The Oxy in my pocket called to that empty place where my demon crackled to life. I’d felt him there for days. Even tried to drown him in alcohol. But the booze only fortified the bastard.
I shoved the small weapons in my pocket, adding them to my growing arsenal. “Thanks, Calista. Logan’s taking over Laurel’s care. You might want to give him some information—”
“I don’t need anything from y’all,” Logan said as he marched past us with his sister in tow. “I’ll send someone over to collect Laurel’s stuff. I’ll see you Thursday if we still have our gig at the Parish.” Doubt flickered in his eyes when he realized what his disrespect might cost him.
I blew out a resigned breath, my failure tainting the air. “You’re solid. That’s got nothing to do with this.”
Laurel’s eyes found mine. For all of her excitement about leaving with her brother, she knew what it meant. There was a reason she came to me, drunk or high. She wanted to be saved. And Logan couldn’t save her.
I smiled, noting the defeat in her eyes. Or was it mine? My own defeat reflected there?
Calista’s brow furrowed in concern as she looked at me. Really looked at me. “Chase, do you need anything before I go?”
The little pills in my pocket promised the absolution she couldn’t offer. “I’m good.”
She nodded, then followed Logan down the stairs.
Cameron dropped on the floor next to me. He looked very much like the little boy who lived in my memory, always seeking me out for guidance. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About?”
There were so many things I hadn’t told him. Starting with Taryn, and ending with the craving that boiled beneath my skin. The craving was winning. My tone was already shorter than I intended. I wanted to be alone. With my demon.
“Your thing with Taryn,” he said quietly. “And Tori’s invite. You can’t really be thinking about doing that.”
The sane part of me tried to conjure an answer. But it was the dark bastard taking over, inch by inch, that turned to my brother. “Why?” I smirked. “Afraid of a little competition?”
Cameron’s face fell as he collided with the side of me that disappeared all those years ago. “No, man. That’s not …” He shook his head. “You just can’t.”
Pushing to my feet, I towered over him, fingering the plastic baggie in my pocket.
“I can do anything I want.” I walked casually to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “I don’t need your permission. And I didn’t ask for your advice.”
Cameron nodded slowly. He knew who he was dealing with. Or he suspected. We’d done this dance before, and he’d never won.
“I guess you didn’t.” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you hand over that little stash, and I’ll be on my way.”
Determination sharpened his features. Cameron couldn’t win, but he’d fight. He fought for me when he was a kid, and now he was a grown man. Six two if he were an inch, he’d use that bulky frame to impose his will. Not that it would work. I pulled the prescription bottle and small baggie of weed from my pocket, careful to leave the Oxy where it sat. Tossing the stash to my brother, I smirked when he caught it with one hand. “Good save.”
But not good enough.
He visibly relaxed as he tucked the goodies in his pocket. “Why don’t we go grab something to eat?” he offered. “We can talk.”
I lifted the beer to my lips. “Dude, I’m tired. I’ve been babysitting Laurel all fucking afternoon. Just …” Grinding my teeth, I fought like hell to keep from slashing too deep. “Go home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Cameron lingered behind me for a long moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
I nodded.
As soon as the door clicked shut, I picked up my phone. Scrolling through my contacts, I cursed when I couldn’t find the number I was looking for. Sinking onto the couch, I directed my browser to a website for the dive bar where one of my old band mates was playing a gig.
A woman’s gravelly voice barked over the loud music. “Yeah?”
“Is Havok playing tonight?”
“They go on at nine.”
“Thanks, darlin’.” I reclined into the cushions. “Hey, is Pierce around?”
“Who’s this?” she asked suspiciously.
“Noble.”
She dropped the receiver and bellowed for Pierce.
A breathless voice boomed over the line a moment later. “Noble, dude, how the fuck are you?”
“Good, man.” I pulled the Oxy from my pocket, turning the baggie over in my palm. “I was thinking about catching your show tonight. Maybe we could jam afterward. Party a little.”
The demon currently wearing my face smiled. I didn’t know how to party “a little.”
Pierce laughed. “Come on down Noble; it’s pretty freewheeling over here. You can hit the stage with us.”
I took out a pill. Closing one eye, I held it up to the light. A forty. Forty milligrams. Eight times the strength of one Vicodin. I broke the pill in half, then washed it down with a swig of beer.
“I’ll see you at nine, Pierce.”
The sun beat through the window, warming my skin. I squinted, then looked down at the stain on my shirt. Vomit. I barely made it to my feet before the bitter taste of bile filled my mouth.
Hunched over the toilet, I spewed last night’s beer into the bowl. The shower washed off the stench but not the guilt. Not even close. I wiped the steam from the mirror and gazed at a reflection I almost didn’t recognize. It had been a long time since I’d seen him. Or me. The real me. The guy that lost chunks of time in a drug-fueled haze. The only thing I remembered about last night was floating on a cloud. And the call to Pierce. Then nothing.
Fuck.
I never made it to the bar. Which was probably a good thing. Half of a forty milligram Oxy knocked me on my ass. If I’d managed to make it out of the loft, I’d probably be in the hospital.
I dressed quickly, the walls in the small bathroom closing in on me. I’d spent too much time on dirty tile, hugging a toilet or propped against a metal door in my old life.
I found my phone wedged in the cushions of the couch. Twelve o’clock. I’d slept through the night and half the day.
Checking the texts, my heart sank. Nothing from Taryn. My fingers hovered over the keyb
oard, but I lost my nerve, so I headed to the fridge for some liquid courage.
The bottle was halfway to my lips when I saw him. My father.
Tyler assessed me from the landing, looking me over with a narrowed gaze. We had the same eyes, Tyler, Cameron, and me. But my father’s hazel orbs held no life.
“Is that the only old habit you’ve given in to, boy?” he asked with a laugh.
One look at my father and the demon in me ran for cover, so I strode to the sink and dumped the beer.
Methodically, I placed the empty bottle in the trash, then took a deep breath, meeting my old man’s gaze. “What do you want, Tyler?”
Chapter 30
Taryn
I pulled into the parking lot behind Chase’s building, but instead of getting out of the car, I waited to gather my resolve. Exhaustion blanketed me like a thick coat, stifling and oppressive.
After returning from the river yesterday afternoon, and fighting off Beckett’s attempt to comfort me, I fell into a fitful sleep on my couch.
Most people came back from the float with a glowing tan. My parting gifts? Dark circles and frown lines.
I squeezed a couple of drops of Visine in my tired eyes, blinking as the saline tears slid down my nose.
Resigned, I headed for the back door, my steps faltering when I met Bridgette’s gaze across the lot. The bar manager blew out a plume of smoke, tapping her ash into the large standing ashtray.
“Hey, Taryn.” Curiosity piqued her tone. And wariness if I was reading her correctly. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Is Chase around?” I smiled tightly. “I need to pick up something I left in the loft.”
My heart. Or a piece of it anyway. But, I’d settle for my silk blouse and La Perla bra and panty set I threw in his hamper. The price of my “no regret” policy wouldn’t be my favorite lingerie.
Bridgette cocked her head, casually leaning against the doorframe to block my entry. “Does he know you’re coming?”
“Nope. But, feel free to warn him if you’d like.” I reached for the door, looking her in the eyes when her fingers coiled lightly around my forearm. “Look, I don’t care who he has up there. I’m getting my stuff, that’s it.”
Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Oh, shit … you think he’s got a girl up there?”
“Laurel lives upstairs, so technically she’s always up there, right?”
“Not anymore. She moved in with Logan.”
“Oh …” I resisted the urge to ask when. It was none of my business.
Bridgette tipped her chin to the older model Mercedes parked askew in the handicapped zone. I noted the personalized license plate on the beat-to-shit bucket of bolts.
Noble 1s.
The Noble Ones. Tyler Noble’s band. He had one hit a million years ago, but he milked it for all it was worth. During one of my surreptitious Google searches, I’d found a bevy of articles on Chase’s dad. The descriptions of the elder Noble were far from flattering.
Arrogant, maniacal, fame whore—and that was from the mainstream press.
Bridgette’s lip curled in disdain. “That’s Chase’s daddy’s ride. The guy is a piece of work. He only comes around to pump Chase for information on Cameron, or pick up a few dollars in spending money.” She took another drag of her smoke, then muttered, “Fucking loser.”
“You know Chase’s family?”
Nodding, she dropped the butt in the ashtray. “Sure.” Smoke swirled from her coral-tinted lips as she pulled her long tresses into a ponytail. “I’ve known Chase since I was in high school. Actually, I’m a friend of Cameron’s. We used to date.” A nervous smile curved her mouth. “Can we keep that part between us? Cameron is engaged to this girl, Lily. I don’t want to end up on the wrong side of that situation. Nothing is going on with Cam and me. But I love my job. The way he feels about Lily? I’d be out of here on my ass if she said the word. Believe.”
“I won’t say anything, but Lily doesn’t seem like the type.” I smiled reassuringly. “I’ve only met her once, though, so I don’t know.”
“She’s sweet, but with Cameron’s past, I don’t want to push my luck. The boy put the ‘whore’ in ‘man-whore.’” Her brow arched. “Know what I mean?”
Bridgette fell for the good-looking bad boy in high school, and look where it got her. She worked in a bar. Granted, she was the manager, and by all accounts seemed very happy, but I couldn’t help but draw similarities to my situation.
I patted her on the arm as I slipped past. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
The door to Chase’s loft was ajar, but I knocked anyway. Hearing no response, I trudged up the staircase, pausing when angry voices spilled into the small space.
“I don’t know what you’re asking me for, Tyler,” Chase said, anger infusing every word. “If Cameron wanted you to know what was going on in his life, he’d tell you.”
A second voice, gravelly with a strong twang replied, “That’s the problem, son. Y’all two are ungrateful sum-bitches, you know that?”
“You do realize that’s my mama you’re insulting?” Chase snarled. “Why don’t you get out of here before I throw you out. Go sleep it off somewhere.”
Tentatively, I climbed the last few steps. From my vantage point below the landing, I could just see into the large space. I caught a glimpse of Chase’s profile as he sat at the grand piano in the alcove, his father hovering behind him.
“I said it’s time to go,” Chase said, tension furrowing his brow. “I’ll have Bridgette call you a cab.”
“A cab?” Tyler snorted. “My big shot son is going to call me a cab. That’s rich. If you would’ve stuck to the plan, you’d have a limo and a driver. Like your brother.” He leaned down and tinkled the keys on the piano. “I guess I bet on the wrong horse. You’ve got twice the talent as that little pisser, but he’s the one on the radio. He really made it. And here you are, living over a bar.”
“My bar,” Chase bit out, rising to his feet. “You know damn well I’ve got more money than Cameron. But it’s not about that, is it? I’m not famous.” Chase’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Do you know how many properties I own around this city, old man? And in Dallas? Hell, I’ve even got a beach house in California. The only thing that Cameron owns is half of this bar and the house I gifted him.”
“Why you reading me your résumé, boy?” Tyler barked out a laugh as he looked up at his son. “You applying for a job or something? Your brother doesn’t need to own anything. He’s living the life. Staying in them five-star hotels, with room service and hot and cold running pussy. I bet—”
I startled when Chase shoved his father out of the way.
“Stay away from him, Tyler.” He paced in a small circle, rubbing the back of his neck. “How much is it going to cost me this time to buy us a little peace?”
“You wound me, son.”
Tyler’s smile widened when Chase sank back onto the piano bench.
“How much, Tyler?” he asked quietly.
“A couple thousand.”
Without a word, Chase walked across the room. Pulling back an oriental rug, he crouched in front of a floor safe.
He looked over his shoulder when Tyler advanced. “Stay the fuck over there,” he snapped. “I don’t trust you.”
Returning to the piano bench, Tyler’s leg bobbed in anticipation. Greed painted his features when Chase pulled out a stack of bills.
A pained expression crept onto Chase’s face as he held the bounty just out of his father’s reach. The old man didn’t notice. He was too enthralled with the money.
“Stay away from Cameron, or I swear to God, I won’t give you another cent.” Chase held tight to the cash even as Tyler tried to pull the stack from his son’s hand. “Are we clear?”
“Always, son.”
With a satisfied smile, Tyler staggered to his feet. He weaved as he made his way to the stairs, holding tightly to the loot.
Chase’s mouth went slack when he saw me. I
climbed the last couple of steps, then stood awkwardly on the landing. My gaze shifted to Tyler when he stopped to look me over.
“Hey,” he slurred, the smell of whiskey faintly seeping from his pores when he leaned toward me. “I know you.” He pointed a finger at my face. “I do—I do know you. You’re that record manager I seen in the papers with my boy.” He shot Chase a look. “My other boy. You’re from that company. The one that girl started when her old man got run down.”
Now that Tyler was up close, I noticed the familiar jawline and the similar nose. And those eyes. Tyler’s hazel eyes swam in a sea of red, and they were glassy, but they were Chase’s eyes nonetheless.
My hand went to my stomach as I tried to form a sentence. “I … I’m …”
Chase vaulted across the room, positioning himself in front of the horrible man. “Get out of here right now. Or I’ll throw you out on your ass.”
Tyler whistled and shook his head, ignoring Chase’s warning. “I knew you had some of my blood pumping through those veins.” He lifted a brow. “Looks like they didn’t beat all the sense out of you at that fancy school. Did you finally decide to use some of that God-given talent of yours or is she just warming your sheets?”
Chase grabbed the front of Tyler’s shirt. “You can walk out of here on your own, or I’ll throw you down the fucking stairs.” He lifted his father until they were nose-to-nose. “Your choice.”
“What are you getting so riled up about?” Tyler wheezed. “I’m trying to pay you a compliment, you little shit. That’s good business. Get your girlfriend to line up a couple of gigs. Smart. If I would have hooked up with someone in the business instead of wasting my time with Callie—”
Chase shoved Tyler to the ground. “Ten seconds, fucker. I’m counting. If you’re not gone in ten, I’ll bust your ass.”
Pushing to his feet, Tyler scurried down the stairs, cursing all the way. Chase stomped to the window, his footsteps thundering through the loft.