by Jayne Frost
I arched a brow. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“‘No’ means ‘no.’ I need you here. Come back now.”
In the span of a day and a half, my best friend had morphed into a querulous child. Well, the metamorphosis took longer, but the edicts were fairly new.
Relaxing against the pillows, I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s not your decision, Belle.”
“It’s my company. And I didn’t authorize this trip.”
“I’m not a child. I don’t need your permission to take a meeting.”
“As long as you work for Twin Souls you do.”
The knife sank into my skin, burying itself between the sword that Beckett slipped in years ago, and the blade that Chase planted two days ago. A tiny garden of sharp metal.
“If you feel that strongly about it—” The screen shook violently under my bobbing leg. “Then maybe I shouldn’t be working for Twin Souls.”
Tori’s jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered. “What are you saying, Taryn?”
She bit out my name like it left a bitter taste in her mouth. And maybe it did.
Ignoring her question, I took in a lungful of air so I could continue. Finish this without dissolving into a puddle of tears.
“I don’t have much protection when it comes to the company. But I do have first right of refusal on any Leveraged project.” I swallowed hard. “But I’ll relinquish all rights to anything else, if you’d like.” I lifted my chin, and added as an afterthought, “Except Harper Rush.”
She pulled off her reading glasses, revealing her rich, amber hued irises. “Harper Rush?”
“She’s not a client of Twin Souls. She’s my client. I have a contract with her personally.” Tori’s lips parted, and I shook my head. “You never wanted her, Belle. So I made sure you’d never be saddled with her if I ever left.”
“You mean quit,” she bit out.
I meant died. But I wouldn’t tell Tori that. Because when I signed that paper, I believed a freak accident would be more likely than me leaving Twin Souls.
My fingers dug into my ribs as I hugged myself tighter. “Resign. There’s a difference.”
She assessed my resolve with a narrowed gaze. “And if I decide to replace you on the Leveraged project?”
I smiled sadly. She’d painted me into a corner, and I had no leg to stand on. Except for the fact that Beckett would likely refuse to finish the project without me. Maybe.
“Legally, you can’t. And if you tried, you know what would happen. Beckett would side with me, and Dylan would side with you.”
She raised a brow. “You sure about that?”
I wasn’t sure about anything.
“I’ve been with Leveraged since the beginning. Since Damaged.” My voice broke when I thought of Rhenn and Paige, and everything we’d created in their memory. “I won’t make them choose. I’m asking you as my friend. My best friend. Let me finish this project, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Out of my …” She blinked, then fused her lips shut for a long moment.
I said a silent prayer that she’d give in, because I couldn’t.
When the stone set in Tori’s eyes, I knew it wasn’t meant to be.
“Fine, Taryn,” she said through clenched teeth. “Finish out the project.”
The screen flickered, and all that was left was her photo. It was an old picture. And she was smiling that carefree smile she used to wear.
As I closed the laptop, a piece of me fell away. Tori didn’t know she had it—that piece of my heart. But I could feel the hollow spot in my chest where it used to reside.
Climbing back under the covers, I dragged a pillow over my head. And then the sobs came. Thick and hot, tears rolled down my cheeks in waves.
I’d lost everything. Or threw it away. Hell, maybe whatever I had was never mine to begin with. It was a borrowed life. Like everyone said.
Who was I, if I wasn’t Beckett’s girl, or Tori’s best friend? Maybe I’d wither and fade without them.
No, that wouldn’t happen.
As the tears continued to fall, threatening to drown me where I laid, I had my doubts.
Chapter 33
Chase
The bottle slipped out of my hand and fell on the floor. Cracking one eye open, I looked around the dark room. Voices drifted in from a wall away. It was business as usual at The Phoenix Group, despite the fact that the CEO was holed up in his office on the tail end of a three-day bender.
Snatching the bottle from the floor, I took wobbly steps toward my large mahogany desk and then slid into the oversized chair. I glared at the monitor as I brought the whiskey to my lips.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I read the latest blurb on the Leveraged fan site from yesterday afternoon. I clicked on the link, and a picture of Beckett outside the terminal at LAX bloomed.
“Beckett and Taryn together again! Sources close to the band confirm that Beckett hopped a plane and joined his longtime love in Los Angeles. Hit the link after the jump for a sample of Leveraged’s latest single on their yet untitled album.”
My finger hovered over the mouse button while I tried to decide how much of a masochist I really was. Smiling wryly because the answer to that particular question was obvious, I pressed the back of my head to the soft leather chair and stared at the ceiling when the music began to play.
“I breathe your name; you move with me. My future, my past, you’ll always be. Stay with me, baby. I want you near. Inside you is the only peace. My only love, my sweet release. Stay with me, let me drown in you. Stay, won’t you stay, no one else will do. I need you to stay. Stay …”
Though it may have been Dylan’s voice bleeding from the speakers, they were Beckett’s words. When the credits flashed at the end of the sample, it confirmed what I already knew.
“Stay”
Copyright 2018—Leveraged
Words and music: Beckett Brennin
The fucker might as well have written it in the sky. Or painted it on a billboard. The song was for Taryn.
Sweet Taryn.
My attention shifted to the door. “Chase … are you in there?” my assistant inquired warily.
Her shadow retreated, and I finished the whiskey, throwing the bottle into the trash on my way to the armoire in the corner where I grabbed a clean shirt. Inside the sanctity of the small bathroom, I stood in the utilitarian shower, the water washing away three days’ worth of debauchery.
I dressed quickly and then fumbled with the keys to my truck.
My truck? Shit.
I was worse off than I thought. I must’ve gone to the loft and dropped off my Mercedes. Or I left it somewhere. Contemplating last night’s whereabouts, I strode past my assistant’s desk.
“Chase,” she said as she grabbed a handful of messages. “Cameron’s been calling all day.”
“I’ll call him.”
“There are some checks for you to sign for the Arboretum project,” she called after me. “What should I—”
Since the only thing on my mind was getting something in my system to keep from jumping out of my skin, I couldn’t be bothered to answer her. Sliding behind the wheel of my truck, I found my phone in the center console, vibrating. Unknown number.
It’s going to take more than that, baby brother.
When I reached into the cupholder to turn it off, my fingers grazed the rock I’d picked up at the Guadeloupe during the float trip. I ran my thumb over the jagged edges as the words to Beckett’s song tumbled around in my head.
I need you to stay …
A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Maybe Beckett was getting his wish. Slamming the car into gear, I sped out of the lot and then raced down the freeway toward the opposite end of town. Liquor stores and pawn shops flew by as I searched for the street. When I turned down Crack House Row, I slowed to a crawl.
Spotting an old man seated on a folding chair in front of a dilapidated house, I screeched to a stop.
“You holding?” I barked, wal
king straight up to the guy with a wad of cash in my hand.
“Get your ass out of here, boy.” He snickered, his eyes darting around to take in his surroundings. “I don’t need no trouble from some rich prick looking to have a little party with his country club friends.”
I peeled a couple of hundred dollar bills off the stack. “I asked you a question. That requires a yes or a no. Are. You. Holding?”
“You got some attitude, huh?” He whistled. “Or a really bad jones. You got a monkey on your back, boy?”
Two men emerged from the ramshackle house, walking toward me with matching smiles on their faces.
“What’s the problem, Pops?” Thing One asked as Thing Two stepped to my side. “You need some help out here?”
“Nah. The rich boy was just leaving. Ain’t that right?”
Rubbing his stomach, Pops revealed the butt of his gun in the waistband of his pants.
“You might want to check his pockets, though.” Pops yawned. “He said he wanted to donate a little cash to one of our local charities.”
When Thing Two made a move, I stepped forward, and whatever was hiding behind my eyes gave him pause.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I growled.
He blinked without backing down, but he didn’t advance. Which was encouraging.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” I said, my attention back on Pops. “You got something I need? That’s the only way you’re going to get this from me.” I held up the bills, fingering the corners as I stared at him.
When he failed to respond, I headed for the truck. Thing Two grabbed my arm just as Thing One decided to advance. My fist made contact with Thing Two’s face, and he fell to the ground.
“Stay the fuck down before I really hurt you,” I growled, my arm cocked in preparation for the next assault.
“Get off me,” he mumbled.
I looked up when Pops hooted with laughter. Stunned, Thing Two looked over his shoulder as blood gushed onto his shirt and dripped on the cement.
“Come back over here, boy,” Pops said to me. “You’re all right, you know that?”
Smiling, I stepped over Thing Two to make my way to his daddy. Or his surrogate daddy. Hell, the guy might have only been his employer—but one thing was for sure—he didn’t give two shits about the kid bleeding on the sidewalk. And neither did I.
“Whatcha need?” Pops smiled through rotting teeth when I crouched at his side.
I looked up at Thing One, returning his slow smile as Thing Two hobbled toward the house.
Shoving six one-hundred-dollar bills at Pops, I asked, “What do you got?”
Chapter 34
Taryn
Hearing my name, I sat up and looked around the dark room. “Who’s there? Chase?”
The mattress dipped, and Beckett’s scent settled over me.
“No,” he said as he crawled under the covers. “Not Chase. Just me.”
“What are you doing here?”
His cobalt eyes came into focus as he laid his head on the pillow. “You haven’t answered your phone in three days. Did you think I wouldn’t come looking for you?”
Memories of my last conversation with Tori itched at my brain. I clutched Beckett’s T-shirt as the enormity of my decision closed in on me. “What did I do?” I choked. “Becks … what did I do?”
Beckett cupped my cheek. “You did what you had to do, I guess. If it makes you feel any better Tori’s freaked. She didn’t expect you to quit.”
I didn’t expect it either.
“I couldn’t …”
He folded me in his arms when a sob escaped. “Quiet, babe. It’s all right.”
Sliding my arms around his neck, I buried my face in his chest. His long fingers twined into my hair as I burrowed closer.
“Make it stop,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Everything.”
As my breathing evened, I thought of all the times Beckett had comforted me. Everything he meant to me. And when our eyes met, and he lowered his mouth to mine, I didn’t stop him. The callouses on his fingertips, rough and familiar, blazed a path down my back.
“I love you,” he murmured. “Only you.”
Reality hit me with brutal force.
“No,” I choked.
He rose to his elbow. “What is it, babe?”
Only the concern in Beckett’s eyes kept me from spilling a truth so harsh that we would never recover from it.
I don’t want you.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I get it. You’re not ready.”
I nodded, my stomach lurching when he rolled away from me.
He’s leaving.
I sat up in a panic.
“Come here, babe,” he urged, settling against the pillows. “Control yourself. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
I laughed, tears spilling onto his T-shirt when I laid my head on his chest.
“I love you, Becks.”
It wasn’t a lie. I did love him. Just not the way he wanted.
Not yet, anyway.
Not ever.
My heart sank a little deeper in despair when I realized that even as I lay here, comforted by Beckett’s familiar scent and touch, the notion of us was already a distant memory.
Chapter 35
Chase
Sitting in my car in the parking lot at Nite Owl, my eyes darted around.
Fuck it.
It was my building, and I needed sleep. I’d been holed up at The Phoenix Group off and on for the past week. I guess my brother finally got around to remembering that my office had an oversized couch and a private bath, because he’d shown up, threatening to bust down the door.
I had to laugh because my assistant actually believed my wild rocker sibling was the one with the issue. She followed my orders and had Cameron escorted from the property. I had no doubt he’d be back.
My hand shook as I slid my key into the lock on the back door. Safely inside, I walked up to a full case of liquor and pulled out a bottle. Jim Beam. It didn’t matter—the alcohol was interchangeable at this point.
Something to wash down the pills.
I sank onto the bed in my loft and, digging the plastic baggie containing the mini pharmacy from my pocket, I turned it over in my palm. Twenty or so Oxys, a dozen Xanax, some speed, and a couple grams of coke.
It was almost easier to moderate things before, even though I was addicted for years. Because I didn’t have money. I depended on the kindness of strangers and the good graces of others.
I’d be dead in a few months the way I went about things now.
The unsettling thought tumbled around inside of my brain, and just before I drifted off, a hazy figure appeared at the foot of the bed.
“Who’s there?” I mumbled.
Logan’s pale blue eyes flashed in front of my face a second before he jerked me to my feet. Despite the chemicals that slowed my reflexes, my survival instincts kicked in, and I wrapped my fingers around his throat. A pain shot to my shoulder when he grabbed my wrist and wrenched my arm behind my back.
He threw me face down on the maple hardwood, pressing his knee into my kidney. “Checkmate, son,” he said, the smile in his voice unmistakable.
“Get off me, Logan,” I wheezed. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“That’s funny. I was about to tell you the same thing.” He leaned close to my ear. “But I really don’t care at this point. You can walk, or I can carry you. Your choice.”
By the time Logan wrestled me down the stairs, I was fully alert. His smile was gone, replaced by fury.
“Get off me, fucker!” I bellowed, thrashing as he pushed me into the back seat of a car.
Expecting to find my brother behind the wheel, my stomach sank when Calista turned to look at me. “Stop fighting, Chase,” she said quietly. “You know the drill.”
“Fine, take me to rehab,” I spat. “If y’all are dead set on fucking with my life.”
In a last-ditch effort to break fre
e, I clawed my way across the seat. Prying my fingers from the silver door handle, Logan twisted my arm behind my back.
“Can we get a move on?” he muttered, using all his strength to hold me in place. “I’m going to knock his ass out soon if we don’t get to the fucking hospital.”
Hospital …
“I’m not going to the fucking hospital!” I fought harder as the words sank in, cracking the woodgrain door panel with my boot. “Take me to rehab!”
Calista was too smart for that trick, and I knew the minute I saw her that I was truly fucked. If it were Cameron driving the car, I’d likely be on my way to one of the many cushy rehab facilities in the area. And by tomorrow morning I’d be breathing free air.
“Their not going to keep me, Calista,” I snarled, craning my neck to get a glimpse of her. “You’re fucking fired, by the way.”
“I can always get another job.” She laughed softly without humor. “And with all that shit you’re holding, you better hope they keep you. A seventy-two-hour mandatory hold is a lot nicer than the floor of the Travis County jail.”
And there it was.
As I suspected, Calista was taking me for an evaluation, and given my current state, it was a good bet I’d be remanded for a seventy-two-hour hold. Seventy-two fucking hours. An eternity.
Adrenaline kicked in, and soon I was fighting harder than I had in years. But Logan was a brick wall. When I managed to land a solid blow, his head snapped back, and I smiled.
Until I saw his fist. And then everything went black.
I propped up on my elbows and spied Cameron through the small window in the door to my hospital room. His face was drawn and full of worry as he spoke to the doctor.
Groaning, my head slammed into the pillow when the next wave of nausea hit.
The door creaked open, and I turned to the wall as heavy footsteps approached.
“You know most of this is in your head, right?” Cameron said as he pulled out the chair next to my bed.
“How do you figure?”
“You haven’t been using that long. It’s only been a hot minute. I saw you go through withdrawal the first time. You chipped a front tooth you were shaking so bad.”