Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You (Surviving Absolution Book 2)

by Nikki Belaire

  * * * *

  Nick nods down at Max, both of them watching her as she walks down the stairs. Both of them fearful it might be the last time Nick sees her.

  Her brow furrows as they move through the house, Nick’s hesitation not getting past her. Max nudges her shoulder with his. “Do you want to take the limo or your new ride?”

  A small smile lights up her face. “How about your motorcycle?”

  Sure, like Nick’s head wouldn’t explode over that. “The SUV it is.” Her laughter fills the kitchen as he grabs the keys off the counter and guides her into the garage, helping her in the passenger side. He climbs in on the driver’s side and shakes his head. “You’ve had enough adventures this week. I think Nick’s going to have to replace the transmission on his Jeep.”

  “Hey! It wasn’t that bad. I only killed it a few times.”

  He gives her an exaggerated eye roll. “Hmmm…”

  She reaches over and squeezes his forearm. The sparkle of her ring a good reminder of who he’s protecting and why. “I’m glad you’re back. We missed you.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He meets her gaze before he pulls onto the highway. “I’m sorry about the baby.”

  A small nod her only indication she hears him before she slumps down in her seat and wraps her arms around herself. Still too raw for words, he lets it drop. They ride in silence for a few moments before she looks back at him. “What did you do while you were gone?”

  He can’t help but smile. Gina gave him the escape he needed, the perfect distraction. Deep enough in their world to understand, yet far enough away from Nick and Shae to give him a fresh perspective. “Visited a friend.”

  “And?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. Shae’s cool, but he’s not going there, with her, about that.

  “I know what that smile means. It was a girl, wasn’t it?”

  A beautiful, intelligent woman with shaky morals both in and out of the bedroom. Yet, with an inexplicable allure he can’t resist. Even when another woman lingers in his mind.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “Nothing to tell.”

  Now, it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “You’re such a man.”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  Fans shriek and wave signs lining the road leading to a huge warehouse. He shakes his head. How the fuck do these people know where she is and what’s she’s doing. Don’t they have lives?

  Flash bulbs continue to pop even after her car clears the overhead door, two men in black shirts and khaki pants yanking it down. She takes a deep breath and gives him a weak smile. “Let the awkwardness begin.”

  He’s forgotten. Her first appearance since the attack at the airport. The first time she faces the fallout from the gossip churning around the once innocent pop star with the faltering reputation. His jaw clenches at the undeserved insinuations. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  Carrie and another young woman wait for her as she climbs out of the car. “Hi, Shae. I’m Sierra. I’ll be coordinating the photo shoot today. Anything you need, please let me know.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  It’s strange to see her transformation into the pop star persona. Subtle, almost imperceptible, if you didn’t know her. Yet, definitely a difference. A confident poise, self-assured, even with every gaze in the expansive space watching her. Glowing, with her chin up, shoulders square, ready to take on anything and everything expected of her. Not the quiet, modest woman he’s used to.

  As they walk to the set resembling a bakery kitchen, Sierra nods toward a muscular, yet lithe man flexing on his feet and smoothing down the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. “Shae, this is Marcus Brown. He’s going to be your co-presenter at the ceremony.” Before either of them can respond, Sierra claps her hands. “Okay, are you guys ready to have some fun?”

  She hands each of them a white cupcake with six inches of pink icing swirled on the top. The stainless steel counter in front of them covered with a buffet of treats, decorations, and frosting.

  Max smiles as Shae’s eyes light up at the nirvana of sweets in front of them. Carrie elbows him in the stomach. “She’s going to fucking orgasm with all that sugar. You might have to carry her out of here when it’s over.”

  Few people in the world shock him anymore, but Carrie is definitely one of them. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows at him before turning back to Shae and Marcus. For the next two hours, with cameras flashing, they decorate cupcakes and each other, only taking breaks for Carrie to touch up Shae’s hair and makeup and for her to change dresses.

  His phone buzzes as Shae stands three feet away with Carrie running a tiny brush over her lips.

  Juan’s here.

  Fuck! Here we go.

  He fingers fly across the keyboard to text Nick.

  Juan’s landed, waiting for customs.

  The response is instantaneous.

  Where is she?

  Before he can reply his phone chirps. “I want her home,” Nick’s voice hisses in his ear. “Now.”

  He steps back, never letting his gaze drift from Shae. “They aren’t done yet. I’m going to—”

  “I don’t give a fuck. Do whatever the fuck you have to do to get her out of there. I can’t let that bastard get to her.”

  As much as he hates to admit it, Nick’s words provoke his fury too. For a woman who doesn’t belong to him and never will. But that doesn’t change the fact he’ll do anything for her. Gina’s right—he needs to think about moving on.

  “He won’t. It’ll be at least thirty minutes before he gets out of LAX, and then you know he’s heading straight for you. I don’t want to scare her. Once this wraps up, I’ll get her to the house. Then, I’ll come there.”

  “No. You stay with her.”

  Closer to Nick than his own sister, he never meant to get so embedded in their lives. Maybe he’s kidding himself about being able to leave. “Damn it, Nick. She’ll be safe at the house. If you think I’m letting you do this without me, you’re fucking crazy.”

  Shae catches his eye and frowns as she mouths to him, “Is everything okay?”

  He bobs his head and smiles as Nick barks in his ear, “Fine. Just get her—”

  “I will.” He shoves his phone into his pocket. Their precise planning cannot be messed up because of this photo shoot.

  Shae steps back on set while they pause for the photographer to make adjustments to his camera.

  “So, I heard you and your boyfriend went through some pretty fucked up shit last weekend.”

  The murmurs of conversation around them drift away from Marcus’ question. Everyone waits to hear her response, find out the juicy details. She raises one eyebrow and nods. “That’s right. So, don’t mess with me, because I don’t take any crap.”

  Good for her. She deflects the truth with humor, yet doesn’t let herself sound like a victim.

  Marcus’ eyes widen for a second before he roars with laughter. “I’m the toughest motherfucker in the NFL, and you’re threatening me?”

  “That’s how I roll.”

  Marcus laughs even harder. “Little white girl in a flowered dress, and she says, ‘That’s how I roll.’ That’s bananas!”

  Sierra interrupts their conversation, motioning first to the football star and then to Shae. “Okay, last one, guys. Marcus you’re going to hold Shae over your shoulder. We’ll make a handprint on her bottom with icing. Make it look like you’re carrying her off after all she’s done to you.”

  Max steps closer. Shae’s nothing, and this guy looks strong, but he refuses to take any chances. Marcus lifts her up and two women focus on their design, dabbing yellow cream on the blue, sequined material.

  “I hope I’m not too heavy.” Shae’s muffled voice floats from Marcus’ back, her long hair brushing the floor.

  “Nah, shortie. You’re fine. You probably don’t
even weigh a buck o’ five.”

  The designers pause as her body shakes from laughter. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that expression before, but I like it.”

  “You gotta have the lines to get the ladies.”

  “Marcus, I doubt you have any problems.”

  Now, it’s the linebacker’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, I get mine.”

  “I bet you do.”

  Max taps his fingers on his phone case, glad she’s having fun after the shitty week she’s endured. But how fucking hard can it be to stage a photo? Nick’s going to go ballistic if he doesn’t get her back soon.

  After twenty minutes, they finally get their shot, and Marcus lowers her down and sets her on her feet. She sways against him, her eyes sinking shut before he wraps his arm around her waist, holding her up. “Shit, Shae. Are you okay?”

  Heat pulses in Max’s taut muscles as he flies over to her, pulling her to him. “Are you all right?”

  Her hands press against her temples, her body limp against his chest. “Just light headed from being upside down too long, I guess.”

  Damn it. He’s got to get her the fuck out of here. “They’ve got what they need. Let me take you home.”

  Marcus’ worried gaze meets his. “Maybe you need to take her to the hospital or something.”

  “I can call an ambulance.” Sierra yanks out her phone and glances from him to Carrie, who’s whispering in Shae’s ear, rubbing up and down her friend’s arm. Whispers drift around them. Another fucking opportunity to amp up the gossip swirling around her.

  “No, I’m fine.” Shae nods and smiles, stepping back from him, seemingly to convince them, as well as herself, of her stability. “Let’s keep going.”

  Never willing to let anyone down, too worried about what people think. Even if she jeopardizes her own health. His grip around her waist tightens, unable to release her just yet.

  Sierra shakes her head. “No need. You’re finished. The proofs look great.”

  “Thanks for everything, Sierra. Nice meeting you, Marcus.”

  In true LA style, she doles out hugs and good-byes for a bunch of people she’ll probably never see again. Yet, she plays the part and stays professional, her smile never wavering. Yet, tension stirs in his chest at her pale skin, the normal sparkle missing from her eyes.

  Marcus nods to him as Shae works through the crowd, a smirk playing on his lips now that the crisis has passed. “I bet that one keeps you on your toes.”

  More than he’ll ever understand. “You have no idea.”

  After a final wave, she walks arm in arm with Carrie to the car. “Call me later, okay? I miss you.”

  Carrie hugs her back. “Yeah, me too.”

  Once inside the car, he turns toward her, clenching the steering wheel at her body slouching in her seat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. Just tired.” She lifts her head from the backrest, eyes squinting as she studies him. “But I should be asking you that. You seemed upset when you were on the phone. Is something going on?”

  “Nah, we’re as good as always.”

  A frown seers him before she lies back again. She’s not buying it.

  * * * *

  Inside the house, Shae heads upstairs to change clothes and pauses mid-step. Her phone is in the car, and the charger is in the bedroom. She sighs before turning around and jogging into the kitchen.

  A voice rumbles from the garage, “He just left the airport, and we’ll be tracking him the entire route to Mr. DeMarco’s meeting. It’s unlikely he’ll make any attempts on the house, but we’re in lock-down mode until I tell you otherwise. Until then, your only job is to keep Miss Armstrong safe. Nothing else matters except protecting her.”

  Fear floods her body. Confirmation of the suspicions Max tried to deny. If they are this concerned with guarding her in the well-protected house, the danger for Nick must be even greater.

  Murmurs of agreement and a small army of footsteps click on the concrete before fading away. Oscar’s eyes widen as he walks through the door before returning to a casual expression. “Hi, Shae.”

  Normally protected by Max, her interaction with Oscar has been limited. Yet, he now holds the information she needs. She takes a deep breath and pushes forward. “I heard your conversation. Please tell me what you’re talking about. Who are you tracking?”

  His body stiffens as a single bead of sweat trickles down his temple in conflict with the relaxed smile he tries to convey. “Just some things the guys are taking care of. Nothing to worry about.”

  Too fearful of Nick’s wrath, he can’t be honest with her. She must confront the other person who knows the truth. “Where’s Max?”

  “In the office.”

  She runs through the foyer and shoves the door open without knocking. His mouth opens, but she doesn’t let him speak. “What’s going on? Where’s Nick?”

  A blank expression greets her. All business to hide his deception. “Everything’s fine. He’s at his meeting. I’m on my way there now.”

  “Please don’t lie to me. I heard Oscar talking in the garage. I know Nick’s in danger.” The harshness of her voice grates in her own ears. Max has never done anything but protect her and be her friend. But she can’t hold back from testing their relationship to help Nick.

  “You know I can’t—”

  “Please, Max.” Her trembling fingers grip the edge of the desk as she leans toward him. “I can’t lose him. Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “I don’t have time to argue with you. If you want to keep him safe, I’ve got to go.”

  Heat flushes her body. The softness of his voice contrasts with the severity of his words. She nods and drops her head before he rushes past her. Walking around his office, she yanks on the drawer handles. All of them locked. She drops in his chair and looks around. The answer must be in here.

  She pushes the Directories button on the phone. A roll of numbers pops on the screen under Placed Calls. Guilt courses through her, but she has to find him. She taps the first one and waits for an answer.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. DeMarco. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.”

  She swallows hard before responding to the unfamiliar voice. “This isn’t Nick. It’s Shae, his—”

  “Ms. Armstrong, of course. It’s a pleasure to speak with you. Mr. DeMarco isn’t in the office today, but is there something I can help you with?”

  Her heart races at his secretary’s offer. “I need to speak with Nick. Can you please tell me where he is?”

  Silence. She closes her eyes to try and calm her breathing. Why can’t everyone see their loyalty to Nick is going to kill him? “Janice?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” Uncertainty dampens the cheerfulness of the woman’s tone. “I know he has a meeting off-site. As I mentioned, I’m not expecting him in the office today.”

  “Where’s the meeting?”

  “Mr. DeMarco keeps his schedule confidential.”

  A wall, just like Oscar and Max. She can’t waste time trying to pump Janice for information. “Okay, thank you.”

  She ends the call and pushes the next number on the list.

  “Thank you for calling Hudson Automotive, California’s leading Audi dealership. Please press one for—”

  “B & R Florist. This is Roxie, how may I help you?”

  “Fairlawn Funeral Home. How can I assist you?”

  He’s making arrangements for Carter? Maybe a good sign the healing process is beginning. “Can you please tell me if there are services planned for Carter James?”

  “Yes, ma’am. They started about an hour ago. Visitation continues through three P.M. Then a private service will be held immediately following.”

  Her heart plummets. Not sometime in the future. Now. Without her.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

  She slumps back in his chair and runs her hands down the arms. The worn leather smooth against her fingertips, infuse
d with a hint of clean citrus. Why would he hold a memorial service and not tell her? Not let her support him when he needs her the most? Dread rolls through her stomach. He would only keep her away to protect her, prevent her from seeing whoever’s coming from the airport.

  Juan.

  He’s setting up Juan. Giving into the anger, creating a trap to guarantee the retaliation he desperately seeks. Her breath catches at the ultrasound picture propped against the frame on the corner of his desk. First the baby, now Nick. Please don’t let me lose him too.

  She shakes her head as realization sparks in her mind. “Your life to be perfect…everything for you…” To keep Nick safe, I’ve got to go.

  Not for vengeance. For her. He sacrifices his own life to keep her safe.

  She flies out of his office and into the kitchen, grabbing the spare set of keys to her new SUV still lying on the counter. At the gate, the guard does a double take to see her driving. Alone. She pushes the button to lower the window. “Please let me out.”

  “Um, yes, ma’am. Give me just a second.” He swipes his phone and puts it to his ear.

  “I’m not a prisoner! You can’t keep me from leaving!”

  His eyes widen at her shout, as startled as she is at her ferocity. For Nick. But she has no choice. She has to do this for him.

  “But—”

  “Open the damn gate!”

  He nods and fumbles around the switchboard before the wrought iron begins to slide outward. Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she glances at the side mirror. Oscar races down the driveway toward her vehicle in opposition to the snail pace of the gates. Her fingers flex on the steering wheel as she whispers, “Come on! Come on!”

  As soon as the opening is wide enough to clear her car, she punches the accelerator and races through. Her hands shake, one gripping the wheel, the other tapping on the screen for the directions. The silky fabric of her dress clings to her body from the sweat dripping between her shoulder blades, pooling in the small of her back.

  Her phone buzzes, and Nick’s number flashes on the screen. With trembling fingers, she presses the ignore button. Guilt clenches her heart. He probably thinks she’s freaking out and running away again, not realizing she’s coming to save him this time. To keep him from falling over the edge, from letting his fear of losing her destroy everything they’ve built together.