“Oh, he knows. I told him I was pregnant. That’s why he split.” Mom smiled nostalgically. “He was really handsome, doll. You look a lot like him.”
“Yes, my legacy is to be the greatest female Elvis impersonator to ever live. Too bad I sound like a strangled ostrich when I sing.” Aggie slipped the locket’s chain over her head. It wasn’t like her mother gave her things of importance on a regular basis. She did appreciate the gesture. She was just… tired. And really wanted her life back. And to be able to make love to Jace on the kitchen floor whenever the urge struck her. Not that he was around enough to appease those urges, but if he had been.
“Be proud of who you are, Agatha.”
Aggie nodded and squeezed the gaudy locket in her hand. “Thanks for the necklace, Mom. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but I’ll treasure it.”
Mom smiled one of those rare smiles that touched her tired eyes. She’d had a hard life. It showed in every line of her face. Hard to believe the woman was only forty-seven.
Mom grabbed Aggie around the waist and pulled her next to her side. “Are you happy, baby?”
For some reason, her mother’s question made an image of Jace dominate her thoughts, like it did every twenty seconds or so. Aggie smiled, examining the locket more closely. “I’m working on it. Is there a picture inside?”
“It doesn’t open. Never did. It’s not really a locket.” Mom elbowed Aggie in the ribs affectionately. “We’re okay, right?”
Aggie nodded. “We’re okay.”
Mom kissed Aggie’s arm and patted her butt. “Go on to bed.”
“I have someone coming to pick up a corset this evening,” Aggie said. “I have to get it done before I even think about sleeping.”
“No, you don’t,” Mom said with an ear to ear grin. “I finished it for you.”
Aggie felt the blood drain from her face. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I did a bang-up job.”
Aggie dashed into her dining room and stopped dead in her tracks. Spread across the surface of the dining room table beside her sewing machine was the corset she’d been working on before she’d headed to the club the night before. Her mother had done a bang-up job all right. If bang-up was a synonym for fucked-up. The stitching was uneven. One cup of the garment was the premeasured D, the other a lopsided A. The Forget-Me-Not embroidery pattern didn’t match because Aggie’s practiced stitches decorated one side, and her mother’s kindergarten project disgraced the other. It wasn’t like Aggie could remove the misplaced stitches and fix it. Unlike cloth, if you poked a hole in leather, it stayed there. She’d have to completely start over.
“Mother!”
“Not bad for my first try. Maybe we could go into business together.”
Aggie picked up the corset and tugged at it to see if by some miracle it would straighten itself out. The ribbing was sewn in so that any woman unlucky enough to put it on would have her rib cage punctured and suffer a collapsed lung. “It’s ruined.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Aggie. It’s fine.”
She couldn’t make out her mother’s expression through her tears of frustration. “It isn’t fine. Nothing you touch is fine.”
Her mother took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re right. I’m the biggest fuckup on the planet.” And now she was crying. Great, just fucking great. She destroyed Aggie’s work and then somehow managed to make her feel guilty about it.
“You need to not be near me right now, Mom,” Aggie said. “I have a lot of work to do.” She grabbed a seam ripper and tore the garment into sections, praying that she might be able to salvage some of the panels—especially the one she’d embroidered—and just replace those her mother had messed up.
“I’m sorry,” Mom said in a shaky voice. “I thought I could help. I know how hard you’re always working, and I’m a huge burden on you. I make up stories about the Mafia so you’ll take me in, and I eat your food and borrow money out of your purse to buy cigarettes. I know I deserve to be kicked out, but I don’t have an-anywhere else to gooooo.” She was wailing now.
Aggie paused in her angry retaliation against a helpless corset. “Wait. What? You made up that story about borrowing money from the Mafia?”
Mom probably should not have revealed that while Aggie had a sharp object in her hand.
“Are-are-are-are you mad at meeeeee?”
The woman should go into acting. She was a natural.
“Un-fucking-believable. Well, at least I can stop working overtime, since I no longer have to save money to pay off your stupid loan.”
“So you’re not mad at me?” Mom turned off the waterworks like a plumber with a pipe wrench.
“No. Just go away. You’ve done enough.”
“Now you’re just being bitchy.”
Aggie stiffened. Bitchy? “I need a freakin’ vacation,” Aggie said under her breath, shredding the ruined half of the corset with her seam ripper so she didn’t attack her mother with its deadly point.
Chapter 18
Sitting in the studio on their first day off-tour in three weeks, Jace smiled when he saw who the text message was from. Aggie. He couldn’t wait to see her again. He had plans to see her in Vegas that weekend, though he hadn’t shared those plans with her. As he read her words on the screen, his smile faded.
I’m in LA. Text me your address. I thought I’d stay with you for a few days. Mom is driving me insane. I had to get out of Vegas.
His place? He’d never invited her to his place for a reason. He lived in a dump in a bad neighborhood. That was sure to cause a barrage of uncomfortable questions. Jace needed to intercept her and convince her that they should spend a romantic weekend in some expensive hotel. He turned to the producer, Chris. They were sitting outside the booth where Eric was recording drum tracks for their upcoming album.
“Do you know any five-star hotels in Los Angeles?” Jace asked.
Chris lifted an eyebrow. “I dunno. That big pink one where all the celebs go. What’s it called?” He snapped his fingers. “The Beverly Hills Hotel.”
“Where’s that?”
“Sunset Boulevard. Where else?”
Jace didn’t hang around Beverly Hills. He did know Sunset Boulevard though. “Do you think I can get a reservation there?”
Chris chuckled. “If you can’t, I’m sure Trey can.”
Unlike Jace, Trey hung around Beverly Hills regularly. He’d been raised there and had social connections with the rich and famous. Jace texted a message back to Aggie.
Why don’t you meet me at The Beverly Hills Hotel? It’s on Sunset Boulevard. We’ll spend the weekend there together.
He decided to sweeten the deal.
I’ll bring my suitcase and spoil you.
Waiting for her response, Jace gave Eric a thumbs-up in the booth when he came to the end of his track.
“Perfect,” Chris said to Eric through the mic.
Eric shook his head. “I stumbled over a beat at around three minutes. Is Jace breaking your concentration?”
Jace’s cell phone beeped with the arrival of another text.
I’d rather just stay at your place.
I’m not prepared for company, he returned.
I’m not company. I’m your girlfriend.
If you see where I live, you might change your mind.
I’m not that shallow, Jace.
Jace supposed there was one way to find out if she could handle the real him. He texted his street address.
I’ll meet you there.
“I’ve got to go,” he said to Chris.
“You’ll be back later, won’t you?” the producer said. “You’re up next.”
“I don’t know. I might be back later today. Tell the guys I’m sorry, but I have unexpected company.”
In the parking garage, Jace climbed onto his bike and started the engine. He headed toward home with demons on his heels. He had to beat Aggie to his place and hide his dirty laundry in his closet. Put clean sheets
on his bed. Scrub the toilet. Then he’d have to take her grocery shopping. He’d just returned from touring for three weeks, and his refrigerator was empty. Maybe if he made her a nice dinner, it would make up for the fact that she had to eat it off a paper plate.
He parked his motorcycle on the street and headed up the stairs to his apartment. He was stripping the sheets off his bed when his cell phone rang.
“I’m here. Will my car be safe parked on the street?” Aggie asked. “This neighborhood looks a little shady.”
Little shady? Maybe. If she considered a dense forest a little shady. He glanced around his bare-walled apartment. She would not be happy here. He was embarrassed that he even lived here. “Let’s go to a hotel.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m already parked. Come help me with my luggage.”
“I’ll be right down.” He kicked the dirty sheets under his bed and headed down to help her with her bags.
By the time he reached the sidewalk, a couple of men were already helping her with her bags. Or rather, trying to help themselves to her bags.
One tossed her suitcase into the back of a pickup. Another tugged on her purse, which she was clinging to with both hands. “Give me your purse, bitch.”
“Let go, you fucking jerk.” She kicked him in the shin and gave her purse a hard yank. Contents spilled across the cement, but she was unwilling to give an inch in their tug of war. Not even when the man pulled a gun.
“I’m going to shoot you if you don’t let go.”
“Get a job, you fucking loser,” she bellowed. “This is mine. I worked hard for it.”
Apparently, Jace’s woman was lacking a fear gene. He knew fear though. It hadn’t gotten its claws into him in years, but it did now. His blood turned cold in his veins, and all he could think was to get her away from danger.
Jace charged forward and shoved Aggie aside, sending her scrambling to maintain her balance and still keep a grip on her stupid purse. Before he could turn to confront the mugger, two successive gunshots sliced through his body. The back of his right shoulder. Through his right arm. Tires squealed. The ground tilted beneath him and rose up to meet his face. Someone screamed his name. Everything went black.
Chapter 19
Aggie turned at the sound of gunshots. Saw the blood splatter out of Jace’s arm. Watched him fall. Felt her world crumble. “Jace!”
Someone grabbed her arm and shoved a gun under her chin. “I said, give me your fucking purse. Don’t make me kill you too, you stupid bitch.”
She couldn’t comprehend the danger she was in, could only watch the blood spread in a widening puddle from beneath the only man she’d ever loved. “Jace…”
Gritting her teeth, she dropped her purse on the cement and grabbed her left fist in her right hand. With a scream of rage, she delivered a vicious elbow to her captor’s stomach.
He grunted in pain. She stomped the instep of his foot.
“Ow, bitch. What do you think—”
She punched him in the balls, taking him down to his knees. His grip on his gun slackened. She grabbed the back of his head and drove the bridge of his nose into her knee. He fell unconscious on the sidewalk, the gun tumbling from his grasp.
Aggie flew to Jace’s side. “Oh my God,” she gasped, too upset to do anything but hover over him. He was bleeding so much. Surely, he was dead.
She dialed 911. Before the dispatcher even answered, the sound of sirens coming from the distance sounded like a chorus of angel harps.
“What is your emergency?”
“M-my boyfriend’s been shot.”
“Your location?”
She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything.
“I’m outside. On the sidewalk.”
“Can you see a street sign?”
Aggie looked up and read the names of the streets from the signs on the corner of the nearest intersection.
The dispatcher said, “Take a deep breath, honey. Someone called about a mugging in progress a few minutes ago. Police and paramedics are already on their way.”
Aggie could hear the sirens growing louder by the second.
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
She covered her lips with a trembling hand and looked down at him. The puddle of blood beneath him was spreading. “J-Jace.”
“Is he still breathing?” the dispatcher asked.
She stared at Jace, but her blurry eyes refused to take in anything but the blood pooling around his right arm. “I– I don’t know.” She glanced around, hoping someone with a lick of sense was nearby to tell her if Jace was still breathing. The streets were eerily empty. It was as if the world had deserted her. Deserted Jace. Her only lifeline was the calm woman on the other end of the line.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” the woman asked.
“Aggie,” she squeaked.
“Aggie, listen to his chest. See if his heart is beating. If it isn’t, I’ll help you start CPR.”
Aggie leaned over Jace and pressed her ear to his back, listening for the sound of his heart. It still beat, sluggishly at best.
“It’s still beating,” she said to the dispatcher.
“Is he breathing? Feel for air coming from his nose and mouth.”
She moved her hand in front of his face and felt his warm breath against her fingertips. “Yes. He’s breathing.”
“Then just sit tight until help arrives.”
Sit tight? That was the woman’s advice? Aggie dropped her cell phone on the ground. She had to do something for him, but didn’t know what. Should she try to stop the bleeding? Turn him onto his back? She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered brokenly. She smoothed his leather jacket over his back, not knowing how that was supposed to help. She brushed Jace’s hair from his forehead, leaving several streaks of his blood on his skin. “I don’t know what to do. Jace? Jace, tell me what to do!”
The sirens continued past the corner and toward the end of the next block. Maybe they had the wrong address. She had to flag them down. For Jace’s sake. As useless as she currently was, they would know how to help him.
“I’ll be back,” she promised Jace, scared to leave him, but more scared not to leave him.
She raced to the curb and waved her arms wildly at a passing cop car. Tires squealed as the officer stomped on his brakes. An ambulance did a U-turn at the end of the block and pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the street.
An officer climbed from his cruiser, eyeing the blood on Aggie’s face and hands with concern. “Ma’am. Ma’am, are you hurt? Someone called in shots fired.”
“No, I’m fine. Please. You have to help Jace. He’s been shot. Hurry.”
She ran back to where she’d left Jace and found the mugger with the gun groaning as he struggled to regain consciousness. He took a deep, startled breath and reached for his gun. The cop beside Aggie drew his weapon and went down on one knee.
“Drop your weapon,” the officer yelled.
Aggie didn’t hesitate. She rushed toward the thug and kicked him in the side of the head. The gun went off, bullet flying wildly without aim.
“You son of a bitch,” she growled. She kicked him in the crotch. Once. Twice. Feeling his nuts crunch against bone beneath her foot. He cried out, clutching his balls in agony, the gun forgotten beside him. She didn’t know how to help Jace, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there while the dick who’d shot him hurt someone else.
“Are you crazy?” the cop said, toeing the gun out of the man’s reach. “He had a gun, and you jump him? You’re lucky you didn’t get shot.”
“What are you doing?” she yelled at the cop. “Help Jace. I don’t know what to do for him. Help him!”
Two paramedics jogged across the street toward them, wheeling a gurney that carried a large first-aid kit. While the police officer wrestled the injured mugger into a pair of handcuffs, the medics worked with Jace, trying to stem the flow of blood. They removed his jacket and tossed it aside. Th
e entire right side of his white T-shirt was saturated with blood.
Aggie scooped up his coat and cradled it against her chest, watching the EMTs do their thing.
“There’s an exit wound for this one, but the second bullet is still lodged inside his shoulder.”
“Keep pressure on it. We’ve got to get him to the hospital. He’s losing a lot of blood.”
Two officers escorted the gunless thug toward a cruiser. “You’re dead, you fucking bitch. As soon as I make bail, you’re dead!” he shouted at Aggie.
Aggie heard him, but was too worried about Jace to feel any concern for herself. The cops heard him though. “I’ll be sure to file that threat in my report,” one officer said as he shoved the guy into the back of the cruiser. “Bail is not an option. Where’s your accomplice?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the mugger claimed.
His accomplice had Aggie’s suitcase and had sped off as soon as his buddy had shot Jace. Not that it mattered—nothing mattered but seeing Jace smile again.
“Ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions.”
Aggie didn’t look at the speaker. She couldn’t take her eyes off Jace.
When the police officer grabbed her arm, she twisted away. “No. Get your hands off me.”
The paramedics lifted Jace onto a gurney, pushing hard on the wound in his shoulder. His hand was ghostly white as the tourniquet around his upper arm stemmed the blood flow to the gunshot wound in his biceps.
“He needs oxygen.”
“He needs blood is what he needs. Jesus.”
“Get him in the ambulance.”
In a strange state of detachment, Aggie followed the stretcher as they wheeled it toward the waiting ambulance. She stepped off the curb, oblivious to the traffic that an officer was directing around the police cruisers. Someone grabbed her arm again. This time he did not let go when she tried to twist away.
“Ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions.”
She shook her head vigorously, tears blinding her.
The officer tugged her arm, trying to get her to follow him toward the police car. “What happened? Ma’am, tell me what happened.”
Hot Ticket: Sinners on Tour (The Sinners on Tour) Page 15