He found out the house had once been condemned then completely restored.
Something about that fact appealed to Ash, said the place had called to him, which was the reason he’d found it or some kind of psychopath babble like that. Next thing we knew, which literally was like four hours later, Ash was forking over the cash to take it in the clear.
Claimed we’d have to be spending a ton of time in Savannah anyway, coming out because Baz wasn’t going to want to be away from Shea, Kallie, and the baby, so it was a necessity.
Of course he still had all kinds of paperwork that needed to go through, but considering the house was unoccupied and already furnished, he’d somehow managed to swindle the seller out of the keys.
Dude had skills, that was for sure.
“Making me dizzy, man,” he continued from where he sat on the couch with his bass balanced across his lap, face upturned toward the ceiling as he searched for the feeling neither of us could seem to find.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, forcing myself back to my guitar. The plush chair I was sitting on was pushed up close to the coffee table with my notebook open wide.
Blank pages.
No surprise.
I cradled my black electric guitar. She was my baby, after all. My favorite. My constant companion. She was a little beat up, worn down by the road, like she’d witnessed a whole lifetime condensed into a six-year blur of cities and shows and passing, forgettable faces.
A whole lot like me.
Ash’s attention flew my way. Blue eyes overflowed with excitement, as if he’d been suddenly struck with a well of inspiration.
“Hell yeah. I got it. Know exactly what we’re missing. It’s the vibe, man. This old house? She’s been barren for years. Needs some life breathed into her. A heartbeat. Let’s christen her…best fuckin’ party this city’s ever seen. I mean, a real rager. The kind that will go down in rock ‘n’ roll history. Make it legendary. Introduce these old walls to what music really feels like. Songs will start flowing from us.”
Scratch the inspiration thing.
Ash was just being Ash.
I huffed out a sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes like a thirteen-year-old girl. Considering Ash was acting like a kid, he deserved it. Problem was, I was usually game, the first to step to his antics. But since the second I got back, I just hadn’t been feeling it.
“Or maybe it’s just you storming in here with all your negativity,” he accused, looking like he wanted to throw out a pout because I was raining on the goddamned parade the guy never stopped marching in.
“Who the hell pissed in your Cheerios, anyway?” He eyed me over the bottle as he took a long pull, eyes narrowed in speculation. “You not make it back with those two chicks last night? Because that looked exactly like your kind of poison.”
I shot him a scowl. “Did you not see us leaving together?”
A grin that came completely at my expense took over his face. “Hey, man, a girl can always come to her senses.”
“Believe me, neither of them had any sense to find.”
“Hmmm,” he mused, obviously not going to disagree with that logic. He took another drink before he tilted the bottle my direction, like we were playing get to the bottom of Lyrik’s piss-poor mood. “Couldn’t get it up?”
“Fuck you, man.” That was just damned offensive. And it wasn’t even close to being the issue. Sick part? I’d gotten it up fantasizing about Red, blood roaring south when I thought about tracing the sexy tattoo that covered up the whole outside of her left thigh with my fingers, my mouth watering when I moved on to imagining doing it with my tongue.
There was something about the tattoo, the bright red apple with the serpent twisted around it, that had me wanting to dive in, dig deep into this girl and find out all her secrets.
Get dirty with her.
Shit.
Ash cracked the most victorious smile. “Ah, man, sounds like we are talking about my Tam Tam.”
That time it wasn’t a question. It was shoot, sink, score.
And his Tam Tam?
I couldn’t stop the scowl.
Catching my expression, the asshole fucking howled like a banshee, laughter ricocheting against the walls as he slapped his knee. Punk ass couldn’t catch his breath as he tried to speak.
“That…holy shit…now that was legendary. Couldn’t top that if I tried. God, I think I might have fallen just a little bit in love with her last night. Anyone brave enough to pull a stunt like that on the likes of you? That one’s a dream. Hotter than shit, too.”
Mention of her had me gritting my teeth.
And kinda wanting to take him by the throat.
Still couldn’t believe she’d slipped me that drink. At first, I’d thought she was finally stepping up to play when really she was just inciting a war. Truth was, I’d had no intention of taking those girls home.
Not that I owed Red anything.
Wouldn’t owe a girl. Not ever again.
But my thoughts had been too worked up on her, my skin still itching with the lust she’d caused to pulse through my veins, the need to get lost in all that flesh and seduction, eyes the color of heaven, body like she’d been summoned directly from hell.
Temptation.
Hadn’t felt it so strong since the night I’d given in and lost it all.
Ash tsked. “Should have known you were up to no good last night when you claimed needing to take a piss and didn’t come back for twenty minutes. You were just asking for it. Hasn’t that girl shot you down enough? I mean, seriously, that ego of yours has got to be hurtin’. When’s the last time the Lyrik West heard the word no?”
“I have zero problems with my ego.”
At least when I compared it to the size of his.
“And I was just talking to her.”
The expression contorting his face said it all. Are you kidding me? Remember who you’re talking to.
I’d willingly admit to myself I’d crossed a line, sucking those delicious fingers into my mouth, pressing the heat of her hand against my straining body and wondering just how far she’d let me take it. It’d been a desperate measure, really, me begging her to put us out of this misery, because honestly, I was ready to get this girl off my mind before she made me lose it.
That was part of the problem. No matter how many times I asked her to, the girl just wouldn’t tell me no. It was like she got off on the chase.
But after that drink?
Bringing those two chicks back to my place was the obvious revenge. And this morning had presented the perfect opportunity to drive it home just that much harder. To make a point she was the one suffering by her shunning the attraction that blazed between us.
I’d just carry on.
Business as usual.
Except taking those two girls did nothing to quell that fire.
Only Tamar had the power to put it out.
Ash chuckled with a shake of his head. “What’d you do, man, take her in the restroom then let those girls go crawling all over you? I’d be tampering with your drink, too. That shit ain’t cool. This is Tam Tam we’re talking about. Not some random chick you aren’t ever gonna see again. Where’s your head, man? She’s like family.”
Family? I had all the family I needed.
“So maybe I said some shit she didn’t want to hear.”
“And you thought it wise to promptly go and pick up Candi and Bambi?”
I quirked a brow. “Oh, was that their names?”
“Dude, you’re a straight-up asshole.”
“Who was their friend?” I sent out the challenge with a smirk playing at one side of my mouth.
Caught, he laughed. “No clue, man. Birds of a feather flock together and all that shit. Don’t you know anything?”
Apparently I knew nothing.
I’d thought I had it all figured out. Thought I had all my shit under lock and key. But when it came to Tamar, I felt like I was slowly but surely losing my head.
It was ind
escribable. The crazy sense of power, the thrill of ego and pride, that gripped at my chest when I heard her door rattling this morning at just the perfect moment. It was a feeling like I was conquering some unknown feat when that fiery ball of red got tripped up at her door just as I was shoving the two blondes out of mine.
Yeah. I knew she lived next door when I’d rented the place. So what?
Of course the joke was on me, when she’d come stumbling out, wearing next to nothing, hair a total mess where she had it tied on top of her head.
Holy fuck, the girl had the tightest body I’d ever seen. Heavy on the tits and ass, this curvy little bombshell I knew would fit perfectly in my needy hands.
But that wasn’t what’d rendered me speechless.
I hadn’t ever seen her bare before. Void of the makeup I had no idea could possibly alter her appearance so much.
It’d been like a punch to the gut, finding out just how gorgeous this girl really was—all natural and soft—exposed in a way I doubted she let many see, those blue eyes wide with shock and brutal honesty, and for a fleeting moment flashing with something that looked like innocence.
That was a description I’d never associated with Red before.
Innocent.
Angel.
The thought had gone sailing through my head and struck me dumb.
Then I’d gone and said it, just another jab that got to the heart of what I wanted.
I liked to get dirty and I wanted to get dirty with her.
But shit. I wasn’t sure I was ever going to forget the horrified expression that had shut down all the fierce intensity that normally radiated from her and something else entirely took her over.
Like I was being slammed.
Wave after wave.
Hurt.
Shame.
What bothered me most was I thought I saw something that looked like fear.
Ash plucked at a few notes. “Did you really think hooking up with those girls wouldn’t piss her off after you’d just gone propositioning her?”
“That was kind of the point.”
And God, it made me feel…bad.
“You just love messing with her. You do realize you’ve been doing it since the night you called dibs on her when we first started hanging at Charlie’s? One of these days, you’re going to regret it.”
Regret. Remorse. Those were emotions I didn’t allow myself to feel. Not anymore. They just made you susceptible to all kinds of bullshit and pain.
Fuck.
I jerked my hands through my hair, yanking at the longer pieces on top as I went, before I threaded my fingers at the back of my neck.
I had no idea what I’d done so bad. But whatever it was, it was damned wrong.
And there it was.
Regret.
Remorse.
This heavy, sick feeling that gripped my chest like an iron fist.
Didn’t like feeling it.
Not at all.
But with her?
I did.
“What, are you really seriously pissed at her for that drink? That shit was classic, man.”
A roll of bitter, confused laughter bled free. “I don’t even know. She just…” I trailed off, not sure what kind of label to put on it.
The amusement drained from Ash, this tenseness I wasn’t used to feeling filling up the air.
Exactly the reason I tried to stay away from all this bullshit.
My shoulders lifted to my ears in my own confusion. “I said something really shitty to her this morning. Hurt her. Saw it the second I said it. She freaked the hell out and took off.”
What scared me most was I’d had the overwhelming compulsion to chase her down and kiss the hell out of her, and kissing was a no go. That shit was too damned personal.
But maybe it would have been enough to warm whatever had gone cold.
It’d felt like the chill of snow. The freezing of rain.
The heat always boiling between us had evaporated and morphed into razor sharp shards of ice in less than a blink of an eye. So I’d put a hole through my door with my fist instead. My throbbing hand was nothing less than an effective end to that delusional, dangerous impulse.
“You…hurt her feelings?” Ash drew out like he was trying to decipher the details to the most difficult equation, because adding a chick and worrying about hurting her feelings was something that just didn’t compute for either of us.
I pushed out a sigh.
Why the hell was I letting myself get sucked into this conversation? But that was Ash’s way. Couldn’t keep a straight face to save his life. Always smiling. Living life. But he got shit no one else did. Knew things no one else could.
He blew a puff of air from his nose, eyebrows drawn in outright bewilderment. “You like her?”
“No.” I denied it faster than my mind could process. But my heart had plenty of time.
God, I wanted to fucking hate her, that sick, twisted side wanting to make her pay for having the ability to affect me this way.
Making me want and desire and question.
But like her?
Liking her would be slanting a little too far into the emotions than were allowed.
“Holy shit.” Ash chuckled low. “You like her.”
I lifted my gaze, halting the progression of the humor cutting lines all over his face, dimples denting in his cheeks and chin.
Don’t.
It was a silent warning.
He fucking knew better.
This time he huffed in disappointment, roughing his hair back from his forehead and looking at the far wall for two awkward beats, before he turned back to me with his head cocked to the side. “When are you going to give it up, man? Are you going to hang on to it forever? Are you going to let it continue to fester and rot until there’s absolutely nothing left of you?”
I swallowed hard.
He jabbed at my notebook with his finger. “You think I don’t know what comes out in the songs you write for us, Lyrik? In your words? You think I can’t hear that pain? It’s going to ruin you.”
Too late.
“You made a mistake,” he pressed on when I didn’t respond.
A swirl of anger twisted through my gut, my voice thick and hard and filled with hatred. “A mistake? A mistake is forgettin’ to pay your cell phone bill. Fumbling on the frets during a performance. Putting a ding in someone’s car and not telling them. What I did? That wasn’t a mistake.”
It was wicked.
Inhumane.
Unforgivable.
A somber smile spread across his face, while I shifted in discomfort.
I watched the thick bob of Ash’s throat when he began to speak. “You know, every guy gets his heart broken at least once. We all get that defining moment when we find out the world really fucking sucks. That it’s always gonna take more than it gives. Maybe it’s a kid’s dad to first break his heart when he comes at him with fists flying. Or maybe beating on his mom. Maybe it’s the day the dog he’s had his entire life dies. Maybe it’s the girl he would have cut his heart out for trounces all over it instead.”
His own regret traveled his expression, his jaw clenching. “Most of us? We just break our own damned hearts.”
He and I both knew that all too well.
“You know as well as I do the past can’t be undone. Maybe it’s time you moved on from it. Because you aren’t fooling anyone.”
Move on?
Ash knew better.
There was no fucking moving on.
Stagnant and stale.
Stuck back in that day.
That’s where I was gonna forever remain.
Diverting, I shook my head, because I wasn’t about to go there. “It’s not anything like that. I just feel…bad.”
Weird. Different. Unsettled.
He shook his head. “Whatever you say, man.”
I clasped my hands between my knees. “What do I do?”
He scoffed like it was obvious. “Maybe start by sayin
g sorry.”
Right.
Sorry.
Guess I fucking was.
Ash readjusted the bass on his lap. “Are we going to do this, or sit around acting like pussies all day?”
“Yeah, let’s do this.”
Because this? It was why I lived. I’d sold my soul for it, after all.
A SLIGHT SHEEN OF sweat gathered at the nape of my neck. My hair was pinned up in a red bandana headband, the humid Savannah summer laying siege to the city. Birds flitted through the trees, the slight breeze rustling through the branches the only reprieve to the stifling heat. Rays of sunlight wove patterns on the ground as they glinted through the leaves like a kaleidoscope projected on the earth.
Rounding the corner, I headed back toward my apartment, an antsy, anxious feeling taking me over as I approached.
Knowing what I would find.
Of course it was there.
That menacing-looking motorcycle parked at the curb in front of our building. It didn’t matter how many times I found it there. It managed to stutter my breaths each time. Managed to fill me with hesitancy and fear, a shaky sense of excited apprehension that thrummed through my veins.
The thrill I was terrified to feel.
The last week and a half had been an exercise in evading him like the plague.
Because no question.
The boy was a disease.
The kind that came on strong and crept in slow.
No. I wasn’t proud of the fact I’d spent a whole lot of that time watching him through my blinds like some kind of deranged stalker. I just couldn’t stop myself.
I had this sick compulsion to track him when he’d come sauntering out his door in all his notorious rock-star glory, stealing more of my breath when I’d catch a glimpse of his dark, wild hair, those big hands shoved in his pockets, body powerful and jaw rigid.
Harder still was stoically pretending he didn’t exist during the few times he’d come into the bar. I really hated admitting the pang of displeasure I felt when I realized he’d decided to pretend I didn’t exist. To respect my wishes to leave me alone.
It was what I’d wanted, after all.
Until it wasn’t.
Because worst of all?
It was the time spent sitting on my living room floor with my back propped against my front door.
Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3) Page 5