Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)

by A. L. Jackson

  It was from a DA.

  A DA in Tucson.

  From my home.

  Where Cameron Lucan lived.

  Yeah. Everyone thought I was from L.A.

  Just another lie.

  I was so good at letting them fall from my mouth.

  I wondered now if anyone was good with believing them. I was beginning to doubt it.

  Since then, I hadn’t looked again. But like that night two months ago, I found myself drowning in an unbearable ache. The loneliness so acute it was alive.

  Fear and hope and insecurity wove a pattern of despair through the fibers of my being, trying to tie me back to that girl.

  To make me her.

  Tamar Gibson.

  I’d spent a lot of time hating her. Blaming her. But the crazy thing was, I missed her too.

  Early morning light spilled in through the sheer drapes of my window. Subtle warmth before the heat of the day.

  His voice…his deep, mournful, haunting voice still lingered in the air. Still brushed across my skin.

  Although this time it wasn’t the wispy tendrils of his presence that used to filter through my walls as if they were seeking a way inside, piercing me and pervading my senses.

  No, this time I’d been on his living room floor with my back propped against his couch while he’d sat on it and played into the silence.

  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised he didn’t play the song. The one I instinctively knew curled up his arm, the cryptic notes and bars naked to the eye but obtuse to the ear.

  The songs he did play had been quiet, yet somehow powerful and moving. And I’d felt as if he’d done nothing more than make love to me with his song before he’d touched my cheek, my chin, and sent me home with the softest kiss.

  The man was slowly killing me. I was sure about it. Stripping me bare until I had zero defenses remaining.

  And now I sat in one of those weakened moments—when I needed a glimpse into the past.

  I guess I could blame the temporary insanity on him.

  With a trembling hand, I slid my finger across the pad, and the brightly lit screen popped to life, slicing into the darkness. Seeping into my room as if cast with the mission to rob me of my air. Of the safety of my half-lived life.

  Quickly, before I lost my nerve or my mind, I clicked onto the Internet with my location disabled, the way I always did, and I signed into my old account.

  I told myself I just wanted to see my mother’s face, a grave urgency to feel her touch from across the boundless void.

  Despite all the messages being marked as unread, I still recognized a new one from her. I’d memorized her words from the last time.

  But it was the new message from the DA that consumed my attention. An unsettled part of me shouted its criticism. Because this was so stupid and reckless. I had to be mad. Raving mad. Which I seemed to be proving more and more often lately. I just kept stepping out and putting myself on the line. But there was a part of me that had to see.

  Ms. Gibson, numerous attempts have been made to contact you. We’re pressing forward with the case. We’re requesting you contact us ahead of a subpoena being issued. It’s my greatest hope not to have to turn that direction. We have the video. We just need you to answer questions. You don’t have to agree to go on the stand. You don’t have to be afraid.

  They were instant. The tears that flooded my face. Nonstop. Because that’s all I’d ever been.

  You don’t have to be afraid.

  Afraid.

  I wasn’t afraid.

  I was terrified.

  I blinked through the bleariness, and quickly marked the message as unread, before I clicked into my mother’s message. Her messages were always the same.

  Come home. We miss you. It wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself. Not for what happened to you. And not for what happened to her. Please.

  Her words felt like the sharpest knife, impaling the deepest part of me.

  I’d written my mother only one letter as I’d hitchhiked across the country. One to tell her I was sorry. To assure her I was alive and would survive. I asked her not to worry. But I knew even then that request was nothing less than selfish. Of course she would worry.

  Quickly, I marked her message as unread.

  I gasped when another immediately popped up behind it.

  I know you’re there. Please, Tamar, call me. They’re looking for you. You need to come home.

  Like I’d been burned, my hand flew back and I slammed down the screen. Panting. Blinded by the tears that kept streaming from my eyes. Frantic, I scanned my room, as if I could find a place to hide.

  I jumped up and began to pace.

  The fear was suffocating. I couldn’t breathe.

  I gripped my hair.

  How could they ask this of me?

  I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t face it. Couldn’t stare him down and voice the horror of what he had done.

  Because I’d been weak.

  I was weak.

  Pathetic.

  Just a naïve little girl.

  And it didn’t matter how many false exteriors I wore. That was all I was ever going to be.

  THERE ARE TIMES IN your life you know without a doubt you’re doing everything wrong. That tiny little spec you call your conscience? It’s still loud enough to assure you you’re making mistake after mistake. It’s loud enough to call you out on bein’ a sinner and selfish and a little bit twisted and sick. And there’s not a question left in your mind all those mistakes are hurting the people you care about most.

  Yet you’re just that selfish to keep right on making those mistakes without a whole lot of contemplation of stopping.

  That’s why I’d chosen a long damned time ago not to care.

  To keep everyone out except for the few who’d already secured a spot inside the brittle, hostile place that made up my heart.

  I’d told her as much.

  Warned her.

  I didn’t do it often.

  Care.

  But when I did? It seemed I did it in a way that instead of doing something good, it just turned around and threw me back into the sickening depths of that selfishness again. It was a goddamned vicious cycle. Take, take, take until there’s nothing left but what you’ve destroyed.

  And when you did have the guts to stop? It was you who was left destroyed.

  It was a no-win.

  Yet here I was, desperate to piece those broken bits of her back together. To patch it all up with her strength, beauty, and bold, blinding colors. To mix up every hue of red and every shade of blue. To somehow help her paint a picture that made her whole.

  Even though the truth of the matter was I already saw her that way.

  All the while, I was doing my best to shut her out. Every day, I was fumbling, trying to protect this flimsy understanding we were teetering on and wanting more of it, all at the same damned time.

  Fuck.

  I wanted more. She was a complex riddle I wanted to keep sheltered in the palm of my hand.

  Tamar had shared secrets with me I knew she’d never told anyone before. I also felt confident we’d barely made a scratch. But I also got the unsettled feeling if I discovered all of what she had buried, I might not be able to handle it. It was a little disturbing, the rage that slammed me every time those bright blue eyes dimmed, when they went dark and haunted, and my insides felt like they were being squeezed and ripped apart.

  I would thirst for vengeance and blood, while at the same time I quietly promised her she was brave and strong and everything was going to be okay.

  The girl brought out the best and worst in me.

  Ash was right.

  I liked her.

  I fucking liked her and it was every shade of wrong. A glaring mark against the most important promise I’d ever made. But for now? I couldn’t seem to put on the brakes or take a turn.

  And God knew it was too damned late to throw it in reverse.

  Like I said. />
  Selfish.

  But I had two months. That was all the time I’d been given. Two months to put that look on her face. Two months to touch and tease and erase. Two months to pretend I had the right to be doing it.

  I knew it was going to run out. Faster than I wanted it to. This good thing gone. Two weeks had already been eaten up, and I was getting greedy. Antsy. Selfish. I wanted all her minutes and days and most of all her nights.

  I was determined to make the most of them.

  Because she was the first real thing I’d felt in years. The first person to chip away at all that hate. The first to make me want to do more.

  Be more.

  It wouldn’t last.

  But for now, I needed it just as damned bad as I knew she needed to break free from her past. For someone to believe in her. To see her the way I did.

  Strong and sweet and with everything to offer this world.

  So much more to give than slinging drinks behind a bar.

  So much more to gain than sleeping alone night after night.

  Sitting in the oversized plush chair in Ash’s living room that I’d somehow claimed as my own, I tried to pretend I wasn’t affected. Tried to pretend I didn’t like it so damned much that she was sitting on the floor to the right of my legs with her back propped on the chair while she hung with my friends.

  Like she’d always been there and she was always gonna be.

  But maybe she could feel that same connection I swore was there every time she walked in the room, because she swiveled a fraction and looked back up to where I sat, red hair aflame, lips painted the same lust-inducing color. She shot me one of those sexy-ass grins.

  That single look was enough to get my dick hard.

  And I hadn’t even gotten inside my little red pin-up yet.

  Crazy, because she was hands down the best non-sex I’d ever had.

  But I could feel it building. The two of us were getting ready to go boom. Without a doubt, this girl was going to blow my mind.

  One of her legs was tugged up to her chest and she sipped at a beer, laughing easily at the stupid story Ash just couldn’t keep to himself.

  I tried not to stare at her, but that was a damned near impossible feat.

  Yeah, she was beautiful.

  But it was more than that. I felt this compulsion to look at her. To look at her closer than I’d looked at anyone before. Because there was more to her than just that surface beauty. Something bold and intriguing and begging to be made whole.

  She made me want to explore the forbidden.

  Dive into my own debauchery.

  Swim in sin.

  Because being with her? It wasn’t anything less than that.

  Sin.

  Ash waved his hands in the air like the madman he was, his voice lifted as he fed everyone what I was sure were a few exaggerated lines.

  “You guys had to be there. Literally, I was running for dear life. Like, I thought I’d seen my last day and was gettin’ ready to see the light when I was trying to get away from this crazy-ass chick. She just wasn’t going to give up or take no for an answer. She kept ripping at my shirt and informing me she was a VIP. Like that actually meant something. And somewhere in her jacked-up mind, she actually thought that meant I was hers. Free rein. I mean, she was hot and all, but that shit was scary.”

  A mild chuckle rolled from me. I learned a long time ago the guy couldn’t be blamed. He couldn’t help himself. He was a fucking clown I’d give my damned life for.

  All of them.

  Sebastian and Zee and Ash.

  Laughing, Sebastian pointed the neck of his beer bottle toward Ash, taunting him. “What, you can’t protect yourself from a girl?”

  “Girl? This chick was some kind of bodybuilder or some shit. You should have seen the muscles on this thing. It just wasn’t natural.” He shuddered.

  “That’s because chicks kick ass, right, Tamar?” Shea piped in, grinning in Tamar’s direction.

  When I looked down at Tamar, my chest prodded somewhere deep, this sort of fucked-up pride that didn’t belong. But I liked that she was enjoying herself, that she felt comfortable and safe while being in my space. The mood was light and easy, and Ash’s old house only added to the relaxed atmosphere.

  But maybe that was just the issue I had, always watching for Blue underneath all the Red. Worried something would trigger her and she’d go spiraling down to that desolate place where I couldn’t stand for her to be.

  Didn’t know why I had this crazy visceral reaction to protect her from going to that place. Like somehow it’d become my responsibility. My duty.

  Right now, though, she was all Red, and she glanced at me quickly and cracked one of those smirks that damned near drove me out of my mind, before she turned back to Ash.

  “I’m sure you have this all twisted around, Ash,” she teased with a cock of her head. “She was probably protecting herself from the likes of you. I have seen you in action, you know.”

  Ash slammed his hand over his heart. “Oh, Tam Tam. Do you really have that little faith in me?”

  Tonight we were actually supposed to be practicing, and surprise, surprise, it’d turned into the Ash Evans Show.

  Sebastian and Shea had gotten back from their two-week honeymoon a couple days ago. Considering we only had six weeks until we had to head back to L.A. to finish up the tracks, we decided we’d better keep ourselves up to par before we let the easy, slacker life take us over.

  We weren’t getting a whole lot done.

  I knew Shea would be coming along since the song she and Sebastian had written would be showcased on the next album. That and the fact he pretty much wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

  Honestly, there had been no hesitation on my part when Sebastian had suggested we consider the song for the album. Shea had a voice unlike any I’d ever heard. It’d be the last track. One to round out our expected thrashing songs, this one soft and sweet and slow, just like Sebastian’s girl.

  Tamar had been in tow.

  Should I have been pissed? Resistant to her unconsciously weaving her way into my tight-knit group?

  Maybe.

  But the truth of it was, I wanted her there.

  And I just sat here and pretended it didn’t mean anything.

  From where he was sitting on the couch across from me with Shea curled up on his lap, Sebastian lifted his chin, and I turned to catch him watching me watching Tamar. His eyes narrowed in question. In curiosity.

  I gave him a short, quick shake of my head.

  Don’t even.

  Not a chance in hell was I about to let him go there. Not any more than I was going to let Ash or Zee, for that matter. Yeah, so what if this was the first time any of them had seen me with a girl. In fucking years. Not since when I didn’t want to remember.

  And I wasn’t talking about the ones that came and went faster than I could catch their names.

  I was talking about one being at my side while I stood at hers.

  But six weeks from now? This would all be over. In the end, would she be just another nameless, faceless body?

  A swelling of emotion locked up my throat.

  No.

  This girl.

  This girl was unforgettable.

  “So anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Ash tossed out at Tamar, his blue eyes glaring wide, “this crazy bitch was suddenly on the dirty, grimy floor. I don’t know if she tripped or launched herself at me, or what, but there she was, wrapped around my leg while I’m trying to shake her off like a bad dream. I fucking panicked. Like panicked. Started hauling her ass across the floor while she’s hanging on.”

  He shook his leg to demonstrate.

  “Then she turns tactic and starts pleading with me that she’d seen a psychic and I’m her soul mate and I just don’t know it yet, but we were gonna have three boys named Kurt, Kaleb, and Kyle, and we were going to live on a farm in Missouri. At that point, I literally had to pry this girl’s fingers from my le
gs because I’d had enough psycho for the night.”

  Somehow he both shivered and grinned. “I mean, I know I’m irresistible and all, but come on, a farm in Missouri? And three boys? Pssh. This girl obviously didn’t know me at all. She had to be lyin’.”

  I busted out laughing. “You think she was lying, huh? What clued you in? And since when are you so selective?”

  “Since this one could probably break me in half.”

  Ash took a swig of his beer, forehead bent up like he was deep in thought. “In all honesty, I totally get it and I don’t blame the girl.” He stretched his arms out wide, smiling like the cocky bastard he was. “Girls can’t resist grabbing on and going for a ride.”

  “Seriously, Ash!” Tamar shook her head, stirring me up with the throaty lilt of her laugh. “Did you ever hear of this little thing called humility?”

  He frowned. “What’s that? It sounds like a terrible disease. I pray I don’t catch it.”

  “You’re such an asshole,” she teased with a smile as she took another sip. That mouth wrapped around the lip of the bottle, and I squirmed in my seat.

  Damn.

  With her arms draped around Baz’s neck, Shea grinned at him. “Come on, Ash, don’t act like we can’t see your hand. Your poker face isn’t all that great and Tamar and I are totally onto your game. Look at this big old house begging to be filled up with a bunch of babies. Before you know it, you’re going to have a herd of baby Ashes running up and down the stairs.”

  Her eyes bounced around to everyone. “Y’all just wait. I’m putting down bets. A hundred bucks.”

  Zee hopped up and clapped his hands together. “I’ll take that bet and raise you a hundred, because there isn’t a girl in her right mind who’s going to stick around here long enough to put up with his ass.”

  Ash smirked at Zee. “All except for you.”

  “Dude…so not cool. Not cool at all,” Zee said with a slow, offended shake of his head.

  Ash swiveled and pointed at Shea’s belly, and his voice slanted in artificial sincerity. “And in case you all hadn’t noticed, Baz Boy up and went and stole my girl…my dearest, Beautiful Shea. I had to bear the crushing news that baby’s not mine. All my chances have been shot to hell. Heart broken. Happiness gone.”