by Jayne Frost
My appetite gone, I took my plate to the sink. “We’re golden,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “Don’t worry until there’s something to worry about.”
Taryn nodded, but it wasn’t until her phone rang that she smiled for real. Only one person could make her grin like that. Chase.
“Hey, babe,” she said, looking relaxed for the first time all morning. But as the seconds elapsed, her smile melted by degrees. “Oh, shit.” Her gaze darted to mine. “Yeah, I understand. Let me talk to Tori first.”
I set my fresh cup of coffee on the island to keep it from crashing to the ground when my hand began to shake. “Talk to me about what?”
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples. “It’s Logan. We’ve got to go.”
Dylan slid an arm around my shoulder. “Go where?”
Taryn hauled to her feet, lips pressed into a grim line. “To the courthouse. That idiot is in jail.”
6
The shiny metal cuffs chaffed my wrists as the guard led me down the crowded hallway of the Travis County Courthouse. By the time I’d completed my walk of shame, I’m pretty sure at least three people had taken pictures. Or videos.
Not that I cared.
Despite my swollen knuckles and the blood staining my skin—the other guy’s, not mine—I was innocent. The fact that I didn’t have a scratch on me probably wouldn’t go a long way toward helping my cause. And then there was the matter of my two prior convictions for drunk and disorderly and fighting from my dive bar days.
Yeah, I was fucked.
I didn’t realize how fucked until I entered the small, windowless room marked Client Conference and found Trevor and not Chase.
The guard closed the door, taking any hope that he’d remove my cuffs with him.
“I was worried for a minute,” I said to Trevor dryly as I dropped into the cracked vinyl chair across the table from him. “But I guess if I was in serious trouble, Chase would’ve called a real attorney.”
Trevor’s expensive suit and business haircut did little to tarnish the memories of him from the old days, drunk off his ass and passed out on the floor of whatever bar Caged happened to be playing at.
His bitter smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And I’m guessing a real attorney might’ve let you cool your heels in the holding cell until your arraignment.”
Arraignment. That got my attention.
“It was self-defense,” I replied, my voice a little shaky. “The fuckers jumped me.”
Clasping his hands on the marred table, Trevor scrutinized me with a narrowed gaze. “Before or after you left the fight club?” When I couldn’t muster a response, he shook his head. “This is some serious shit, bro.”
Pain shot from my knuckles when I flexed my fingers, and I dropped my gaze to the caked on blood in the cracks. “How serious?”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out. Chase is meeting with some friend of his. An assistant DA.”
My mind jumped to the one thing I hadn’t considered. “I have to get out of here. I leave for the tour in less than a week.”
Trevor tossed his pen on the table. “Unless Chase can pull off a miracle, you’re not going anywhere. Not without an ankle bracelet, at least.”
Is that what was on the table? House arrest?
My head fell forward and, catching sight of my reflection in the steel cuffs, my father’s words from long ago echoed from somewhere deep inside.
You ain’t nothin’ and you’ll never be nothin’.
And for the first time, I let myself believe he might’ve been right.
A couple of hours later, the guard finally led me into the courtroom. Bright sunlight poured through the windows, and I blinked, my lids like sandpaper over my bloodshot eyes.
The room was empty, my footsteps echoing off the ceiling as I shuffled to the defendant’s table where Trevor sorted through a stack of paperwork.
“Where is everyone?” I asked as I took my seat.
Panic churned, crawling from my twisted gut, but I pushed it down. I didn’t need anyone to hold my hand. Still, I wondered why none of my bandmates were here.
Trevor shoved a stack of documents in front of me. “I just talked to Chase about five minutes ago. They’re posting your bond.”
Thank fuck.
Hiding my relief, I pretended to scan the document while Trevor ran a distracted hand through his hair. “It’s all in there. If you have any questions …” His phone vibrated. “I’ve got to take this.” Swiping a finger over the screen, he pushed to his feet. “Just read it,” he mouthed, tipping his chin at the papers in my hand.
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered to his retreating back as he walked away.
Refocusing on the documents, the letters formed their usual jumble. A thin sheen of sweat popped out on my brow as I tried to concentrate.
“Lo?”
Melting at the familiar voice, and the comforting hand on my shoulder, I blinked up at Anna.
“Hey,” I said, and there it was again, that tremble in my tone. Hoping she didn’t notice, I glanced around. “Where’s Sean?”
“He’s with Chase and Taryn.” Her gaze darted to Trevor, holed up across the room with the phone cemented to his ear. “I thought maybe you might need me to, um … help.”
A refusal coiled around my tongue, false pride stiffening my spine. But this was Anna. My best friend’s girl had figured out my problem way back in high school. There was no use lying.
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
One word—tinged with defeat. Shame. Soul-deep humiliation.
Smiling, Anna set down her bag, taking a seat in Trevor’s chair. Rather than read me the document, she looked into my eyes. “Chase pulled some strings and got his friend to agree to a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“Well, you still have to go to court. You wailed on that guy pretty good.” She shifted her gaze to my mangled hand, and I got the urge to hide the evidence.
“It was self-defense,” I blurted.
As if to argue the point, a memory of the guy’s bloody face floated through my mind.
“Is that all you got, rock star?” he’d sneered.
And like a dumbass, I’d taken the bait, delivering a knockout punch straight to his jaw.
“Yeah, I know,” Anna said. “I mean … I saw the tape. Those guys followed you out of the club.”
My stomach dropped to my shoes. “There’s a tape?”
She nodded. “Chase figured there had to be security cameras, so he paid the owner of the building a visit.”
“Dex?”
“No. Dex just rents the place. The owner is a suit. He was reluctant to help at first. But Chase persuaded him to turn over the footage.”
My shoulders slumped, and I closed my eyes. Chase was a land developer, and a well-respected business man. But he wasn’t above using his muscle to protect those he loved. And that included me. But I could fight my own battles. This was about Taryn—his girl—and what she stood to lose if there was a scandal.
Silence hung between us for a few beats, because Anna knew it too, how entwined our lives had become with Twin Souls.
“So you saw the tape.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “The dude came after me first. Why am I here?”
“Diminished capacity,” Anna replied softly.
I was vaguely familiar with the term. Anna was a law student, and she spouted more legalese than the average person by double. I guess I’d picked up on a little of it.
“I wasn’t drunk.” A rueful smile curved my lips. “My capacity was undiminished.”
“Not you, Lo. Him. He was drunk or … high … or something. And the DA said you should’ve …”
“Walked away?”
Anna dropped her gaze to her hands, nodding. She always looked for the best in people. Which sometimes led to disappointment where I was concerned.
A sigh parted my lips. “Well, we both know I didn’t do that. So what does that mean?”
Straightening her spine, she looked me in the eyes. “It means that you’re going to need to take anger management classes. And if you want to do the tour, you need to have someone with you.”
I barked out a laugh. “Half the Twin Souls roster is on the bill. Plus, you’re going to be there and the rest of the guys. It’s not like I’m going to be alone.”
“That’s not enough. It has to be someone with a fiduciary,” she paused, then amended, “a vested interest. Someone with money on the line. For your bond.”
“I’ll pay my own bond.”
My tone had a hard edge that I didn’t mean to direct at her.
Unfazed, she placed a hand on my arm. “You can’t. And before you even ask, it can’t be a member of the band. Or Chase. The DA said it was a conflict of interest.”
Reality punched me hard in the chest, stealing my breath. She’d just named every person in the world with the means and the desire to help me.
The door creaked open, and Anna hauled to her feet. “Be nice,” she warned.
Nodding weakly, I waited for Sean to yank me out of my chair. Or maybe Cameron or Christian would take the first shot. But it was Tori who slid into the seat beside me.
Fucking perfect.
Easing back in my chair, I crossed my legs at the ankles. “Come to watch the show, princess?”
“Get over yourself, Cage.”
She snatched the plea agreement from the table, and I caught her wrist.
“Hey! That’s none of your business.”
Her amber eyes heated as she twisted out of my hold. “Really? I think it is.”
Digging a slip of paper from her back pocket, she tossed it onto my lap. A receipt. With a hell of a lot of zeros.
Lifting it carefully, as if it were a bomb that could blow off a finger, I met her gaze. “What is this?”
But I knew. Even before Trevor ended his call and rushed over to keep the peace, I knew. Tori paid the bond. She was the person with the vested interest.
I locked eyes with my attorney. “Please tell me you didn’t agree to this.”
Trevor rubbed the back of his neck, looking more than fed up. “I can’t agree to anything. It’s up to you. But if you want to do the tour, this is your only option.”
Tori didn’t betray any emotion beyond irritation. But that was nothing new. The girl couldn’t stand me. And the feeling was mutual. Sort of. When I wasn’t thinking about wringing her neck, I did have the occasional fantasy about what she might look like naked.
“Will you sign the paperwork, already?” she snapped. “I’ve got things to do.”
Whatever momentary bout of insanity had me considering the offer faded.
Wadding up the receipt, I lobbed it back at her. “You go ahead and do what you gotta do. Because I’m not signing shit.”
7
Logan’s bail receipt landed on the floor a couple of feet from the table.
“You can’t do that.” Panicked, I turned to Trevor. “Tell him he can’t do that.”
Shaking his head, the attorney threw his hands up. “You tell him. I’m done. Y’all need to work this out for yourselves.” Briefcase in hand, he headed for the door. “I’ll be in the hallway when you decide what you want to do.”
Once we were alone, Logan laced his fingers behind his head and looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. “You really know how to clear a room, Grayson.”
I discreetly dug my nails into my palms to keep from scratching his eyes out. But of course, he noticed. Logan was observant that way. At least when it came to me. He loved getting under my skin, like it was some kind of game. But today, I didn’t have time to play. In the last hour, two more groups had dropped out of the tour. Taryn was on the phone with our West Coast attorney while Dylan was frantically making calls to the other down ticket bands, offering who knows what. That left me with one job: keeping Caged on the bill. And in order to do that, I needed their lead singer out of jail.
“Just sign the papers,” I said, my tone even. “It’s a good deal.”
Quirking a brow, Logan tipped his chair back on two legs. “And why would I do that? I’m innocent. Or haven’t you heard?”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re innocent. The only way you’re getting out of here today is if you take the deal.” I glanced over his dirty jeans and stringy hair. “Or would you rather stay in jail?”
A dry chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “You’re going to have to do better than that, princess. They can’t hold me longer than three days. And even if they charge me, which they won’t, I can post my own bond and take my chances in front of the judge.” All the humor faded from his features and the chair hit the floor with a loud thud. “So I don’t need you.”
He was right. I’d seen the tape. Even with the vicious beat down Logan had issued, he clearly didn’t start the fight.
Tongue tied, I contemplated the demise of my business while Logan waited patiently for my next move.
Only I didn’t have one.
Pushing out of my chair, I willed away the nausea churning in my belly. “Fine … whatever,” I snapped as I scooted around him. “It’s your mess. You clean it up.”
As I bent down to snatch the bail slip from the floor, a searing pain travelled from my hip to my pelvis. “Shit,” I breathed, stumbling backward.
The ground came up fast, and I braced for impact. But Logan was out of his seat, hands molded to my waist, before I hit the floor. “I got you.”
His heart beat soundly against my back, steady and reassuring. Which only added to my humiliation.
“I’m fine,” I wheezed.
He didn’t call me on the lie, but when I tried to move, his grip turned to iron. “Just stay still for a minute, will you?”
A mild protest crawled up my throat, but it took too much effort to force it out, so I just nodded. Heat rose in my cheeks when I realized my fingers were locked on top of his in a death grip.
“I’m okay now.” Slanting my gaze to his, I blinked up at him. “You can let go.”
Let go. Please let go.
Logan was one of the few people who didn’t look at me like I was made of glass. And I’d do anything to keep it that way.
Unfurling his fingers from my waist, he took a step back. “What was that?”
Me.
Or what was left of me after the multiple surgeries and months of rehab. Rather than bore him with the details, I shrugged. “Just a head rush. I didn’t finish my breakfast. One of my clients got thrown in jail.”
He frowned, and for a moment I felt bad. But then I thought of my tour and I couldn’t find the will to care.
“See you, Logan.”
He caught my arm. “Wait.”
Surprised, I looked down at his hand, then up to his face. For a moment we just stared at each other. His eyes, the palest blue, were so clear, a glacier reflecting the sky. Add to it the high cheekbones, full lips, and golden blond hair that fell just past his shoulders, and he was the full package. The quintessential rock star.
He finally blinked, then dropped his arm, and strode back to the table where he scribbled his signature on the plea agreement.
Relief flooded me, but quickly evaporated when he turned my way. “I don’t need a babysitter, Grayson.” Irritation threaded his tone. “Stay out of my way, and let me do my job. Are we clear?”
I wanted to tell him to shove it. To let him know he wasn’t in a position to dictate terms. But I couldn’t.
As much as it pained me to admit it, I needed Logan. So much that I was willing to do the one thing I swore I’d never do again: step foot on a tour bus.
Setting my jaw, I reached for the lifeline he offered.
“Are we clear?” he repeated, holding the papers aloft.
The asshole actually wanted me to say the words.
“Crystal,” I bit out.
He thrust the documents into my waiting hand as he brushed past me. “See you in a few days, princess.”
Dropping onto the closes
t bench, I wilted against the wood.
What did I just do?
8
I spent the next two days lying low at Sean’s house out at the lake. And when I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I drove into town to see my sister.
Laurel threw open the door, and despite how we left things when I’d seen her last, she flung herself into my arms. “Logan … I saw the news. What happened?” She tipped her head back to look up at me. “And why haven’t you returned my calls? I was so worried.”
As much as I wanted to be angry at my sister, I couldn’t do it. Especially knowing Jake was here. The man wasn’t a physical threat any longer. Emotionally, I wasn’t sure.
Searching Laurel’s face out of habit for any signs of … whatever, I tucked a curl behind her ear. “I’m fine. I’ve been at Sean’s.”
“I know. I talked to Anna.” She looped her arm through mine. “Come in.”
Silence swelled between us like an overfilled balloon as I held my ground on my side of the imaginary line. He was in there, tainting the air with every breath he took. But then, so was Laurel. For that reason, I crossed the threshold.
Lingering just inside the door, I shifted my feet. “Listen, I’m leaving tomorrow and I wanted—”
“Laurel!” My father’s gravelly voice floated in from the living room, and it was like he reached inside and pulled me into the past. Right back to that trailer with the holes in the walls and the dirty dishes in the sink.
Every instinct told me to run. But I was frozen, my limbs like stone.
Laurel cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. “I’m sorry … Let me see what he needs.”
What he needed was to be gone. Out of this loft. And out of our lives. But my sister didn’t seem to share my views on the matter, and she took off like a shot.
Get your shit together, you little pussy.
It may have been my thought, but it was Jake’s voice in my head. And that was enough to peel my boots from the floor and follow my sister.
Jake inhabited the same spot in front of the TV as the last time. Deep crevices lined his face, and his mouth was slightly agape as he gazed up at Laurel with watery blue eyes.