BlackJack (A Standish Bay Romance Book 1)

by Donovan, Christine

  “Uh huh,” he grunted.

  “Do you know him?”

  “Yup,” he mumbled.

  “Isn’t he on tour or something?”

  “Yeah he is, but I know for a fact he flies home once a month to check in with his parole officer.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Cameron frowned and sighed as he remembered the last time he’d seen Cole. What a mess his dad made of that day. “My mom used to date him.”

  ***

  Amber sat up straight and took a good look at him. Tall and thin with long, thick brown hair curling up at his neck. His deep hazel eyes made him look cute as hell. Lose fitting faded jeans and black Nike T-shirt looked good on him. The big question was, was he telling the truth, or just being a typical teenage asshole trying to impress her? Somehow though, she thought he was being straight with her. She hoped so anyway because she liked him.

  “Your mom dated Cole Jackson?”

  “Yeah, sounds hard to believe, but it’s true. I even played with him on stage at the Boston Garden.”

  She remembered hearing something about some gifted musician playing with BlackJack. That was Cameron? She shifted in her seat, leaning closer and tightening her grip on their still entwined fingers. “Get out. What was it like?”

  Cameron’s face lit up and Amber smiled. Damn he was cute.

  “It was incredible, even better than incredible, more like awesome. Being up on stage with thousands of screaming fans listening to you play was strange. I don’t know how to describe it except to say it’s indescribable. I always dreamed about it, but my dreams didn’t even come close to the real thing.”

  “What’s Cole like?”

  “Not like you’d think. He’s quiet, protective of those he cares about and treats me as an equal.” Cameron’s face lit up again. “We’ve written several songs together and man, oh man, he’s talented. He wrote all the music and lyrics to every song BlackJack has ever recorded.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Amber suddenly became quiet, and Cameron thought she looked sad.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Amber pulled her hand from his. “Do I look ugly to you?”

  “No. I think you’re pretty.”

  Her eyes flew to his and widened with hope. “You do?” She hoped he was telling the truth because she found him hot.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “What about my nose rings and my eyebrow studs?”

  “They’re okay.”

  “I hate them—the piercings. I only did it to get my dad’s attention, and to tell you the truth…I don’t think he even noticed. Other people notice though, they stare at me, at them, even you did.”

  She proceeded to remove two nose rings, several eyebrow studs and place them in her pocket.

  “I like the way you look without them,” Cameron said as he smiled at her shyly.

  “Cameron. There’s barely anyone on the bus and it’s dark. Would you have sex with me?” she whispered.

  ***

  Cole’s morning went like clockwork and after meeting with his parole officer he drove straight to LAX and boarded his flight to Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Boring as hell was all he could think. Where were the heavy traffic and delays when you wanted them? The flight was even boring and so was the drive to the hotel. Almost too calm, too boring, too easy and it unsettled him. Something didn’t feel right in his bones.

  He found Ted and Brad in the suite next to his room. The puzzled expressions on their faces had Cole stopping dead in his tracks. Also present was Ward, who Cole glared at. Did he really think they wanted him here? What did he hope to gain by latching onto them? It wasn’t as though they could help him with his destroyed career, nor was Lindsey alive for him to have an affair with? Oh, shit. Was he having an affair with Ted or Brad’s wife? He’d think about Ward later, right now he needed to help AJ.

  “What’s wrong,” he queried.

  Ted and Brad exchanged looks, then Ted began to talk and what he had to say didn’t sound good. “AJ’s acting weird man. He won’t come out of his room.”

  “What do you mean he won’t come out of his room?” Cole said as his skin prickled.

  Brad interrupted, “Just that, he refuses to leave his room. He orders room service and won’t let anyone else inside.”

  Cole’s stomach churned as he remembered AJ’s strange phone call from the night before. Something had to be seriously wrong for him to act this way. AJ happened to be the most reliable, down-to-earth, head-on-straight person he knew. This behavior was so not like him. Could there be a problem with his wife and kids back in Scotland? Cole ran his hands through his hair in total panic and frustration. Jesus, all AJ had to do was come to him if he had any problems. Cole went to AJ with his problems all the time, so did everyone else in the band, didn’t he know he could do the same?

  “Hey Ted, how much time before we have to leave for the show?” Cole asked anxiously.

  Ted glanced at his wristwatch. “Two hours at the latest and that’s pushing it.”

  Cole grunted a reply and went out into the hall and knocked on AJ’s door. By this time his heart vibrated in his chest and his hands shook from worry. Didn’t he think earlier in the day that things were going too smoothly? Now he knew why? This behavior was so totally not AJ, not like him at all. He was everybody’s rock, everybody’s anchor in a storm.

  He raised his hand and rapped his knuckles on the door. The door with the do not disturb sign hanging on the knob. An unintelligible muffled answer came from the other side.

  “AJ, it’s me Cole. Let me in.”

  Still no reply came forth that Cole could fully comprehend.

  “Hey man. You’re scaring me. Let me in or I’ll get housekeeping to do it.”

  Finally he heard AJ answer.

  “She won’t let you in. Ah paid her big bucks tae keep her key tae herself.”

  That wasn’t good and he sounded like crap. In fact he sounded drunk or high or both. Cole leaned his weary body against the wall and exhaled loudly. Think man, think. AJ called last night talking about Lindsey. Hell, maybe he missed her, but come on, enough to push everyone away? It didn’t make sense? But shit, what did make sense in this world lately? Absofuckinglutely nothing made sense, that’s what.

  “Come on AJ, talk to me. Tell me what’s bugging you?”

  No answer.

  “Come on. It’s me. We can tell each other anything. We’re like brothers man.”

  Cole waited, feeling more and more unsettled with every unanswered question. So unsettled his body shivered from the inside out and his knees threatened to buckle.

  “AJ shit, talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me?”

  “I can’t,” came through the door in what sounded to Cole like a sob.

  “You’re scaring me here. I don’t do scare well and you know that. Do you want to do the show tonight?”

  “Aye, go without me. Ah promise tae be there on time.”

  Cole tapped his head against the wall numerous times in frustration at being unable to help his friend. A friend who never needed his help before now, and he really didn’t know what to do. It scared the shit out of him to hear AJ like this.

  “AJ are you sure.”

  “Go,” he growled out. “Ah’m fine. Leave me be.”

  Cole hated to leave him to his own devices, but what could he do? He swallowed the lump in his throat and went to his own room to prepare. Christ, as this tour continued on and on he found himself less liking it and wanting to go home. But where did he call home?

  Ten minutes before the show was to begin, AJ showed up looking like he crawled out of a cave after a three-day bender. His clothes were dirty. His hair looked in desperate need of a wash and comb. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken and his hands, Cole noticed when he went to pick up his guitar, trembled.

  Damn, he looked like hell and Cole wondered how he would make it through the concert. Somehow he did. He never spoke to him, or to anyone else. He pla
yed like a machine, inhuman. AJ played like a man dead in his soul and in his heart, but his body was very much alive and going through the motions, just like a well-oiled robot. Cole didn’t know what to think about it or what to do?

  And when Cole had gotten a good look at AJ’s eyes, they looked glazed over and void of life as though there was nobody home. Shit. Something had a hold on him and it was squeezing the life out of him. Cole could relate. He’d probably looked like that fifteen years ago.

  When the concert ended, AJ fled without a word. A chill swept up Cole’s spine and he once again felt weary, worried and unsettled. Something in his gut told him a violent storm brewed inside AJ and nothing good would come of it. A major catastrophe threatened him, and Cole was damned because he didn’t know how to help him or how to reach him and snap him out of his trance.

  And then a selfish thought occurred to him. Who would deal with the radio DJ’s and television reporters backstage if AJ didn’t? Shit. It looked like he would be. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to be the band’s spokesperson tonight.

  A wave crashed inside him, threatening to take him under and never release him. That was how terrified of reporters he was, and it embarrassed him to no end to admit it. But it was the truth.

  After he showered in his dressing room and changed into clean jeans and a T-shirt, he looked at himself in the mirror and gave himself a pep talk. Whether it helped or not remained to be seen. He just had to focus and block out the words, murder, wife and Lindsey and he’d be fine. Yeah right, keep telling yourself that and maybe you won’t puke your guts up.

  Pausing outside the door, he took a deep breath, clenched his teeth shut and walked inside. His first thought was who the hell were all these people? His eyes darted around and it wasn’t long before people recognized him and began to crowd his personal space. And Cole considered anything within ten feet of himself his personal space.

  He tried to be pleasant and answer questions and sign autographs for fans. All in all it went okay until this guy shoved a microphone in his face and asked the question.

  “Did you kill your wife?”

  Just like that he asked it, like it was no big deal, like he asked it all the time, as though it was nothing more than casual conversation. Cole froze on the spot, his pulse soared and the room began to tilt as black spots flashed in his eyes. He mumbled something even he couldn’t understand. Thankfully, someone grabbed his arm tightly and led him out of the room, down the hall and into a deserted unlocked room.

  Whoever rescued him pushed him gently onto a sofa, forced his head down between his knees and held him in that position. Then he heard the woman’s voice.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Better?”

  “Hell no,” Cole spat out.

  “Sometimes it takes a few minutes to get your bearings back,” said the woman in a calm, soft, comforting and strangely familiar voice.

  “You can take your hand away. I’m okay now.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She snatched it away.”

  Once her hand left his head, Cole reclined back on the couch and looked at his savior. It was none other than Marlene Simpson. The talk show host he’d met when she’d interviewed Shannon. His body tensed and his guard went up. What could she possibly want? As if he didn’t know?

  “If you’re hoping for an interview I already told...”

  Her hand rose up, palm out. “No. I respect what you told me before. But I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here?”

  Cole raised a brow and when Marlene smiled at him he relaxed, and for some unknown reason he suddenly felt as though he could trust her.

  “I came for the concert. My daughter and her friend are backstage waiting for me. I told them I could possibly introduce them to you, but I saw you panic at something the reporter said, and the next thing I knew we were in here.”

  Cole slid across the couch and invited her to sit down. It was the least he could do after she saved him from embarrassing himself in front of all those people by having an anxiety attack or worse, hitting the floor from fainting. He studied her and assessed her. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, average height, nicely built and attractive in many ways. Not that he was the least bit interested, but she was nicely put together. Cole cleared his throat.

  “I owe you a thanks. I almost lost it. I was convinced I was going to pass out in there,” he snorted and put his hands up. “I can see the headlines. ‘Cole Jackson, after having drunk himself into a stupor, collapses after a concert.’” He pulled the leather strap out of his hair and combed his fingers through it. “I’m nobody. Why does everybody bother me?”

  “Cole?”

  He felt her warm hand on his knee, and he knew it rested there purely for comfort and nothing else.

  “You are somebody. You’re a talented, handsome man who happens to pique the interest of everyone around you because of your past. You’re an enigma, which only makes people push harder to know the person behind the screen. And I speak from experience when I say it’s not going to stop until you tell your story. And even then there are no guarantees it will stop.”

  Cole knew what she referred to. Even though he’d been in prison at the time, he remembered Marlene making headlines a few years back. Her second husband had been arrested and convicted of statutory rape, among other things. He had sexually assaulted her daughter and some of her daughter’s friends. He supplied them with alcohol and drugs then had sex with them. It took a longtime for the media to stop hounding her about it. Finally she’d gone public with her side of the story. But Cole didn’t know if he could?

  “I can’t give an interview.” The words struggled to come out of his mouth because he felt so deflated of energy.

  “Why?”

  “That’s a damn good question.” Cole looked over at Marlene and was shocked to see genuine concern for him reflected in her eyes. He didn’t even know this woman, so why?

  “I can’t give an interview. You saw what just happened. The bastard asked if I killed my wife and I lost it. It would be one thing if I got angry, but I nearly blacked out. I would have blacked out if you hadn’t come to my rescue.” He paused and looked right at her. “By the way.” His face softened and he smiled. “Thank you again.”

  “What if you did the interview with...say...me?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, his guard back up. He should’ve known it would come up.

  She put up her hand, the concerned look still there. “Hear me out. It’s just a suggestion. Say I interview you and promise not to bring up Lindsey. We chat about your life now. Your music now, and only, and I mean only, if you bring it up do we discuss it.”

  She appeared so sincere Cole almost wanted to agree. He smiled at her. “You’re a nice person Marlene.” He shook his head, disgusted in himself. “I’m thirty-eight, a big guy, a tough guy, you’d think I could handle it?”

  Everything she said about reporters hounding him rang true. He’d been out of prison for more than a year and still he couldn’t shake the press or his past. It was probably better to go public with his story once and for all. And Marlene would be the only one he’d go public with. What he said next clearly shocked her and he liked that.

  “I have another concert tomorrow night, how about tomorrow, early afternoon?”

  It took her a moment to find her voice. “Perfect.”

  “I want it to be informal, and I want to see the questions you’re going to ask me ahead of time.”

  “No problem.”

  He figured she’d agree to just about anything to get her interview. “And you promise not to ask me if I killed Lindsey?”

  She put her hand on her heart. “You have my word.”

  “Good enough,” he resigned. “I’ll do it tomorrow at your studio and oh, one more thing, no questions from the audience.”

  “We won’t have an audience. It’ll just be the two of us.”

  “Even better,” he murmured.

  Cole sent Marlene to get her daughter a
nd her friend and they enjoyed a bite to eat at a small out of the way diner that served breakfast all day and night long. Cole indulged himself with eggs, bacon and home fried potatoes. He couldn’t remember the last time a meal went down so smoothly. Well, actually he could remember, the last time he’d been with Shannon. But as not to spoil the night, he pushed all thoughts of Shannon out of his head until later when he relaxed in the privacy of his hotel room.

  ***

  “Lindsey, ye don’t mean that?”

  “Yes I do. It’s over. I want to go back to Cole. He needs me and I really do love him.”

  “Ah can’t accept that. Ah love you. Ah know it’s not Cole ye love. There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

  “Get out.”

  “Lindsey, please?”

  He found himself begging. It was the most humiliating thing he’d ever done, and for what, a woman who’d suck any man’s dick that struck her fancy? But he loved her, God damn it, he loved her. Something inside him snapped.

  Hating himself, hating her, he slapped her, then he saw something metal in her hands and there was a struggle for control.

  ***

  AJ flew out of bed in the middle of the night, ran into the bathroom and dry-heaved again. It seemed to be all he did lately. Sitting on the cold tile floor, he hugged himself as he rocked back and forth and hummed. Had he lost his mind? The truth was he probably lost it the night Lindsey died, the night he killed her. How else could he explain never having remembered it, until now? His dreams and memories had progressed so he knew most of what happened, most, but not all. Some of it seemed a little sketchy, like the actual stabbing part. He didn’t remember that at all. Nor did he remember seeing her dead body. Why were those memories lost to him?

  Christ. He killed her. He’d killed Cole’s wife, Lindsey Jackson, his lover. How could he have done it? Never mind not remembering it until now? He didn’t even know what he’d done with the knife or his clothes. There must have been blood?

  “Oh God, Lindsey,” he sobbed out. “Forgive me. Please, please, please forgive me for taking yer beautiful life.”