by Cari Quinn
She nodded, firming her jaw. “Let’s start with some Beatles for Mama.”
“Lucy?”
Elle smiled. “What else?”
Her mother had sang that one to her as a baby. Elle’s middle name was Lucille, so “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” had always been her special song.
It felt a little like the musicians on the Titanic playing while they waited for the ship to sink, except she wasn’t nearly as skilled. Nicky went slow, repeating parts with her, taking over when she fumbled and cursed and nearly dropped the guitar.
Some was for show. Some wasn’t.
Hours passed. By midnight, they knew it wasn’t happening that night.
Might never happen.
She gave Nicky a long hug before they parted, then she went home with Mal, unable to stop touching him when they were in the bed she already thought of as theirs. And in the darkest part of the night, when she was sure he’d whispered “I love you” into the silence, she said the same thing back to him, her lips tattooing the words into his chest.
Now she had more than ever to lose, so she wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t.
The next day passed slowly. She was on edge, snapping at everyone. This had to end now. She couldn’t live this way.
Then it was finally time to join Nicky in the studio again.
She reached for her guitar, clutching it in fingers that were cold and boneless.
“Do you ever think about Mama? Beyond playing the music she liked.”
She hadn’t planned on the question, but Nicky nodded as if he’d been expecting it all along.
“Yeah.” He rubbed his thumb over the well-worn dents and dings in his guitar. “I wonder if she’s okay. If she knows anything about us.” He smiled faintly. “If she would be surprised I had the girls.”
“I’d say everyone was surprised about that.”
His smile deepened for a moment before disappearing. “It changes everything. You’re not just looking out for you anymore. You have to be their guardian, their protector.” He stared hard at her. “Like I always tried to protect you. Until I failed you.”
She shook her head. “No. You never failed me. I failed myself.”
“This is because of me.”
“No. It’s not. It’s absolutely not.”
“You aren’t the only one I turned my back on at the wrong time. Maybe if I’d seen something, done something—”
“We all make our choices. I made mine. I’m still making them.” She flexed her fingers and closed her eyes. “I’m afraid PT won’t be enough. That some of the player I was before is gone. You know how tenuous it all is.”
“I have faith in you. I know you’ll come back from this.”
The absolute certainty in his voice had her opening her eyes. Somehow she managed to smile. “You and me, we’re going to be practicing side by side when we’re eighty and gray.”
He smiled back, but she didn’t miss the deep grooves of tension that bracketed his eyes. “Just like we were when we were too small to hold the damn guitars.”
She played a few notes, registering the echoing ache in her arm. She could play through it. It wasn’t going to kill her.
Just keep going.
“Wonder if someday the girls will do this too. Be like us.”
“Bite your tongue.”
She laughed weakly. “Don’t want any more guitarists in the family?”
“I don’t want them in this business. They can play folk guitar on the weekends and do something nice and normal during the week. Working as accountants would be good. Or in medicine. Maybe law.”
She snorted. “Folk guitar? Okay, sure.”
“Wait until it’s your turn. You’ll see.”
“I can’t wait,” she said softly, suddenly unbearably sad.
What if she never got that chance? What if her turn to have a family never came?
“Don’t suppose you’ve had that conversation yet?” he asked idly while he strummed.
“Which one?”
“The one where your dude better be ready to be a father or you’ll show him the door.”
Her lips twitched, which was a kind of miracle considering. “Kinda soon, don’t you think?”
“Better to be on the same page.”
“You just want him off my page entirely.”
“No,” he said after a moment. “No, I don’t. I think he’s good for you. You deserve someone who loves you, and I believe he does. Besides, he knows I’ll kick his ass if he does you wrong.”
She hid her smile behind her hair. “Yeah, even if he thinks you can’t deliver. He’s a big guy, you know.”
“Did he say that?”
“Hmm?” she asked innocently.
Nicky started to reply when the lights in the main studio went out. “Fuck.” He grabbed for her, jerking on her bad arm and sending her guitar clattering. He gripped his in his other hand, brandishing it like a weapon as the door creaked open as slowly as if they were in a horror movie.
The moment hung suspended until the figure in a dark hoodie and jeans stepped into the room.
She nearly stumbled backward, but not from the sight of the gun Snake held. It was his smile. So infinitely patient, as if he’d been waiting for this night and now it was here.
His perfect opportunity, handed to him on a platter.
“My two favorite Crandalls. Long time, no see.” He kicked the door shut behind him.
Her brother’s hand clamped hard on her hip. He was like a human shield, blocking as much of her from Snake’s view as possible.
God, she loved him, even if she wished so damn much he didn’t have to worry about protecting her all the time.
“Wish I could say the same, Snake, but you aren’t my favorite anything. Not anymore.”
“Not even surprised to see me?” Snake sighed. “I figured that worm Dex had turned. So difficult to find people committed to the cause these days. No matter. He helped when I needed him to.” His smile thinned. “Came in mighty useful when I coaxed out of him which parts of the set would be easiest to fuck with. Not that I didn’t have some clue all on my own, since I’ve been in bands since I was a kid. No one remembers that though. I’m the forgotten one, right?”
Nicky didn’t answer.
Snake moved forward and grabbed one of the folding chairs, jamming it under the doorknob nice and tight. “Don’t want us to be disturbed. Not while I’m catching up with my good friends.”
“You don’t know what it is to have a friend,” she said, her voice clear and strong. “Nicky loved you. He defended you when no one else cared. He gave money for your child—”
“Don’t.” Snake held up a hand. “Don’t even open your whore mouth to me about what I should be grateful for. That was my band, and I was tossed out just when they made it. When there was no fucking money, I was just fine.” He kicked out at the small leather settee, sending it skidding over the polished floor.
“Watch how you talk to my sister, you fucking asshole. You think having a gun makes you big and tough? Face me like a goddamn man. One on one, just us. This has nothing to do with her.”
“Shut up,” she hissed. “I’m not leaving.”
“Damn right she isn’t leaving. She’s the reason that poor, tragic crew dude died. What was his name? Ranger?”
Nicky reared forward, and it was only her fierce grip on the back of his shirt that stopped him. She pulled with everything she had and he halted, heaving out a breath. “You’re a sick bastard. Sicker than I ever gave you credit for. For fuck’s sake, you faked your own death.”
“I didn’t fake it. Not exactly. Just arranged things so it seemed as if I was the one who’d died. It was easier.” Snake jerked a shoulder. “Tommy and I looked alike. Similar builds. Enough time in the sea and every carcass is the same.”
Nick blew out a breath. “Was it the drugs? Is that what turned you? Or were you fucked in the head long before you ever touched them?”
Snake tipped the gun against his
chin. “Hmm, chicken or the egg. Can’t really say. But sick is a relative term. Know what I think is sick?” He took a step forward, then another. “I think it’s sick to pretend someone matters to you, that you’re as close as brothers, only to toss them aside when it becomes more convenient to ditch them. It was always you and me, making the plans. Even before that bastard Simon pulled his head out of some girl’s twat long enough to realize he wanted the music, it was you and me. First, you took my girl away, then you took my band.”
Nicky stiffened and Elle tightened her hold on him. “I never took Chloe from you.”
“Oh no? You didn’t sleep with her when you knew full well I loved her? Best think back. I think you’ve forgotten a few things.” Snake took another step, waving the gun wildly. “She wasn’t into you like she was into me, so of course you barely got a taste. But you took it. And then you took my band. Ripped it away from me and gave it to those two posers who don’t even fucking care about the music half as much as breeding.”
“We told you to stay clean. You didn’t do it.”
“Oh, right. Except one of your fucking replacements for me wasn’t clean either. Probably still isn’t. And your goddamn whore sister definitely isn’t. Hell, she used to give it to anyone who asked if they offered her a baggie of blow.” He flashed a feral smile. “Maybe she even gave it to me.”
Elle shrieked as Nick levered forward, his shirt tearing as she tried desperately to hold him back. The sound he made wasn’t human. It was so much worse.
It all happened so fast. Nick driving himself into Snake and Snake lifting the gun. Nick plowed his fist into Snake’s gut and his gun hand jerked, giving Nicky enough time to kick it out of his hand. The weapon skittered across the floor and she scrambled for it, nearly gagging as she picked it up.
It was still warm from his grip.
Dear God, she didn’t want to use it. Didn’t want to have to pull the trigger, even if it was Snake on the other end.
But she would do it. She would do whatever it took to protect herself and her brother.
They were rolling across the floor now, raining punches. Grunts and groans sliced through the air and she crept sideways toward the door. She could hear Noah and the others on the opposite side, trying to get in. Snake must’ve fucked with the locks too. The chair wouldn’t be enough to hold Mal out.
Nothing was. He loved her.
A sob left her throat. Almost as much as she loved him.
But God, if she could just get the chair out from under the knob and get that door open, Noah and Mal and the others could come in. They would be safe.
Then Snake rolled Nicky underneath him and started driving his big fist into her brother’s face. Snake was such a huge motherfucker, and he had crazy on his side. For all they knew, he could be on something that gave him extra strength and endurance too.
“Snake, goddammit, stop. Stop it now. This ends here,” she shouted.
He flashed her a smile, his teeth streaked with blood and his eyes gleaming with madness. “It ends with all three of us dying in this room. The way it was always meant to be.”
“Don’t make me do this,” she whispered.
Nick reared up and slammed his fist into Snake’s jaw, forcing his head back. But it was only a momentary break. They grappled, exchanging blows. Hammering into each other while Elle watched with her finger poised on the trigger. She was shaking all over. Then Snake was on top again, and this time his hands were around her brother’s throat.
Hands that were stained with Nicky’s blood.
“Fucking let him go now,” she said in a low voice. “Last warning.”
Snake laughed and applied that much more pressure. Nicky’s face was red and he was gasping even as he struggled to fight. He would never stop. “You don’t scare me, little girl.”
“Snake, don’t make me do this.”
“Do it.” He taunted, squeezing harder as Nicky wheezed and halfheartedly trying to buck the asshole off him. He was running out of oxygen. “Or else I’m going to take your brother to hell and you with us.”
She steadied her gun hand, took a deep breath, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The kick of the gun was more shocking than anything.
The pressure around Nicky’s throat eased immediately. Snake slumped on his side, blood gushing from the mortal wound on the side of his head.
She sagged to the ground, still clutching the weapon.
Nicky struggled to sit up, gripping his throat. He was still wheezing. “You—you fucking saved my life.”
“You taught me to…shoot.”
He nodded, kicking at Snake’s battered body as he fought to speak. “And here you ended up protecting…me.”
Dimly, she was aware of the commotion at the door. They were trying to get in.
She drew herself up and staggered to the doorway. She pried the chair away from the door and stepped aside as Noah and his team rushed through to attend to Nicky.
Mal’s eyes swept over her as he picked her up, cradling her cheek. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, she buried her face against his shoulder. “I’m okay now.”
Lila hurried into the room with Donovan right behind her. Li let out a sound of distress as she glimpsed Nick still on the floor, then she shifted toward Ricki. Lila’s lashes were wet. “You’re amazing.”
Elle gave Li a tremulous smile and held out her arm to give her a quick, hard hug before Li moved on to kneel at Nicky’s side. He was already giving Noah and his team hell, not to mention loudly refusing medical treatment.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I grew up in the slums. I got my ass kicked worse in kindergarten. Get off me.”
Elle had to laugh. “He’s going to be just fine.”
“Because of you. We heard all of it,” Mal said hoarsely. “You finished this. You did. My strong, perfect Ricki.”
She stared down at Mal, her eyes totally dry. “I finished it,” she agreed. “It’s all over now.”
Everything but the healing, and that would take a long time. They might never fully get there, but at least now they could begin to try to find their way back.
There were so many questions left. So many answers they might never receive.
But she and Nicky had made it through, and Snake and Dex would never hurt anyone again.
She tipped her head against Mal’s. “Let’s go home.”
Epilogue
“I’ve got you.”
“Yeah, no kidding. But I think I can manage a couple steps from the car on my own.”
“You’re the one who didn’t want me to carry you.”
“Save those theatrics for when I’m naked,” Ricki called back over her shoulder. “We can play Tarzan and Jane then.”
Shaking his head, Mal gripped the soft material of her jacket to help guide her from behind. It had been weeks since the night he’d almost lost her, and he still found himself reaching for her half a dozen times a day.
She was adamant the danger had been less with him and Noah right next door, along with the capable team monitoring their every move. But words weren’t reality, and that bastard had come in there armed. If she hadn’t been so strong and brave, things might’ve turned out very differently for her or Nick.
As it was, she was in the midst of dealing with more legal crap than he’d ever wanted her to have to handle. Donovan had hired her the best lawyers, and with everything on tape and the fact it was clearly self-defense, it would all be over soon. But even this amount of time being taken was too much. She’d already had to endure a lot.
Now his sister-in-law was enduring her own share of shit too, considering what had gone down. Someday Axl would as well. Michael definitely understood Mal’s frustration at having to watch the person he loved deal with pain he couldn’t alleviate.
But at least now it was finally all over. They all could begin to put the pieces back together without the looming specter of some anonymous threat out to get them. Even Jules and Tris could start to heal, as awful a process
as that would be.
One minute, one hour, one day at a time.
And in this case, one step.
Mal cleared his throat. “Three more steps forward. Big steps. Upward.”
“Forward or upward?”
“Both.”
Ricki growled and Mal had to laugh behind her. This blindfold idea had been an inspired choice. He was still getting the hang of directing her around, since he’d never blindfolded someone and hauled her cross-country before. Well, Donovan’s jet had done the hauling. Still, this was all new for him.
On about fifty-seven levels.
“Ouch,” Ricki mumbled as she stubbed her toe on the second step leading up to the front porch of Happy Acres’s main building. “I thought I knew where we were going, though it’s too early but then it took way too long and now it’s warm here. Even you can’t make cold areas warm.”
He smiled. No, the weather had not cooperated with him at all. Normally, by this time of year in Turnbull, they were buried under six feet of snow. Not this year. Since he was waiting for the first snowfall to propose, he hadn’t appreciated the current heat wave—and yes, heat was relative in December in New York—that was the biggest topic of conversation in the area. It was as if even Mother Nature didn’t want to cooperate.
Maybe he was rushing things. His brother had certainly given him a look or two before they’d tromped through the local jewelry store on a mission to find the right ring. Michael hadn’t come right out and said he was nuts and moving too fast, but it had been heavily implied.
Not that Michael had room to talk. He’d tried to get married on his first night with Chloe, for fuck’s sake. Just because it hadn’t taken didn’t mean the intent hadn’t been there.
But Mal wasn’t Michael, and they both knew it.
His brother had been somewhat mollified by Mal’s assertion they would have a very long engagement if Ricki said yes—to the tune of several years. He figured five was probably pushing it, but maybe three.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to be married to her before then. He wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t prepared to do it that day, if necessary. But planning far out would allow them to settle into the idea. It would give them a chance to spend more time living together, though they were already pretty well-used to that. An opportunity to explore the daily ins and outs of being a couple for a while, all committed and shit.