by Lee Piper
I stagger backward, each of his words a sniper bullet riddling my body. “If it hurts to look at me,” I whisper, “then why are you here?”
He doesn’t meet my gaze.
Needing an answer, yet not wanting to hear it at the same time, I keep pressing. “Well?”
He pauses. Licks his lips. Pauses again.
I furrow my eyebrows, trying my best to ignore the hurt cinching my chest. “Ray.” My voice is low. “What is it? What’s going on?”
His eyes flick to mine before glancing away again. Then, speaking so quietly I can barely catch what he’s saying, he mutters, “Ran out of cash. Need some more.”
“You ran out of cash?” I repeat slowly. Each vowel and consonant is an acid bomb intent on corroding the floor beneath my feet until it disintegrates into nothingness.
I’m falling.
Further and further away from him, I fall.
Chapter Nine
“So, you’ve run out?” I ask through gritted teeth. It’s not easy keeping the burgeoning rage at bay. Might as well be trying to tame a wild mustang.
Ray shrugs.
“Of money?”
He shrugs again.
My fists form tight balls of fury. Chipped nails dig in to the meaty flesh of my palms, and I welcome the pain. It’s a distraction from the torturous agony of his betrayal. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’ve already drunk eighteen thousand dollars’ worth of liquor, and now you want more?”
“Well—”
“Of my fucking money!”
“It wasn’t—”
“Stop denying it! It was mine! I was using it to set up a business!” Ripping fingers through my tangled braid, I turn in a circle before dropping them again and kicking a stray cable lead. “Goddammit!” I turn to him, my breathing ragged. “How could you? How could you steal from your own family!”
In the distance, a door slams open. Or shut. To be honest, I don’t give a shit. I’m too busy trying not to finish off what Drake started earlier. Strangling Ray to death would bring so much relief right now.
“I didn’t—”
“Stop lying,” I yell. “Just stop!” The words bellow through the room like a blizzard through an open door.
Surprisingly, everything does. Noise. Movement. Energy. There’s not a flicker of life to be seen as bodies transform into mannequins and sound mutes. It’s as though the entire world stills while waiting for permission to exhale.
“You’re so embroiled in your own lie, you can’t see the truth anymore.” I take a decided step toward Ray. “Well, how about I spell it out for you? Jog your memory?” Without waiting for a response, I continue. “You went into my van, stole my money, and then drank every last cent of it.”
Silence.
“Didn’t you?”
Nothing.
“I know you did, you know you did, the whole freaking world knows you did. You’re so busy burying yourself in denial you won’t admit it!” Another step. “Over and over again you look me in the eye and bullshit.” My ribs expand and contract, rapidly trying to chase the air that’s just out of reach. “Don’t you?”
Silence.
My balled hands tighten further. Pretty sure my nails have cut through skin. There’ll be droplets of blood splattering the stage soon enough.
The defiant tilt of my uncle’s chin makes me want to punch something, preferably him. Forget my earlier pity. Ray fucking Stevenson sabotaged his own relative. He doesn’t deserve shit.
He’s not getting my compassion, my help, nothing. “Am I the only one who thought it was strange when you were suddenly flush with money? I mean, it’s weird, right? Rose didn’t leave any behind, you never had any savings before that, and yet somehow you had cash to burn.”
Ray grits his teeth. “You don’t know nothin’.”
“I know you started disappearing in the afternoons around the same time someone broke into my van. I know you started betting around then too. Tickets would fall out the pocket of your jeans when I tried to help you into bed at night.” I drop my voice. “I found a five thousand dollar bet once. Five. Thousand. Dollars.” Anger threatens to overtake me, but I manage to push it down. “And you lost it all. I checked your wallet; it was empty.”
Ray swallows. His eyes dart around the room as though searching for an exit.
I shift closer. “Do you remember the secret spot you told me about? The one you showed me in my van? You said if I ever had something I didn’t want anyone else to find, I should put it there.”
He stares over my shoulder, his body tensing.
“Well, I followed your advice and stashed money in that spot. Eighteen thousand dollars, to be exact. And do you know what happened?” Eyebrows raised, I watch Ray’s anxious movements. “It disappeared.” I snap my fingers. “Just like that.” Pause. “Coincidence?”
The unanswered question lingers in the air between us.
“That true?” a deep voice booms from behind me.
I don’t need to turn my head to know who it is. The tingles on the back of my neck and shivers rippling down my spine are answer enough. So too is the way Ray pales to a sickly white and stumbles backward.
“You steal from your niece?” Embers burst into flames when Drake clasps the curve of my hip.
Despite his obvious nervousness, Ray retorts, “Ain’t none of your damn business, boy.”
“Wrong. Harper’s my business.” Malice drips like poison from Drake’s voice. “And no one fucks with what’s mine.” He pauses. Ray shifts even further away. “So, I’m gonna ask you again. Did you steal her money?”
“Fuck you.” After glaring, blurry-eyed, at Drake, he turns to me. “And fuck you too. I came here askin’ for a favor, and this is how you treat me?” Staggering side of the stage, he hollers, “Your aunt would be ashamed of you, girl.”
My body locks up. Tension courses through me as the callous insult hits its target. I suck in a shaky breath, trying not to choke on the pain. However, a garbled cry escapes.
Drake’s hand tightens before releasing. “Motherfucker.” He brushes past me.
“Drake, wait,” I call.
He doesn’t listen. The lead singer strides toward Ray, murder in his eyes and retribution in each step.
Just as I’m about to follow, a small hand clasps my wrist. “Don’t.”
Turning, I come face-to-face with Willow. She gives a terse smile, no doubt feeling guilty for witnessing my family melodrama. “Let him go. Drake won’t hurt him.”
My eyes almost pop from of their sockets. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Willow furrows her brows. “No. Why?”
But I shake my head, running out of time to explain the freaking obvious. “I’ve got to stop them. Someone’s going to end up dead otherwise.”
“Want me to handle it?” a gravelly voice rumbles.
Turning to the other side, I spy Reid. He’s dressed entirely in black, the only splash of color coming from his sleeve tattoos. His silver eyes read the chaos in mine, piecing together the pieces quicker than the naïve guitarist. “I can, if you want?”
“Thanks,” I mutter, genuinely appreciative of his offer. “But it’s my mess to clean up. I can handle it.”
He nods once, then gestures in the direction of the two men. “Might want to hurry up. Shit’s getting real.”
“What’s gotten into him?” Willow murmurs, confused by Drake’s actions.
I glance over my shoulder and mutter a curse. Drake’s got Ray pushed against the brick wall. His hand is tight around my uncle’s throat as he mutters in the older man’s ear. From the hatred in Drake’s gaze and the shock on Ray’s face, I’m guessing they’re not chatting about sound quality.
“We’ll finish setting up the stage,” Reid says. “Go.”
I don’t have time to wait. Not for Willow’s reaction or Reid’s answering nod. I’ve only got time to give the perceptive drummer a brief smile before darting past both musicians.
When I get side of stage, I grip Drak
e’s arm and pull. Nothing. Gritting my teeth, I throw everything I have into disconnecting him from my uncle. Not because I don’t want Ray hurt, but because I don’t want Drake getting blamed for it.
With one last heave, I manage to dislodge his hold.
“You’re a fucking disgrace,” Drake spits at Ray, furious. “A dickless coward.”
Ray pitches forward, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.
“Swear to fucking God, asshole,” Drake continues, “if your niece wasn’t here to save your pathetic self, I’d end you.”
“Drake,” I pant, my gaze fixed on the mountain of seething testosterone beside me. I place my hands on my hips as, slowly, my breathing returns to normal. Damn, it’s like I’ve run a freaking marathon only to discover there’s another one that’s about to start. “Chill, okay? I’ve got this.”
With a grunt, the furious lead singer pins Ray with a deadly stare. “If he so much as—”
“Yeah, I got it.” I smile, loving the dark look he throws at Ray. Loving the way he’s willing to stand up for me. Loving….
No. Not yet. I’ll tuck that thought away for another time. Preferably, one where no one is about to get arrested or die.
Drake runs his hands through his hair, then drops them to his sides. His fists clench and unclench, evidence he’s still fuming.
Comfortable in the knowledge he won’t do anything stupid, I face my uncle. He’s managed to straighten, though is leaning heavily against the wall, panting, his head tipped back.
I observe him for a long moment. It’s obvious now. The cracks in our relationship are crevasses too deep to scale. The only option left is to say my piece and be done with him. As much as the thought of distancing myself from him hurts, it needs to be done. It’s time.
So, I clear my throat. “Do you remember what it was like before Rose died? You were a force to be reckoned with. You demanded respect wherever you went.”
He closes his eyes, swaying slightly.
“There wasn’t an instrument you couldn’t play, a stage you couldn’t set up, or a mix you couldn’t perfect.” My voice cracks, so I take a moment to compose myself. “You had practical skill and inherent ability, a lethal combination few had ever seen in a roadie before. Not to your extent, anyway.” Pausing, I turn away, no longer wanting to see the remnants of the man he now is. The ghost of his former self. “You had the most discerning ear I’d ever seen. I never told you, but fuck, I knew. Everyone did. I mean, you could tell if a guitar needed to be restrung while standing on the other side of a packed stadium with earplugs in. You were the guy to turn to for music advice. Bands would keep you backstage for hours wanting your opinion on problems they needed fixed. Remember?”
Silence.
“But now….” It’s getting harder and harder to see. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Silence.
“And it would be so easy to give in to you. To scrounge up money from somewhere because I hate seeing the man I once respected reduced to begging. Heck, I might even try to forget for one second that you totally shafted me in the process.” Hair falls across my face, sticking to the tears I didn’t know trailed down my cheeks. I push it away, wipe my eyes, and meet Ray’s stare head-on. “But I won’t. I won’t yell or scream or wallow. I won’t do anything about the injustice of it all. What I am going to do, though, is go on living. Without you.”
He blinks, rheumy eyes captured in mine. I hold them, refusing to look away. “Because that’s the best revenge. Making a success of myself despite what you’ve done to ruin me is going to be so fucking sweet.”
I shift forward until his alcohol-drenched breath fans my face, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from gagging. “Watch me soar, Ray. I’m going to fly so high you won’t be able to see me for the stars. But I’ll see you. Every so often, I’ll look down and there you’ll be.” Pause. “The sorriest sonofabitch I’ve ever met.”
A low, “Whoa,” sounds from behind me. I think it’s Wil. She and Reid must have finished setting up the stage before coming to see if we’re okay.
And I am. Despite everything, a massive weight lifts. Today’s the beginning of my new life. This is the moment when I take control and shift it in the direction I want. Sure, it could all go ass over tit. However, there’s also the chance it could turn into something legendary.
A deep-seated thrill courses through me. It thrums through my body, causing live wires to zap and charge.
Without a word, Ray stumbles from the building. His hand grasps the brick wall, seeking the support he’ll no longer get from me.
I take a step back. Then another. With every movement, the pressure on my ribs lightens until I can breathe again.
A tall body presses into my back. Sandalwood floods my senses, reminding me of last night when Drake held me. Lying in his arms was like coming home again. Strange, considering I’ve never had one.
He inhales.
I inhale.
He exhales.
I exhale.
Gentle fingers trace semicircles on my skin. My heart rate settles, previous anxiety ebbs, and I’m left feeling surprisingly calm.
Soft lips brush against my ear. “That was the hottest sight I’ve ever seen.”
With a small smile, I lean into his hold.
“I wanna bury myself deep inside you. Fuck you raw. Right the fuck now.” Drake bites down on the sensitive part of my neck. Heat blooms in my stomach, thawing the coldest parts of me. “I’m so worked up, princess. I need to—”
“Sweet Aphrodite, get a room,” Wil groans. “You’re worse than when Shiloh and Reid are together.”
Reid doesn’t say anything, but a distinct chuckle comes from his direction.
Willow’s words act as a reminder about how I need to act professionally. So, with a sigh, I disentangle myself from the lead singer and turn to face him.
“Hey,” Drake protests, attempting to pull me close. “I wasn’t finished with you yet.” He reaches for me, but I evade his hands.
“Save it for later.” There’s a smile in my voice. I’m blaming the horny puppy dog eyes he’s nailing to perfection. “You’ve got sound check and then a gig. It’s going to be a packed house tonight. You need to save your strength.”
He snorts. Like the idea of not having the stamina for sex is ridiculous. “Princess, nothing is gonna stop me from owning your sweet pussy. Not sound check, not a show, and not a packed house.”
“Really, Drake?” Willow grimaces. “You had to go there, didn’t you?” She groans, rubbing her stomach. “My tofu salad isn’t sitting so well anymore. Think I’m going to be sick.”
But he ignores her, his sapphire gaze fixed on me. Slowly, so freaking slowly, his eyes rake my body. They caress every curve and valley, heat exploding on my skin like meteoroids. By the time he journeys up to my face, Drake’s pupils are so dilated, his eyes are almost black. “Fine. If you want me to wait until after the show, I’ll wait.” He backs away, a wicked grin lighting up his breathtaking features. “But I won’t make it easy for you to resist me.”
Oh God. What have I done? Teasing a hungry wolf never ends well.
He winks. “Be ready.”
Chapter Ten
The gig is a success. Of course, it is. From the moment the band walks on stage, the crowd loses their shit and goes stark raving mad. People stomp their feet, wave their hands, and contort their bodies until they conjoin in an ocean of crazed synchronicity begging for another hit.
Reid’s drumming is thunderous. The heavy beats ricochet from his black Tama Bubinga kit, while muscular, ink-covered arms work faster and faster as the songs progress. He’s the equivalent of a perfect storm. I know it’s coming, I know it’ll be epic, but for the life of me, I refuse to run for cover. Reid’s brand of music hits the audience square in the chest. It’s strong enough to rattle the rib cage and jangle teeth. It’s dangerous, bold, and more than a little intimidating. It’s awesome.
Dirty guitar riffs are coaxed from Willo
w’s Gibson courtesy of expert fingers. Each note lured from her instrument is more intricate than the last. A pale hand darts up and down the fretboard, the chords brash yet delicate as they fold over each other in a crucible of complex sound. Scarlet hair tumbles over her shoulders, a mane of uncontrollable wildfire as she rocks in time with the music. She’s a goddess, her body conjuring a mystical spell in the form of elaborate notes.
And Drake….
Yeah.
Listening to him sing is as painful as it was the other night. I swear, he knows my deepest, darkest secrets and is telling them to the world. I even glance about me, expecting someone from the audience or backstage crew to point and stare. Doesn’t matter that I’m hidden in the shadows of the wings. My deepest hurt is being pumped through the speakers, for Christ’s sake; someone’s going to notice.
However, no one does. My paranoia is unfounded. Seems everyone’s too mesmerized by the microphone-wielding god coercing them to feel the rhythm of his pain.
Strange, I think to myself. They’re having the time of their lives while he’s purging. I furrow my brows, confused. Do they hear what he’s saying? Have they understood his lyrics at all?
Drake hits a high note. His guttural cry echoes through the room. The crowd roars. Bodies pulse in time with the beat while hands wave frantically above bobbing heads. The heaving sea from before now transforms into a gargantuan tidal wave.
I shake my head. Nope. They haven’t a fucking clue.
When Drake’s voice fades, the stage lights dim. Even in the darkness, I can make out his shape. It’s like he’s tattooed on my retinas. I watch from my shadowy corner as he drops his head, lean body moving in time with Reid’s rapid-fire rhythm. Then a spotlight centers on the lead singer, the light growing brighter, more intense as the music builds.
Drake cradles the mic between his hands and tips his head back. He inhales, his bare chest expanding as air fills his lungs.
Nothing.
One. Two. Three.
Then—
He expels another soul-shattering cry.
“Jesus,” I whisper. Goose bumps form, my skin prickling with awareness as a hypnotic rasping voice fills the packed room.