by Wynne Roman
“Are you safe?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Okay. Uh . . . cops?”
“Probably. But . . .” I pause, my brain scrambling. “Probably better pianissimo. Accelerato.”
“Uh . . .” Knox pauses, and then I hear a grunt. “Quiet but hurry the fuck up.”
“Exactly.”
“You gonna be okay, dude?”
I swallow. “Hey, man, it’s a great arrangement. Can’t wait to get into the studio to record it.”
“Right. Uh . . . see you soon?”
“You know it.”
I hang up and place the phone carefully onto the counter. Don’t want to make any quick, unexpected moves. I’m just not sure enough of Elyssa’s stability to take any chances yet, but I do take a careful step that puts me closer to the women.
“That was Knox,” I say with forced cheer and look mostly at Paige. “It wasn’t about legal shit at all.” I try to offer up a dry smile. “Turns out he’s really anxious about that new song we’re working on.”
Hope that calms any nerves Elyssa might have. As for Paige, I’m counting on her getting what I’m hinting at. She’s been at rehearsals enough to know we’re still trying to bring Ajia up to speed on rhythm guitar and get Angel used to our stuff. Definitely not trying out anything new.
“It . . . uh,” Paige says carefully. “It’s a great song.”
She might not get exactly what I’m saying, but she knows something’s going on. That’s enough for now.
I force myself to look at Elyssa as I sneak in another half-step. Can I distract her with some stupid conversation?
“We’ve got something new we’re going to record,” I say as offhandedly as I can.
She stares at me, like she’s actually considering my statement seriously. “I thought Zayne was still in rehab.”
“He is!” I assure her quickly, looking between the women and taking another step. “He’s getting out, though. Soon. It’ll be just a little while, and then we’ll all be together again.”
I stop to lick my lips, then add, “I can’t wait. He’s always so great. Helps a lot.”
“Helps?” Elyssa snorts. “He’s a bass player.”
“But he adds so much!” I sound like an over-enthusiastic fangirl, end up moving a little too obviously.
I stop in my tracks when I see Elyssa tense up, but I keep talking smoothly. “He gives a real solid foundation to what the rest of us are doing. Like he keeps us safe.”
It takes a few seconds, but then Paige raises her chin an inch or so and blinks. Maybe she doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but she gets the reassurance that we’re not in this alone.
Elyssa whips her head back, like something I said, or maybe my movements, irritated her. Shit.
“Enough of this!” she snaps. “Who cares about your bass player?”
“Okay.” I extend the word a little and try to sound calm. “Hey, do you want to come over and sit down?” I turn slightly to gesture behind me.
Elyssa tenses and jams the gun harder against Paige’s temple. “No.”
“Okay.” I stop moving immediately.
We stand there silently for a little while. Don’t know how long. Feels like minutes but it’s probably only seconds. Finally, it’s Paige who asks softly, “What do you want to do, Elyssa?”
Elyssa smiles at me, but it looks pretty fucking creepy. Wild and anxious and lustful and wicked, but in a nasty way. She drags the barrel of the gun from Paige’s temple, down over her cheek, and pushes it against her jaw.
“You’re going to make such a good ménage partner,” she croons coarsely.
“Uh—what?” I demand, the words out before I can think about it.
Elyssa angles her head in my direction. “I couldn’t understand it,” she says conversationally, but she still has that disturbingly cruel expression on her face. “Why wouldn’t you come to me? I mean . . . I have everything you could want. Including your baby.”
She arches her stomach explicitly, and the whole thing disgusts the fuck out of me. A part of me wants to laugh, because I’ve done some pretty appalling shit in my day, but this?
“Then I saw the interview on television,” she continues, “and I understood.” She gives a nod that’s almost regal. “You have your past,” she sways a bit with Paige, as though drawing attention there, “and you have your future.” She pushes her belly toward me again. “So we have to satisfy both.”
“Satisfy both?” I ask carefully.
“Of course!” she says, suddenly cheerful. “So here you have it. The three of us. Your perfect ménage!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Paige
How the hell did my life become like a bad joke of a movie? I don’t believe the shit going on, and I’m right in the middle of it.
My mind’s been racing since Elyssa first stuck that gun against my head. Unfortunately, it isn’t coming up with anything productive. My thoughts just keep bouncing around.
How is this happening?
Stay calm.
Make sure Noah doesn’t do anything stupid.
I know him well enough that I don’t have to guess about his reaction if things go bad. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’d try to protect me over himself; he’s got that kind of machismo in him.
I don’t even want to go there.
I wish I could get a good read on Elyssa. One second she freaks me out, acting all psycho with that gun, and the next she sounds like we’re just having some kind of normal discussion here.
Nothing about any of this is freaking normal.
In some ways, it’s reassuring that Noah’s taking her seriously. He’s keeping his movements slow and careful, but I can see he’s getting closer and closer. It gives me hope. If he and Knox really did put together some kind of plan on the phone, we might actually get out of this crazy situation in one piece.
For now, though, I have to pay strict attention to everything that’s going on around me.
“You want a threesome?” Noah finally asks. Surprise laces his voice, which kind of shocks me.
“Of course!” Elyssa sounds too loud. Too cheerful. “It’s what you like, my love.”
I swallow an automatic protest at her endearment. Deep-seated jealousy floods through me, and I want to punch her. I know it’s totally inappropriate, but I don’t care. Noah isn’t her love.
He isn’t her anything.
Don’t be stupid, I remind myself firmly. Not now.
I take a breath. It’s good advice, and I know it. He has no feelings for this woman, never has. I don’t doubt that in the least. That doesn’t mean I still don’t hate her attitude of entitlement where he’s concerned.
Nothing about Noah belongs to her.
“So, dears.” Elyssa smiles wide. “Let’s go into the bedroom and get this party started.”
The words roar through my brain like she just fired that fucking gun right next to my ear.
Get this party started? It’s like an echo resounding through the room, growing louder and louder.
Get this party started, you bitch?
Goddamn it. If only I could scream the question at her.
Marlie said the same fucking words the night of that awful threesome. I will never forget any details of that night, and I’ve heard that disgusting invitation in my memory one too many times.
Get this party started? No. Fucking. Way.
Finally, some emotion sharpens within me. I don’t think, don’t have any kind of a plan. I just act.
I lift my feet without warning, and then I’m dropping toward the floor. Elyssa starts to fumble next to me, stumbling as she tries to hold on. I can see Noah step forward in my peripheral vision, but I stay boneless. Motionless. From there, things just sort of . . . happen.
I don’t really know what or how, because I can’t see very well. My hair’s fallen from its fancy twist, over my eyes and into my mouth. My skirt’s somehow shoved up around my hips, and my blouse gap
es where a couple of buttons are gone.
Vaguely, I wish I had slow motion like in the movies. Maybe then I could think. Prepare. All I can do now is be the heaviest drag on Elyssa’s strength, balance, and attention that I can be.
I hear screaming and feel hands and arms and legs, all grabbing and poking and tearing. The struggle goes on forever, though it’s probably only minutes, and then I hear the worst sound ever.
A gunshot.
I don’t mean to scream, but I do. I push frantically at the hair in my face, trying to see something, anything, when Elyssa screeches “No!” and Noah grunts.
I’m dumped unceremoniously to the floor. No more fingers, hands, or elbows. Nothing. Just . . . freedom.
I crawl away with one question thundering through my mind.
The gun. Where’s the gun? Where’s the gun?
Where the fuck is the gun?
“Stop it,” Noah snaps furiously, and I go completely still. I don’t know who he’s talking to, and I don’t care. He’s big enough to be in charge, sounds mean enough to do anything he wants, and a small ray of hope suggests that maybe he has the gun.
I fling my head back, hair flying, and finally see that he has Elyssa in a grip kind of like a straightjacket. His arms are around hers, pinning them to her sides, and she’s wiggling like a snake in its death throes.
Maybe that’s not a bad analogy.
“Goddamn it, Elyssa. Stop!”
Noah’s voice is a roar, but it doesn’t seem to do much good. She keeps squirming and throwing her body around like she’s being electrocuted. Even in this fucked up mess, I can see it isn’t doing her any good. She might be a bigger, more solid woman than I am, but she has no chance against Noah’s strength. He’s almost six feet five, his body honed and muscular—and he’s mad as hell.
“Find the gun,” he shouts at me. I’m still crouched on the floor, and I swing around to look everywhere. I see it a couple of feet away, near the couch, and I crawl toward it.
“Don’t touch it,” Noah yells as I reach for it. I jerk my hand back and look up at him.
“Kick it away.” He sounds a little breathless as Elyssa keeps wiggling. “You don’t want your fingerprints on it.”
I nod, push to my feet, and kick the gun across the hardwood floor. For an instant, I’m relieved that I’m still wearing my navy blue leather pumps. It means I can get a pretty good aim, and it skids all the way into the bedroom. I hurry over and pull the door shut with a slam.
Turning back to Noah, I can see he’s still got Elyssa pinned from behind. She hasn’t stopped thrashing around, but I can easily see that she isn’t going anywhere. That reality captures only a small part of my attention.
The rest is on her stomach. Her very crooked stomach.
I narrow my eyes and borrow one of Noah’s expressions. “What the fuck!”
He blinks and looks from the back of Elyssa’s head to me. “What?”
I point straight at her. “What the ever-loving fuck happened to her belly?”
He leans around to look down, and I can tell the instant he sees what I do. He goes all stiff and tense, and it’s like his body suddenly got bigger, tougher.
Her pregnant belly is all twisted around, pushed to one side and low over a hip. It’s done nothing to stop her from fighting like a crazy woman.
“What the fuck?” He repeats my exclamation, but we don’t have time for anything more when a firm knock pounds on the door.
“Austin Police. Open up.”
Relief floods through me. Thank God!
Noah nods in my direction as he backs away from the door and drags Elyssa with him. I hurry over, swing the door wide, step aside, and immediately put my arms up over my head.
Is that weird? I don’t know, don’t care. I’ve watched enough cop shows on TV that I don’t want to take any chances. That gun of Elyssa’s freaked me the hell out.
Two uniformed officers push past me into the apartment. One gives me a brief nod—approving my behavior?—but their attention is focused intently on Noah and the still-fighting Elyssa.
“I’m going to need you both to put your hands up,” announces one of the officers loudly and firmly.
Elyssa hasn’t given an inch in her struggle against Noah, and he has his hands full trying to restrain her. “Uh,” he says stiffly, “that’s a little difficult right now.”
“Let her go, sir, and put your hands in the air.”
Noah grunts. “I really don’t think you want me to do that.”
“Sir!” The officer clearly isn’t joking. “Let go of the woman and put your hands in the air.”
Noah hesitates for a couple more seconds, but then he does as instructed.
Elyssa immediately turns into a wild woman, turning on Noah and grabbing for him. She tries to scratch his face, his shirtless chest, and she goes for his balls. She screams the entire time.
“You asshole! Fucker! You broke my heart! You abandoned me! Our baby! You love me! How could you take up with this whore?”
The police are fast; I’ll give them that. She isn’t able to inflict much damage on Noah’s body before one of the officers puts a hand on her shoulder.
“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to calm down and—”
She turns in an instant and rushes toward him. He’s trained for things like this, or maybe prepared because of what he walked in on. Whatever it is, he’s able to grab her arms and hold them clasped in front of her.
She shrieks and twists and tries with every bit of strength to get away from him.
“Let me go!” she snarls. “You fucking bastard!”
They struggle for a few seconds, and then the other officer steps forward, extending a pair of handcuffs. Their quick efficiency amazes me, and then they have her restrained. One officer takes charge of Elyssa, and the other takes out a notebook.
“Okay, you can put your hands down—but don’t move.”
Noah and I comply all the way around. It’s then that I notice a wide, red gash in his abdomen.
What the hell?
“Now, let’s establish who’s who here.” The officer looks at Noah.
“I’m Noah Dexter. This is my apartment.”
The officer turns to me. “Paige Hamilton. I’m Noah’s—girlfriend.”
My hesitation is only slight. It’s the first time I’ve actually said it aloud, except for the interview. It’s the story we decided on then, and so I stick with it. This is definitely not the time to confuse matters by saying, Well, we’ve had sex, but I’m not really sure what we are to each other.
“And her?” The officer points to Elyssa.
“Elyssa Ross,” Noah answers promptly. “She’s been . . . stalking me, I guess. And now my girlfriend.” He nods in my direction.
“Any reason to think she’d be stalking you?”
“I’m in a rock band,” Noah starts, but the officer interrupts.
“Wycked Obsession. I know.”
Noah grins. The officer doesn’t return the smile, but I think I can see a flash of amusement in his expression.
“Guess it’s because of that.” Noah shrugs. “She came to me a couple of months ago. Claimed she was pregnant with my baby. It isn’t true and I knew it, but I’ve been waiting to have the paternity test to prove it.”
The other officer speaks up. “Doesn’t look like she’s pregnant anymore.”
It’s like an automatic response. We all look over to see that Elyssa’s pregnant belly is completely wonky now. At almost the same moment, she looks down, like she suddenly realizes everything’s gone wrong. She grabs at the fake belly and starts screaming.
“My baby! My baby!”
The officer interviewing Noah sighs. “Well, folks, looks like we’re all going down to the station.”
It takes hours before we’re free to go. We’re allowed to clean up and change clothes before heading to the police station, probably because Noah’s only wearing sleep pants and no shirt. First, though, the officers insist that he le
t the paramedics check out the bloody gash on his side.
He doesn’t like it and resists until I can’t hold back the tears any longer. I know it’s just emotion over everything that’s happened, but I don’t care. A bullet grazed him when the gun went off, and knowing he’s hurt tears at me.
I only want him to be okay. Always.
The officers are nice enough, I suppose, but they’re also very direct and serious. I’m sure they have to be, but it doesn’t take much for them to realize what Noah and I are telling them is the truth. Elyssa’s wild rantings pretty much give her away.
When the police are finally finished with us, we end up at Claire’s house. The rest of the band is waiting there, even Angel, and Noah gets a text from Zayne.
Hey dumbass. MY shit is supposed to be the worst thing we go thru.
Everybody laughs about it. Even me, though I still feel a little jittery. Somebody with mental problems holding a gun to your head will do that to you.
Claire has the barbecue fired up, and Knox is grilling thick, juicy-looking hamburgers and fat, sizzling sausages. The patio table is filled with food: potato salad, cole slaw, macaroni and cheese, Southern-style baked beans, and chips with guacamole and queso.
I smile to myself. It’s the perfect Texas table, and I love it.
“We made margaritas to celebrate,” Bree announces happily, and hands Noah and me each a frosty glass.
“Thank you.” I smile.
“Thanks, baby girl.” Noah drops a kiss on top of her head. “But you know you’re still not twenty-one.”
She grins. “Maybe not. But I’m spoiled rotten, and my mom and my boyfriend are here to keep an eye on me.”
Noah shakes his head and looks over at me. “She always gets what she wants.”
“Including me,” says Ajia as he walks up behind Bree. He has his own margarita in one hand, and slips the other arm around her waist.
She squeals in delight and pushes back against him. He grunts. “Don’t do that, kitten. Not this early in the night.”
God, I love this group. They’re fun and funny and friendly, and they make me feel such a part of them. Like I belong. I don’t know if I’ve ever had that in my life.