Promise Me Forever (Top Shelf Romance)

by Kate Stewart

  “With every meat known to man and some that haven’t been FDA approved.”

  Once the pizza is ordered, she doesn’t leave my lap, which is fine with me.

  “I really wanted to make dinner special for you,” she whispers into my neck, dotting kisses into the edge of my shirt and across my collarbone. “Those greens at your mom’s were so good.”

  “It’s taken her a long time to get those right. She used her mother’s recipe, and her mother used her mother’s recipe. They can taste really awful if not done right.”

  “So I discovered.” She shakes against me with laughter.

  “Maybe my mom can share her recipe one day,” I venture softly. I know the things Bristol overheard my mom say injured her, but she hasn’t brought it up.

  Bristol’s laugh this time is a humorless huff of air.

  “That would be an interesting development since she can’t stand me.”

  “She’ll come around, baby. She has to. She’s just recalibrating her expectations. Like I’m sure your mom is doing.”

  Bristol shrugs one shoulder. Sending one side of the dress down her arm and leaving her shoulder bare.

  “What your mother said last night about what you’re giving up to be with me, to not be with Parker.”

  “What about it?” she doesn’t know where I’m heading.

  “Billions, babe.” I kiss the top of her head, cupping the back and tugging my fingers through the soft strands. “It’s a lot, right?”

  She’s silent for a few seconds before she glances up at me through her long lashes. Her fingers drift to the necklace I noticed last night. The thick gold bar hangs from the chain. It’s obviously fine craftsmanship.

  “You admired my necklace last night,” she says. “But you didn’t read the inscription.”

  I study her face while I lift the gold bar and turn it over.

  Etched into the gold is the inscription “My heart broke loose on the wind.”

  For a second, the space of a heartbeat, I can’t breathe. This means so much to me I literally cannot breathe.

  “When did you get this?” My voice is hushed, reverent with the thought of what that night on the Ferris wheel must have meant to her, too.

  “Months ago.” She cups one side of my face. “We didn’t even seem to be a possibility when I ordered this.”

  “But why . . . even then?”

  Months ago, Bristol was deep freezing me, so it’s hard to imagine that night was on her mind then. That I was on her mind then.

  “Even if we hadn’t gotten together, I was still going to wear this next to my heart because I knew I would never love anyone else that way.” She shakes her head, eyes bright with conviction. “Not the way I felt that night. That night was awesome, magical, but it was just a glimpse of the man you would become. And I knew even if I couldn’t have you, I’d carry this piece of you with me. This piece of your prophecy.”

  That poem inspired me in a way I have only ever put into words for one person. The woman sitting in my lap. The woman who has held my heart for years when I wasn’t sure she even wanted it. And the whole time, this night, these moments, burned in her memory like they did mine. I’m torn between spreading her on the table and having my appetizer before the pizza arrives, or kissing her until she’s limp in my arms. Before I get the chance to do either, the buzzer sounds.

  “Pizza,” we say together with grins.

  “I’ll get my wine,” she says. “And your beer.”

  I clear my throat of the emotion still clogging it.

  “Sounds good.” I take one more look at her, how naturally she fits here, but she’d fit anywhere I was, and I’ll fit any place she’ll be. I guess we’ll spend the rest of our lives chasing each other.

  And getting caught every night.

  I swing open the door, cash tip already in hand, but it isn’t the pizza guy.

  “Officers.” I suppress the Pavlovian response. Obviously they’re here for a reason, and I’ve done nothing wrong, so I’ll just wait to hear them out. “What can I do for you?”

  There’s no answer from either of them, and they look like undertakers.

  “Something wrong?” I ask.

  “We um, need to search the property.” One of them flashes his badge, and I note the name Officer Mars.

  “Search?” I frown and glance over my shoulder into the loft. “For what exactly?”

  “What’s this about?” Bristol comes to stand beside me, hands already on her hips.

  “We were tipped off that there may be a significant amount of cocaine in the residence connected to a recent bust over on Rosecrans.”

  “What?” I give an incredulous laugh. “In here? Nah, you got that twisted.”

  “You have search warrants?” Bristol demands. “You won’t be searching anything until you show me one.”

  Amazingly they produce one.

  “It was a huge bust connected to one of the largest operations on the West Coast,” Officer Mars says. “We have to follow every lead in a case as significant as this.”

  “That may well be,” Bristol says, eyes glowing the color of gunmetal. “But that has nothing to do with Mr. James.”

  “Ma’am, we have this warrant.” He shifts his weight and hooks a thumb in his belt loop. “And we need to conduct a thorough search.”

  “This is ridiculous.” I shake my head dazedly. “A tip? From who?”

  “We aren’t at liberty to say,” Officer Mars asserts. “May we come inside?”

  “No, the hell you may not,” Bristol says. “I’m calling our lawyer. This is ridiculous.”

  “Bris, it’s obviously just a misunderstanding.” I lead her over to the couch and sit. “Just let them get it over with. They won’t find anything.”

  “Sir, we’re just doing our jobs,” Officer Mars says softly. “It isn’t personal.”

  “Not personal?” Bristol shouts. “What the hell do you mean it’s not—”

  “Babe, it’s okay.” I wrap my fingers around hers and pull her to wait with me on the couch. I wave a hand to the room. “Knock yourselves out for nothing. Waste our tax dollars doing this when you could be doing something real.”

  “I don’t like this,” Bristol whispers to me as they search the room systematically, finding nothing, of course. “I’m calling our lawyer.”

  “They’re almost done. They won’t find anything.”

  “What’s this?” Officer Mars pats the back of my backpack, which I notice for the first time bulges more than usual. “I’m going to have to open this.”

  He pulls out a pocketknife and slits the back off the bag.

  “This is outrageous.” Bristol’s voice stings like a scorpion. “Now you’ll have to replace his bag . . .”

  Her voice trails off as a huge block of cocaine in an oversize Zip Lock bag falls from the lining of my backpack.

  Officer Mars swears softly, flicking a surprised glance my way.

  I surge to my feet and point to the bag.

  “That shit isn’t mine.”

  “It’s in your bag, in your residence,” the other officer says carefully. “Your ID and other items that clearly belong to you are here.”

  “Grip, don’t say another word.” Bristol has her phone to her ear. “I’m getting our lawyers on the phone right now. I knew this was some kind of set up. God.”

  “Tell the lawyers to meet him down at the county jail.”

  “Jail?” The word torpedoes from my mouth at full speed. “The hell I am. I’ve never been to jail a day in my life, and I’m not going now. Not for some shit that isn’t even mine.”

  “I’m sure we’ll straighten it out then,” Officer Mars says, his face set in impassive lines, though I can tell it isn’t what he wants to be doing. “We have to take you in, Mr. James.”

  It’s all surreal, and none of it sinks in. Not the officer reading me rights I promised my mother I’d never have to hear. Not Bristol’s urgent conversation with Prodigy’s lawyer. Only the cuffs feel
real, enclosing my wrists again for something I haven’t done.

  “No cuffs,” Bristol’s hard voice batters the officers. “You’ll take the private exit where no one will see, and keep this off the radar as long as you can.”

  “Ma’am, with all due respect—”

  “You left respect behind when you came into our home and found drugs that don’t belong to us.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” Officer Mars interjects almost gently.

  “Oh, you better believe it’s a negotiation.” Bristol folds her arms over her chest, managing to look imposing even in her casual dress and bare feet. “Here’s the terms. You follow my instructions for getting him out of here and keeping this off the radar as long as possible. How well you follow my instructions determines, when I bring a wrongful arrest suit against LAPD, how deeply I drag the two of you into it.”

  There’s no sign of the soft, pliant woman who was in my lap just minutes ago. In her place stands a coldly enraged Valkyrie who looks fully prepared to escort them to the afterlife.

  “Which exit did you want us to use?” Office Mars asks reluctantly.

  While Bristol goes over the plan to get me out of the building and down to the County jail, all I can think of is my mother telling anyone who would listen that all she ever dreamt was that I’d have a clean record and never spend a day behind bars.

  Sorry, Ma.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Bristol

  “THIS CAN’T BE happening.” No matter how many times I’ve said that over the last several hours, this is happening.

  Grip is behind bars, and we can’t get him out on bail. With all the money and connections at our disposal, he’s still stuck in county jail with no chance of getting out tonight.

  “It’s the weekend,” Barry, the lawyer says again. “There won’t be a hearing until Monday.”

  “You’re telling me Grip has to stay in jail until Monday?” The disbelief and fury on Rhyson’s face may match mine, but I doubt it. “For something we know he didn’t do? Hell, even if he did it, we should be able to get him out.”

  “He has no criminal record whatsoever. He should be released on his own recognizance.” I’ve said this over and over, and Barry’s answer remains the same.

  “They found a lot of cocaine in his possession. Enough to bump this up to a felony.” Barry polishes his glasses and shakes his head. “Because they have reason to believe it’s connected to a larger case, to a case they’ve been working and a group they’ve been trying to prosecute for years, the typical strings I would pull aren’t working.”

  Barry stands to his feet and gathers his briefcase and jacket.

  “Where do you think you’re going? Rhyson, he isn’t leaving.” I grab Barry’s briefcase and hold it hostage behind my back. “You’re not leaving.”

  Rhyson and Barry stare at me, mouths hanging open.

  “Bristol, listen,” Rhyson says. “I know you—”

  “No, you don’t know.” My voice breaks. My heart breaks. “If you’re willing to leave this place, to let Barry leave this place with Grip still behind bars, then you don’t know.”

  “Bris, I get it.” Rhyson says. “He’s my best friend.”

  “But he’s my . . .”

  I drop the briefcase and turn my back on the two of them, my heart like a spinning speedometer, completely out of control and reckless. I cross one arm across my waist and chew my thumbnail. The sound of Barry leaving the room barely registers. A horrible suspicion sprouted like a weed as soon as the officers found that cocaine, and has grown into venomous certainty. It’s choking every lucid thought and killing off my reason.

  “Bristol, we have to go home.” Rhyson turns me gently by the shoulders to face him.

  “I want to see him.” Tears flood my throat and emotion weakens my mouth into a trembling mess. “He didn’t get to . . . to eat . . . and I need . . . I need to see him before we go.”

  “We can’t tonight, Bris. It’s . . .” he pulls his phone out of his pocket and grimaces at the screen. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. Tomorrow. He’s asleep anyway.”

  “Asleep in jail, Rhyson. We can’t leave him.”

  “Look, we’ll be back at it first thing in the morning. I am ordering you to go home, get some rest so you’ll be ready to fight tomorrow. We can at least try to find some way to get him out before Monday, despite this hearing thing. But nothing more will happen tonight.”

  He heads for the door, looking over his shoulder at me

  “Let’s go, Bris. I need to get home to Kai anyway. She’s so close now, I hate leaving her alone.”

  Guilt pricks me as I think about my sister-in-law home alone, ready to deliver at any moment.

  “You’re right. Of course, go. I’ll work on this tomorrow morning.”

  “Make no mistake about it,” Rhyson says gently. “So will I. If there was more we could do tonight to get him out, you know I would do it.”

  I nod and walk with him into the hallway outside of the room we’ve occupied the last few hours, crawling up walls and shaking trees to make headway.

  “Rhyson, what if I told you I think Grip being here has something to do with me?” I ask softly, finally voicing the noxious thought that has been scratching the inside of my head the last few hours.

  “You mean Parker?” Rhyson slides a glance my way and nods. “It occurred to me.”

  I stop, grabbing his elbow to stop him, too.

  “So you do think this is my fault?”

  “No, not your fault.” Rhyson squeezes my hand. “But I wouldn’t put it past Parker to be involved somehow. This was all too orchestrated. It smacks of foul play. If Parker is involved, I bet some high ranking judge is in his pocket.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Bristol, promise me you won’t contact Parker.” Rhyson looks down at me sternly. “We knew he was dangerous, but now we know the lengths he’ll go to. Or at least we think he’ll go to. We’ll work on this together tomorrow.”

  All the pieces start coming together in my head while I’m driving home. Once I know for sure that Parker is behind this, I’ll feel better. He never does anything unless there’s a gain. A measurable gain. I know what, or who he wants to gain. For the first time I feel some control. Steel enters my spine. I can fix this. I don’t know what I’ll have to do to fix it, and I honestly don’t care as long as I can get Grip’s name cleared and him out of this ridiculous situation.

  I should be surprised to find the same black SUV that met me on the tarmac after Dubai in my driveway, but I’m not. Clairmont steps from the driver’s side and crosses around to open the rear door for me. I don’t look at or otherwise acknowledge him, but climb in, taking the seat across from Parker.

  “You twisted motherfucker.” I keep my voice even and calm despite the violent emotions howling inside of me. My fingers spasm with the base compulsion to claw his throat out.

  “Bristol.” Parker’s blue eyes gleam with dark smugness. “Now is that any way to greet the man who holds the key to setting your lover free?”

  “How soon can you get him out?”

  “It took me very little time to break it. I can fix it just as quickly, with your cooperation, of course. And you should call your brother’s lawyers off. They’re wasting their time, though I must admit I am enjoying blocking them at every turn. I have the right judges so deep in my pocket they lick my ass.”

  “Who are you?” I lean forward, searching his face for an answer, looking for the monster hiding behind the polished mask. “What is wrong with you? Ruining an innocent man’s life for what? Me? To marry me, a woman who doesn’t love you?”

  “Why would I care if you love me or not?” The razor edge of Parker’s laugh slices through my nerves. “But a marriage offer isn’t on the table anymore. How could it be now that the whole world knows you’ve soiled yourself with that thug?”

  I watch him with no expression, waiting for his terms. It doesn’t matter what they are. I’l
l do them to clear Grip’s name. Parker may not realize it, but he has me exactly where he wants me. He can bend me, position me, do whatever the hell he wants with me. He’s found my weakest point, and I’ll say ‘uncle’ before he even asks.

  “Just tell me what you want and stop playing games.”

  “Oh, but the games are the fun part.” His lust pollutes the air. It’s thick, a heavy fume filling my nostrils, gagging me. “And you know what I want, Bristol.”

  “Sex.”

  My steady eyes and matter of fact tone don’t betray my insurgent heart, bawling at the thought of anyone but Grip inside of me.

  “Well, of course. That’s a given.” Parker smiles at me like I’m a slow child. “You could have been my queen, but now you have to bow to me."

  He drops the smile and nods to the spot in front of him.

  "I said now, Bristol. On your knees.”

  Teeth locked painfully and eyes hot with tears I will not give him the satisfaction of shedding, I drop to my knees and face him. He reaches out, pushing down one shoulder of my dress and then the other, until my breasts lay bare except for the gold chain dangling between them. My nipples go hard in the cool air, and I hope he’ll take it for desire. A man like Parker needs to feel wanted, and my heart may have no limits where Grip’s concerned, but my body does. And it refuses to want Parker.

  He licks his lips, eyes brimming with greed, and cups my breast, squeezing with no mercy. I swallow a cry of pain, knowing it would only feed his appetite for my suffering.

  “This body was made for me,” he says huskily. His eyes lift to mine, hard as blue crystals. “Mine, and you humiliated me in front of the whole world, flaunting your sordid affair with him.”

  “There’s nothing sordid about my relationship with Grip.”

  I stiffen when his hand slides down my torso, slipping past the material puddled at my hips and into my panties. His fingers play between my legs, but I remain obstinately dry. There is nothing about this, about him that excites me. I’m disgusted I ever shared my body with this man. Even as a naïve girl still in high school I should have recognized him as a monster.