by Hayden Wolfe
“What about you, Blaine? Maybe you shouldn’t be making plans now. Lots can happen in a few months’ time. You are busy.”
Hugging herself, Blaine turned in a slow circle. The sudden urge to grab her violin gripped her. She wanted to try out a couple of chords. They might be the perfect transitional stitching to her symphony, blending the earlier movements with the finale. “A successful woman knows to book the most important events far in advance. Planning is everything, Jack.”
“Yeah?” Jack’s voice took on a sexy cadence she felt in her bones. “Did you plan for us to get together, then? ’Cause loving you in the cabin that first day sure didn’t feel planned.”
“No. Not at all.” She laughed. “But a wise woman won’t let an opportunity of a lifetime slip through her fingers.”
Jack groaned. “December is too far away.”
A little over two weeks had passed since she’d left Jack. She missed him. Ached for him in a way that didn’t involve sex. She missed talking to him. Laughing with him. Playing her violin for him. She was fairly certain what the longing meant.
She was falling in love.
Taking a chance, Blaine inhaled deeply, then let her fear slip away with her exhaled breath. Her father had taught her the simple calming technique. She employed it before every show. Anxiety and fear had no place on stage in front of thousands of people.
Or with the man who’d somehow slipped into her heart.
“You’re right, Jack. December is too far away.”
“The time apart might make or break us.”
Blaine froze, breath caught and every muscle tense. “Is there an us?”
The silence that stretched between them chilled her blood. She hugged herself tighter and fought the self-destructing thoughts creeping into her mind. Jack felt something toward her that went beyond lust. She would not doubt her instincts on this. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have brought anything up about an “us.”
Finally, Jack’s voice filled the line. “Yes. I’m not sure how it happened, but there’s an us. At least in my eyes.”
Blaine bunched the front of her shirt. “Mine too.”
“Thank God.” Jack muttered the words. “I was hoping I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.”
“You’re not. I don’t how it happened either, but all I want to do is step into your arms. Except you’re not here, and I’m lonely.” She shook her head on a bitter laugh. “There’s a music hall full of fans waiting for me to walk out on stage, and I’m lonely. It’s crazy.”
“Not crazy.” Jack’s laugh sounded as hollow as hers. “Every time I see a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye, I keep thinking it’s you. The disappointment sucks. Then I have to remind myself I won’t be seeing you for a very long time.”
“Christmastime now.”
“That’s a hell of a lot better than the summer, but it’s still too far away. You might be seeing me sooner.”
“Will I?” Lip caught between her teeth, she held the phone tighter and fought the excitement his words brought.
“Yep. Maybe in four to six weeks if I’m lucky. I just sent my passport applications in. Not sure how long it’ll take to get approval to enter Russia, though. They might not be too keen on an ex-Marine visiting.”
No, they probably wouldn’t be too eager to grant Jack a visa. She’d have to make a couple of phone calls to speed up the process. “Then prepare to be treated to all the touristy things my country has to offer. I’ll take you to all the places I love.”
“I can’t wait.”
Blaine laughed. “I think we’re getting sappy. I always thought people in love were the ones who got sappy.”
“Then I guess we’re falling in love, because I need you, Blaine. More than my next breath.”
Love.
The word bounced around in her head. All the implications of loving an American pressed down on her. Mixed into the reality were her own jaded thoughts. She’d seen how devastated her mother had been after losing her father. His death changed her, turning the once fun and loving woman into a bitter and cold widow.
Blaine’s heart didn’t want to hear any doubt. She knew what she needed.
“I need you too, Jack. More than—” A hard knock on the door sounded. The voice of her stylist reached her. Blaine sighed. “I’ve got to go. My makeup artist is here. I’ll call you after the show.”
“Okay. Have a good show, angel.”
Smiling, Blaine closed her eyes and let her heart speak for her. “I love you, Jack.”
Blaine ended the call before the weight of those three words made her heart ache. She’d fallen in love with a man who lived on another continent and didn’t fit into her world. But…she wasn’t sure she fit into her world anymore either.
Chapter 17
Blaine loved him. Had any other woman said such a thing to him a month after meeting him, he’d call her crazy. Hearing Blaine’s declaration validated his feelings. He loved her too.
How many times had he sworn never to build his life around a woman? Enough that he shouldn’t even be in this situation. Yet here he was. Knee-deep in emotions he’d avoided his entire adult life.
Dammit. He knew himself too well to ever think about elevating any woman’s worth in his eyes to the point where the word “love” got associated with her. He couldn’t go a week without checking in on his brothers or parents. Given the right motivation—the right woman—he’d go beyond the occasional check-in. He’d live for her. In a very literal sense. Her happiness, her health, her emotions… All these things would become his top priority. Not his wants, unless they aligned with hers.
Despite knowing all this, it had happened. Blaine had weaseled her way into his mind, his heart, his life. He knew the exact moment he’d gotten himself hooked too. It wasn’t the first night Blaine had walked into his bar. Not even the day after, when they’d fucked. Or during the episode at his parents’ house when she’d triggered his jealousy. Seeing her with Eliot hadn’t caused it either.
Blaine playing her violin had captured him, ensuring he’d follow her anywhere.
Even to Russia.
Jack looked at his phone. The only picture he had of Blaine—the selfie they’d taken at the airport—stared back at him. Longing took hold.
Hell, they might never marry. Their relationship might not last. Maybe they’d find out how wrong they were for each other. Or that their differences would be too much to overcome. He wanted a chance to see where this went, though. The very idea of not learning the outcome of their story left him as anxious as he’d felt while waiting for Blaine to finish the rest of her symphony.
The screen darkened, his phone going to sleep. Instead of turning it back on as he’d done many times over the past couple of weeks to continue staring at her image, he slid his phone into his rear pocket and made his way to Wyn and Iona’s house.
Iona was setting up the live feed of Blaine’s show to play on the large television in the living room, about the only room in his brother’s house that looked the same as it had before Iona moved in. Exquisite paintings and pieces of art had been blended into the rest of the décor, merging their personalities.
Hard rock music and a man screaming something in Russian greeted Jack the moment he stepped into his brother’s home. The opening act. Jack had no idea what was being said, any more than he did when Blaine sang, but the beat resonated within him. He could feel it in his bones.
Leaning against the doorframe, Jack peered into the living room. The large television mounted across from the couch showed a view of the pit and the stage. The guy on it commanded the performance, while the guitarists and the girl on drums supported him. The second the song ended, people were screaming, hooting, reaching onstage for their chance to touch the band members.
Jack snorted. The opening act Blaine had chosen was good. Of course, Jack didn’t expect anything less. Blaine would only team up with the best.
Iona walked in with a couple of beers and a bag of chips. She held
a longneck out to him. “Wyn apologizes for not being here. He got a call this morning from a friend who’s in the hospital. Wyn went down to see him. His friend’s not too happy about being returned to the States.”
Returned to the States? Jack took the beer from Iona and immediately set it on a coaster. “Did Wyn mention who?”
“Neil. He was hurt on a mission and needs to meet with specialists to determine if he’ll ever be fit enough to return to service.” Iona raised a hand. “Before you ask more, that’s all the details I have. I never even got his last name. Neil was cursing too much and threatening the nurses who were in the room. Wyn just told him to shut up, he’s driving out to see him. I got a quick kiss goodbye, then he was rushing out the door.”
“Shit.” Jack rubbed the tightness in his neck. Neil was Kyle’s age and closer to Wyn than either Jack or Levi, but Jack knew him well enough to understand how getting discharged on medical would ruin Neil’s plans of climbing the officer ranks.
“I hope you don’t mind being stuck with me.” Iona settled onto the couch with her legs tucked under her. She grabbed the remote and muted the show. No music played while the instruments were cleared off stage anyway.
“Not at all.” Jack rounded the L-shaped couch and sat directly in front of the television. “I wanted to ask you about Blaine anyway.”
Iona smiled as if she knew a very dirty secret. Probably about him and Blaine. “About her past romantic relationships? Or her thoughts on men, maybe?”
Oh yeah, Iona knew about them. Blaine’s emotions and her past weren’t topics he’d be discussing with Iona, however. Those details would come directly from Blaine. Looking elsewhere for those answers would be disrespectful to Blaine. Jack would not start off the only relationship that had ever mattered by belittling her. Trying to dig up dirt on Blaine would do that.
“About her violin, actually.”
Iona ripped open the bag of chips, shoved one into her mouth, and pushed the bag away. “Blaine told me how Eliot bought it off the black market for her. She’s thrilled to have it back.”
“Not about the Zima violin.” Though Blaine had been elated to hold it again. He’d seen that in her eyes. “Her playing in general. She’s amazing. I mean, I know I’m not an expert, but I have an ear for music. And what I heard from Blaine was phenomenal, unlike anything out there.”
Iona smiled, a warm and all-encompassing smile as if he’d just complimented her and not Blaine. “I understand what you’re saying. I’ve been telling her that for years, Jack. She waves off my praise, saying any good friend would tell her the same thing.”
“So me telling her isn’t going to sway her either.” He’d figured as much.
“Maybe. Maybe not. She’s never been in a serious relationship before. Your opinion might matter a lot.”
“Blaine told you we’re together?” They’d just gotten off the phone. When had she had time? Or had Blaine mentioned her feelings to Iona before she left? If so, he didn’t know how he felt about that. He should’ve been the first to know.
“So you are dating, then?” Iona’s eyes brightened with a mischievous sparkle. “I knew I was right.”
He grabbed the bag of chips, chomped a couple to stop his pleased grin from spreading, then glanced at Iona. “She never told you?”
“I found her in your bed when I called her cell that last morning.” Iona gave him a pointed look. “I figured something was going on. The rest I guessed at. I’ve never seen Blaine act the way she was with you.”
This time, Jack couldn’t keep the pleased grin off his face. “She’s coming to the States—”
Blaine stepped onto the stage. Wearing white short-shorts, tall boots, a bra that plumped her breasts, and a feathered boa, she reminded him of a hooker. Or maybe a vampire. Black makeup darkened her eyes while something resembling blood dripped from the corner of her plump red lips.
The moment she turned, however, he knew why Blaine had told him she’d dress for him. A pair of angel wings had been strapped to her back.
He’d never seen anyone sexier. Jack sat forward. Blaine’s mouth moved. The band in the background played. He hadn’t even asked her who played the music while she sang. Why the hell hadn’t he asked her? Probably for the same reason she’d never asked about his Marine days. They’d run out of time.
He motioned to the television. “Iona. The music.”
Iona unmuted the feed that would be used for marketing and bonus clips for Blaine’s website, according to Iona. Blaine’s rich, rough voice filled the room. She danced with aggressive, seductive moves that begged a man to tame her. The cadence of her lyrics matched the wicked way she commanded the stage. She knelt near the edge, spreading her legs for the fan she’d chosen to tease and sang to him, leaning so close that guy could’ve kissed her. He didn’t. His eyes were riveted on Blaine.
Song after song played. Jack watched his girlfriend—because that was what he considered Blaine—command the crowd. She was good at this too. But not as good as she’d been playing for him.
The beginning notes of another song played. Blaine jumped from the stage into the pit of her adoring fans. Their hands caressed her as she glided through the crowd. She handed some guy the end of her boa. He drew it off her, slowly, as if he was undressing a lover. The people near him smacked him on the back as Blaine left him behind. All the while, she told her story through the lyrics she’d written.
Finally, the bright, colorful lights went out, blanketing the auditorium in darkness while a single light focused on Blaine. She stretched her arms into the air, screaming a round of harsh words she’d repeated several times in this song. Then she dropped her arms and arched backward. Her hair hung in wild waves. The music in the background turned sinister, deadly.
Jack slid his ass to the edge of his seat, waiting for Blaine’s next move as he’d done at the cabin while she’d played for him. The crowd quieted too as if immersed in total anticipation the same way.
With a loud crash of cymbals, the music quickened. The crowd went wild. Blaine spoke the lyrics she’d just sung in a low, almost desperate voice. Then her body jerked. She screamed, an ear-piercing sound that had Jack jumping to his feet. She toppled sideways.
“Blaine!” Iona’s shout confirmed his fear.
This wasn’t part of the show.
The music cut off. People rushed forward. Jack caught a glimpse of Avery and Alex dropping to their knees next to Blaine. The camera focused on her face. Blood covered her. A rounded disc stuck out of her cheek. No, not a disc, a triskelion-shaped throwing star. They sold similar ones at the gun store in St. Marlowe. The curved blades gave it a distinct look.
The feed cut. The television went dark. Jack screamed Blaine’s name.
Iona was in front of him in the next instance. She grabbed his biceps, squeezing them firmly enough to drag his focus to her.
“She’ll be fine. Do you hear me?” Iona shook him. “That wasn’t a life-threatening injury.”
“Don’t care. She’s hurt.” Jack shoved at Iona, trying to push her away. He needed to do something. Call Blaine, maybe. Reach out to the Russian police. He didn’t know what to do, but he couldn’t just stand here. Blaine was hurting. And he was half a world away.
Iona tightened her grip, digging her nails into his biceps.
“Blaine is going to be okay. Avery’s with her. I promise you, Jack. She’ll be fine. Blaine is the toughest woman I know.” Tears filled Iona’s eyes, but a harsh stamp of determination radiated from her.
Jack looked past Iona. The darkened television taunted him. He had no idea what was happening. Who was with Blaine. What she was feeling. If she was even conscious. He knew nothing.
For now.
“I’ll call Avery and leave him a message. The first moment he gets, he’ll return it. I know he will.”
Iona’s promise pulled Jack’s gaze back to Blaine’s best friend. “He better.” Because if Avery didn’t, Jack was shit out of luck. His passport application was stuck in t
he mail.
Chapter 18
Awareness crept into Blaine’s mind. So did pain. A lot of pain. The side of her face thumped. She swallowed. The coppery taste of blood still lingered in her mouth. Tentatively, she prodded her cheek with her tongue. A fresh burst of pain radiated down her jaw to her neck.
Gripping the sheets of the hospital bed, Blaine fought to contain her scream. Opening her mouth would subject her to the agony she’d endured at the show. She did not want to repeat that moment again. Passing out in front of a stadium full of fans had been horrible. Worse, though, was knowing Jack had likely watched her fall.
Jack.
His image flashed before her. Her heartbeat quickened. Did Jack know she was okay? Avery wouldn’t have thought to call.
Blaine pried her eyelids open. Her lashes stuck together. Her eyes felt dry. Bright light assaulted her. She quickly squeezed her eyelids shut again. Darn hospital lights. Why did they have to be so bright?
“Hey. Are you awake?”
Avery’s voice reached her.
She slowly opened her eyes, allowing herself a chance to adjust to the bright room. She inclined her head slightly. It was the best she could do. Opening her mouth scared her, quite frankly. She couldn’t risk passing out again. At least not until she learned if Jack knew she was fine.
“Good.” Avery pressed the controls on the bedframe and raised the head of the bed, bring her to a reclined sitting position. He shoved pillows next to her, then handed her a notepad and pen. “The doctor wants you to avoid talking. He’ll be back in soon to check on you. He wants to go over some options with you.”
She reached a hand to her aching face. Avery stopped her before she touched the bandages. She felt them. The tape irritated her skin.
“Don’t. They have you tapped up pretty good.” Avery’s gaze mapped her face. The concern in that single look set Blaine on edge. “Are you hurting? They wouldn’t give you anything for it. I asked. Trust me, Blaine. I asked.”