The girl hostage to fear.
She’d skipped out on the VIP meet and greet.
I didn’t think anyone blamed her, all except for the grumble of disappointed fans who’d wanted to be in her space. Didn’t think she quite got that she was the showstopper. The reason. Or maybe the fucked-up thing was that she was becoming mine.
We entered the luxurious lobby, the lights stark inside, gleaming on the polished white-and-gold floors. Off to the right, an elevator swept open, and the entire group rushed for it as a team.
Mel hauled Emily along, laughing and playful. Leif, Richard, and Rhys piled in behind them.
I slowed. Close spaces, Emily, and I did not mix. Or maybe they mixed too well.
Holding an arm out to keep the elevator door from sliding shut, Rhys popped out his head. “You coming, money man?”
I shoved my hands in my pockets, rocked back on my heels. “Go on, I’ll catch the next.”
“Ah, we can make room. You afraid we bite?” He grinned, flashing his teeth.
I almost laughed. “Nah . . . think I’m actually going to grab a drink.”
Good excuse, right?
“You need a drinkin’ partner, city boy? I’ll gladly drink you under the table,” Rhys shouted from the elevator door.
Mel’s head popped out below his, angled up so she could catch his eye. “Uh-uh, Rhys. It’s already after midnight. You’re on the schedule to hit the hotel gym before we pull out tomorrow. No hangovers for you.”
“You underestimate me, baby. I can totally swing an all-nighter and still put you all to shame in the gym in the morning. I’m a god amongst men!”
“What you are is the God of BS. Now get your butt back on this elevator,” she demanded.
“How about a little compromise. You and I pull an all-nighter and get our workout in my bed. It’s a win-win.”
“In your dreams, cowboy.”
“Stallion, baby. When are you going to get that through your pretty little head?”
She shoved at him, and he was howling with laughter as his arm dropped free and the elevator door started to close.
I caught only a glimpse of the side of Emily’s face.
Jade eyes soft. Warm with an affection I didn’t deserve.
The tether that tied us thrummed. A low-pitched frequency that hummed through my body.
The door fully closed, cutting off the connection.
Shit.
I had to end this. Scrape this feeling from my skin. Keep her from sinking into my bones.
I moved into the mostly empty bar in the hotel lobby, slipped onto a stool, ordered a whiskey. I took a sip from the tumbler, the thick, heady flavor hitting my tongue, and I exhaled a heavy breath, trying to erase all the thoughts and worries and bullshit that threatened to bury me.
Unable to sit still, I reached into my jacket and pulled out the small journal I carried with me. A tangible reminder of my purpose that sat in my breast pocket right over my bitter, ugly heart. It was what I used to hash out the bullshit decaying in the middle of me.
I opened it to a blank page, intent on letting my fingers free with some of the hate.
I let it flow, my hand moving quickly over the page.
Easily.
But the words that spilled out were ones I definitely shouldn’t write.
Fuck.
I wanted to stop it, this familiar feeling that crested from within. A lure tugging me back into long-since-dead dreams.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when I sensed it. Skin prickling in awareness. I shifted to look over my shoulder at the short hall that ran off to the side of the bar. It led outside to firepits that overlooked the river the hotel butted against.
Blonde hair was piled on her head in a messy twist, the girl wearing a sweatshirt that draped off one shoulder and yoga pants.
Casual.
Couldn’t say so much about the punch of lust seeing her like that elicited in me.
The swell of protectiveness that crashed.
I should stay sitting right here. Same way as I should have done that first night I’d seen her at that bar back in Savannah. Instead, I was tucking the journal back into my pocket, digging out a twenty, and trapping it under the tumbler I’d emptied.
My shoes echoed on the stark floors, my heart rate catching time, everything slowing and speeding and warping when I pushed out the door.
My attention darted to the left, then to the right, relief hitting me when I saw she’d curled up on an outdoor couch tucked in the shadows at the far side of the empty patio.
Flames lapping up.
Illuminating the soft curve of her face, nose and chin and lips. I wanted to be the one tracing each of them.
I slowed as I approached.
I knew she felt me.
Could tell in the way she hugged her knees tighter to her chest.
In the energy that spilled to the ground. Rushing. Crashing between us. Her teeth raked anxiously at her bottom lip when I slipped down in the cushioned seat off to the side, her face scrubbed of makeup, everything about her fresh and soft.