Текст книги "Child Star: Part 3"

Автор книги: J. J. McAvoy

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Chapter Two

Noah

I wasn’t sure what she expected to see when we stepped out of our bedroom. Last night, I was able to take her mind off of things easily because she so badly wanted to forget. But this morning, stepping out into the very room her mother had died in, I wasn’t sure how she would react to the fact that it looked like it had never even happened. The broken vase, table, the lamp, the paintings—all of it was gone and replaced with replicas. Even more striking was Austin, dressed in a tan suit and green bow tie, standing in the very spot Esther’s body had been only hours ago and talking casually on the phone. He leaned against the couch as if even he didn’t realize where he was standing.

“Amelia, Oliver wanted me to tell you that he will meet you on set.” He glanced up at us and nodded over to the table where a light breakfast and coffee were waiting.

She nodded, but didn’t move.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

Her blue eyes focused on me, staring at me with shock and confusion. I knew she wanted to know how. But I prayed she didn’t ask.

“Nothing. Sorry, I just spaced out for a second.” She forced a smile and then walked over to the table, reaching for a bagel along with the pink script for the morning.

“Oliver called you this morning?” I questioned when Austin stepped closer to me, his back to her.

“Apparently he quit last night.”

“He what?” Hell must have frozen over.

“I’m not sure what happened, but I’m guessing it was before our other issue.” He paused before speaking again. “Neither of you should have stayed here last night.”

“Where else could we have gone?” She couldn’t have left in her state, and certainly not before the room had been cleaned.

He sighed, knowing I was right. “You need to remember, Noah—she isn’t like you. She grew up like a princess, the daughter of a star, and then became a star in her own right. But you, no matter how long you’ve lived as a celebrity, will always be from the Southbend.”

My jaw and fists tensed at what he was implying. The Southbend, the Chicago slums, the trailer parks, the dogs, my good ol’ hometown, where you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a dealer, stripper, thief, murderer, or the person they murdered. There were two Noah Sloans: one who grew up watching Frank beat the shit out of men with tire irons for simply looking at him the wrong way, and then there was the Noah Sloan—the actor. I had spent my life trying to keep them separate, and now they were colliding faster than I could grasp.

“I’m not trying to piss you off.” He grabbed my arm, drawing my attention. “I’m just trying to remind you that the way you see the world may be different than how she does. To you, this is another skeleton in the closet. To her, the world has flipped on its head.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Noah—”

“I know her.”

“You knew her … years ago.”

 “No,” I sneered, not looking away from him. “I. Know. Her. Everyone tries to treat her like glass, like she is someone who has to be managed, but she’s stronger than you think. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have called me last night.”

In that one split moment, she made a choice. She was good person. She tried to do the right thing. But at the end of the day, she still called me.

“Guys,” Amelia called out, and both of our heads snapped to her. She didn’t look away from the script in her hand. “I’m trying my best to pretend like you aren’t talking about me, but I’m really not that dumb, so …”

Smirking, I walked away from him.

“So?” I questioned, grabbing a bagel from the table and taking a seat directly in front of her.

“So talk to me, not about me, because there are a lot of things I can take from you, but doubt is not one. Not now. Not ever. We all make choices, and I made mine a long time ago. You. Beginning. End. It is always you. I do not ask for absolution. I do not call myself a good person. Everything you are—jaded, controlling, ruthless—I am, too. I know nothing but for the fact that I am yours, so you. Can’t. Doubt. Me. And you sure as hell can’t look at me with anything other than unreasonable, undeniable, borderline obsessive love.” She stared at me so intensely, I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I couldn’t fight the grin spreading over my face the more I stared at her.

She too smiled and turned the script to me. “You’ve got to hand it to Blair—she sure knows how to keep her man in line.”

“Taking notes?” I asked.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not even a little bit.” I didn’t care that it came from the script. The fact that she said it right when I wanted to hear it was all I needed. It reminded me of when we were younger—no matter who our parents were or where we came from, when it came to each other, we could always find the same page.

This. Us. Everything would work.

I smiled.

And she smiled.

Then Austin had to fuck everything up by speaking. “Noah, he’s not leaving the lobby.”

“Who?” Amelia asked, glancing between us.

Rising from the chair, I got up and kissed the side of her head. “Finish eating. I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Noah?”

I didn’t answer, just took my leather jacket and walked to the door. The less she knew about Bo, the better off she was. However, I didn’t even make it a step out the suite. The moment I opened the door, there was Bo, grinning with a toothpick his mouth.

He’s an idiot was the first thing crossed my mind.

“’Sup, lil’ bro.”

Pushing him back, I slammed the door shut behind me.

“Noah—”

I held my hand to his face, glancing at the cameras in the hall before nodding toward the emergency stairs.

“I know you’re—” Bo started.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I hollered, grabbing his shirt and throwing him up against the wall. “You do not come to me unless I call for you, Bo. That is the deal!”

“Am I your fucking brother or your dog?”

 “YOU ARE…” Taking a deep breath, I released my grip on him and took a step back. I wanted to beat the shit out of him, but instead kept breathing through my nose.

“I ain’t dumb, alright! I know the goddamn deal—”

“Then why are you here, Bo?”

He stared back at me, his eyes wide. “So that’s how it is? You call me when you need something, I do everything you fuckin’ ask, and now you ain’t even gonna give me the time of day? What, you too good for us now? You come home and you can’t even stop by? Did your fucking manager tell you I got a kid now? Six months old. She ain’t even seen her uncle’s face besides the news. We’re family, Noah, and you can walk around with your fancy clothes, your millionaire friends, and your hot-shot girlfriend, but you can’t change the fact that you’re a Sloan.”

“We need to make some things clear,” I said, stepping up to him. “First of all, you don’t wanna know how much it cost me to give you the time of fucking day. You can’t afford it. Secondly, yeah, that’s how it is. That’s how it’s always been. Except it’s me who is always doing the goddamn favor for you. Third, your baby girl? Katie? Who paid her bills when she was in the NICU ‘cause her mother couldn’t go nine months without shooting up? Hell, I paid for both of their bills, the house you live in, and the debt you racked up at the Horseshoe so many damn times they’ve named a table after me! You might not see me, but you sure as hell always see my money.”

“Bro, I—”

“I’m not finished!” I sneered. He looked to the side, fingering the toothpick in his mouth. “Fourth, and most importantly, I got the same friends you got, and they like me much better. I don’t want to fight with you, but don’t you dare step in my face and act like I somehow forgot what my goddamn last name was!”

He sighed, dropping his head into his hands and falling back against the wall. “You’re right. Sorry. I’m sorry. Okay? It’s just—it was good to see you face to face. I was hoping we could catch up, you know.”

“I’m busy—but I was going to come and visit,” I replied, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Plus, you know Chicago—it has to beat the shit out of you a few times before you can enjoy the view.”

He grinned stupidly. “I heard you did got locked up. This Mallory guy—you need me to…?”

“I’m good. As long as you took care of my other problem.”

“I’m hurt you even gotta ask,” Bo replied.

“Good. You know I only call you because if I can’t count on my brother—”

“Who else can you fucking count on?” he finished the saying we had as kids, shaking my hand and bringing me in for a one-arm hug.

“Alright. Alright, I’ma make myself a ghost now. But don’t forget to come down. Everybody keeps asking about you. Megan is clean now, too,” he said.

“Yeah, got it.” I nodded to him when he opened the door, giving me one more glance back before he left. When he did, only one thing crossed my mind.

I shouldn’t have called him.

Amelia

“So that was Bo,” I said when Austin and I got on the elevator. We had left only minutes after Noah had dragged his brother away so quickly I could barely see anything other than his short blonde hair and tattoos on his arms.

“The one and only,” Austin replied, texting on his phone.

“Why did he come back?”

“God only knows.”

“Austin.” I turned him and he finally looked up me. “I need you to know something—I’m sure you understand why. Noah trusts you, so I trust you. Whatever you thought of me yesterday morning no longer applies today. Are we understood?”

His eyebrow raised, practically amused and from what I could tell, impressed. “Understood, Ms. London.”

“Brilliant. Also, when we get to set, please talk to Oliver about getting all his contacts for me. You’ll be my manager also.” He didn’t question this, which was good since I wasn’t asking. The last thing I needed was someone else close to me that I had to lie to.

When the elevator doors opened, the first person I saw step out was Noah himself, his hands in his pocket. The second he saw me, a smirk spread across his face, as it did on mine.

“For the both you.” Austin handed us each a pair of sunglasses. “The press is still manic.”

The fact that that it was so early in the morning and yet they were already waiting meant that the whole world was watching us again. Just like old times—no, worse than back then. But we wanted this, right? That’s why we were even here to begin with, to become something bigger than former child stars. We’d be bigger than even Esther had dreamed. She didn’t make me. I made myself.

Amelia and Noah…no one would forget us.

“You ready?” Noah asked me.

“Been ready since I was kid.” I took the shades from Austin, who was reaching up to cover his eyes. “Are you ready?”

He didn’t answer, but simply took my hand, leading us into the lion’s den.

Chapter Three

Three Months Later

Amelia

"Ms. London," the show’s producer called, pulling me out of my own thoughts.

"Yes?" I asked, turning in my chair. The man doing my makeup never bothered to stop for a moment.

"You're on in five."

"Thank you," I responded with a smile before turning back to face the mirror. You’d think I would get used to my face being like this. But I couldn't do my own makeup to save my life. Years of having stylists would do that to a person. "Wow."

"You like?" He grinned with pride. "I know you have your own people—"

"No, it's amazing!” I assured him. “Thank you so much."

"Oh, thank God. I thought you were quiet because you hated it," he laughed awkwardly.

My resting bitch face strikes again.

"No, I'm just nervous," I laughed.

His mouth dropped open. "You? You're nervous?"

"Yeah, I always get nervous right before I do an interview—or anything else."

"I don't believe it."

No one does. People sometimes forget we are human. Who is naturally comfortable speaking to millions of people?

"Well, it's true. This is it, right?" I asked waving my hand over my face. He nodded, helping me take off the paper towel around my neck.

"Umm, I know you must get this all the time, but do you mind?" he asked, holding up his camera.

"Ms. London, is—"

I waved my hand over at Austin, cutting him off. “It's okay, Austin. How else will the world know who is responsible for this face?"

Austin was completely different from Oliver. He never really said anything until he needed to. He was always just in the background, watching carefully. Sometimes I would even forget he was there. But what I couldn’t deny was the fact that he got his job done. Anything I wanted—hell, I didn’t even have to ask for things I wanted. He already had them set up. Like this late-night talk show with Sammy Graham.

“Okay,” the stylist said, smiling as he leaned in next to me and took a selfie. Seeing the red light flash, I stood up. Austin looked me over and then nodded, opening the backstage door for me. It was funny—no matter what city I was in, the backstage of the studio always looked the same. People chattered jargon into microphones and ran around like chickens. It never failed to amuse me.

I walked to edge of the stage, watching as Sammy finished his intro for me. "Now if you don't know our next guest, then you've just probably invented the wheel. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Amelia London!"

I took a deep breath before walking out and waving to the crowd as I made my way to Sammy. We hugged for a moment before I sat down, crossing my legs.

"Welcome!" he said once again, and the crowd just kept applauding.

"I love you, Amelia!" some guy yelled.

"Aww, thank you! I love you all, too!" I said, laughing.

"Wow," Sammy said, looking out to his crowd. "Why don't I ever get a welcoming like that?"

"You mean they don't clap for you? Don't you have one of those 'Applause' signs?" I joked.

"I did until they found out you were coming, and their excitement just blew it up."

"Sorry, I should have warned you about that," I joked.

"Oh, so it's happened before?" Sammy quipped.

"They don't call my fans the Londonite Nation for nothing!" I turned to the crowd, who once again went wild. It felt like a baseball game in there. Finally, when they quieted down, Sammy continued.

"Yes, the Londonites almost broke Twitter last night with that promo photo. Let’s take a look one more time," he said, turning toward the screen that showed the promo photo of me bound in red rope with Noah standing right beside me pulling the binds tighter around my wrists, that goddamn wicked grin spread over his lips as he stared only at me. Meanwhile, it looked like I was having on an orgasm. Thinking back on it, I think I might have.

“Jesus Christ, Sinners Like Us is right,” Sammy said, whistling.

"Thank you?” I laughed. “Oh God. It’s so weird seeing photos like that posted all over the city.”

“Weird for you? I still remember you as that spunky girl with pigtails on Kid Genius.”

I was damn tired of hearing about Kid Genius. “What can I say? I grew up and changed the rating of my life.”

“And we love it!” another random guy yelled.

“That’s right, everyone. I mean, everyone is just dying for this movie to be released. I wanted to ask: what was it like on set the first day they asked you to do that?” he pointed back up at the photo.

“I was terrified. But being tied up by your boyfriend isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” I said, winking at the camera knowing full well that Noah was watching somewhere. “Besides, Sinners Like Us is so much more than two lovers who enjoy rope play.”

"Since you brought up Noah," Sammy said. He wiggled his eyebrow.

"Oh, here it comes," I said, taking the mug left out for me.

"You know, I gotta ask, just for the poor saps at home and in this audience who have pictures of you taped up on their walls."

“Fine, fine. Ask.”

“You and Noah Sloan: is it the real deal, or is this just a stunt?”

“Sammy, this movie doesn’t need any more hype than it already has.”

“So it’s a yes.”

“It’s a hell yes. Sorry, ladies,” I replied. There was a mixture of sounds coming from the audience.

“So you guys came out as couple while filming, but you two dated once before, right? How did it happen again?”

On the screen was a photo of Noah and me as teenagers wearing matching denim outfits and blue shades.

“Ugh…” I groaned, putting my face in my hands and trying not to laugh while the audience cooed at us. Shaking my head, I went on. “We both were young, and it was our first time dating. We were going through our awkward years, as you can see, except we did it front of the whole world. But when you get to your twenties as a former child star, you’ve seen a lot. We both just reconnected, and there was no turning back.”

“There are rumors that things got very… heated on set. Was all of it just acting, or…?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. You’re just going to have watch the movie and let me know,” I responded coyly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Amelia London. Her new movie, Sinners like Us, comes out this December."

I smiled, standing as our interview ended. The light flashed red by the camera, signaling the commercial break.

"Thank you so much for coming on last minute," Sammy said as he shook my hand.

"No, thank you! It was a lot of fun," I replied with a smile, moving toward Austin and a few of my bodyguards off stage.

There was no time to chat. They just ushered me out the back door. Austin handed me my sunglasses, and I sighed, placing them on my face as they opened the door. Keeping my head down, I was basically surrounded by screaming fans as I headed into the car.

"We love you!"

"Just one picture!"

"I'm your biggest fan!"

"Please follow me back on Twitter!"

Finally, when I was in and the door closed, I took a deep breath and leaned into my seat.

"So if you fly out tonight, you can be in—"

"Austin, I'm tired. I just want to go home tonight."

"What about—"

"I’ll call Noah and let him know." While I had come back to Los Angeles for two weeks, Noah was in New York. Now that shooting had wrapped up, we both had other work to do before we had to go on the full promotional tour for the movie. Austin spent most of his days flying back and forth between us—how he managed to juggle everything was beyond me. However, I couldn’t complain. Reaching for my phone, I dialed Noah’s number. However, it went straight to voicemail—and that was the second time today.

I didn’t want to be one of those girls … but would it kill him to at least text?

“He’s in the studio working on voiceover work. You know they turn their phones off so it doesn’t interfere with anything, right?” Austin asked.

“I know.”

“Then why do you look annoyed at your phone?”

“Smartass,” I muttered, and he chuckled.

Ignoring him, I glanced out the window. There was something odd about being here after returning from Chicago. I was born here, but now, something felt off, and no matter how much I had thought about it, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Finally, when the car stopped after we entered the private garage of The Tower, my bodyguard opened the door.

"Nolan, thanks, but I'm okay." They weren't really needed anymore. The Tower was home to some of the most famous people in the world. It was easier to get into the White House than it was to get in here.

"Amelia, we don’t want a repeat of the last incident. Let them go up and check the place.” The incident he was referring to was one crazy fan who hid in a bathroom trashcan just to take photos of me—a fucking trashcan.

“It’s The Tower. I’ve lived here for years, and no one has gotten through,” I said as politely as possible, moving towards the elevator.

"Just text me when you’re in."

"Fine," I called out as the doors closed. And just when I thought he was less overprotective than Oliver.

"Thank you." I tipped the elevator attendant as I got off on my floor.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said as the doors closed.

Stepping into my flat, I grinned at the mixtures of pink: still my favorite color. Taking my shoes off right at the door, I froze, noticing a tub of vanilla icing sitting on my counter along with a silver spoon.

"I could tell you were craving some."

My head whipped around to him so fast it might have fallen off had it not been attached. He stood there, in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, just staring back at me.

"Noah!" I grinned, running to him. He caught me as I jumped on him and he kissed me just as hard as I kissed him. There was so much I wanted to say to him, but right now, I just wanted to be with him.

His hands ripped at my dress as he walked us to the bedroom. Without a second thought, he threw me onto the bed, peeling the rest of my dress off.

"You looked beautiful tonight," he muttered, kissing up my stomach.

"You were watching?"

"Always," he whispered, taking my lips once again.

As I pulled at his shirt, the buttons popped off all over the room. I ran my hands up his chest.

He took off my bra, cupping both of my breasts, and I shivered, not sure what to say to him. He didn't even give me a chance before he took a nipple into his mouth.

"Noah—" I gasped, wrapping my legs around him.

He kissed from the top of my breasts and down my stomach until he reached my panties, peeling them off as he made his way further south.

"Say it," he whispered, his eyes glazed over with lust.

A wicked grin spread across my face as a shiver went down my spine. “Tie. Me. Up. Noah.”

He said nothing, rising off the bed and moving to my side table as I propped myself up on the pillows. Actors technically weren’t supposed to take things from the set, and in the past, I had taken things like pants or dresses. However, Noah took one thing and one thing alone: the red rope.

Watching as he wrapped it around his hand, I felt my chest tighten with anticipation. I bit my lip and sat up on my knees when he looked back over at me. His eyes traveled the length of my body, mapping out exactly how he was going to tie me. Each time we did this, he tied me in a different way, and each time, I found myself wanting more. To go further, to push the boundaries of everything.

“Come,” he said, and I crawled off the bed, kneeling in front him. I stretched my hands out in front me. Gently, he lifted all my hair, tying it up into a messy bun on top of my head, and instead of taking my hands right away, he lifted my chin.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but stopped himself, kissing my forehead.

“Turn around.”

I did as he asked. He pulled my arms back around my back, tying the rope around my wrists twice. My heart race as he worked his way up my arms, weaving and—

“Ahh!” I gasped when he pulled tighter, my back arched fully.

With my arms tied, he circled me, his eyes never looking away from my body as he stopped and tied the rope around my breasts tightly, my nipples erect for him—only him.

“Noah…” I moaned, the pain was nothing in comparison to the pleasure I got when he looked at me like this. Like I was the only woman in the world, his own personal masterpiece. Closing my eyes, I accepted everything, jumping only when I felt the rope move between my thighs.

“Beautiful,” he whispered when he was done.

I was completely under his control, unable to move, unable to think of anything but him, wanting him.

He bit his own lip as his thumb brushed over my nipples. “I’ll never stop being turned on by this.”

“Noah—”

“Say it.”

I couldn’t. I was already melting in his hands, my body hot.

“Baby,” he said as he kissed my jaw, his hand securely on my neck, “I know you want to. Don’t torture me. Say it.”

“W—whip … me.” My voice trembled, not out of fear—no, fuck, I wanted it. “Whip me.”

Kissing my lips hard, he got up and grabbed the horsetail whip, and like always, he let it glade freely over my skin before …

SNAP. The middle of my back.

SNAP. The side of my stomach.

The whip glided up my stomach and rested right on my hip. I glanced up at him and he back down at me.

SNAP.

“Ahh!” I hissed, my head thrown back.

SNAP.

SNAP.

“Fuck,” I moaned

“Spread your legs.”

He didn’t need to ask twice. I more than glad to—

SNAP.

The sound of his whip smacking my wet pussy … I would never not be embarrassed by it, but I’d always want it.

Wiggling under him, I ached for him. I needed him.

 SNAP.

SNAP.

SNAP.

SNAP.

“NOAH! Please,” I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed him.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, please!”

He smirked, bent down, and lifted me off the ground with ease before dropping me onto my stomach in the middle of the bed.

“If it’s a fuck you want, it’s a fuck you’ll get,” he replied rubbing his cock in between my ass cheeks slowly, making me even wetter, if that was possible. My only reply was to shake my ass for him—it was the only part of myself I could really move at this point, anyway.

“Noa—”

“Fuck,” he gasped, thrusting himself into me. My mouth dropped open from the sheer pleasure of it. He waited only for a second, if that, before pulling out and burying himself again, even deeper, over and over again.

“Two weeks,” he grunted, thrusting so hard the bed slammed into the wall. “Two. Fucking. Weeks. How did I live without you and this fucking ass for two weeks?”

I didn’t know. My mouth was open, but the only sounds coming from it didn’t sound like English.

"Noah—"

"No," he declared.

"So close."

"We do it together," he responded.

I didn't think I could wait for him. I didn't want to.

"Come … on ... baby," he said between grunts above me.

With each thrust, I felt myself losing any control over my body I had left. The sweat dripped from his body on to mine, and I welcomed it. All of him—I wanted it.

“NOAH!”

“AMELIA!” he cried out when he came, breathing in deeply for only a second before pulling out of me, my body crumbling on to the bed.

My chest rose and fell as I lay on top of the sheets.

Neither of us spoke as he moved to untie me, a process that thankfully took less time than the actual tying.

“I missed you,” he said when he undid the final tie, kissing the middle of my back. Smiling, I rolled over, opening my arms to him, and he lay down on top of me.

“I missed you more.”

Noah

“You both gotta be kidding me!”

Cracking one eye open, the first thing I saw was hair, Amelia’s brown hair, sprawled out on my face, her naked body partially on mine. And in the doorway was Austin, glaring down at the both of us.

“It’s 10 a.m., Amelia. You have a photo shoot in an hour!”

“Please make him go away,” Amelia groaned, grabbing the sheets and dragging them over her head.

“Austin, go away,” I laughed, pulling the sheet over my head as well and grabbing her sides, causing her to giggle hysterically as she tried to roll away from me.

“You both have been like this for three months. The honeymoon needs to be over. Get up, or I swear, Amelia, I’ll make sure you’re thirty before you get another day off!” he snapped, slamming the door behind him.

“You’re only punishing the both of us!” she yelled in return as I pinned her under me.

“You’re going to give him gray hair,” I teased.

“Says the man who ditched his work in New York for a quick screw,” she laughed, sticking her tongue out at me.

“It was hardly quick—”

“Noah. Get out here now!” Austin bellowed.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“We get it! We’re—”

“Noah!”

I froze. The tone his voice was odd. Rolling off Amelia, I pulled on my boxers before opening her bedroom door to find him staring at the TV on the wall. The scroll on the bottom read, “Huge drug bust in the heart of Chicago today.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Austin? I nearly had a heart attack. Why would you—”

He rewound to three minutes prior, pausing on a shot of Frank, shooting at the fucking police before jumping into a white van.

“Keep watching,” he said, fast-forwarding.

“One of the suspects, Frank Sloan, father of former child star Noah Sloan, is currently on the run—” He muted the television, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I didn’t have words. How? How is it possible for one man to be so fucking stupid?

“You should be able to guess how this gets worse,” Austin groaned, trying to contain the rage we both had to be feeling at this point.

“It gets worse than this?” Amelia stepped out, gray robe wrapped around her body, her hair an absolute mess, and I loved it. When I stretched my hand out to her, she came over, placing her hands on either side of my face.

“I get it. Being on the police’s radar—in any way, shape, or form—is bad,” she whispered, her hands working their way into my hair. “But he knows nothing about us.”

“Amelia,” I said. Sighing, I rested my head on her stomach. If only it was that simple.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

“In Chicago, the drugs come from one place. And there is an unspoken rule for all dealers.” Even after all this time, it still felt odd talking to her about this.

“An unspoken rule?” she repeated.

“Either you pay back the merchandise, or the Callahans will come for your family,” Austin finished for me. However, when her hands froze, I glanced up at her.

“The Callahans … I’ve heard that name somewhere.”

I snorted and kissed her hands. “They’re like royalty in Chicago. Hell, they basically own it—”

“No. I mean I know that name. Is one of them named Melody? Melody Giovanni Callahan? I know her.”

“You know a Callahan?” Austin grunted, but from the look on her face, I knew she wasn’t joking about this. Why would she if she didn’t even know who they were?

“Amelia,” I said, “how do you know her?”

“She helped me,” she said, not at all making sense. Melody Callahan. Though I had never met her, I knew she did not help people. Used them, broke them, killed them, yeah—but helped? “When you were arrested for the whole Mallory thing, I tried to get proof that it wasn’t your fault. I failed miserably. Then out of nowhere, Melody Callahan picked me up and said she would give me what I needed if I gave up Sheldon Worcester. She needed his help and promised she wouldn’t do anything to him, so I told her. I didn’t know she had anything to do with drugs!”

“You sold your friend out to the head of the Italian mob,” Austin chimed in, not at all fucking helping.

“What?” she panicked. I didn’t give a damn about Sheldon Worcester. My biggest concern was the ripple effect this would have—

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

 Austin pulled out his phone, stared at it, and shaking his head, he answered.

“Bo. We just saw. I’ll get—He’s busy—We will get back to you—Yes, I understand how serious this—No, don’t. Bo. Bo!” He glanced back at me, shaking his head. “He’s spooked. I wouldn’t doubt that he’s packing to run now.”