Текст книги "Beautiful Storm"

Автор книги: Megan Isaacs

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

I plant a swift kiss to her lips and stand up. “Do you want a cup of tea before you leave?”

The soft laughter from her doesn’t go to my cock. It hits my heart. Hard. And I’m temporarily paralysed.

This shit is going to kill me.

“I’d love one. Thank you.”

I nod and go downstairs, trying to figure out what the hell’s up with me. When did my heart get involved in anything?

Lizzie left an hour ago. For the past sixty minutes I’ve been staring at my coffee cup. A thousand different thoughts have been whirling through my brain, but I’m trying hard to ignore the main one I keep coming back to.

When the wanker’s gone, I get her to myself. We can’t go out for meals, or on dates, because we aren’t a couple. They are, although they haven’t been together for months. I know next to nothing about him, apart from he’s in some band. I don’t give a shit who he is. He’s a tosser. He’s never here for her and I get the feeling there’s something very wrong with their relationship. I know she’s unhappy, or she wouldn’t be in my bed. She’s not the type to have a fuck toy on the side. Plus, last night she handed me her heart.

I pour the remaining coffee down the sink and slam the cup down on the side. The only thing I can think to do is go for a run, or I’m going to go all caveman and drag her arse back here. I quickly put on my running shoes and a sweatshirt, then head out the door.

After ten miles it becomes clear the burning feeling in my chest and the rampant thoughts in my head aren’t going to disappear anytime soon.

I’m in love with her.

Fuck.

How do I deal with this?

Another five miles and my muscles burn, my sweatshirt’s soaked, and nothing’s changed. I still feel the same. Exhausted, I turn for home and watch people on the way. Couples young and old, families, doing day-to-day shit, but they’re happy. I’ve never wanted that, avoided it for good reason. My life involved other people’s deaths, so it’s safer for everyone if I stay away from relationships. It’s better not to get attached. But that was my old life, right? I’m past all that. Retired.

I stop to plug in my earbuds, hoping the music will drown out my thoughts. My lungs are on fire by the time the house comes into view. I jog up the driveway, and then do some stretches before trying to get much needed air back in my lungs.

I release a disgruntled exhale and run a hand through my sweat-drenched hair. Falling in love is a dangerous game, as Lizzie stated; someone usually gets hurt. But for me? I know it’s already too late. She fucking owns me, black heart and all. And I’ve just made the biggest decision of my life. No music, no amount of muscle fatigue, and no internal argument could change my mind.

I’m going to ask her to move in with me. I need her by my side.

MY HEART SQUEEZES as I drive away from Noah’s. I hate this. Leaving the arms of the man who holds my heart and doesn’t have a clue is breaking me.

I love him. My heart should have been more guarded. But Noah is raw, passionate, and gentle with it. It stood no chance. The first time I met him I knew he’d be trouble if I let him get close. And he is. He’s under my skin and in the air I breathe. He consumes me.

And now, Mac’s home. Everything’s one great big mess. I should have sorted everything out sooner, but I thought I had time. That’s all been shot to hell now.

My phone rings and I glance at the name on the screen. Mac’s manager. Does the man have no concept of time? I answer on hands-free.

“Joseph?”

“Elizabeth. I need to discuss a few things with you.”

I listen to what he has to say and give very little response to him. Every word he utters makes my chest hurt. By the time he ends the call I can hardly breathe.

Oh, God. What am I going to do?

Needing to hear a friendly voice and talk things through, I call Boo. My pulse races while I dial her number, put her on speakerphone, and wait for her to answer.

She picks up on the third ring. “Hey, hun. What’s up?” Her voice is groggy.

I glance at the clock; it’s only seven in the morning. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“Mac’s home.”

“Oh? Shit.” She always has a way with words, but she sounds more awake.

“What am I going to do?” Panic consumes me. I don’t want him home. I don’t want to pretend we’re something we’re not. I fight the tears threatening to fall.

“Why the hell is he back?” she whisper-yells.

“I just had a call from his manager. They cancelled the rest of the tour. He needs to go into rehab.”

“Oh, right. Well it’s about time. Um… I’m not sure what you should do, hun. What do you want to do?”

“I want to leave him. What else would you think I’d want?”

“Then why haven’t you already?”

Her question isn’t meant to hurt, but it does anyway. I’ve asked myself the same thing a million times over in the three rings it took her to answer. “Because while he was on tour I could pretend he didn’t exist most of the time. Now he’s back and they’re telling me I can’t leave him. They said they’d get me fired. Run a smear campaign. Anything to wreck my life.” I release a stressed sigh. “But it’s even more complicated than ever now, isn’t it?”

“That’s utter bollocks, Lizzie, and you know it. It’s impossible for them to have that kind of influence. Don’t let them bully you. Did you tell Noah yet?”

There’s no need for me to ask her to elaborate, because I know exactly what she’s asking. My stomach clenches, adding to the heightened stress already swirling rampant in my body. “No.”

“Why the hell not, Lizzie? That’s just stupid. He needs to know.”

“I’m waiting for the right time.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.” It comes out as an almost whisper frightened by how much I do.

“Well, he loves you, right?”

This morning his tense body told me a million things he’s never said. I don’t need the words from him. I never will. It’s in the way he looks at me. Even how he holds my hand. The small things, which tells me he loves me, even if he doesn’t realise it.

“Yes, I think so. He’s never told me. But I get the feeling he does… He asked me to leave Mac.” He didn’t let me walk away, even when it would have been so easy for him to say goodbye.

“Yeah. He loves you.” She laughs a little and for a second I start to smile. “So, there’s no issue with that.”

“There’s a huge issue.” My voice rises with the twisting in my heart.

“Okay, take some deep breaths. It’ll be okay. Where are you?”

“I’ve just left Noah’s.”

“Mac’s home and you’re not there? You had a call from his manager? Where do they think you are? It’s seven in the morning.”

“They think I’m on my way back from your place.”

“That’s okay then.” I hear her exhale. “But would it be so bad to let him find out?”

I’ve never told Boo about Mac’s violent behaviour, too ashamed to admit I live like that. She only knows about his addictions. “Yes.”

“Hmm… Hun, you’re just going to have to leave him. They can’t blackmail you to make you stay. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

I think about her question. This is why I needed to talk to her. She can see the sense in things I can’t. “Nothing, I guess. Maybe it’ll make me look a little heartless, but I’ve always tried to stay out of that side of his life anyway. And, I’m bloody good at my job.”

“Exactly. Plus, you’ve never craved the fame. You’re sort of faceless to the media. So playing the ‘you can’t leave him now even if you want to’ card isn’t really a threat, is it?”

“No. I guess not.” The pressure inside me starts to subside. Boo’s common sense gives me hope.

“Okay, good. Go leave him.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “And then go claim the other one by the balls. He seems to make you happy.”

“Thanks, Boo.”

“I only told you what you already knew you wanted… Lizzie?”

“Yes?”

“Why would they tell you that you couldn’t leave him? I mean that’s coming out of left field, don’t you think?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. But I guess they must know things aren’t good between us.”

“It seems a bit weird, though.”

“I suppose. But they think they can run everything. They always have. Look, I’ve got to go. I’m pulling up to the house. Love you.”

“Love you, too, hun. Good luck.”

The call clicks off as I draw to a halt. I stare at the large house in front of me. Coming back here only reminds me of what I want to forget and why I want to leave. The house is cold and empty, although it’s pretty enough. Looks can be deceiving. I’ve stayed away as much as possible while Mac’s been gone. Either camping out at Boo’s or in Noah’s bed.

I grab my purse and search for my keys to let myself in.

When I walk inside, the house is deathly quiet. Unusual for when Mac’s home. He normally turns every TV on. His creative brain is unable to cope with silence. I place my purse and keys down in the hallway and walk into the lounge.

A dishevelled Mac sits with his head hung low. When he lifts his gaze to mine the hatred I see there makes me take a step back.

“What’s this?” he snarls at me.

My throat tightens and my heart rate increases tenfold.

In his hand he holds a small white piece of plastic. Even though he’s not meant to be home yet, it was stupid of me to leave it in the bathroom waste bin. I can’t bring myself to answer, because it’s obvious what it is. A pregnancy test.

“Who have you been fucking, Liz? Because it sure as hell isn’t me.” He sneers, spit flying from his mouth. He wipes it away and laughs; it’s twisted, hateful. “Don’t bother fucking lying because I already know who it is. Are you really that stupid?”

My head moves, but it’s not a nod or a shake, because I don’t know what answer he expects me to give him. I didn’t want him to find out like this, but it’s done. My mind races with the conversation I had with Boo, trying to find the right way of saying what I want to say.

“We’ve been over for a long time, Mac.” I no longer care what the management say, or what the repercussions are.

“Like hell we are.” He jumps from his seat and strides towards me, his face distorted. “If you think you can leave and set up happy house with that cunt, you’re wrong.”

My eyes widen and I take another step away from him. The movement only increases his anger. He moves quickly, grabs me hard around my wrist, and drags me into the hallway. I fight bile down when he throws me against the welcome table, encases me from behind and locks both my wrists in his torturous grip. His free hand tears into my hair, ripping my head back so I’m forced to look into the mirror.

“I own you. Not him. Me. You’re a fucking whore. It should be my dick putting a baby in you. Not scum like Noah fucking Hamilton.”

He spits Noah’s name and his hardness swells against my hip. Oh, God, I feel sick. He’s getting off on this. I stare blankly into the mirror as Mac continues his violent onslaught of words, mentally shutting down, waiting for the first physical blow to strike. I watch unfocused as blurred tears fall from the eyes of the woman in the reflection.

I imagine she’s held safe in the love of Noah’s arms, visualise his reaction to being told he’s going to be a dad. Try to find a happy place for her, where her body isn’t numb and her eyes aren’t blinded by tears and pain.

“I’ll tell you now, you fucking bitch. You’ll tell him it’s over, or I’ll kill the cunt. I’ll firebomb his fucking house with him inside and I’ll watch the fucker burn.” Spittle flies from his mouth as he shakes me. “Or maybe Ignition?”

The insanity in Mac’s words convinces me he’s over the edge. My breaths stutter and my eyes come back into focus.

His eyes are wild, a sadistic sneer fixed on his face. “And if that doesn’t persuade you to stay away”—he digs his fingers into my stomach and squeezes—“I’m sure I can either fuck or knock this baby out of you.” The edges of my vision fade and my heart overloads.

Noah’s baby.

I fight for every breath, but I can’t get the air into my lungs quick enough. Colour disappears, turning everything to monochrome, and darkness takes over.

Hands grip into my shoulders, shaking me. “Wake the fuck up. Wake up!”

My vision returns to see Mac’s contorted face above me. I try to fight him away but his fingers grasp tighter. So much pain.

“Mr. Kinkaid?” One of his security guards places his hand on Mac’s shoulder, and pulls him back. “Not a good idea. I think she’s had enough.”

The grip on my shoulders abruptly release as Mac turns on him. “Who told you it’s okay to interfere in my private fucking life? Piss off.”

Still groggy, I try and pull myself up off the floor and against the wall. The bodyguard’s piercing gaze meets mine. It’s James. He’s been around years and never interfered like this before.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kinkaid. But there’s going to be enough bad press as it is.”

Mac’s shoulders heave before he swings around and grabs me by the chin and forces my head up. “I meant what I said.” He squeezes a little tighter before letting go and turning on the guard. “And you. You’re fucking fired.”

When Mac stalks past James he stands a little straighter, but keeps his gaze on me. The front door slams, sending a shudder through my body. James opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Then he nods and walks away, leaving me standing alone in the hall.

My brain tries to process what just happened, but it can’t. My whole body is frozen solid. I should move, I should leave, I should do something. Yet nothing’s happening.

My baby.

The unmistakeable sound of Mac’s car revving and tearing out of the drive allows me a little respite.

What am I going to do?

I already know there’s no option. Mac has proven he is unstable and beyond gone. My throat tightens and my chest aches. I have no doubt he would carry out exactly what he said he would.

Noah can’t be hurt because of me. I need to keep him safe, and to protect the unborn life inside of me.

With my head hung low, hot tears flow from my eyes and drip from the tip of my nose onto the floor.

I have to leave Noah.

STANDING AT NOAH’S front door, I shuffle my feet side to side as I stare back onto the drive. I know I shouldn’t be here. But I had to see him one last time. Tell him face to face. I’m fooling myself. This would be easier on the phone or via text. I whip my head back around when I hear the door open, walking in past him, and he closes the door behind me.

When I enter his house, large hands grasp at my wrists capturing me with little effort against the door. Noah raises them above my head, pinning them with his left hand and lowers his head into the crook of my neck. He inhales along my skin, as he tenderly strokes his nose up to my ear, sending tingles down my spine.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

His lips crash onto mine, and the passion in the kiss pools heat between my thighs. His free hand roams up and down my side, coming to rest on the swell of my breast. His thumb gently and repeatedly grazes my nipple until it buds under his touch.

My whole body tenses. Not from his touch. Even now, after everything Mac put me through, my body still lights up for Noah, it always will. But the words burning inside me won’t let me continue. I can’t do that to him. He senses the shift in my composure.

Noah pulls away slightly, and his concerned gaze scans me from head to toe. It comes to rest on my wrists. The moment he sees the bruises, I know. His jaw clenches and his brows pinch in the middle. I should’ve covered them, but I didn’t think. He releases his grasp and pulls them down towards him. Thick thumbs rub over the blue welts circling my skin. My heart pounds hard as he examines the fingerprints.

“I hurt you?” The pain etched in his eyes takes my breath away.

“No.” I shake my head. “You didn’t.”

“Fuck, angel. If I hurt you when I pin you down, I need to know.”

Although my heart’s shattering, I still smile. He’s so gentle, even when rough and unrestrained. He’d never hurt me. Not like that.

“It didn’t.”

“The bruises say different.”

“Noah, I promise. You didn’t hurt me.” I would never let this man believe he did that. He gave me life in a world full of darkness he knows nothing about. But I can’t tell him the truth.

Again, he appraises me with his gaze, and then entwines his fingers with mine. I let him, because even though I’m going to rip out my own heart, I need this. I need him. If only for a few more minutes.

“Come on. I want to talk to you.”

My stomach tightens. He runs his fingers through his hair and I know he’s got something on his mind. Whatever it is can’t be as terrible as what I have to do. He gives me a nervous glance, and tugs on my hand.

I follow, my mind buzzing with what I have to say. Entering into his lounge he motions for me to sit on the sofa. I clasp my hands between my knees and watch him pace. My heart constricts in my chest, taking my breath. Every muscle on his naked torso ripples with the movement. I can’t look away even if I wanted to.

He stops pacing and thrusts his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been thinking…”

The lazy smile and the hopeful look on his face warm my heart. Emotion builds inside me. Whatever he’s going to say next I know I’ve longed to hear but never needed to. I nod my head at him. “Go on.” I shouldn’t say it; I should jump in and save him, and myself, from the pain. But I need to hear it, now more than ever.

“Move in with me?” His eyes darken a fraction and he takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with you. I need you here with me, now and always.”

My pulse races and I fight back the tears welling behind my eyes. Those words will live with me for an eternity.

“Well?” he asks softly. Noah’s hazel eyes are alight with hope.

The shake of my head causes his eyes widen in disbelief. The thought of the words I need to say next rips through my mind and my heart. I don’t want to say them, but know I have to. My mouth opens to speak but the words fail to come. I don’t have a choice. I push harder and the words scrape up my throat.

“No, that’s not going to happen.”

Please just accept that.

“Why not?”

His head tilts to the side and his eyes search my face. I stare at him, my chest hammering, unable to get out what I know I need to.

“Lizzie? Why won’t you move in with me?” His voice is low, dejected, and I’m starting to lose my nerve. His brow furrows, the deep lines tracking across his forehead.

Please, please don’t. Just stop. I can’t say the words. Please don’t make me say them.

I stand up to leave. I need to get away. Before I’ve taken a few steps his large hands grasp my shoulders, and he turns me to face him. His gaze searches mine almost like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Lizzie?” His gruff voice demands an answer.

My heart explodes. “I… I don’t love you.” I squeeze every painful word out. They’re a lie. I love him more than anything. More than my own life.

He drops his hands from me and takes a step back.

“What the fuck, Lizzie?” he whispers, staring at me like I’ve just run over a prized pet. No, not run over, more like I’ve mutilated and dismembered it with my own hands right in front of him. His beautiful eyes flash with pain before being replaced by instantaneous searing anger.

He stands with his feet shoulder width apart, bare chest heaving with the emotions playing in his eyes. Those gorgeous manly hands rest on his hips where his faded jeans hang loosely, his breath ragged. I want to turn away from the blaze that’s raging like an inferno in his eyes, darkening the hazel to black. I’ve hurt him and there’s no turning back.

“You know what, fuck this. You want it your way? Have it your way. I’m out. I don’t need this shit!”

My way? It’s not my way. I don’t want this, I want… you.

I’m numb. My mind’s still not functioning at full capacity, and I can’t get the words to come out. But even if I could, I know the risk is too high. I can’t risk his life, or Ignition. I’d rather have him hate me.

He swipes his black T-shirt from the floor, and in a few strides, reaches the door. He looks back over his shoulder and waits for something, anything from me to make this right. Behind the anger his eyes plead with me. I see it clearly, but my brain still can’t play catch up. I’m trying but my heart’s fracturing, overriding any ability to form coherent words.

“Get the fuck out of my house. I don’t want you here when I get home.”

I look at him helplessly, tears flowing down my face, begging him with my eyes. Hoping he can read the truth, see the words I can’t say. But with the slow shake of his gorgeous brown head, and with the rattling slam of the door, I know he didn’t. He’s gone.

What have I done?

My heart and soul have vanished out the door, in the hands of the man that holds them.

I can’t breathe. My chest constricts and restricts my airflow, compressing around the hole that has formed where my heart used to be. It crushes me like a slow and deadly implosion. Obliterating my heart to dust.

You caused this, you did this to yourself. You should’ve been more careful, you shouldn’t have taken the risk. You knew this would happen, what did you expect?

My thoughts join in with the crippling battering my own body already provides me with and I can’t stand the pressure any longer. I collapse to my knees onto the wooden floor, into a heaving, sobbing broken mess.

It’s over.

I don’t know how long I sit on his floor, my knees pressed tightly to my chest, my arms wrapped around them as I rock back and forth. After picking myself up from the ground, I gather myself together and leave, but not without taking one of Noah’s T-shirts. I need a part of him with me. My hand rubs over my stomach and guilt floods my already overloaded senses. I’ll always have that now.

I arrive back home. Hell. The constant nagging fear eats away at me. The buzz of anxiety in my stomach I’ll have to learn to live with because I don’t know how to escape from what’s waiting for me inside.

As I get out of the car, the memory of Noah’s pleading eyes haunts every step I take. I should’ve told him the truth. But I couldn’t. The price is too high. I heave a shaky breath, the pain in my chest unbearable. But I know I did the right thing.

Noah’s life for mine. My baby’s life for mine.

I enter the kitchen. An empty bottle of Jack sits on the counter. As I walk further something crunches under my feet. Broken glass shards are scattered like ice crystals over the floor. Romeo’s Destruction cancelled all upcoming tours and recording time to allow Mac time to get his addictions under control. Looks like it’s working. Not.

Inside me, fear pulls at my stomach, sending a wave of nausea through me. I walk over to the island unit and place my bag down before going to the utility room to retrieve the dustpan and brush. Footsteps crunch behind me.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Mac’s angry words are slurred and my muscles tense at what it means for what little rationality he has left. He doesn’t let me answer before he continues. “I warned you, Liz, I fucking told you what would happen. I told you to stay away from that bastard,” he spits out.

As I feared, the alcohol has taken his last shred of humanity. As I turn, his face contorts with fury.

“I did what you asked. We’re over. Are you happy now?” I should be more careful with my words.

A sick, angry laugh gurgles up in his throat. “Am I fucking happy? That cunt has been touching what’s mine. Do you think I should be happy?”

Cringing at his words, I try edging away from him, but instead back myself up against the corner cabinets. Bad mistake.

“Has he touched you here?” Mac reaches for my neck and strokes the side of it, sending nervous shivers down my spine. I don’t know how to answer. One wrong word could set him off.

A cold laugh struggles from his throat. “Of course he has. The bastard got you knocked up with another bastard.”

The stench of alcohol reeks on his breath and seeps through his pores, making me want to gag. He slips his hand around my throat and holds it there as if contemplating wringing my neck. I try desperately but cautiously to move to my right, away from the corner that’s holding me hostage. His grip on me tightens and I freeze.

“Has he touched you here?” He loosens his hold on my throat then traces down and over my breast.

I try to work out how to get away. My mouth dries and my voice clogs in my throat. Without warning, he grasps me and the pain ricochets downwards, making my knees buckle. A strangled sound leaves my mouth.

“These. Are. Mine.” He’s inches away from my face.

My heart beats frantically, and adrenaline rushes through me, making my whole body vibrate. Mac blocks the exit, but I need to get away.

“Has he touched this?” He edges his hand downwards.

Survival instincts kick in and I raise my knee as hard as possible into his groin. There’s contact, but not hard enough to put him down.

“You fucking bitch,” Mac yells, and stumbles backwards clutching at his groin.

I push past him and run like crazy into the kitchen, but he’s on my heels. Before I can make it out the back door he captures me around the waist. I scream, kick, and bite, but I can’t release his hold.

“You’ll fucking pay for that,” he whispers menacingly in my ear.

My breaths are short gasps, but I continue to fight as hard as I can against his large frame. He throws me like a rag doll against the kitchen wall; pain bites into my shoulder, and I slide to the floor. I try to scramble away, but he’s above me within seconds, and backhands me hard across my cheek. I fall heavily onto the tiled floor. My head pounds and my vision blurs from the tears streaming down my face.

The distinct sound of Mac undoing his belt and zipper hits my ears. Oh, God. No, no, no, no, not that. Please, God. Please, please, please, God, no.

“Nooooooooo.” I frantically scuttle backwards, but he catches me by the ankle and pulls me back towards him. I roll onto my stomach trying to gain some purchase. Instead, my nails tear against the tiles and glass shards shred my palms and slice my knees. Mac pulls me against him so my legs are parted around his, and rough hands push up around my waist. With desperation, I fight to get my legs closer together. His erection pushes against my thigh. Shit, shit, shit. My stomach roils, and when my underwear rips from my body, I lose its contents all over the floor.