Blood and Guitars (36 page)

Trey’s face softened and he let out a
resigned sigh. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” I gave his
hand one last squeeze.

He kissed my forehead and then walked over to
the kitchen island. He stood there for a moment, his hands resting
on the granite countertop as he forced himself to breathe
deeply.

“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked, turning
to face me again.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and held it
out to him. “Do you want me to give you some space?”

He shook his head, his eyes pleading with me.
“Stay. Please.”

I nodded and felt Cowboy scratching at my
wet, grass-stained jeans. “I’ll stay,” I promised. “I’ll, uh … get
Cowboy sorted out.”

“Thanks.” Trey leaned back against the edge
of the counter and stared at my phone.

I patted my leg so the dog would follow me
over to the kitchen pantry, where I assumed his food might be. I
heard Trey dialing a number, knowing it would be O’Shea’s. I
rummaged through the pantry, finding a five gallon bucket on the
floor full of Puppy Chow or whatever it was Trey fed Cowboy. I
scooped some dog food with the plastic cup in the bucket and
carried it back out to the kitchen where Trey was still staring at
my phone, his thumb hovering over the Send button. Cowboy’s
automatic feeder sat on the other side of the kitchen island,
two-third’s empty. I unscrewed the lid off the top and filled the
container before replacing the lid. Trey pressed Send as I moved on
to filling Cowboy’s water dispenser at the kitchen sink. Trey
wandered toward the dining room table while the phone rang, waiting
for O’Shea to pick up. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the
inhuman hearing isn’t something I can just turn off. Once I had
Cowboy’s water filled and the dog was taking a drink I leaned
against the counter just as O’Shea picked up.

“Hey man, it’s me. My phone’s dead so I’m on
Aurora’s,” Trey began. He looked older than I’d ever seen him
look.

“No wonder you’re not answering. Ken has all
the songs we’ve done so far mixed so we can come over early and get
a feel for how the album is shaping up,” O’Shea said excitedly.

“That’s great, man,” Trey spoke slowly,
forcing a smile. But anyone who knew Trey would immediately know
from the tone of his voice that something was wrong. O’Shea was no
exception.

“Hey … is everything all right?”

“Um ….” Trey ran a hand through his hair and
looked at his shoes. “I don’t know how to tell you this….”

“Are those sirens I hear in the
background?”

Trey turned to the window where the police
lights could still be seen flashing through the spaces in the
blinds. He separated a few of them with his fingers, just enough to
peek through. The ambulance sirens were wailing again. “There’s
been an accident,” Trey said. The look of pain that flashed across
his face as he spoke made me cringe.

“An accident? Are you all right, man?”

“I … I wasn’t involved, but Wes-”

“Wes? Is he okay?” O’Shea asked
earnestly.

Trey took another shaky breath. “No … he’s
not okay.” Trey’s voice cracked but he forced the words out. “He …
he didn’t make it.” There was a sharp intake of breath from O’Shea
and then silence on the line for a couple of heartbeats before Trey
managed to speak again. “He was hit by an SUV in front of my house,
practically in my driveway.”

“I’m coming over,” O’Shea said, his voice
strained with emotion.

“No,” Trey insisted. “You don’t need to see
this – besides – the police want to talk to us at the station. The
truth is it may not have been an accident. Someone might have
mistaken Wes for me.”

“Why would anyone want to hurt you?” O’Shea
asked, but he didn’t seem to expect an answer.

“I haven’t called anyone else. Do you think
you could get Jonas and Chase and meet me at the police station?
I’ll explain everything when we get there.”

“We’ll be there.”

Trey hung up the phone and I walked slowly
toward him. He sighed and opened his arms to me. I leaned against
his chest, and felt him kiss the top of my head. “Maybe I’m not
going to live long enough for you to change me.”

“I’m not leaving your side,” I promised. “I
won’t let anything happen to you.” I was still confident that I
could keep Trey safe, but I couldn’t make that same promise about
the rest of the guys, Ken and his family, or anyone I’d put in
danger by dragging Trey into my world. It just wasn’t possible for
one vampire to be everywhere at once. Damir’s promise from last
night echoed in my mind but I mentally brushed it away.

“Look at you.” Trey touched my cheek softly
with his calloused fingers. “You’re soaking wet. I’ll go get your
bag from the car,” he offered.

“No,” I said. “It’s not worth it. I’m not
going to catch pneumonia,” I stated. “But you should probably
change into something dry.”

“Come with me.” Trey took my hand and I let
him lead me up the stairs to his bedroom. He went directly to the
giant room he called a closet where he rummaged inside and produced
a tee shirt, holding it up to me to gauge the size. “It’s not much
to look at, but at least you’ll be dry.”

“It’s perfect.”

Then he found a pair of jogging pants and
gave me those as well. “You can use the bathroom to change,” he
offered, gesturing to the door that led to the master bath. “Toss
your wet clothes back out to me and I’ll throw them in the washer
with mine.”

“What about the police?”

“They can wait a few minutes,” Trey said, and
I could almost hear the silent ending to his sentence: it’s not
like anything will be different in ten minutes. Wes will still be
dead.

I let myself in the bathroom and pulled off
my wet jeans and shirt, grateful that my underwear and bra were
only a little damp. I opened the door enough to hold my wet clothes
out for Trey to take. I closed the door again and pulled Trey’s
shirt on, breathing in the smell of him on the material. As I put
the jogging pants on, I heard Trey open, close and then start the
washer located inside the giant room he called a closet. I gazed at
my reflection in the large mirror above the sink. Trey’s shirt was
long enough to qualify as a short nightgown. I’d squeezed the water
from my hair with the towel the paramedic had given me. It was
still wet but at least it wasn’t dripping. As I stood there wearing
Trey’s shirt, for a small moment there was the illusion of normalcy
in a situation that was anything but.

When I opened the bathroom door Trey was
sitting on the bottom of his bed, his head in his hands. He had on
a dry pair of jeans and a belt but no shirt. It was like he hadn’t
managed to get completely dressed before the crushing reality of
the situation had overpowered him again. I sat down next to him but
he didn’t look up until I bumped him gently with my shoulder.

“That tee shirt has never looked so good,” he
said with a small smile as he gazed at me.

“Funny. I was just thinking I prefer you
without one,” I said.

His smile widened just as I’d hoped it would
and I found my eyes wandering down to the tattoo on the right side
of his chest. I’d seen a picture of the whole band showing off
their matching tattoos of Catalyst’s logo on the fan club, but this
was the first time I’d seen Trey’s tattoo in person. I lifted a
hand and traced the design slowly with my fingernail.

“We begged Wes to get one with us.”

“Wes? A tattoo?” I asked.

“We never did talk him into it,” Trey said.
“He was so afraid of needles….” His voice trailed off and he was
silent for a few seconds, lost in a memory. “I swore to him I’d get
him to do it one day.” I leaned forward and he wrapped his arms
around me, pulling me to his chest.

“Are you sure you’re up to this police
station thing?” I asked vaguely.

“No,” he said. “But it’s not like I have a
choice. Besides, I need to see the guys. They should hear it from
me.” I wished I could think of anything to say that would make him
feel better. There just weren’t words for situations like this. “Do
you think the story about somebody being out to get me because
they’re jealous of my success is going to hold up?” he asked.

“It’s the only thing we’ve got.”

“Can’t you just use some of your vampire mojo
to convince the cops that’s what happened?”

I shook my head, remembering just how little
Trey actually knew about my world. “That kind of thing comes and
goes with the moon,” I explained. “That’s why most vampires prefer
a nocturnal schedule, so we can take full advantage of those
abilities. Only a vampire’s physical gifts stay with them during
the day.” I heard the buzzing in the air outside before it got near
us. “There’s a helicopter getting closer,” I thought out loud.

Trey sighed and squeezed me gently before
letting go. “Great. That means its time to get the hell out of
here.” He pulled on a shirt and we headed downstairs. Trey stopped
to tell Cowboy to be a good dog on the way out and then the garage
was closing behind us. The rain had stopped completely now, leaving
behind only puddles of water and mud in the tracks Wes’s car and
the black SUV had left in Trey’s lawn. Photographers were now among
the other people standing on the sidewalk across the street. The
police had put up yellow tape and were keeping them at bay, but
they snapped away with their fancy cameras. Each flash felt like an
invasion, and I was amazed at how unaffected Trey seemed. He went
straight to the driver’s side door and opened it for me, letting me
slip inside before he closed it. Then he climbed in the passenger’s
side and I started the engine. Officer Murray was already in his
car, talking on his police radio. He looked up to see us waiting
and waved to let us know he’d seen us. Then he made a u-turn and
gestured for us to follow him. I turned and pulled onto the road
behind him. A second police car fell in line behind us.

“Looks like we’re getting an escort,” I
stated apologetically.

“Might as well have just taken the free
ride.” Trey gazed at the news chopper that was now hovering in the
sky in clear view from his window.

“We’ll get through this,” I added, glancing
at him. He gazed at me for a long moment before nodding. It
wouldn’t be easy. In fact, I knew it was going to get worse again
real soon. Trey was going to have to retell the story of Wes’s
death to the rest of the men he called brothers. He’d already been
to hell and back today, but he put on a brave face as we made our
way across town with our police escort.

Trey was silent as we pulled into the parking
lot of the police station. O’Shea and Chase were already there,
leaning against O’Shea’s car in one of the front parking spots. I
parked in an empty spot next to them and cut the engine, turning to
look at Trey.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?”

“As much of the truth as I can.” Trey took a
deep breath. “The celebrity angle is a good one. We have to make it
work.”

I knew that facing the police questioning
wasn’t what Trey was dreading, but he obviously didn’t want to talk
about the fact that he was going to have to explain to his brothers
how Wes had died in his yard. He took a deep breath and then opened
his door, climbing out. I followed suit but stayed a ways behind as
he approached O’Shea and Chase. Another car turned into the parking
lot and all three of the guys watched and waited while Jonas parked
and then sauntered over to them.

“Are you okay?” O’Shea asked Trey.

“I told you I’m fine,” Trey assured him.

“It’s true then?” Chase asked tentatively.
“Wes is really gone?”

Trey managed to nod his head in response. He
was quiet for a second and then added, “I tried to save him, guys.
But I was just too late. He … he was dead before I got there.”
Trey’s voice cracked and O’Shea laid a supportive hand on his
shoulder.

“How about you?” O’Shea studied me with
concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

I gave him a small nod. I probably should
have been playing the part of hysterical girlfriend. Most humans
would be losing it after what we’d just seen, but Trey needed the
real me just then. Officer Murray came to my side, but he didn’t
speak, like he was trying to give Trey a minute to collect himself.
I heard another car approaching and turned to see a white car
creeping down the street past us. A man’s head was stuck out of the
passenger side window, a camera in his hands. The paparazzi had
apparently followed us to the station.

Officer Murray followed my gaze. “Hey guys,”
he said softly. “Maybe we should move this inside. We’ve got
company.”

O’Shea answered for the group. “Yeah, okay.
Let’s go inside.”

Trey reached back for me and I stepped
forward, taking his hand. Once inside, Officer Murray led us all
down a hallway to a private room. There was a table in the center
and a mirror on one wall, which meant it was usually used as an
interrogation room, but there was enough room for all of us to fit
inside. Officer Murray and the cop who had taken a statement from
Trey’s neighbor on the scene came inside with us.

“I think maybe it would be best if you just
started from the beginning,” Murray suggested.

The look on Trey’s face made it pretty clear
that he’d rather crawl into a hole and disappear than have to
relive the incident, but he nodded once and started into the story.
He was describing how we found Wes sprawled out on the lawn when
the other cop, Officer Brenner (according to his badge),
interrupted.

“You’re absolutely certain Mr. Leavy was dead
when you arrived?” He looked at me and then back to Trey.

“I’m sure.” Trey swallowed with effort. “He
wasn’t breathing and he didn’t have a heartbeat. We … we tried CPR
but he was already gone.”

I studied Officer Brenner, trying to decipher
his angle. I couldn’t tell if the cop thought Trey was lying, which
he wasn’t, or if he just wanted to seem important. Either way, I
decided he was lucky the moon wasn’t out. I’d have been inside his
head so fast it would have spun.