Incendiary (40 page)

“Is that a good thing?”

Time stops at my question and the static in my ears continue. Parnell’s surprise morphs into hurt, and then disgust.

“Are you kidding me, Mother?” Josh snarls.

“Cassandra!” Mother gasps.

Lifting my chin, I glare at her. “Would you cry for me if
I
were the one who was shot? No! Because I’m not a superstar’s wife and I’m
old
, so my time would be up. You’d just let me go. Yet, you’re crying for Georgiana, who’s nothing.
Nothing
,” I scream, my own tears running down my face. “You’re on my side, making her go away, getting her little bastard for me and Parnell to raise. I loathe her.”

Parnell sags into a seat. His face is ashen, but Mother’s is inscrutable as she stops in front of me. Her hand cracks against my cheek and I stagger back, holding the side of my face.
I can’t believe she hit me.

“Georgiana is your daughter.
My
granddaughter. I’ve balanced rallying behind you and protecting that child, but this is enough. You’re stopping this insanity
now
. She’s been injured. She needs you, and you’re going to her.”

“No! Fuck, no,” I amend, still dazed that she put her hands on me so hard that my skin is burning with pain. “Fuck her. She has Sloane, who swooped in and rescued her instead of letting her go to whatever hole you were sending her to, never to be heard from again. I can’t believe he did that!”

“He didn’t,” Mother says coldly. “
I
did.”

“What?” I believe the word fell from my lips, but I’m not sure. I’m stunned at Mother’s heartless revelation, and unwilling to believe it. I shake my head. “No. You said—”

“To protect you,” she snaps in annoyance. “But let’s lay the cards on the table, Cassandra. Once and for all. I do what I must, as necessary, to take care of you
and
Georgiana. She is sterner than you think. There are only one or two methods that will effectively keep her in line. The child’s loyal. The only thing she’s ever asked for, ever
required
, was love. Sloane Mason loves her. He never wanted you. He didn’t want you when he slept with you. It was just something for him to do, so Georgie didn’t take him from you. He was never yours.”

She’s wearing the floor out. Walking back and forth, making a little circle and doing it again. Not caring that each of her words hit me like bullets, tearing me apart completely.

“I almost regret not sending Parnell on his way, so he could find some peace and happiness with Abigail.” She pauses, directly in front of me, ignoring my sobs, and points a finger at me. “Everything…
everything
I’ve done recently has been for you. Do you appreciate it? No. Do you care? No. What’s your main concern? Age. Yours. You’re a fool and an idiot. The remedy for
not
growing old is dying. If you detest being a beautiful, knowledgeable,
middle-aged
woman, kill yourself and be done with it.” She stops her rant, stops her pacing and looks at me. I’m expected to respond, but I can’t. I have nothing left in me. Mother has taken the last bit of
me
, and what I naively believed I meant to
her.
I’m broken and empty.

“What’s the use in talking to you,” she says in frustration, snatching her purse. “You aren’t invited to Georgiana’s side. Sloane so graciously included you as her mother. I revoke it. Don’t know what was wrong with the boy, offering in the first place. Joshua?”

“Grandmother?” Josh responds.

“Please see me out to my limousine. What time should we be at the airport, Parnell?”

“In a few hours,” my husband responds in a flat voice as if his soul has been sucked out today, too.

He’s fifty-six now. At one time, he’d been handsome and fit. Very distinguished looking. That’s no longer the case, and I wonder if it isn’t only Georgiana he grieved for, but his lover, too. Abby. If we’d divorced, would he have gone to her?

My husband once had a thriving company that included contracts with the Federal Government. Mother took everything away from him. She had the power to do it, just as she had the power to rid me of Georgiana.

I wouldn’t have to look at her and wish I was young again. There’d be no envy of her gorgeous eyes and midnight hair. No jealousy of her resiliency. She’s always had…strength.
Girl power
, we called it. I taught that to her. Once upon a time. Before my life became a dark, hopeless tunnel I’ve lost myself in.

“Cassandra, I’m going to pack.” Parnell’s cold voice is devoid of any emotion. He’s never sounded so toneless.

Parnell hasn’t left yet, and I’m not sure when Mother and Josh departed. My head hurts, and I just want to go, be far away from these people who hate me, and this life that has nothing to offer me but ridicule, wrinkles, and gray hair.

“Go ahead,” I say bitterly. “Tell me what a bad mother I am. Finish what Mother started.”

Sadness enters his eyes, and his half-smile is poignant, heartbreaking. All the years we spent together race through my head, how much I once loved him. But then I stopped being enough for him.

He caresses the spot where Mother hit me. “I loved you. I may not have always shown it, but to me, you were the most beautiful woman in the world in my eyes. That never changed, Cassandra. But I won’t tell you that you’re a horrible mother. I won’t insult you or argue with you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and his face falls a little more. “Those things takes energy. It shows a deep investment of emotion. And I don’t have that for you anymore. I don’t feel love or hate for you. Nothing.”

He kisses my forehead, and I know when he departs he won’t return. He stares at me and swallows, before walking away, leaving me totally and completely alone.

I’m not sure how long I stay in the media room, surrounded by silence and pain, attempting to recall the reason we have a home theater. If memory serves me correctly, Josh wanted it. Or, maybe I heard it was the
‘in’
thing.

Tiredly, I go to the second floor, bypassing the room I shared with Parnell for so many years and head to Georgie’s suite. It’s dark and silent, still with vestiges of her presence. Her pink two piece outfit she’d had on when I got her from Sloane’s hotel and locked her away, lays neatly on her chair, the pair of stilettoes she wore on top.

I lift the sparkly top and bring it to my nose. A faint trace of perfume lingers, and I sob. If there’d been no Georgie, Sloane would’ve wanted me. If there’d be no Sloane, I would’ve continued to tolerate Georgie.

I would never have known that Mother thought so little of me. As long as I had her, I wasn’t alone, but she’s deserted me, too.

Georgie wins. She’s taken everyone who ever loved me, and pulled them firmly on her side.

Anger overwhelms me. I scream at the top of my lungs, ripping away her bed linen and curtains, swiping her lamps to the floor, kicking over her vanity and matching stool, crushing her perfume bottle beneath my feet. I go to her study and attack her scrapbooks, tearing each page away and balling them in my hands, until her painstakingly collected information is destroyed. White hot rage consumes me and I scream at the framed photo of Sloane, but I can’t bear to look at it or touch it.

I run from Georgie’s suite, Mother’s conversation playing in my head.

Throwing open my door, I halt when Parnell appears in the doorway between the sitting room and our bedroom. He’s holding a pair of trousers in his hands and frowns in my direction.

“Cass, you’re overwrought.” Regret fills his voice. “I’m going to call your doctor.”

“I don’t want you calling anyone for me. I don’t want you here anymore. Get out. You’re so special because a younger woman wanted you,” I sneer. “A younger man wanted
me
. He fucked better than you ever could. I don’t know what Abby saw in you. You’re a pathetic old man. Leave!”

His lips tighten, but he nods. “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

No!
He isn’t supposed to say that. He’s supposed to beg me to allow him to stay, beg my forgiveness for the affair he had with Abby.

Instead, he backs into the bedroom and slams the door shut.

I trip toward my closet, seeking comfort from my things. I find none.

Tearing off my clothes, I go to my sofa and lean back, fingering my pussy. I need relief and work my body into a frenzy by imagining Sloane inside of me, crying out when I come against my hand.

My phone buzzes, still in my jacket pocket. Believing my mother is calling to apologize and reassure me of her love, I dare not ignore it.

Not Mother. Josh has texted me.
Mother read this
. There’s a link attached. Pressing it, I’m led to a headline about Georgie Mason, wife of Phoenix Rising’s front man. She’s in recovery, but will survive.

I slam the phone against the wall. I can’t do this. There’s no room in the world for both of us. As long as she’s here, I’m invisible. My own mother betrayed me.

No one wants me? Well, fuck them. I don’t want them either. My mother told me to kill myself? That that would be the remedy to
my
problems?

She’s a goddamn traitor, just like all of them.

This is it for me. My life ends here. It should’ve been years ago when I was still young. Memories of me would’ve been forever frozen in youthful beauty. Now, they’ll remember me as how Mother referred to me. I’ll be pitied and labeled as the mother-in-law of…the mother of…live or die
that’s
my future.

Angry, hurt, and confused, I grab a sturdy belt. My blood runs through me in a wild rush and I’m panting, crying. Once I have my stool in place, I find my phone and go to messaging, adding Mother’s number as well as Josh’s, Parnell’s, and Georgie’s. I want them
all
to know that they drove me to this, especially her.

I hope you can live with yourselves for throwing me away. Are you happy, Georgie? You have my blood on your hands.

I press
send
. For a moment, I consider slashing my wrists, just as Georgie did. But, no. I refuse to allow any comparisons to her.

Arranging the belt around my neck, I loop it around the chandelier and kick the stool out from under me. My feet dangle and my body does a macabre parody of a dance. Already, I feel deprived of oxygen. Tears rush to my eyes as the noose chokes me and I gasp for air, clinging to life, even as I let it go and wait for death.

I’ve just been informed that Georgie’s in recovery, and I thread my fingers through my hair unable to keep still. Her blood is all over me. Clean clothes lay in a chair that my father personally brought to me after he rushed to my side upon hearing the news. Jaeger, Kiln, and Dad haven’t gotten a respite from their ringing mobile phones.

We’re in a little private room. Through the glass panel in the door, I see Pres, the band’s security detail, and LAPD.

“This is the best place for her,” Dad tells me when he hangs up from his latest call.

“The fuck it is,” I snarl. This is a public hospital, and members of the fucking press beat our arrival here, awaiting us when the ambulance pulled into the ER.

“She can’t be moved right now, Sloane,” he snaps.

I haven’t mentioned her being moved, but it
is
what I want. “In a few hours—”

“No.”

Jaeger comes next to me. “The decision is yours,” he says in a subdued voice. “We’ll get her to a private hospital once she leaves recovery. But I’m with Dad on this. Until she’s completely stable.”

“You’re not thinking clear right now,” Kiln tells me. “We won’t allow anyone to get—”

Glaring, I snarl a curse.

“Fuck, Sloane. We were out in the open. We didn’t think you’d be in any danger.”

“The shots were not for me, asshole. I was a bigger target than Georgie. If they’d wanted to hit me, they would have. They aimed for her.”

Kiln scrubs a hand over his face. “Sloane, we’ll talk to hospital administration. See if there’s a wing we can have cordoned off. Or a floor where security will be installed and have to clear anyone who is allowed onto it. She’s going to ICU. At least allow her that. Afterward, we’ll have her moved. Install whatever equipment is needed in a room at the house. Turn it into a fucking mini hospital. Whatever.”

Georgie’s phone buzzes. Processing Kiln’s suggestion, I don’t pick it up immediately. His own phone rings again and I sink into a chair, hanging my head into my hands, knowing nothing right now except someone shot my wife. “I’ll talk to Helen when she arrives,” I tell Dad and Jaeger, shocking my own damn self. But the woman has ice in her veins. She’ll be calm and collected, and know the best option.

I personally called Georgie’s grandmother and Cash, her half-brother, whom I’ve never met. I went through her phone and found his number, after a nurse delivered her phone to me, found in one of her pockets.

He convinced me to send Abby and Bryn to him, to have them under the protection of his club. Reluctantly, I agreed, after a short argument.

“I have bodyguards to watch over them.”

“Fire the motherfuckers,” he’d boomed. “They’re worth fuck-all if my sister’s fucking shot. What’ll happen next time?”

“There won’t be a next time,” I’d stressed.

“There shouldn’t have been a fucking this time.”

“Georgie already has issues with me. When she awakens and Bryn isn’t here, she’ll think I’ve taken her!”

“Whose fucking fault is that, motherfucker? It sure the fuck’s not mine. I don’t know why the fuck we’re even addressing this.”

“I thought you’d like to know about your sister, Cash. I’ve informed you.”

If he didn’t have such a loud fucking voice, I wouldn’t have heard him yell, “Fuck, wait a fucking minute.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“How about an exchange? Abby and Bryn come here, and me and a few of my brothers go to you to provide protection for her?” That sounded reasonable. I’m not sure of her relationship with Cash, but she had him on speed dial, so I assume it is on level with the one she has with Josh. Also, Helen has trusted him with the secret of what she knows about Dad.

“Fine. How much will this cost me?”

He’d snorted. “Georgie is my little sister. There’s no charge. I warn you if there’s a threat to her and we’re there, we don’t ask questions. We shoot to kill. Case closed. Can you handle that?”

I’d answered without hesitation. “If it means protecting her, yes.”

That was almost six hours ago. Abby has already called to let me know she and the baby are safe at the compound and Bullard will touchdown in Houston shortly to pick up Georgie’s parents, her grandmother, and her other brother.

Georgie’s phone vibrates again, and I remember the unread message. I grimace at seeing Cassandra’s name, but I
did
tell Helen that bitch was welcome, although I’m not sure why I think Georgie being shot will make a difference to her.

I focus on the text.

I hope you can live with yourselves for throwing me away. Are you happy, Georgie? You have my blood on your hands.

I reread it three times. The more I do, the greater my anger. She’s handing Georgie the same bullshit
now
?
BITCH!

I don’t know the meaning of her words and I don’t fucking care. If anyone has blood on their hands, it’s Cassandra, stained with her sins against Georgie.

“Sloane?”

“What?” I growl at Kiln’s call and shove the phone back into my pocket.

“Cassandra McCall was found…dead. She hung herself.”

The moment I open my eyes, I know I’m in a hospital
again
. The noise of monitors, the bitter taste of medicine, the sting of the IV, and the glare of fluorescent lights greet me. Voices hum in the background. Sloane, I think. And…Cash?

Whoever it is doesn’t realize I’m awake, so I focus better and look around, searching for my daughter. I don’t see her.

“Bryn?” I croak.

“Georgie?” Sloane responds hesitantly, at my side in an instant.

“That’s me,” I say weakly. “Where’s Bryn? Is she safe?”

“She’s with Abby.”

“Can you ask her to bring her to me?”

“They’re no longer in LA,” he says. “I’ve sent them to your brother’s MC.”

My brain struggles to understand, and I attempt to sit up, but the pain is too intense.

“I’m here in exchange,” Cash tells me from the foot of my bed.

“We thought it was safer,” Sloane explains. “As soon as you’re well enough to travel, we’ll go to her. If whoever shot you isn’t caught.”

Neither of them look right to me, and nerves get the best of me. “Are you sure she’s all right?” I ask suspiciously. “She isn’t hurt.”

Sloane exchanges a look with Cash, and my pulse thumps.

“Something’s wrong. Tell me.”

Josh walks in, and my alarm increases at his haggard appearance and red-rimmed eyes. “What’s the matter?” Tears are already in my eyes. It’s rare that something good happens to me. Even when it does, disaster follows right behind. “Where’s Bryn?”

“Georgie,” Sloane says gruffly, taking my hand into his. “Bryn is safe,” he insists. “It’s your mother.”

“Mom?” I echo in dread. One look at Josh blinking back tears and I know…I
know
she’s either dead or seriously hurt. “What about her? Where is she?”

“She committed suicide,” Josh tells me in a voice thick with tears.

A sound escapes me. It might be a sob or a gasp. I’m not sure. Disbelief rises in me and I shake my head. “No. Mom wouldn’t do that to herself. She…there’s no way Mom would harm herself. She’s too…too…This isn’t true.”

The last time I saw my mom I said horribly nasty things to her. Our divide had grown so great, I don’t know what I expected for our future. What I
do
understand is I expected to have years ahead of me to decide.

“It is,” Sloane tells me softly, squeezing my hand in sympathy.

I burst into tears. “How’s Dad? And Grandma?” Mom means everything to my grandmother. I can’t imagine the extent of her pain.

“A nurse is coming,” Sloane soothes though I don’t know what he means. That is until the woman walks in and checks my vital signs, before giving me a sedative that puts me out in minutes.