Incendiary (48 page)

We face off, each of us attempting to guess which way the other will go.

“You threw me over for your rock star. Until you met him, you were satisfied sucking cock to get high.”

“I was too fucking doped up to know better, dickhead.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret about the internationally known, Sloane Mason,” he chortles. “He’s pissed Rand off and
I
despise him for the arrogant asshole he is.”

I duck around him and snatch up a dirty frying pan, swinging it at Crowell as he reaches me. He’s taller than me, so I stand on my tiptoes, hoping to get his chin, but he sees it coming and deflects it, yanking my wrist and tearing the frying pan away.

He lifts me off my feet, ignoring my blows until we get back to the den, where his jacket is. Setting me down, he delivers another slap to the side of my face. I drop to the ground. Before I recover, he places his hand over my mouth and imprisons me against him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, George,” he croaks out. “I just want us to be the way we once were.”

One of his fingers jam against my nostrils, stopping my air and I struggle.

“I’m here for you. Rand asked me to get rid of you as a warning to Sloane.”

Thrusting his erection against my back, he slams me to my knees and I gasp for breath, scrambling away. Not quick enough. He grabs my hair and wrenches me back, jerking me to my feet.

He’s done no serious damage to me. Yet. That’ll change if I don’t get away. I’ve heard his words about what Rand wants, but I can’t care about them now. Scratching his cheek, I jump onto the sofa, intending to hop over it. Wild with anger, he catches my shoulders and shakes me, then slams me onto the cushions, straddling me. He digs in his shirt pocket and pulls out a needle.

“Crack, George. Maybe enough to kill you. Maybe not.”

I struggle against him, but he stretches out over me, trapping my hands above my head. “Don’t do this, Crowell. Please. I have my baby.”

“You have
his
baby. There’s a difference.”

“She’s mine, too! I love her. Please, don’t take me away from her.”

“You’re like any other little groupie wanting a rock star’s baby,” he sneers. “Your daughter’s expendable to Rand. As are you. I’ll take you. I have no fucking use for a kid.”

He kisses me and I start to cry.

“Do you think you’re so gorgeous?” He laughs and kisses me again. “You aren’t. That isn’t why I want you. It’s because you’re young and easy to control. I’ve trained you just the way I want you to be. And Sloane Mason is the beneficiary of all my hard work? I think not.”

I scream at the top of my lungs. Crowell laughs.

“None of the hulks your husband has guarding you are around. Makes my job easier. Too bad your daughter isn’t here, so I can get rid of her.”

“Get the fuck off of me!” It’s a useless demand, but I’m furious to be at Crowell’s mercy. “You’re a perverted fucker.”

“Because of your age? What does that make Sloane?”

“Ten fucking times better than you. And, no, asshole, it isn’t because of my age. It’s because of the reasons you want me.”

I wiggle again, until the syringe I’d all but forgotten pricks my neck and I still.

“You don’t want me to shoot you up, do you?”

If I move the needle will be inserted further in, though he has to press it for any of the drug to go in. “No. Please.”

“Suck me off. That’s your only other option.”

“Asshole. Fuckhead. Motherfucker,” I snarl through my tears.

“What’ll it be, George?” He licks the side of my face and my stomach turns. “Sucking my dick or…?” He jiggles the needle against my skin.

“I’ll suck you.”

His triumphant smile will turn to bitter pain when I bite his fucking cock off. We sit up and he unzips his pants, freeing his dick. I don’t want him in my mouth for a moment, but I’ll do what’s necessary to distract him and get that syringe from him. Crowell will have me blow him and then still shoot me up.

My only other option is escape and I haven’t succeeded yet. I’ve just enraged him with each attempt.

“Have you changed your mind, babe?”

A breath shudders out of me and I hiccup, shaking my head. Before I lose my nerve, I go to him and drop to my knees. I stare at his erection, knowing there’s no way I can do this.

He has fast reflexes. He was an athlete in high school and college. I only ever danced and Mom always said I was no good. My equestrian skills aren't athleticism either, according to her. I’m not good for anything but what Crowell is waiting for me to do.

But I have to try. If he overpowers me and I die, I would’ve died a fighter this one time.

Meeting his gaze, I wrap one hand around the base of his cock and lower my head as if I’m about to take him into my mouth. He sighs and leans his head back, already anticipating the glide of my tongue on his crown as he taught me, as the needle goes lax in his hand.

Grabbing it, I jab it into his stomach and close my eyes as I pump the contents into him. When I focus on him again, he meets my gaze, his eyes as wide with shock as mine.

Shaking violently, I stumble to my cell phone to dial 911, praying he can be saved as his eyes roll back. His body convulses, as red foam bubbles from his mouth and blood drips from his nose. I don’t want him to die. I just wanted to save myself.

I walk into chaos. EMTs and police, along with a shitload of the usual. The media. Even before I arrive at the house, it’s all over the radio and the web. Jaeger receives calls for statements about the attack on Sloane Mason’s wife.

It surprises me to find my father is there, too. I’m sure to threaten me with dire consequences if I don’t rehire Kiln. Helen Sanderson comes in not ten minutes later, along with Bryn, Abby, and Parnell McCall. Georgie’s face is swollen and bruised. She’s simultaneously being attended by an emergency tech and talking to a police officer. Crowell Daniels is hooked up to machines, still alive when he’s wheeled away.

Between sniffles and tears, Georgie explains what happened to the cop she’s talking to. Listening to her tale of terror infuriates me. When I get my hands on that motherfucker…

Finished with the interview, she launches herself into my arms and whispers to me details she left out of her statement to police. Details about my father’s role in Crowell’s sudden appearance.

I hug her tightly, regretting my absence but thankful she’s such a fighter. I don’t know the reason her grandmother and father are here, and I don’t give a fuck. They can dance with Cassandra in hell for all I care.

I’m not staying in this fucking house one more night. I’m not living under my father’s twisted thumb one more minute. He wants Georgie and Bryn dead. Fuck, waiting another week. The press is already here, rabid for the details of Georgie’s attack. “I’m having the recording released tonight.”

She nods.

I kiss Georgie and guide her to a seat. Abby brings Bryn to her.

“What happened here, Georgiana?” Helen demands.

“Helen—”

“It’s okay, Sloane,” Georgie says steadily, despite her swelling and bruising. “Take care of your business.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Positive.”

Though I believe her, I check her over again, encouraged by her smile.

“Sloane, son—”

“Don’t ever fucking call me son again. You sent that motherfucker over here to kill Georgie.”

“He did what?” Helen gasps.

Dad ignores me. “Now, Helen, I can explain.”

“As you can explain every fucking thing,” I sneer, walking away to call Outlaw Caldwell. If I stay for Dad sucking up to Helen, I’ll fucking kill him. Instead, I set everything in motion for the release and head outside.

The evening breeze cools me as I walk toward the battalion of media trucks with massive satellites, cameramen jockeying for position, and reporters swarming, throwing me a million questions.

I clear my throat, the sound picked up by a dozen different mics pointed toward me. Cameras are flashing and my heart is hammering.

“My father has evidence, manufactured evidence,” I amend sharply, “claiming I murdered my sister, Stefanie.”

The buzzing in my head might be from insects or the static of wiring. Or it might be the sharp relief and the feeling of freedom.

“Everyone believes my sister drowned. Afraid of repercussions I allowed my father to hold my dreams hostage. My entire life has been dictated by…fear and grief and rage.” I think of Steffie and ball my hands into fists. The lights and crush of people are hot, but it’s the subject matter nauseating me. “Before I was
Sloane Mason
, front man of Phoenix Rising, I was a son and a brother. Ordinary in that regard. My Phoenicians can identify with those roles.” My gaze falls on the reporters closest to me. “You can. I idolized my big sister. She nurtured my love of music. Without her, I wouldn’t have become
me.”
My voice thickens. I wonder if they understand what I mean, that without my sister I wouldn’t be a worldwide idol. I can go on for hours extolling her, but this press conference seems surreal. I never expected to ever be in the position to open up about her. I bow my head, vulnerable before the world, aching deep inside. I’ve never gotten over her death and I don’t know that I ever will. This minute, two competing images of her vie for space in my head, all from the last day of her life. One is when I first saw her that morning as she ran to me, all her lovely hair flying in the breeze. The other one is her lifeless body bobbing in the water.

“Coming through!” Jason barks.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see him shoving through the crowd, holding onto Georgie’s elbow. Pres is on her other side. When she reaches me, she touches my arm, her teary eyes filled with sweet encouragement. Her injured face reminds me my father has so much to pay for. I should’ve released the recording the day I arrived at the MC when Outlaw offered. I made excuse after excuse. Like my mother, I hated letting go of my perfect family. I still had the dreams of a broken boy locked inside of me. It took finding my wife abused for me to let it go and grow up.

Georgie stands on her tiptoes and hugs me. No matter what I do she never holds it against me. I wanted to save her, but it’s she who rescued me. Burying my nose in the silkiness of her hair, I return her embrace, my pain and tumult calming. She knows I need her at my side.

I keep my arm around her waist and continue. “I didn’t kill my sister and I refuse to let our father, my sister’s killer, dictate another minute of my life. I have my own evidence that will shortly be released proving who the real culprit is.”

“That someone is me.” Dad’s voice rises from behind me.

Georgie and I exchange looks, unable to believe he’s actually said the words. Glancing over my shoulder, he’s there and his eyes are glistening. Just behind him stands Helen, and she nods to me.

He reaches my side and my life rolls through my head at a furious rate. This moment, though, is slow, as if it’s not real.

“I killed her,” he confesses and his voice cracks. He bows his head. “I love my son and if I allow him to take the blame my life…my life would never be the same.” His sidled glance to Helen gives away the real reason he’s doing this. “I intend to turn myself in tonight. Thank you. There’ll be no further comment.”

We ignore the uproar of questions flying our way and the jostling going on. Pres leads us inside. Georgie goes to the sofa and hugs her dad as Maitland holds up his phone. I hate it when he does this lately. It’s always something about Georgie.

This breaking news is different. My dad confessing his role in Steffie’s murder headlines.

“Father.” Jaeger addressing our father in any manner but formal shocks me. The pink flush of his skin clashes with his ginger-colored hair. Bleakness dulls his eyes. “Joe Groveston is inflight.”

Groveston, the overbearing prick. News of my dad’s confession will disappoint him. Not because of misplaced trust in my father, but because of his misguided mistrust of me. Dad and I each projected certain personas and Groveston bought into it. Now he has to face the fact that I’m not as bad as he believes and Dad isn’t the upstanding man he’s always pitied because he had me for a son.

Jaeger slides an uneasy gaze to me, as clueless as everyone else at Dad’s astounding confession.

“Sloane?” Georgie’s sweet voice pulls me away from my brother and I turn immediately. Teary sadness shines in her eyes. She has Bryn in her arms and our daughter’s baby coos is the only happiness around us. Before my thoughts are pulled together, she places Bryn in my arms, then stands on her tiptoes and hugs me, offering me more comfort.

I engage with Bryn for a moment, before handing her back to Georgie. She glances at the baby, then at me and walks to Abby, who takes Bryn.

The many times I’ve forced her to release Bryn to Abby’s care because I thought Georgie was hiding behind the baby comes to mind. She was just being her mother, a conclusion I’m drawing as she reaches me, knowing that I need my wife. Tomorrow, she’ll belong to us again. Tonight, she’s mine.

Lifting her off her feet, I wrap her in my arms and bury my head in the crook of her neck.

“I love you,” she whispers.

Her father and grandmother are watching us as are my relatives and security detail. That doesn’t matter to me. I need her. I need to feel her and lose myself in her softness. Only then will my heart settle from what I walked into.

Crowell could’ve hurt, or killed, my Georgie. I hope he survives. With everything else that’s happened to her, she doesn’t need his death on her conscience.

If he lives, I intend to make sure that Georgie knows it. Because when he ends up dead, she’ll have no stain on her soul.

Me? I won’t be able to claim such innocence.

I cling to Sloane as he carries me to our bedroom. My face is sore and swollen and I’m scared that I’ve killed Crowell. Why I have to assume guilt for the doings of others is beyond me, a character flaw I want to fix. But I’m human and if I can’t completely overcome my flaws, I can recognize them and adjust as best as possible.

Sloane sits on the bed, leans against the headboard, and cradles me in his lap. He’s big and strong and controlling. Right now, he’s hurting and angry, even with the vindication he received with his father’s confession.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, his arms around me the best comfort in the world.

“I almost lost you. Again,” he adds quietly.

“You didn’t. I’m here.”

He caresses my jaw and anger darkens his eyes. “Crowell better hope he dies now.”

Tears rush to my eyes and I feel sick. “I didn’t want to kill him.”

“You were defending yourself. If that meant slitting his fucking throat, you did what you had to do.”

“I don’t want him to die.”

His smile isn’t nice. “Neither do I,” he responds with soft menace.

“Sloane—”

“Georgiana, if he doesn’t survive…suppose he’d overdosed you? He’s damn near fucking dead and he’s almost twice your size. He intended to kill you. If he’d shot you up, you wouldn’t have gone to a hospital. You’d be at a morgue.”

The thought chills me. I have a lot of living left to do. A lot to learn, a daughter to raise, a husband to look after. People finally care about me. More than anything, I finally mean something to myself.

“If Kiln had been here, Crowell wouldn’t have been able to get to you at all.” Sloane scowls at the words.

“Kiln’s a dickhead, but he’s good at what he does.”

“
Because
he’s a dickhead,” Sloane says with a smile.

I giggle and trace my thumb over his lips. He puckers against my skin and plants a soft kiss. “Isn’t it confusing to harbor such dislike and resentment for someone, but still mourn the part of them you admire?”