Skeletons of Us (Unquiet Mind Book 2) (14 page)

I also knew Zane couldn’t possibly know the amount of agony I was in at having Killian in my presence for a moment longer, let alone as long as it took for the police to catch this… animal.

I couldn’t show him that. He was already fighting a battle leaving me, keeping all of this a secret from Mom. He was trying his best to protect me. I had to do the same.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Sam shouted.

Zane stepped back, jerking his head to Killian, and they left the room together, as if Sam hadn’t spoken.

Sam advanced on me. “You’re joking, right? You’re letting him”—he pointed his silver-clad hand at Killian’s retreating back—“back into your life. After what he did to you?”

I failed to hide my flinch. “I’m not letting him do anything. It’s for security purposes only.”

Sam snorted and moved his glare to Mark. “You don’t have anything to say about this? You can’t get us someone better than a fucking biker. Got to be a publicity nightmare, right, Jenna?”

Jenna glanced up from typing on her phone. “Him? The hot and broody man who Calvin Klein would kill to get to model for them?” She snorted again. “Right, publicity nightmare.” She thought on it. “Though, if he’s going to be following you to any public places, he needs the gang insignia off. We can’t have that popping up. We’ve gone to enough effort to keep your connection with the gang out of the press.”

“Club,” I corrected automatically. “They’re not a gang. They’re a club.”

She waved a hand. “Yes, yes. I am a publicist. I know the rebranding strategy. But let’s just make sure we don’t have any affiliations anyway.” She looked back down at her phone. “We’re going to have to make a public statement about last night.” She glanced to Mark, who was looking at me with the same shrewdness Zane had previously. Mark could be a shark when he wanted to, but he was also a good man. Deep down.

“Robbery gone bad is the public story, right?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Try to keep the severity of Duke’s condition out of the media. We’ll do our best to hide the injury, or keep Lexie out of the media until the show.”

Jenna nodded curtly and stood, the phone to her ear. The sounds of her heels echoed as she walked out to the ocean to make calls to various journalists no doubt.

News had broken about the “break in” last night. I had yet to turn on my phone. I so wasn’t ready for that.

Sam was obviously still furious and he turned his attention to Noah, who was leaning forward on the sofa, his fists resting on his knees.

“You’ve got nothing to say about this?” Sam asked. “That… fucker completely broke Lexie the last time she saw him. Utterly destroyed her. Now you’re watching placidly while he’s invited back like nothing happened.”

Noah’s head snapped up. “Oh, I’m aware of what he did to her. But I also know Lexie doesn’t have a choice in this. She’s trying to protect her mom. She’s doing that by putting herself in that destruction. I’m aware, brother,” he clipped. “But she’s made her decision. Us giving her shit isn’t gonna do anything but make it harder for her. How about you shut up about it?”

Sam’s eyes bulged in fury. It looked like he was going to go nuclear. Wyatt stood in between them. “Down, boys,” he warned. “How about we channel this energy somewhere more useful.” He looked at me. “We’ve got a tour to prepare for. You up to it?”

I sagged in relief. “Yeah, I’m up to it.” Music was the only thing that had any chance at quieting the voices in my mind. To anesthetize some of the hurt.

*****

The next few days were little more than a blur, everything seeming to move fast and slow at the same time

Things had been pretty crazy, especially with Mom and Zane being here. Zane glowered at her when she did anything that could be construed as straining herself and she snapped at him about how Viking women gave birth in the midst of battle, which meant she could carry her plate to the kitchen.

Then there was the constant in and out of Mark and Jenna who were doing damage control after the story of my robbery broke. I’d finally turned on my phone to see thousands of social media notifications, hundreds of texts, and calls from people in the industry voicing their concern but really just wanting the latest scoop. One or two were actually concerned. Like the countless texts I had from all of the women back home in Amber.

Gwen: Heard about the break in, honey. Hope you’re okay. Zane will scare most lurkers off with merely his bad-ass presence. Killian will kill the rest. Xxx

Evie: You got a gun? Get yourself one so you can shoot the motherfucker next time.

I couldn’t help but smile a little at the text from Evie. It was the hard woman’s way of showing concern, and my eyes prickled reading the message. Killian breaking up with me didn’t just mean I lost him, which was heartbreaking enough. It meant I lost all of them, the family I’d come to love. The only family I had apart from my boys, Mom, and Zane. Yet another reason to be angry at him. To hate him. If only it was as easy as hating him. How could you hate someone when you still loved them so much? You could only hate yourself for still loving them after everything.

And surprisingly, Gina had texted me too. It wasn’t long after I’d said a slightly tearful farewell to Mom and Zane. Gina and I had kept in touch since high school, not a lot, but some. She even met me for coffee now and then when she was in L.A. for work, only when I didn’t have paps trailing me. She wasn’t one for the spotlight. She was still that shy girl from high school, regardless of the fact she was now a knockout with a great job.

Gina: Heard about the break in. I’m sure the tabloids are wildly exaggerating, but if there was a machine gun… hope no furniture got damaged. Seriously though, I hope you’re okay. Text me if you want to talk, or escape to my little cabin in the country.

I was touched at the offer and the sincerity. It was pretty hard to find since I’d become “famous.” All sorts of people had come out of the woodwork, insisting they were best friends with me, selling whatever they could to the tabloids. A couple of people from Amber high school tried the same thing and to sell the events that went down with Mom. They were either paid a hefty sum by Mark and made to sign non-disclosure agreements or visited by the Sons back home. I didn’t exactly know what Zane had said to some of them. I only knew I didn’t have to pay any hush money to the ones they visited.

My phone rang after I read the text from Gina. I took a deep breath and put it to my ear. I couldn’t even speak before my best friend beat me to it.

“I’m not talking to you!” Emma declared.

“Dude, why did you call then?” I asked, amused.

“To yell at you then tell you I’m not talking to you!” She snapped back. There was a pause. “As long as you’re not suffering from any critical wounds,” she added in a softer voice.

“No critical wounds in sight, yell away,” I informed her.

“Good. I can’t believe someone broke into your fucking house and you didn’t think that garnered a goddamn phone call. Was there really a throwing star involved? Please don’t tell me it hit the Monet in your living room.” Another pause. “Don’t tell me they stole it. You know how much effort I went to get that, right?”

I chuckled. “Yes, I know. The Monet is safe.”

“Thank God. Seriously, Lex. What the hell? Are you okay? I can be on the next flight,” she said, her concern seeping in.

I knew her well. She was worried. Really worried. Humor and anger were her coping mechanisms. “I’m okay, Em. And you don’t need to fly over, promise. You’ve been waiting for this client forever. This is a big deal for you.” Emma was an art dealer. A pretty big deal actually. She’d kind of fallen into the job out of high school, and somehow without a college education, she had quickly climbed up the ranks and was landing some big clients. Not that it surprised me. Emma was smart, really smart, which was why I’d never tell her I may have had a tiny bit to do with her landing this particular client. She had enough self-esteem issues stemming from childhood. She didn’t need that.

“Good. Thank God. No facial injuries? You don’t need the name of my plastic surgeon?”

“You don’t have a plastic surgeon, Em.”

“I do so. I’ve done my research and he’s the best in the business. I’m not getting anything done, but it’s good to have them on call for emergencies,” she said.

I raised my brows. “Plastic surgery emergencies?”

“They happen,” she argued.

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed.

“I was worried. They said Duke’s in the hospital? Is he okay?” Worry crept back into her tone once more.

“He’s okay. But it was close, Em. Closer than anyone knows. I thought he was going to die. Right in front of me,” I whispered. The amount of people I could trust with the truth was small. It was sad, but in this industry, everyone wanted your secrets, your trust, so they could use it against you. I was lucky I had Emma, the boys, and my family.

She sucked in a breath. “Fuck,” she muttered. “I’m so sorry, babe. Have they caught him? The robber?”

I sucked in my own breath, preparing to lie to my best friend. “No. They’re looking. But no luck yet.”

“Are you safe though? It’s not going to happen again, right?” she asked, concerned.

“No. It was random. I’ve got security. We’re at the Malibu house now. No one knows about it and it’s gated. We’re good.” Another lie. But telling Emma that Killian was here would likely cause World War III. She hated Killian with a passion. I was pretty sure she tried to curse him with a voodoo doll, and she regularly wished various STDs on him.

There was a pause. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming over. Fuck this client. You don’t sound good. You’re shaken up. You need your best friend. And margaritas. Lots of margaritas.”

“No, Em,” I said quickly. “This is a big deal for you. Plus, we’re touring soon. You’re in Europe for another month, right? One of our first dates is Berlin. Meet you there? We’ll go for beers?”

I’d find a way to make sure Killian didn’t make it on tour.

She sighed. “Okay. But as long as you let me pay for beers. I know you’re a little hard up.”

I laughed. “Sure. Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

Another thing Emma wasn’t after, my money. She loved my success, supported me every step of the way, but when I started earning the big bucks and started wanting to share it with people I loved, she got defensive. It’d be a battle to get her to accept any gifts and she’d flat out refused any offers of a loan when she was struggling to pay rent. It hurt watching her struggle, but she was strong, independent. She needed to stand on her own two feet.

“Call me if you need anything, Lee,” she whispered.

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you the most.”

I’d only just gotten off the phone to Emma when it rang in my hand again, the hospital letting me know Duke was awake. I’d dropped everything to go. And had obviously been accompanied by the ever-present shadow of the man who cut my soul in two.

Duke had been breathing on his own for two days. I wanted to spend every moment I could at the hospital, but Mark and Jenna had talked me out of it. Press were lurking everywhere. I still went to see him every day, much to Killian’s dismay. His jaw was hard whenever we went. I didn’t know if this was because the press swarmed the car every time we drove in or because I clutched Duke’s hand and whispered to his unconscious body whenever we were there. I could feel the anger pulsing from the outside of the door. He had no right to be angry. If anyone had that right, it was me. But I was too tired for that. It was all I could do to stay standing in his presence, to act detached, like he was some sort of stranger and not the boy I gave everything to. The boy who took everything.

It was a herculean task to stay distant from him on the drive to the hospital, but I did it. Mainly because Mark had been there too, thankfully. Mark lingered in the lobby while Killian followed me up to Duke’s room. He stayed at his usual spot outside the door.

“You’re awake.” I rushed over to Duke’s hospital bed, my eyes running over his pale but smiling face.

“Yeah, have been for hours. Yet no one seems to be getting me the discharge forms I’ve been asking for,” he replied.

I stared at him. “Discharge forms?” I repeated. “Dude, you’ve just woken up from a fricking coma. How about you chill for a second?”

His eyes met mine. “Fuck, Lexie. I’m so sorry,” he rasped.

I jerked. “Sorry?” I repeated. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed because of me. I’m the one who’s sorry.” My breath hitched. “This is my fault. You’re here because of me.”

Duke sat up quickly, wincing as he did so, but he didn’t stop until he could grasp my hand. “Stop that right now,” he commanded roughly. “This is not your fuckin’ fault. If there’s one innocent party in all this, it’s you. Jesus Christ, Lexie. It was my job to protect you. I failed you.” He sank back in the bed, and this time I moved forward to grasp his hand.

“You didn’t fail me. You almost died trying to protect me,” I choked out.

He eyed me. “Are you okay?”

I laughed. “I think that’s my line.”

His eyes darkened. “Seriously. They haven’t caught him yet, have they?”

I shook my head. Much to every male in my life’s dismay, he was still wandering around. Lurking. The thought chilled my bones.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Keltan’s got a new team on you?”

I chewed my lip. “Kind of.”

His eyes sharpened. “Kind of?”

I stood straighter. “You’re in a hospital bed. Just focus on getting better. Not on me. I’m good.”

He frowned at me. “Lexie,” he warned.

“I’ve got security. Don’t worry.”

“Who?”

“Killian,” I said quickly.

Duke sucked in a breath. “Killian, like the guy who was stupid enough to dump you and break your heart?” he bit out. Duke had been filled in one night over beers.

I nodded.

“Jesus Christ, Lexie,” he muttered. “You guys back together?”

“God no,” I said quickly, swallowing the hurt and the hope that came with that. “Zane just wanted someone from the club out here, since he couldn’t be here with Mom pregnant and everything.”

Duke frowned. “You sure you’re good?”