Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) (8 page)

Both were certain they'd seen Ivy. Shona Lee offered to text a friend who she felt sure would know something more.

I was so excited, I only picked at my food when our order arrived. Gage and I made small talk while waiting for Shona Lee to return. He seemed interested in my study area of naturalistic medicine, and it dissolved my nerves to chitchat with him. He told a couple of crazy tour stories and silly stage moments, and as I laughed along with him, I pushed my plate his way since he’d emptied his and had begun filching my fries.

All flouncing blonde hair, Shona Lee returned to inform us her friend had confirmed seeing Ivy at a party in Pax’s home within the last couple of weeks.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Gage bent enough to peck the other woman’s perfectly lip-lined mouth, and I didn’t miss the brief rest of his palm on her hip.

“Happy to help.” Shona Lee beamed.

The winding drive along
Piuma Road was breathtaking. High above the rest of the world, houses perched on the mountainside, enjoying a majestic view.

“It won't be weird for us to just show up?” I asked, but truly, I was beyond caring if it meant finding my friend.

“Nah. He's the kind of guy who always has something going on.”

I saw what he meant when the long driveway we turned into had over a dozen cars in it. A few people were wandering about outside. Gage walked right in the front door, but a burly guy manifested out of the background blocking my way. Doubling back, Gage frowned at the man without speaking. But his message was clearly 'she's cool' and the man moved aside, letting me pass.

I found myself gritting my teeth to keep my jaw from flapping open as I took in my surroundings. I'd thought Gage's house a mansion, but Rageon’s vocalist’s dwelling was a modern day castle.

Beyond the main room was a view even more splendid than Gage's mountain view. Sometimes glass walls separated rooms. A floor of glass hovered over part of the pool area, allowing a clear view of the naked bodies cavorting in the water.

Gage seemed to know where he was going, and I followed, down a flight of outdoor stairs, around a corner, and onto a terrace perched on the side of a hill like a bird's nest. A glass wind-wall blocked most of the weather, however a downdraft tugged at my stray hairs. People were lolling around, or milling about, some moving seductively to a trance dance beat. Gage went straight for a chaise and put his hand out.

“Gage Remington! Man, how are you?” The guy straddled the chair and got to his feet. They chatted, and the guy smacked a friendly palm on Gage's back. “So what'd you bring me?”

Only because I knew Gage so well and had become familiar with his traits as an awkward teen before he was a sophisticated rock star, did I see him flinch.

“Only the best,” he replied, and to my surprise, draped an arm over my shoulder. “Can I get my girl a drink?”

“Sure. How rude of me.” The other man appraised me with undisguised interest, but his once over seemed respectful. This respect didn’t carry over to a statuesque beauty in a barely-there skin-tight dress, who happened by. When his palm landed smack on her backside, she squealed. Turning back, she giggled, and he stopped speaking to Gage long enough to address her with his hand up. “What’re you looking at? Get the hell outta here.” In five smooth seconds, the girl had disappeared from sight.

We'd worked our way inside while talking. I soon found myself with an unwanted martini on the rocks in my hand. Reading Gage's look, I knew to roll with it, so I sipped at it while following the two down a hallway.

By the time we made it to an airy room, they’d picked up a small entourage, and the door closed behind us. Gage indicated a chair, and after holding his pinned gaze a moment, I let my knees bend and sat on the edge of the cushion.

I shouldn't have been surprised when he pulled a bag from his jacket pocket. As before, his look had already warned me to be prepared―to remain cool.

Gage’s offering was served up as a dozen fat white lines geometrically adorning a crystal tray. These were hoovered one by one up nostrils, and our host turned to me. The invitation was clear, and I gulped the sip in my mouth as I took in the two remaining rails.

Stepping forward, blocking my line of sight, Gage glowered. “She doesn’t party.”

“No?” This seemed to be a clear surprise to anyone listening. I could almost hear the unsaid.
What’s she doing with you then
? But it didn’t disrupt the main dialogue. None of the men even looked to me for confirmation when he answered for me. Everything I’d seen from the men here since crossing into this casa of craziness bordered on misogyny—or maybe simply apathy toward women.

I traced the condensation on my glass, noting how Gage kept the conversation going and expertly gleaned the information we wanted. “Where's Pax?”

“New York.”

“He doesn’t even slow down for his own parties, huh?”

“Dog’s always got something going.”

As they talked, I looked away from the uncomfortable scene of Gage and drugs. What had happened to my sweet, overprotective brother? Once, he would have beaten the shit out of anyone daring to do drugs in my presence. Now he was the one doing it.

“Who'd he go with?”

“Who you want to know about?”

“A girl. Blonde hair to about here.” Gage tapped his hand against one of his belt loops.

“Ah, Ivy.”

I sat up straighter and looked before I could help myself. Jerking my eyes away to the window and beyond, I watched the twinkle of lights in the dusky horizon.

“Hotter than a firecracker that one. No, he's with some Kardashian-looking chick currently. But no one went with him to New York. It was a family thing.”

“Know where I can find the firecracker?”

“No, sorry.”

“She may be working at Rock and Reilly's.” Another guy piped up.

Gage nodded and tipped his head toward me in a ‘come-hither’ motion. Putting out his hand, he bumped fists with a few of the guys and said his goodbyes. I noticed he left behind whatever was in his bag, and he grabbed my hand as we made our way to the front entrance.

Too late, I realized I should have kept my gaze straight ahead. Or down. Or anywhere except through one of the doorways we passed. The door was an ornate iron and glass design. There was even a sidelight, offering a better view into the game room. Two pool tables dominated near the center, and a woman, naked as the day she was born was bent over one, her head in the lap of one man and another rutting behind her. The sight pulled my gaze, and the moment we’d passed, I whipped my look to Gage. His eyes hadn’t strayed. Obviously, he was more suave than me in the midst of such debauchery. I pressed closer to his side and he squeezed my hand.
Comforting
. Maybe he had seen…

Outside, I was again transfixed by the view, and suddenly the steep cliffs terrified me. “You're not driving, right?”

“Why? Who would be driving?”

“Not you.” I was firm.

As our argument over driving continued, another person from the party emerged from the house. “Rem. Thought you were gone.” The man moved in, extending his arm. “Hey, heard you were asking about…” Noticing me for the first time, he trailed off. “…someone.”

Gage extracted the fob from his pocket and passed it to me, a clear indication to go ahead to the car. The locks disengaged when I neared. Seating myself in the driver's side, I strained my ears, but their voices didn’t carry.

I now understood why I was getting nowhere prior to Gage joining my search. These beautiful people were elite and aloof. They spoke of trivial things in mixed company, and when it came to matters of any importance, spoke only to other beautiful people.

Gage folded into the passenger side of the car and sighed his acceptance of me behind the wheel. “Creep down this road. And I mean creep.”

“What did he say?” I coasted to a stop at the end of the drive instead of turning onto the twisty road. Suddenly, I was fearful of navigating the hairpin turns now when it was dark. I became irritated at Gage for his partaking of whatever was in the bag. Sucking in a fortifying breath, I transferred my foot to the gas and arced onto the road.

“He remembers her well. Because she had a few bruises. But she wasn't with Pax anymore when he met her. She was with some actor.”

From behind, a car careened around a curve. Its brights in the rearview were glaring. Instead of dimming them, the offending driver rode our bumper while laying on the horn before zooming around.

Temporarily blinded, I blinked and for a second, only saw a dark gulf ahead before jerking the wheel and coming to rest against the canyon wall.

“Don't stop here. Too dangerous, Scar. Just keep moving.” His hand settled on my jeaned thigh, fingers closing on my leg in a comforting squeeze. “You okay?”

“Who the hell was that? And why?”

“Some people are shitheads.” He seemed to blow it off.

But I couldn’t help wondering if the incident was related to our questions about Ivy.

“B
etter?” Gage asked. They were in the pool, a bottle of wine on the edge between them.

She had finally calmed since the harrowing drive, and she nodded.

“A little more will make you even better, better,” he teased, while suspending the bottle above her glass. She smiled her answer and he poured. “The roads suck. That’s why I was going to pick you up at the airport. Didn’t want you in a rental, driving in the dark, trying to find my house. Then I fucked up and forgot you.”

“If bad roads are the price to pay for the view, well worth it.” She ignored his reference to her first night in L.A., and he knew his words were, at best, a half-assed apology. But the mood was so peaceful between them; he didn’t want to bring the aura of their argument the night she had arrived into the atmosphere. Her worried gaze moved over his face. “Do you think it happened because we were asking around about Ivy?”

“The insane driver tonight? No. There’s a lot of hating goes around in those circles. I’m sure it was someone who recognized my car.”

“And tried to run you off the road?”

“No. Just mess with me. Maybe thought it was me driving slow because I shouldn’t have been driving.”

“Do you do that? Drive when you shouldn’t?”

“Not usually.”

“Are there a lot of times you shouldn’t?”

She’d twisted her inquiry, and he struggled a second to figure out what she was asking before admitting, “Probably.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Scar. Fuck!”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“I know. Don’t be. I’m fine.”
What a lie
. Had she heard the false flat pitch of his voice? Quickly he changed the subject. “How long have you and Ivy been friends?”

“Forever.”

“I don’t remember her.”

“Ivy is Vanna.”

“Vanna? Give me that picture again!” Remembering the plain Jane best friend of his stepsister from their childhood days, he grabbed for her phone. It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized her. Seemed Scarlette wasn’t the only one to change hair color. Vanna, the skinny, ordinary looking little girl with brown hair, had evolved into a blonde beauty. Scar seemed desperate to retrieve her phone from his clutches, and he teased her by swiping through the pictures. “So how did Vanna become Ivy?”

“Ivannah is her name. She made us all begin calling her Ivy the summer before high school, when she decided to be a movie star.” She made another grab for her phone, and in that instance, he saw why.

His breath caught, and he knew he should look away from the video in case it was her likeness on the tiny screen…
In case it’s her l
ips on that guy’s junk… And that guy’s mouth on her… Oh, fuck… Okay, there it is. A facial shot. And it’s not her… Thank God
.

The phone flew out of his hand and into hers, and she waded toward the pool incline so fast he had a hard time catching her. “Scarlette, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“That’s right. You shouldn’t have.”

“But since I did… What was I watching?”

“You don’t know? Really? A big rock star like yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, as usual, hating the mocking way she said
rock star
. Her shields seemed to drop and she asked, “Why is it such a big deal? Guys watch this shit all day.”