Wine and Whiskey (Surviving Absolution #1) (25 page)

Water droplets run down her face as she
tickles him with her fingernails. She’s beyond sexy, smiling at his body’s
reaction to her touch. Her thumb circles the tip, making his body quiver.
Licking her lips, she bends forward and takes him into her mouth. His hips jerk
as she grazes him with her teeth before pulling him in deeper with her tongue. She
swirls and sucks at a leisurely pace until he’s almost to the point of no
return.

He grips the edge of the seat, fearful of
his response to the pleasure she gives him. Her speed quickens, and she nips
him one last time before he can’t hold back. “Shae…”

Withdrawing from her mouth, he wraps her
in his arms and leans forward. He stills at his release and then relaxes
against her, a sweet exhaustion overcoming his body.

Her warm breath tickles his ear. “Why
didn’t you let me finish?”

“I thought it might be too much.”

“I’m not the delicate flower you seem to
think I am. I can handle you.”

His laughter fills the cavernous room.
“Believe me, I know you can.”

They finish their showers and walk
hand-in-hand to the bedroom. All he can think about is curling her body against
him in the cool, soft sheets. As she lifts the new comforter, the realization
hits him.

Fucking
Spencer.

Grasping the back of her negligee between
his fingers, he keeps her from climbing into the bed. “I can’t be with you in
there. Not after what that bastard did.” The hint of a headache brews in his
neck, and he massages the tense muscles. “We’ll get a new one.”

Concern darkens her eyes, and she picks
up her yellow comforter from the sofa and takes his hand, guiding him to the
guest room across the hall. After she fluffs the blanket over the bed, he
slides in behind her, letting her peacefulness engulf him.

She gathers her hair together and tucks
it behind her as she snuggles into the crook of his arm. “We’ve had the sex
part. Now, it’s time for the make-up.”

“There’s nothing to make up. You’re an
angel, and I’m an ass.”

A frown mars her beautiful face before
she props up on her elbow. “Please don’t say that. You’re a good man. You
always take care of the people you love.”

“Yeah, I promised to take things slow,
and instead, I pressure you to marry me. You didn’t tell me about Spencer
because you’re too nice to let him get what he deserves.” He presses his curled
fists to his eyes. The truth hurts him probably even more than it does her. “I
love you because you’re sweet and gentle, and then I turn around and punish you
for it. I’m no better than Evan.”

“I said yes because I want to be with
you. Not Evan or anyone else. Just you.” Conviction fills her voice as she
searches his face, needing his confirmation.

He drapes his arm around her shoulders
and pulls her back to him, trying to soothe her vehemence. And his shock at her
insistence, her desire for him to believe her commitment to him. He’s a lucky
bastard for her to love him like this.

“I believe you.” He kisses her forehead.
After a few seconds, her body relaxes, and she cuddles against him. Now, it’s
time for his real apology. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I know, but you had the right to be mad
at me. I should have told you what happened right away.”

“I was angrier with myself more than with
you. I hate that you’re afraid of me.”

“Not of you. Just of what you’ll do. I
was trying to protect you.”

The irony makes him laugh. “I’ll do
anything to protect you, and you’re doing the same for me. I guess that’s why
we belong together.”

A nervous tell, she draws patterns on his
stomach with her fingertip. “Last night made me realize how much it must have
hurt you when I pushed you away, when I ran for no real reason.”

“I promise not to give you any reason to
run. You just have to tell me the truth, no matter how bad it is, so I can take
care of it.” It’s his turn to uphold the promise of no secrets. “Spencer
planted bugs throughout the house. Most of them were in our bedroom and my
office. That’s how he knew our plans and set us up. If he recorded my
conversations with Carter and Max, he could use them against me.”

She pauses, her hand gripping his waist.
“I couldn’t figure out what he wanted. I never thought about him blackmailing
you too.”

“We have to find out who Spencer really
is and what he wants. The only thing we know so far is everything from the
school for his internship with me was falsified.”

“What do we do now?”

He kisses her forehead again. “Go to
sleep. I’m exhausted and can’t think anymore.” She snuggles in closer,
eliminating the last of his tension, allowing him to succumb to the darkness
washing over him. “I love you, sweetness.”

Her hand entwines with his. “I know,
fiancé.”

* * * *

The battle between her closed eyes and
full bladder comes to end. She can’t hold it anymore. Smiling to herself, she
knows no matter how carefully she slides out of bed, Nick will wake up and
reach for her. Her feet sink into the thick caramel carpet, and she turns
around ready to defend herself against his disapproval. Yet, his eyes remain
shut, his breathing even. She resists stroking his pale cheek, not wanting to
interrupt the rest he seems to need.

The relentless chirping of her phone
greets her as she enters the master bedroom. She grabs it from her bag and
scrolls through the torrent of messages from Gail.

Why didn’t you let me know you were involved with an altercation
with the police?

It’s all over the place your boyfriend shot at the local sheriff.

They’re talking about cancelling your wish request on Tuesday.

This is really bad publicity right before the movie comes out!

What have you done to yourself being with this guy???

We need to talk
asap
!!!

Call me!!!!!!!!!

The wish request hurts the most. The
little girl’s parents thought they had a role model for their daughter, and now
she’s just another fading star with a shaky reputation. All the things her
mother never wanted her to be, she’s turning into.

The phone buzzes again.

Where are you????????

With the man she loves, who’ll probably
end up destroying himself because of her. She takes a deep breath before
tapping the numbers.

“What the hell is going on? You should
have called me yesterday, as soon as it happened.”

She flinches at her manager’s shriek,
still not used to the frustrated tone bellowing through the phone. Only since
dating Nick has she become a disappointment. “Hello, Gail. How are you?”

“Oh, honey, you have no idea. That new
boyfriend of yours is going to be your downfall. God, I wish your mother was
here.”

Her cheeks burn at the implication.
“Don’t you dare say
that!
You have no idea how much I
miss her, and it has nothing to do with my career.”

“Shae! Calm down. What’s gotten into
you?”

“You calm down. No one was shot. Nobody
was arrested or went to jail. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Gail’s tone softens, more hesitant than Shae’s
ever heard her. “Well, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She takes a deep breath. Gail has always
been like this. It’s her who’s changing, but she can’t be unfair. “Yes, we’re
fine.”

“But your career’s not. It’s difficult to
recover from this kind of stuff. I don’t want to name names, but you-know-
who’s
career has gone backburner because of her
shenanigans.”

“This is a one-time incident. It won’t
happen again.”

“That’s what you said after the coffee
house.”

Not that she needs a reminder. The
confrontation with Juan seems so long ago after all they’ve been through.
“Please do what you can to make the wish event happen. I really want to do it.”

“Of course, darling. Charity work can
only help. We’ve got to get your reputation back up to the top.”

“It’s not about my reputation. It’s for
her to know—”

“Right, right. I’ll let you know as soon
as I get it smoothed out. Answer your phone immediately next time I call.”

Hopefully, the mission to salvage her
career at least helps the kids who look up to her. She knocks softly on the
guest room door before opening it. He lies in the same spot as before,
unresponsive to her lips pressing against his forehead. “Nick?”

A flutter of uneasiness tickles her
stomach. His pale skin and furrowed brow don’t convey the restful benefits of
sleep. Worried her phone will disturb him, she heads downstairs for a bottle of
water. She tosses the cell on the counter as Max walks in. “Hi.”

“Hey. We need to talk.”

Goose bumps rise on her arms at his
pinched expression, his tight mouth twisting in disapproval. Nick’s pallid
appearance from upstairs flashes in her mind. “What’s wrong?”

“Nick and I were pretty upset with you
last night. How do you think I felt when I found out Spencer threatened you?”

Guilt swims in her stomach. Max’s job is
to protect her, and she didn’t let him. Both he and Nick were hurt by her
secret. “If you knew, you would have raced upstairs and killed him.”

He crosses his arms and nods. “I wouldn’t
have given it a second thought.”

No hint of hesitation in his voice, no
uncertainty about his role as protector or executioner. A reality she may never
be able to get used to. “I know, but I would have. I couldn’t live with myself,
knowing he was dead because of me.”

“He would’ve been dead because of him.”

They stare at each other, neither
convincing the other of their position. She gives in first. “Okay. I promise to
tell you if anything happens. I appreciate you looking out for me.”

His body relaxes, and he winks at her.
“That’s why Nick pays me the big bucks.”

“You’re the most expensive babysitter I
know.”

“Maybe if you’re good, next time I’ll
take you out for ice cream.”

“What happened to the doughnuts?”

His laugh makes her smile, even amidst
her uneasiness. No one can break the bond they share over their mutual love of
junk food. “You’re a bad influence on me. I’m going to make you run before and
after.”

“Deal.”

He holds out his hands, beckoning her for
a hug. “We good?”

She wraps her arms around his waist,
grateful for his absolution. “Yeah, we’re good. Thank you for being such a good
friend to us.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s get Nick and go
get something to eat, because I’m starving. Is he working out?”

“He was still asleep when I came
downstairs.”

His frown greets her as she steps out of
his embrace, his concerned expression matching her own apprehension. He thinks
the same thing. Nick would never stay in bed without her.

“I know. I’m worried too.” She shakes her
head, giving his hand a light squeeze, trying to absorb some of his strength.
“I’m going to check on him, and I’ll be back.”

Chapter Thirteen

Max holds the door
open for her as they carry bags of take out into the kitchen. “Thank…”

Nick paces back
and forth, driving his hand through his hair. Her stomach drops at his ashen
skin and glassy eyes rimmed with dark circles. With trembling hands, he reaches
for the counter to steady himself, his unfocused gaze skimming over Max to her.
“Where the fuck have you two been?”

Pea pods and water
chestnuts splay across the counter, tumbling out of their cartons at the force
of Nick ripping the bags from Shae’s hands. A cold chill flushes her body at
the hysteria surging in his groggy gaze. He crushes her against him, her dress
stretching taut across her body from him fisting the fabric, engulfing her in
his embrace.

“I thought you were dead.” The other hand
slides around the nape of her neck, gripping her hair as he murmurs against her
ear, his voice raspy and weak. “You wouldn’t open your eyes. I tried
everything, but you wouldn’t wake up.”

She clutches him tightly, trying to
soothe both of their worries and make sense of the whirlwind of anger and fear
spinning around him. With her heart pounding, she strokes his back, her hand
gliding across his cold, clammy skin. “It must have been a dream. I’m fine. I
promise.”

“Then, I couldn’t find you. I thought you
were gone.”

“I was just helping Max carry in the
food.”

“You’re here.” Trembling hands cup her
face, his forehead pressing against hers. Relief slackens his expression, and
his eyes drift shut before he lurches forward. Unable to support the dead
weight, she stumbles backward, her hip slamming against the island.

Max grips Nick’s shoulders and pushes him
down onto one of the bar stools. He peers into Nick’s face, trying to force eye
contact with him. “Fuck, Nick. You almost crushed her. Are you okay?”

Nick’s head bobs as he reaches for her,
his hand wrapping around her waist. “I’m sorry, sweetness.” He squeezes the top
of his head before rubbing down his forehead and over his eyes. “My head is
killing me. I think I just need some sleep.”

“You’ve been asleep all day. It’s almost
five o’clock.”

“At night?” Shock tinges his voice, deep
lines crinkling his forehead, matching her own anxiety.

She caresses his cheek. “Why don’t you
eat something? Maybe you’ll feel better.”

Nick frowns as he squints at the shrimp
glaze smeared across the bubbled glass. “What is this?”

Max taps one of the white boxes, before
setting it upright on the counter. “It’s from that dumpy place you like on
Morgan. They have the best dim sum in LA.”

The decorative bowls filled with fresh
fruit rattle from Nick’s fist slamming on the counter. “What the hell were you
thinking, taking her there? You know how fucking dangerous that area is.”

“I went and got the food, and she met me
in the garage.” Max meets her eye, frowning as he ignores the angry outburst,
his tone even and restrained. “Shae just told you she was helping me bring it
in.”

She reaches out and lays her hand on top
of Nicks. “I was worried about you and didn’t want to leave you here alone. You
looked like you didn’t feel well even when you were sleeping.”

“Where’s Marta?”

“It’s Sunday. Her day off, remember?”

“Okay.” Nick nods, yet uncertainty
darkens his face. He looks from Max to her, seemingly unable to grasp what they
tell him. “I’m not really hungry. I’ll see you upstairs.”

His hand runs along the wall, supporting
him as he walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaning heavily on the
railing. This is more than tired. Even with their late night, he shouldn’t be
this weak and confused, fighting such harsh pain in his head.

She turns to Max, whose frown deepens as
he shakes his head. “What’s going on? Have you ever seen him like this before?”

“No, never.” He blows out a long breath,
making her shiver at his doubt. “Maybe it’s a migraine.”

A seed of guilt takes root in her mind.
Maybe it’s her.

The danger from Juan and Spencer has been
frightening, but straightforward. At least they knew what they were dealing
with. Now an unknown enemy affects his physical and mental well-being, possibly
posing an even greater threat. Perhaps the strain of keeping her safe pushes
him too far. “I’m going to go check on him, and then I’ll come back and help
you clean up.”

He waves her away, stacking the boxes in
the refrigerator. “Nah,
it’s
fine. I can do it. Go
make sure he’s okay.”

“Thanks, Max.”

She gives him a quick hug and jogs up the
stairs. Her stomach drops after pushing open the guest room door. He’s back in
bed, his fingers scraping over and over across his scalp. In the bathroom, she
soaks a washcloth with cool water before pressing it against his forehead,
trying to find him some relief.

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

Her chest throbs at the agony strangling
his voice, and she kisses his head before curling around him. “Me too.”

* * * *

Once they cut to commercial, Shae gives
one last wave to the roaring audience, floating on the high of a live
performance, yet her mind sneaks to thoughts of Nick. How much she misses him.
How much she wishes he could still be here with her.

After sleeping away most of Monday and
Tuesday, he seemed better, proven by his stubborn refusal to stay home and take
care of himself while she went to New York. Back to his normal self by the time
they landed, it was the perfect trip until he had to return to L.A., dealing
with another crisis that erupted in less than forty-eight hours after they’d
left. Despite her disappointment, she smiles to herself. Only one more day, and
she can head home.

She accepts Max’s outstretched hand as
she climbs down the stage steps, her stomach clenching at his drawn expression.
“What’s wrong?”

“We need to leave. I’ve got the plane
standing by.”

Cheers and clapping from the audience
linger behind her. The last sketch of the show starts in about thirty seconds
before everyone returns to the set for a final send-off and heads to the cast
party. She takes a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart from Max’s
urgency. “What happened? Where’s Carrie?”

With his hand on her back, he guides her
out of the open space and down the hall. They skirt around moving backdrops and
actors changing clothes in the wings waiting for their cues to run on stage.
Max remains alert, scanning side to side as they walk. Even with the worry of
Nick on his mind, he makes her feel safe and protected. They’re lucky to have
Max in their lives for more than security.

“I sent her and Oscar to the hotel. The
plane will come back to pick them up in the morning. They can bring our stuff
with them.” His tense jaw and grip on her back convey his concern. “Nick’s
flipped out. He went berserk at the office and fired Carter. When he got home,
he yelled at Marta and made her cry.”

She digs in her bag and pulls out her
phone. No missed calls or texts. Nothing since last night. The lack of communication
was disappointing when she thought they were both too busy to talk. Now, it’s
terrifying to know the truth. “God, Max. How could it have gotten this bad in
only two days? He was fine when he left.”

“I don’t know. I tried to get Nathan into
the house, but Nick refuses to see him. I don’t know what we’re going to find
when we get there.”

One of the associate producers stops
their departure, glancing at his watch and giving her a raised eyebrow smile.
“Hey, Shae. You need to head back to the stage. Final curtain call in twenty
seconds.”

“I’ve had an emergency come up, and I
need to go.”

“You’re leaving?” His voice drips with
incredulousness. “Now?”

Max pats her back in encouragement as her
face flushes with warmth. Another incident to add to her growing list of flaky
behavior soiling her reputation. “I’m sorry. I—”

“The musical guest can’t leave. Nobody
leaves before the show ends. It’s unheard of.”

“You don’t understand. I have to…” Her
voice drops, thinking of Nick suffering alone. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head as they walk away.
“Diva.”

She cringes at the comment under his
breath. Grateful her mother can’t hear the label she feared the most, the title
that signals the beginning of the end. A small insult to bear so she can help
the man she loves.

Inside the car, lights dance across the
windows as they wind their way through the city to JFK. At almost one in the
morning, they share the road with very few cars, mainly taxis full of laughing,
boisterous riders enjoying the nightlife. She slumps against the seat,
exhaustion overtaking her. A whirlwind week appearing on all of the early
morning news and daytime talk shows, as well as the late night programs.

With little sleep and lots of conversations,
she messed up only once. Her mind on Nick when she missed a question posed by
one of the interviewers. She closes her eyes, thinking of the heat flaming her
cheeks when he had to repeat the question. And the extra-long lecture disguised
as a coaching session from Gail afterward.

Yet, her lips curl into a smile,
remembering their time together before he had to leave. Him leaning over and
whispering ‘you’re amazing’ to her in the darkened theater. Slow dancing in the
rooftop bar during the after party. Soaking together in the luxurious hot tub
in their suite. Knowing it was late and they should get some sleep, but making
love anyway. Enjoying their last few minutes together before he had to go back
to L.A.

He kisses her forehead as she
snuggles against his chest. “I’m sorry I have to go.”

“Me too. But, I’ll be back on
Sunday, and I’ll tell you about the rest of my trip.”

“Be careful. Always stay with
Max and do what he tells you. The threats exist here just like at home.”

She smiles against his neck at
the familiarity of his words. “I think you’ve given me these exact instructions
before.”

“I still mean it.” His arms
tighten around her. “I love you, sweetness.”

“Fuck!”

Max’s swear brings her back to the
present. “What’s wrong?”

He massages his temples before he turns
to her. “Carter said Nick’s been sitting at the kitchen table for the past hour,
staring at a plate of food. The only thing he’s said is…” He shakes his head.
“I won’t repeat it, but it’s not good.”

* * * *

Her heart pounds at the sight of Marta
waiting in front of the house, wringing a dishtowel between her hands. Even
through the darkened window, her red-rimmed eyes and furrowed brow reveal her
fear, aging her beyond her sixty-seven years. The housekeeper grasps Shae’s
hands as she steps out of the limo. “Nick in bad way. He sit at table all
night. He no eat. He no leave.”

Nick must be sick to scare Marta like
this. In all the time she’s known him, he’s never treated Marta with anything
but kindness. Shae attempts to sound confident as she hugs the older woman.
“It’s going to be okay.”

Max’s phone chirps, and he glances at the
screen. “It’s Carter. Give me a minute, and we'll go in.”

He paces back and forth, turning his back
on her as he talks. Unable to make out his words, yet the worried tone comes
through. Knowing the man she loves suffers just a few feet away, she pushes open
the door and strides into the house.

Inside the kitchen, Nick hunches over the
table, his head resting in his hands. An untouched plate of food and empty whiskey
glass sit on the apple green placemat. She scoots a chair next to him and
lightly rubs his back. “Hi.”

“What do you want?”

She ignores the growing lump in her
throat. The man sitting next to her isn’t the Nick she knows. That’s why she’s
here and not in New York. To help bring back the man she loves from wherever
he’s gotten lost. “I’m worried about you. Carter said you didn’t feel well.”

“My head’s killing me.”

“I know. I think it’s time for you to go
to the doctor. Let’s go the hospital and see Nathan. He can help us figure out
what’s wrong.”

He pushes back from the table and stands
up, wobbling before gripping the wooden edge, whitened knuckles holding him up.
His pale, gaunt skin contrasts with his unfocused, dark-rimmed eyes. “What do
you want from me?”

“Nothing. I—”

“Don’t kid yourself, baby.” He shakes his
head, his voice full of bitter arrogance. “Everybody wants something from me.”

“I just want to help you feel better.”

“There’s only person who can help me, and
she’s long gone.”

A jab to her heart. His mother? An old
girlfriend? Either way, someone who isn’t her. As much as it hurts, she forces
herself to ask. Maybe whoever
she
is, she can help. “Who?”