Spin (The Indigo Lounge Series) (12 page)

“I want you to get out of my bedroom, please. Respect my privacy and leave me alone.”

“Fuck that.”

“Watch that mouth, kitten.”

I glare over my shoulder at my boyfriend. “Seriously?”

“You’re upset, I get it. But our rules haven’t changed,” he warns.

We agreed very early in our relationship that I’d reserve my swearing for the bedroom. Apparently my
trace-his-ancestors-back-to-the-confederacy
boyfriend has a stick up his ass about me being a
lady
. I love him, so I let him have that. Even when, right at this moment, I want to swear longer and harder than a one-legged Irish sailor.

“Fine.
Frack
that.” I turn back to Bethany. “I’m not leaving. Not until you do at least one thing that doesn’t involve you wasting away in this bed.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why should I do anything?”

I’m genuinely stymied by the question. I look to Mason for help, but he stares back at me in silence.

“Because you’ll want to be
alive
when Zach comes home?” I venture.

It seems the effort it takes to hold my gaze wears her out. My heart sinks as her eyes drift shut.

“I won’t make it,” she whispers.

“
Sorry
? What did you say?”

“I won’t make it,” she repeats, her voice a shadow that drifts, wraithlike into the ether.

I stare down at her, more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life. I watch her chest. It’s barely moving, her breaths shallow and insubstantial.

“She’s sleeping now, kitten. Let her be.”

“No...I have to...I can’t leave her like this.”

“Keely.”

I turn my bewildered gaze to Mason. He’s holding out his hand. “Come. Now.”

My steps are marred in terror. The enormity of what could happen slams into me, and I collapse into Mason’s arms. “Mason, I’m scared.”

“I’m worried too, baby, but her mom’s here. If you want to help her,
you
need to eat. And I need to make a phone call.”

Bethany

The day the dam breaks, I’m in the shower, driven there by the terrifying realization that my ripeness is beginning to overcome Zach’s scent. In a desperate attempt to keep that from happening, I staggered out of bed in the middle of the night and sprayed all his clothes with his aftershave. Now, I’m removing my own scent from the equation in the hope that his essence will return to me.

But as I stand beneath the spray, the loyal numbness that has been my constant companion abruptly deserts me. Strobes of memory flood in, every single one of Zach and me, every single one a variation of his reaction to my happiness.

I buckle beneath the sudden influx. My knees give way and sobs explode out of me like tiny bombs. I prostrate myself beneath the unrelenting shower spray and weep until my meagre reserves are exhausted.

Then I weep some more.

I have no idea how long I lie on the hard marble floor and I care even less. With the last remaining fibres of my being, I wish I could follow the rancid water down the drain. I can’t, so I tuck my hand between my legs and let the memories have free reign.

“
Christ
, Bethany, what are you doing?” The shower door flies open and Keely falls to her knees beside me.

Her hands feel cold against my cheek as she brushes back my hair. “Can you hear me?” she cries.

“Zach...”

“I know, sweetie. But I promise you, I’ll get you through this.”

I shake my head.

“Yes,” she insists, reaching up to shut off the shower. She grabs a towel off the heated rail and wraps it around me. “There’s a guy downstairs waiting to talk to you. Trust me, B, you want to hear what he has to tell you.”

I’m too weak to fight the ploy to get me out of the bathroom, so I go with it. I tug on my underwear, then sit in catatonic silence as she blow-dries my hair. When she heads for my side of the dressing room, I struggle to find my voice.

“No. Zach’s T-shirt.”

She looks at me, nods and changes direction. The indigo-colored tee falls to my knees and is respectable enough, so I’m surprised when she returns to my side of the room and retrieves sweat pants.

I obediently step into them. She smiles and slides her arm around my waist.

“Now, let’s go see a guy about a break in.”

I’m still processing her poor taste in jokes when we get downstairs.

Mason is talking to an older guy who’s cradling a glass of Zach’s bourbon.

They look up as we enter the living room. Mason smiles and touches my cheek, then turns to the guy, who nods at me.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Green. My name is Paddy.”

The thought of making pleasantries punches nausea through my gut. I grit my teeth and force the words out. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m hoping I can help you.” He shrugs. “You and your fiancé are friends with Noah and Leia King?”

I jerk a nod, wondering where this is going. “Mason, here, contacted Mr. King...one thing led to the other...long story short, I’m here to facilitate a smooth transition through this difficult time any way I can.”

I frown, his words barely making sense. “Facilitate. What does that mean? And what is your job, exactly?”

His casual shrug and pensive gaze remind me of an old TV detective series I watched as a kid. Come to think of it, there’s something Colombo-like about the man with his sad eyes and the worn out jacket.

“Let’s not bother with job titles, my dear. As to what I do, it’s...fluid.”

I pass my hand over cried-out eyes, and try to think past the boulder of pain crushing my heart. I’m afraid to voice the fears multiplying inside me, afraid to give them life.

“Anything you need. Just ask,” Paddy presses. “I’ll help if I can.”

I want to scream for the torture to stop. Well meaning or not, I want to be left alone to manage my loss in peace.

“Ask him, B,” Keely prods gently.

I look at her. She nods. I link my fingers in my lap and bite the bullet. “I want to see him. If you want to help me, get me in Rikers
today
. I want to see Zach.”

There, I’ve asked the impossible.

I wait for him to tell me that my request is absurd. That learning to adopt the fetal position and riding out the next six months is the only way to get through the Hiroshima-sized wasteland my life has become. I await his response so I have the excuse to show him the door.

He doesn’t speak.

I raise my head and meet the steady gaze trained on me. “You won’t be able to see him today.”

The way he says it screams ‘
but’, which
I immediately hang all my hopes on. I scramble from the sofa before I’m even aware that my feet work after all. My whole body shakes as I ball my fists and scrutinize every cracked line on his weathered face, trying to see if this man is fucking with me. As I work my tongue round the word I want to scream, I imagine the various ways to commit homicide if it turns out he’s pissing on the open sores of my putrefying heart. The word gurgles from my throat, lubricated in hope. “W-when?” I spit it out.

He doesn’t exactly stroke his chin, but his head jerks to the side, thoughtfully. “That depends.”

Hope smothers me. “On what?”

“On how quickly you can switch jobs.”

––––––––

Slammered

Zach

F
ive days are all I can stand before I give in and bribe a guard for a phone. I’ve been fully committed to serving my time, knowing I could lose Bethany in the distance between now and my release. We didn’t have any reason to discuss how she’d feel about being married to a criminal. Except her father, all the men in her life before me have let her down.

With my actions, I’ve added myself to that list. I’ll love her until the day I die, but I don’t regret what I did. If I’m ever put in the position to say that to her, it may be the thing that breaks us.

The fear of finding out we’re already broken is what has kept me from calling her. Philip chooses his words carefully when I ask about her. For now, the knowledge that she’s still in our home, still in my bed, is enough.

The phone burns a hole in my pocket until lights out. I wait another hour to be sure my cell mate is asleep before I activate it. A single app shows on the illuminated screen. I enter my password and plug in my earbuds. Then I scroll through, my heart uplifting and shredding at the same time.

The recording I play is of her first day at work after our maiden trip to Bora Bora.

How’s work, Peaches?

Boring. I wish we were back in Bora Bora.

So you can give in to that nudist streak you keep denying and run around naked?

So I can see your smug face when I tell you how happy you make me.

I make you happy, Peaches?

Ecstatically. Completely and utterly. As long as I have you I’ll never need anything else. Except maybe those fresh coconuts. God, those were to die for, weren’t they?

My laughter triggers hers. We laugh at the silliness of our laughter for a full minute. Then her soft, husky voice flows over me.

I love you. See you at home...

The app clicks onto the next recording. I drop the phone on my chest and close my eyes, losing myself in my only link to Bethany.

Lust & Jumpsuits

Bethany

I
’ve never been anywhere near a prison before. And not in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d have to lie my way
in
.

After living on tenterhooks the last forty-eight hours, I’m at the point where I’m certain the smallest wrong move will induce a vomiting spree.

“Right, are we clear on what you need to do?” Paddy asks from his position in the front passenger seat.

My gaze meets Philip’s in the rearview mirror. The gentle giant has been my rock in the past week and a half. He nods reassuring and I clear my throat. “Yes, say as little as possible.”

“I can’t stress enough the many ways this could go wrong.” This from the mid-level attorney in Zach’s legal team, who’s in the back of the SUV with me. I didn’t ask what he did to draw the short straw. I don’t intend to. He’s my ticket inside the locked gates. That’s all that matters to me.

“Relax, sport. Play your part right and the worst that could happen is you being disbarred and spending the rest of your life on a private island thanks to a few grateful individuals. The best thing would be to see this through and guarantee yourself a
ton
of billable hours,” Paddy says.

“Okay. Agreed.” He hoists his monogrammed Ferragamo messenger bag and reaches for the door. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Paddy holds out a hand. “You haven’t the flip side if this goes tits up because you
don’t
play your part right.”

“But you said—”

“
Listen
. And I really can’t stress this enough. Anything happens to her because you fuck it up, three of the most powerful men in the country will have your name on their shit list. Remember that.”

The man’s left eyelid twitches for several seconds before he jerks out a nod. “Understood.”

Paddy’s gaze swings to me, and he smiles. “Go have fun, my dear.”

I step out of the SUV with my heart hammering loud enough to block out every other sound. Which is good, I guess, because the amount of doors that slam shut behind me would’ve induced a heart attack by now, if I’d been able to take it all in.

I produce my ‘credentials’ when asked and confirm truthfully that I am part of Zachary Savage’s legal team. They don’t know that I’ve taken a leave of absence from Neon to work as a temporary PA to senior partner Dawson Reed of Reed, Reed & Clintons, while his PA enjoys the round the world cruise her boss surprised her with two days before.

The document Paul Spencer—my twitchy sidekick—produces and sets on the table once we’re shown into a grey windowless room, is genuine. In fact the only things not genuine in this staggering performance, are my brunette wig and boxy glasses.

My insides coil with anxiety as we wait ten excruciating minutes for the doors to open.

Zach steps into the room and vivid life pounds into my body. I breathe for the first time since he was taken away from my hospital room in Scarsdale. The times we spent together waiting for his trial were hell even though we were together. This was equally hellish, but at least I have a large portion of the unknown behind me.

His beautiful eyes skate past Paul’s head and lock on me. I hear his breath catch from across the room. His sexy mouth drops open, but he catches himself quickly, nods to the guard who murmurs what shit he needs to murmur.

Then we’re alone.

A client with his two attorneys.

He sits across from me. Paddy warned me about the camera in the room so I keep my hands tucked in my lap.

“Bethany.” His deep voice strokes me from head to toe with the same arrogance he spoke with the day we met. But that’s where the similarities end.

I’ve seen Zach vulnerable. I’ve seen him afraid of losing me. But there’s naked fear in his eyes now. Something live and lethal that has the power to break him.

“Hey, Zach.”

“How...what...baby, it’s so good to see you. But what the fuck’s going on?”

It suddenly hits me that he’s hung a worst case scenario on this meeting. I immediately try and reassure him with my eyes, but Paul clears his throat and moves to huddle. Unfortunately, it brings him close to me and Zach’s eyes narrow. “Mr. Savage, umm, I need to go through a few things with you.”

“Sure, but you think you can do it without plastering yourself on my fiancée?” Zach enquires, his voice a deadly blade.

Paul jumps back. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

Zach nods without taking his eyes off me. “Go ahead.”

Paul recites the plan Paddy drilled into him. “The room is yours for an hour, but the cameras can only be turned off for half that time or an alarm goes off. Mr....Paddy suggests you be appropriately...situated by then?”

“Why wasn’t I told about this?” Zach asks me.

I lick my dry lips. “We couldn’t risk anyone overhearing on the prison’s phone.”

“And you think this isn’t risking you, Peaches?” He’s getting over his shock. And his brilliant mind is still weighing the cost/benefit ratio.