Exquisitely Broken (A Sin City Tale Book 1) Page 22

  “You knew too?” Miles asks, looking at Adam who is wiping a hand across is mouth.

  “Am I the only one who didn’t know.” Dan asks, a slight frown marring his brow.

  “How did you know?” I ask, turning to Miles.

  “I showed up late to that party opening night. I was going to stay home but you know Kisha. She was in bed by the time I got home. She was surprised when I came in and asked me why I wasn’t supporting you guys. So, I got dressed and showed up at the party. I didn’t see either of you jokers.” He wags a finger between Adam and Dan. “But I saw you and He Who Must Not Be Named—are we still calling him that?”

  “Would you get to the point,” Dan yells.

  Miles clears his throat. “I, ah, saw you go out on a balcony, and I wasn’t sure if I should intervene. So, I followed you. The door was locked but the, um, door panel is glass and… and you were…”

  “Please tell me you did not see…” I drop my head into my hands, embarrassed heat licking down my spine.

  “All I saw was a man drop to his knees and…”

  “Do not say another word.” I stand up, holding my palms out in front of my face. “You hear me? Not one more word.”

  “Aw, damn, this is better than I thought. Sin was getting some rooftop, open air, public kind of loving.” Dan cackles, clapping his hands.

  “Both of you just shut the hell up,” I say loudly, trying to talk over their words.

  “On a balcony, Sin. Damn, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Adam quips.

  “I expect that bullshit from them but you?” I glare at Adam until he throws his hands up in defeat.

  “I’m… surprised, is all.” Adam says on a laugh.

  “All three of you are assholes. You know that, right?” I say, and this makes them laugh harder. Grade A assholes.

  “Five minutes, guys,” The sound tech says, peeking his head through the door.

  I speed walk past the guys and hightail it for the stage. I love all three of those boys like brothers, but there are somethings that should never be discussed. I can’t believe Miles saw me and Jake on the balcony and is just now saying something.

  I stop walking when I get to the steps that lead up to the stage. It’s dark. So dark that I can’t see anything beyond the thin line of lights that lay on the edge of each step. Adam’s hand is a heavy weight that settles on my shoulder, and I don’t have to see to know Miles is behind Adam and Dan is behind Miles.

  This is us. This is our ritual. We don’t pray or drink ourselves into oblivion. We remember the kids that started this.

  “Blood don’t make…” Adam says out loud.

  “Family,” our three separate voices answer in unison.

  The house lights drop, and the roar of the audience gets louder, hands claps, feet stomp, whistles blow. I still can’t believe we continue to sell out night after night. This arena is a long way away from smoky bars in nowhere towns.

  The lights come up, the first heavy guitar riff echoes off the walls and a thousand people push to their feet chanting, “Sin City, Sin City, Sin City”

  I let the first wail travel from my diaphragm and up my throat. I coat my voice in the agony of my past breakup with Jake, allowing every tortured lyric to take me back to that place. Normally, I relive that trauma every time I sing, but tonight something is different. I can’t remember the hurt anymore. When I think of Jake, I see adoring hazel eyes and full lips parted in a smile. Images of him in bed with another woman have been replace with a million mental images of us. Us kissing so deep and so long that my lips are tender and my heart is full. His body pressed skin to skin with my body, his heart beating strong under my palm. Those are the things that I think about. The sadness I feel is because I’m afraid to claim him or let him claim me.

  I move from one side of the stage to the other, losing myself in the music, the crowd. Looking out into the sea of faces and trying to make that connection. But something keeps catching my eye to the far left. There’s a person standing still in a sea of movement, and when his eyes lift to mine, a chill moves up my spine.

  I know that face. How do I know that face? I miss a beat as I take in every part of him. The deep-set eyes void of emotion. The greasy dark hair and the too small, worn Sin City T-shirt. I hold his gaze, and I’m unable to look away because his energy is throwing me off in the most menacing way.

  I keep singing but can’t shake the feeling that he’s different. Dangerous in a way that makes my skin crawl. Moving back to center stage I focus on my band and the music and all the other people that are here because they love what we do. After a couple of minutes, the creepy feeling fades to a low hum that I barely pay attention to.

  The first song ends, and I raise the mic to my lips. “Good evening, Las Vegas!” The crowd goes wild, yelling and stomping in response. “I can’t tell you how happy I’m to see every one of you. Being here on this stage is honestly a dream come true. In the words of a much better writer, there is no place like home.” The audience cheers.

  “We love you, Sin!” someone yells.

  “And I love you back. You ready to rock?” I ask the audience. They scream in response, and I soak it in. At least until my eyes drift back across the stage and land on the stalker and it finally clicks. Of course, I recognize him. I’ve seen him for years, the stringy hair, and old concert T-shirt, the singular focus that makes me feel like a mouse cornered by a cat..

  Dan taps out a fast tempo on the cymbal and moves rapidly around the drum kit. Adam followed his lead to signal the start of the next song and comes shredding the guitar, completely lost in the music. He leans against me, fingers working over the strings, face twisted in pleasure.

  I try to lose myself in the music and meet Adam in that place we occupy. Where time and rhythm mesh and nothing matters but now. Every time I try to go under, I make eye contact with a pair of eyes that burn through me. I sashay around Adam to the other to the other end of the stage. The stalker gets agitated the farther away I move from his end of the stage. I watch him push a woman next to him down to the ground as he tries to follow my movement. Then he swings on another person standing between him and I. Security rushes to him when the audience starts to scatter. Oh my God! He has a gun! How did he get in here with a gun? He aims the gun straight at me and pulls the trigger.

  I can’t move. Not when the bullets knock over the metal guitar stands, and the speakers spark like fireworks on Fourth of July.

  The barrage of bullets continues to hit the stage. The wood cracks and splinters, fragments flying. In the chaos I don’t see Adam. He was right next to me a couple of seconds ago. Where did he go?

  “Adam!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Panic lodges in a tight knot in my throat until I see him. He’s less than a couple of inches from me.

  He waves his hands, but I can’t hear him above the panicked screams of the audience and the shouts of security.

  “Sin, down!” he yells.

  I hesitate for the briefest second before I drop down on the stage. Adam bolts to my location, throwing himself at me. I look up to see his worried blue eyes directly in my line of sight.

  He’s fine. Adam is fine. Where are Dan and Miles? I roll my head to the side. It’s harder than it should be, but I finally see them, huddled at the back of the stage. The rush of relief is sudden and all-encompassing. I’m shaking as my brain processes. They’re okay. We’re all safe. What about our fans. People brought their kids to see us. What would make him do this?

  “Adam?” I try to speak but my tongue is heavy and languid.

  He stares down at me, his eyes glassing over with unshed tears. I try to tell Adam it’s okay, we’re okay. But my voice won’t work. I swipe a hand over my mouth and blink at the bright red blood coating my fingers.

  Am I bleeding?

  I don’t feel hurt.

  “Stay with me, Sin, just stay… HELP! PLEASE HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE…”

  Adam’s voice starts to fade into the distance. I try to raise
my arm, but my limbs feel heavy, and I’m cold, so cold.

  I close my eyes to rest, and it feels like I’m floating. The darkness is soothing.

  “Sin, look at me.” Adam shakes me, and I force my lids to open. “Sinclair, this is not how it ends for you, do you hear me?” he cries.

  Once again, I close my eyes and this time instead of the hard stage under me and the numbness tingling through my limbs. I’m in a soft bed, warm and cozy. Jake’s big body at my back and his hand resting on the curve of my hip. I snuggle into his body, pulling his arms around me. Jake presses a kiss to the back of my neck, and I close my eyes to sleep. Totally surrendering to the darkness.

  NOW

  Jake

  The investor’s meeting ran later than it should’ve. Hard to start a meeting without the CEO and half of the board. These meetings are a necessary evil. Everyone likes money, but no one wants the details of where the money came from. After hitting on all the gains we’ve had this quarter, what should have taken forty-five minutes has gone past the hour mark, and that’s after all the other preliminary stuff.

  I stand at the head of a long table in front of the room, going through slide after slide of financial growth, current projections for the next several quarters, and the one thing everyone in the room wants to know—dividends based on shares. The chatter picks up once the numbers are out. I meet my father’s pride-fill gaze and do my best to ignore the smirk from Connor. What we’ve accomplished in four years is virtually unheard of. As of the yesterday, all investors have received a one hundred fifty percent return on their investment in less than five years.

  Things are falling into place. I finally have room to breathe and not just at work. Sin… is still a little reluctant, but every day she shows me more, gives me more. When she’s asleep, her body reaches for mine, when she arrives back in Vegas after a trip to wherever she’s happy to see me, and when I’m inside her she looks up at me the way she used to, with eyes full of love. We’ll get there. I’d like it to be sooner rather than later, but Sin isn’t ready yet. She’s still boxing demons, and it’s turning into one hell of a battle. I wish I could do it for her I want to, but I’m on the sidelines with this one. I’ve done everything I know how to do. I’ve told her I love her, I’ve been totally transparent about where I want us to go. And maybe more important than any of that is I’ve been consistent. I’ve answered every call, ever text, showed up every night.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Rappaport.” Emma, the receptionist, is at the door. Her pale skin flushed and her steps quick as she all but runs to me. “We have a…” her words trail off as she looks at the curious eyes following her around the room. She reaches my side in record time.

  “Mr. Johnson. Mr. Rappaport, we… there has been an incident that requires you both,” she says in a hushed voice.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. I immediately hit the silence button. I see Connor do the same thing. Our eyes meet across the board table, and he stands to his feet coming to stand next to me.

  “I’m sorry, Emma, you were saying?” My phone goes off again before she can speak. When the buzzing stops, I finally take it out of my pocket and look at the screen. I realize I’ve missed dozens of calls and text messages. I frown as Jeanine’s name flashes across the screen, again. I feel the involuntary tensing of my muscles as I answer the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Johnson, oh thank God.” Her voice cracks. I hear a couple of sniffles. My pulse jumps, beating harder through my veins. Jeanine is a fucking bulldog and bulldogs don’t cry.

  “What’s wrong? I ask, fighting the sudden feeling of dread.

  “I don’t know how to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “There’s been a shooting at the concert arena. I tried to call you earlier, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Where is Sin, Jeanine?”

  “S-s-s-she she… People have been shot and she…”

  “She what? Where is she, J?” I’ve never used that nickname before but for some reason right now, I can’t say another syllable.

  “Ms. James, she… There was just so much blood. They couldn’t get her to wake up. She was taken to the hospital a couple of minutes ago. There isn’t any information, yet.”

  “Someone has to know something. You call Adam or Dan or Miles. One of them will know…”

  “Mr. Beckham accompanied her in ambulance. I’m not… I’m not a familial relation so they won’t tell me. I don’t know any more than that.”

  “Was Sin the only one?” Shot? Sin’s been shot. My fingers go numb and the phone crashes to the table surface.

  “Mr. Johnson? Jacob? Jake” Her voice is a hollowed out sound, squawking at me from the tabletop.

  Connor picks up my dropped device.

  “J, it’s Con.” He nods at me and rests his hand on my shoulder. “Give it to me straight, no chaser.”

  I study his face while he talks into the phone, nodding through whatever Jeanine is telling him. His voice is muffled behind the pulse thumping in my ears, but his lips are moving. Connor nods a couple of more times, his eyes finding mine while he listens. I turn toward the door on legs that feel like water. I need to go but Connor grips my shoulder, shaking his head. He points to the seat. I sit because right now I need someone to take the reins. Tell me what to do.

  My stomach clenches with fear, and my vision narrows. I have to breathe. Deep breaths. But the air isn’t moving into my lungs. The shock is trying to shut down every system in my body.

  Sin’s been shot.

  Shot so seriously she needs… I don’t know what the fuck she needs because I’m here and she’s there and no one knows a damn thing. People at my hotel who had merely been going out for a night on the town to a concert and… An unintelligible sound comes out of my mouth.

  “Repeat that. You said UMC, right?” Connor repeats. “Wait a minute, did you say multiple people were transported?”

  “Multiple people?” I ask.

  Connor holds up a finger for me to hold on. He talks for what seem like an eternity but is probably only a minute before he hangs up the phone.

  “Jake.” His voice is coming at me from the other side of a tunnel. “Jacob.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. Hearing my given name from my best friend that only uses it sparingly penetrates the haze. My head whips up, and I force myself to meet his gaze.

  “How bad is it?” I barely grunt.

  “It’s”—he runs a hand through his hair—“it’s really bad, but there were no fatalities. Six people were injured. Five of the six have bumps and bruises from getting trampled. Sin was shot twice. They think in the upper chest. We’ll know more when we get there.”

  Honestly, I didn’t hear anything after “shot twice,” because really, what in the ever-loving hell is going on right now?

  “Let’s go,” he says, his long stride eating up the space toward the door. “You take care of your lady, and I’ll take care of everything else.”

  I follow his figure through the halls leading to the underground parking garage, trusting him to get us where we need to go. We both get into his car at the same time, and Connor peels out of the garage.

  I don’t know how we stay on the road. Connor is setting land speed records while periodically looking at me for long moments.

  “Jeanine has already set up a private room for Sinclair James, and as soon as she knows anything, I’m sure she’ll be on the horn,” Connor says in a low voice. “J is getting legal on it, so you’ll be able to see her when she comes out.”

  A corrosive taste floods my throat causing my mouth to water. My mind keeps manufacturing horrible images of Sin covered in blood. Sin in back of an ambulance rushing to the hospital.

  “Jacob listen to me,” Connor says, his voice is hard and demanding.

  I look at him dumbly.

  “Dude, breathe… take a fucking breath.”

  “I’m trying, Con. Man, I’m rea
lly trying but she was shot. Twice. And I…” I take in a deep inhale of air, but it doesn’t go down easy. Every time I exhale my chest gets tighter. The air coming out as wisps of fragile sound.

  “And you what?” He gives me a sidelong glance as he pulls to a screeching stop at a red light. “You are Jacob Muthafuckin Johnson. This is what you do. You deal with shit.”

  “What if she’s d—?”

  “Get that out of your head. You understand me? Deal with what you know, not what you think. And what we know is Sinclair James was taken to the hospital.”

  “What if it’s worse than they’re telling us?” Because that’s the way this works, right? The doctors tell the family and friends that everything will be all right. When at the end of a hallway behind a closed door a loved one is in a battle for their lives.

  “Then we deal. But know we got this.” He reaches over and taps the top of my shoulder with a closed fist as the light turns green and the tires peel rubber as he takes off. “Do what you gotta do right now in this car, but when we step out be the man I know. The one that holds his head under pressure. Be the man she needs because Sinclair is going to have a rough time. She can’t worry about you too.”

  We fall into silence, and I’m not sure how he did it, but Connor pulls up to the hospital in less than fifteen minutes. We walk shoulder to shoulder through the Emergency entrance. The first thing I notice is that the large waiting room is teeming with humanity. Sick old people, young hurt people, and everything in between. People are clustered small groups for comfort and support. I immediately look for my people, my comfort, my support. I find them clustered near the reception desk.

  A frazzled Jeanine breaks away from the shell-shocked members of the band, and the team of security that stand at attention with their eyes covered by dark sunglasses, hands clasped behind their backs, body language screaming all kinds of stay back. She hustles toward us with black makeup running under her eyes, her bright red glasses sitting askew on her face.

  “Thank God, you both are here.” Tears pool in her eyes and she shoves the glasses up her nose to wipe away the moisture. “Shit. They keep doing this. It’s like they won’t stop.” She waves a hand at her watery eyes.