Tamar chuckled under her breath. “Leave it to my men to throw our guest under the table.”
“All’s fair in love and war, Momma Blue. Don’t you know that?” Brendon asked her.
“And this is a war?” Tamar’s brow quirked in a show of disagreement.
“Uh . . . no. It’s love. And I love my face. Have you seen me?” My nephew made a circle around his face. “Wasn’t about to stand still and let it get mucked up. No thank you.”
Penny giggled a shy sound, partially embarrassed and like maybe she wanted to hide under the table, too, but she wasn’t about to miss out on the entertainment.
“I really am sorry,” I said, a little harder, taking the cloth from him when he’d finally cleaned off his face. “He’s two.”
It was all a defense.
That strong brow twisted, the man so pretty I was having a hard time standing on solid ground. “Yeah. I know.”
“Then don’t be a jerk,” I gritted, words low and barely heard as they ground from my tongue.
He laughed a low, menacing sound, angling up to look at me. “You think my sitting here and saying nothin’ is being a jerk? You haven’t been around much, have you, princess?”
I wanted to scream.
I couldn’t help it, I inclined his direction, outrage taking hold of my senses as I spat the words, “I’ve been around plenty. Like I said, you don’t know me at all.”
Shit.
I was revealing my cards, not that I came close to having a good hand. I’d do best to fold.
Because with the tension that filled the room, there was no question it was becoming plenty clear that he and I weren’t exactly strangers.
Tamar and the kids watched us.
Lyrik watched us harder.
Leif had the audacity to smirk, rocking back in his chair far too casually. “And like I said, you’re easy to read.”
I tossed the washcloth down onto the table, wondering why the hell I’d been attracted to this asshole in the first place. “Well, I’d suggest you find yourself another book.”
Eight
Leif
I knocked back the amber liquid in the tumbler where I sat on a stool tucked up to the bar at Charlie’s. Alcohol burned down my throat and landed in a flaming pool in my stomach.
Gasoline dumped on a pit of fire.
Hell hosting a goddamn party where the demons raged and rioted and tore stuff to shit.
Gulping hard, I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest tight and thoughts fuzzy. Could feel all the frayed ends wearing thin.
Getting ready to snap.
I drummed my fingers on the bar, fingers itching for the feel of my drumsticks, praying the beat might chase away the apprehension taking hold of my senses.
What the hell had I been thinking, agreeing to come here? Should have trusted my gut and refused to listen to the music I’d felt calling to me.
Dinner had been a motherfucking disaster.
Had proven how much I didn’t belong.
An outcast.
Exiled.
A convict and a captive watching all the things he could never have from behind the bars of his cell.
Love had been so thick in that dining room that I had almost choked on it.
Knew it made me a prick that just watching Lyrik and Tamar together had left a bad taste on my tongue.
Bitterness.
Jealousy.
The adoration they had for their children had been too much to witness.
Add into the mix that woman who’d clawed herself into my every thought and desire, and then dump her kids in the middle of it?
Yeah.
That was not a good combination.
I’d wanted to disappear into the walls.
Fade into nothing.
I’d been two seconds from making an excuse and bolting when Mia’s kid had to go and use me for target practice, drawing attention to the fact that I was even sitting there when the only thing I’d wanted to do was slip out the door.
She’d thought I was annoyed at her son. A jerk who didn’t get the kid was just being a kid.
Let her think that.
It was for the better, anyway.
Hatred blistered beneath the surface of my skin. Old agony trying to bubble through where it festered and boiled.
Could hardly stand the way Mia made me feel.
The fact that she made me feel anything at all.
“Here you go.” The bartender slid another drink across the gleaming bar.
“Thanks.”
“Anything else I can get for you?” She stalled, eying me. No doubt, the girl was gorgeous, but she wasn’t doing a thing for me.
“I’m good.”
She hesitated. “You look familiar.”
I would have laughed if I wouldn’t have been cringing so hard. “Nope. Think I just have one of those faces.”
Lie.
Clearly, she’d seen me on that stage six-months ago. But the last thing I wanted was to entertain and deflect and pretend if this girl went even medium-frequency fangirl on me.
Wasn’t close to being up to it.
“Are you sure about that? I rarely forget a face, especially one that looks like yours.”
“Yup.”
“Hmm.” Her brow drew together. “Well, let me know if there is anything else that I can get you, stranger.”
She said it like I was going to bite onto the coy tease.
Finally, when I gave her nothing but a tight nod, she relented and left me there, moving on to other customers who were vying for her attention.
Bodies crushed and packed against the gleaming wood.
The place was packed.
Always was.
Charlie’s was one of the most popular bars on the river walk. The vibe cool and somehow intense. Live music almost every night. Catering to anyone who walked through the door.
You didn’t need to be a type.
You left your bullshit at the door? You were welcome.
Had become one of my favorite places to perform.
The bar was owned by Shea Stone’s Uncle Charlie. A guy who’d apparently always been quick to welcome Carolina George to play, long before I’d come in and taken over on the drums.
I curled my hand around the glass as the din of the bar roared and boomed and blustered around me.
I drew the glass to my lips, taking a long pull, fighting off the barbs of sensation that wouldn’t let me go.
Feeling that something was off.
Which was a goddamn joke because my whole life had been off since the moment I’d destroyed the one thing that mattered. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling, the air cloudy and buzzing with a darkness that consumed. Something sinister slicked across my flesh, and it didn’t have a thing to do with the chick who continued to eye-fuck me from across the bar.
I shifted to look over my shoulder, gaze jumping through the faces in the raging crowd.
Couples two-stepped on the packed dancefloor at the foot of the stage, and groups gathered around high-top tables, tossing back beers and laughing too hard. My eyes searched into the murky shadows of the plush horseshoe-shaped booths that lined the far end of the space.
Nothing.
Didn’t matter. I still felt it.
History creeping up on me before I had the chance to hunt it down first.
I let my attention rove across the sea of obscured faces one more time, finally deciding that I was losing it. Giving it up, I downed the entire contents of the glass.