In a Chord (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (12 page)
They stood on the front entrance of Mike’s apartment building, Keaton and Ash staring angrily at Taylor. The drummer held up his hands in a surrender gesture.
“Look, I know you two must be pretty pissed that I spiked her drink.”
“You think?” Ash all but growled his question.
“But you know I could never hurt her!”
“Not hurt her? She was vomiting bile for an hour!”
“You know what I meant! Do you really think I’m capable of killing someone?”
Keaton and Ash stared at him, and he stared back, unblinking. Finally, after several minutes, Keaton broke eye contact by nodding. He laid his hand on Ash’s shoulder.
“I may believe you, Taylor, but I owe you a bloody nose when this is over with, got it?”
The sound of footsteps had them spinning, and there stood Mike, smiling at them.
“Hey! What’s happening?”
Keaton and Ash flew at him. Keaton punched him and down went Mike, glasses flying off to land brokenly on the concrete. Keaton straddled him, grabbing hold of his jacket to shake him, which banged his head against the sidewalk.
“Keaton! Stop! We need him conscious!” Ash cried.
“And alive,” Taylor said sarcastically.
“Where is she, Mike?” Keaton yelled at him.
“Let him up,” Taylor ordered, pulling on Keaton’s arm. “Come on, Keaton. He’ll talk better if he’s able to breathe.”
Keaton shot one last glare at Mike before rising off him, but he held on to the man’s polyester jacket.
Taylor picked up the glasses and put them back on Mike’s bruised and bewildered face.
“What the hell, Keaton?” Mike groused as he probed his lip gently.
“Where is she, you fucking asshole?”
Mike sucked in a sharp breath before looking at Ash and then Taylor. “Why are you so concerned, Taylor?”
Taylor let out a soft sigh. “Oh, Mike, what did you do?”
“How…how did you know?”
Keaton went to deck him again, but Ash held him back. “Let him talk.”
“Mike?” Taylor asked.
“I did it for you,” Mike whispered. “You wanted her gone, so I made her go away.”
Taylor’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You were always complaining about her.”
Taylor shook his head. “Complaining is what I do, Mike, but that doesn’t mean I wanted her gone as in dead.”
But Mike cocked his head, looking questioningly at him. “But I was helping you, like you’ve always helped me.”
“Where is she, Mike?” Ash asked quietly.
Mike reached out for Taylor, but Taylor pulled back sharply. At that, Mike seemed to melt into himself. “Taylor?”
“No, Mike,” Taylor snapped. “You’re wrong. I don’t need your help. Now, tell us where Momo is.”
Mike just crumpled. Keaton would have felt sorry for him if he gave a damn about Mike at that point.
“She’s at The Black Tiger,” Mike finally said. “I took her there.”
Taylor grabbed Mike’s jacket. “I’ll take care of him. You two go find her.”
“Thanks, Taylor,” Keaton said before he and Ash started running toward Music Row.
Small lights flashed behind her lids, pinpricks of color bursting through the inky blackness. It was getting harder to take a breath. She was reduced to inhaling superficially. She knew this was bad, that maybe the air inside the chamber wasn’t being refreshed as quickly as she needed it. Though she remained calm, tears slowly leaked out of her eyes. She just had to wait a little longer. Help would arrive any minute.
That became her mantra.
The four walls pressed in on her, swallowing her whole.
Then she heard a noise overhead, muffled through the layers of wood. She strained her hearing, wanting to make sure it was someone up top and not her imagination playing tricks on her.
A footfall sounded and then someone called her name.
“Momo!”
Relief so profound poured through her that she almost broke down sobbing. It was Keaton’s voice. They had figured it out. They were here to rescue her!
“Here!” she screamed with all her might. “Down here! I’m right here, in the stage!”
There was a scraping sound and some scuffling.
“Momo?”
“Yes! I’m here!”
“Hold on, Officer Joe just brought in a crowbar. We need to pop this door. It’s been nailed shut.”
“It was Mike, Keaton!”
“We know, honey,” Keaton called back. “We figured it out when your coworker told us Mike had come for you. Okay, Momo, brace yourself. We’re going to pop open the door.”
She heard them working, the sound of wood crunching and nails bending. One side lifted, then another, until all four were clear, and they were able to pop it off. She blinked at the bright lights blinding her to the hands reaching down to lift her from the hole. As they lifted her, she was able to take a deep breath, filling her lungs full.
Keaton and Ash embraced her as her fear drained away, leaving her feeling tired but thankful to be in their arms once more. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she saw a dozen people, some police, some EMT, but also Ramona the bartender and some of the other Black Tiger staff, staring at her in disbelief.
“Excuse me,” Officer Joe said to them, pulling on Momo’s arm. “The EMT needs to check her over, make sure she’s okay.”
Though they reluctantly pulled away from her to let the medical personnel take her to a makeshift triage area they had set up, they watched her like a hawk.
“Mike Zahn was just picked up,” Officer Joe told them. “And he’s admitted to the near hit-and-run and this.”
“So it’s over?” Ash asked.
“Yeah, you can take her home tonight. But she’ll probably have nightmares for a while.”
“Yeah,” Keaton murmured. “But we’ll be there from now on to protect her.”
* * * *
Late that night, they lay together in bed, their bodies slick with sweat and their hearts racing in the afterglow of lovemaking. She lay curled up against Keaton’s side with Ash spooning in behind her, his leg thrown over both of theirs.
A lamp was on in the corner of the room, casting a light glow in the darkness of the room.
“I’ve changed my mind about being buried,” she said suddenly.
“What?” Keaton asked tiredly.
“I don’t ever want to be buried again,” she replied. “Not even when I’m dead.”
“Shh,” Ash shushed. “Don’t ever speak about dying. We’ve got sixty or seventy years before we need to think about that.”
“We’re going to be together in sixty or seventy years?” Momo asked.
“Of course we will. I love you, both of you. My life, my music, doesn’t mean anything without you two.”
She looked at him. “Really?”
“Why do you look so surprised?”
“Well, I know you love Keaton but—”
“But I love you, too,” he said, interrupting her.
They shared a kiss that was full of emotion and promise.
She snuggled back into Keaton and Ash, loving how she felt safe and warm between them. Their bodies curved naturally together, three distinct notes loving harmoniously. Lulled by the gentle rhythm of their breathing serenading her, she fell asleep.
THE END
www.bethdcarter.com
I am a full-time writer and stay-at-home mom which means I watch a lot of Pixar films. Over and over and over again. I hate washing dishes but I love cooking. I hate washing clothes but I love wearing them. I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters, ones who are full of angst but where love redeems them. I push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. Music inspires me as do the boats and arguing seals in the marina where I live. I hate people who don't pick up their dog's crap in public places and I really hate people who are rude and condescending. I especially hate discrimination in all and every form. The perfect birthday presents are gift certificates to bookstores. And I love to hear from readers. I’m really easy to find on Facebook or Twitter.
Ménage Amour:
The Scarlet Dove
Ménage Amour:
Lawless Hearts
BookStrand Mainstream:
An Innocent Heart
Siren Classic:
Black Leather Pants
Available at
BOOKSTRAND.COM
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com