Unexpected Angel (18 page)

This time, our trip through the bar is much different. The crowd is rowdy and it’s apparent that many of them know exactly who Dylan is. They congratulate and thank him for bringing such a talented line-up to town. My heart swells with pride for him and Zeke. My guys are obviously damn good at what they do and I love that other people see that.

Your guys? Now you’re laying claim to both of them? What happened to not allowing yourself to get attached?

“Hey,” Zeke chuckles. “You in there?”

He’s standing in front of me with his arms crossed and Dylan is gone. I kick myself for zoning out again, this time missing out on the opportunity to get another kiss from Dylan before he left to do whatever it is he has to do.

“Sorry, guess I drifted a bit.” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. I’m surely not going to tell Zeke that I was berating myself for calling both of them mine.

It’s confusing because when I look at Zeke, I don’t feel the butterflies I get every time Dylan is near. If anything, I’m starting to see Zeke as a big brother type, which is logical since he’s assumed that role on more than one occasion.

“Yeah, guess you did. Come on Betsy, let’s get back up front.” I glare at him, hating that he
calls me Betsy more often than he calls me Tasha.

“Don’t call me that,” I
protest. “I told you before that I hate nicknames, and I hate that one most of all because I have no clue where it comes from.”

“That’s what Dylan called you when I saw you at the bar last week. Told me about how he met you outside and you were standing there all sweet and innocent.” He stops to ponder something for a moment. “You know, now that I think about it, I have no clue why he called you that.”

I do. And knowing what I know now, I suppose there are worse things Zeke could call me. I’ll never forget that first time Dylan talked to me, calling me a modern Betsy Ross because of my outfit. Dylan really has been looking out for me from the moment I caught his eyes. It’s a nice feeling.

“I’m going to get a drink,” I inform Zeke. “You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t get in any trouble while you’re gone. Dylan will kick my ass if you do.”

Tommy walks in the back door of the bar as I make my way to the green room. He looks different now that he’s not in uniform. He’s a handsome man, probably in his early thirties. He’s not as tall as Zeke and Dylan, but he has an impressive build. The black t-shirt he’s wearing str
etches across a muscular chest, the sleeves look as if they’re biting into his biceps. I wonder how much time these guys spend at the gym to have them looking like this. His light brown hair is cut close on the sides and a bit longer on top. I take another look at the strong lines of his face and wonder if he and Zeke are related. They could almost pass for brothers with those eyebrows and serious bedroom eyes.

“Hey, Tommy,” I greet him. This is the first
time I’ve seen him since he left Dylan’s apartment the night my house was broken into.

“Tasha, nice to see you.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. It feels a bit too familiar but not unwelcome. One thing I’ve learned over the course of the past seven days is
that the circles Dylan runs in are nothing like mine. His friends have a way of making everyone feel as if they are part of the group, whether it’s the first time they’ve met or they’ve been around for years. And they have no problem being affectionate with one another.

“You too. I’m heading to
the bar, you want anything?” I regret asking when I realize Dylan might not appreciate me offering to get someone else a drink when he’s going to be settling the tab at the end of the night.

“Nah, I have to be in early tomorrow so I’m sticking to soda.
How’ve you been?” As we enter the green room, the bouncer stops us, but quickly allows both of us to pass.

“It’s been a strange week, but I’m good.
I can’t go back to my house without crawling out of my skin, but Dylan’s been awesome about letting me stay with him.”

“
Any more trouble?”

I can’t look at him. If I do, I know he’ll see the truth on my face. I haven’t told anyone about the text messages. I should tell him since I have a feeling
everything is connected, but I don’t want him running to Dylan, who I know will lose his mind because I kept it from him.

“Tasha, is there something you want to tell me?” I motion for him to follow me and
we walk out the door he just came through.

“If I tell you something, are you going to share it with Dylan the minute you see him?”

“That depends. I don’t like secrets, but if it’s something that is going to land his ass in jail if he decides to take matters into his own hands, I’m not going to say a word. I’m not a big fan of arresting my friends.” I wish I knew where these men come from, all big and tough most of the time and then suddenly tender. All three of them do it and it’s bizarre.

I pull out my cell phone and show him the text messages. There are six total now, all of them from the same number, all of them hinting at what I was doing when the message was sent.

“Tasha,” Tommy groans. “I get why you didn’t tell Dylan, but you can’t keep things like this to yourself. I want to figure out who’s doing this to you, but I can’t help you if I don’t have all of the information. What else?”

I tell him about the flowers. I can’t see how something beautiful can be sinister, but I decide I will confide in him because he’s right. He’s a cop and he’s trying to help me figure out who broke into my house. He needs to know everything.

“Is that it?” His eyes narrow on me and I know he knows there’s more. I shake my head. “Spill it.”

I can’t help but double over laughing. “Is that official cop-speak?”

“No, it’s friend-speak. Tell me what’s going on. I don’t care how irrelevant you think it is, I need to know.”

I tell him about the out of the blue phone call from Nick, asking me to go to dinner, telling me he misses me. It seems unrelated in my mind, but if I was certain it was nothing, why wasn’t I telling anyone about it?

“Here’s my card. My cell number’s on there. If
anything
happens, I want you to call. And you were probably right to not tell Dylan. He’d flip shit if he knew half of this. But you have to promise you’ll tell me if you get anything else.”

He grabs my phone and copies down the number the text messages came from.
I breathe easier knowing that I’ve told someone. Going through everything that has happened from start to finish makes me wonder if Nick could be behind all of this. But that makes no sense because he seemed relieved when our divorce became final. Said he was ready to move on with his life without a bitch like me holding him back.

As we turn to walk back inside, I see Holly standing on the smoking deck. She glances
in my direction and immediately turns away when I raise my hand to get her attention. There’s no mistaking that she was trying to avoid seeing me tonight.

I stand in the shadows,
trying to figure out where things went wrong between us. Over the years, she’s been with plenty of guys I didn’t care for, guys who didn’t treat her right, but I always stood by her side and pretended I was happy for her because she’s my friend. I wish she would afford me the same courtesy, especially since Dylan hasn’t done anything to make me question his intentions.

She seems jittery tonight. A guy who looks like he’s at least forty pulls her down on his lap and buries his tongue in her mouth.
He’s nothing like anyone she’s been with before. His appearance is polished; he’s too clean-cut for her.

He continues kissing her deeply, running his hands up and down her back before cupping her butt. I watch her pull away from him, glaring as she whispers something in his ear. The mystery man turns her body so they’re facing the same direction and it looks like she’s grinding against him right there at the table.

“Holly,” I call out as I walk toward her. I don’t care if she’s trying to shun me; we need to talk about whatever is going on. I’m not willing to throw away twenty years of friendship because of one week with a man.

She turns her head in my direction. Her vacant eyes look past me. When she does finally see me, she glares at me and I see her shake her head. I’ve seen this look
before; typically, when she’s doing something she doesn’t want me to be a part of.

In a sick way, that makes me feel better because it’s familiar to me. Holly has always been the party girl and I’ve been the good girl. She has always made sure those paths never crossed, that I wa
s sheltered from certain activities.

I turn away, hoping this means she’ll call me to let me know what’s going on with her.

(Dylan)

I’m walking out of the green room as Tasha comes
through the back door. She looks like she’s miserable and I wish I had given her the option of staying in for the night. My desire to have her here with me trumped the knowledge that I was going to be busy until after midnight and this might not be her scene.

“Tasha,” I
yell when I see her scanning the crowd. Her face lights up when our eyes meet. I love knowing I put that look on her face. I excuse myself as I push my way through the crowd to reach her. I’m supposed to be checking in with the sound tech but I need to hold her, even if only for a few seconds.

Her shoulders are stiff when she leans into me. Now, I’m back to thinking she would rather be anywhere other than here. “Everything okay?”

“Yep,” she replies curtly. I know she’s lying, but I don’t have time to call her out on it. There will be time to talk about that when we get home.

She laces her fingers in mine and we stand there staring at one another for a minute, completely unaware of the drunken masses around us
telling us to get a room. My dick is throbbing inside my dark jeans. Resisting her is getting harder every day and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out.

“Do you want to hang with me for a bit?” I ask, hoping to salvage the night for her. At least we would be together then.

She nods and I lead her to the side of the stage where I have a seat with the owner of the club. After making the necessary introductions, I offer her my seat and stand behind her. My hand begins kneading her shoulders and she turns to give me an adorable half-smile. I lean over to whisper in her ear as the final band finishes setting up. “We’ll be out of here in about an hour. Then I’ll be yours for the rest of the night.”

“It’s okay, really,” she assures me. I let out a deep breath because, this time, I know she’s telling me the truth. “I like seeing what you do. It’s interesting.”

I kiss the top of her head and turn to talk to the owner once again. We shake hands, promising to touch base early next week to discuss some future bookings. Tonight couldn’t get much better.

As I turn my attention back to my girl,
Tasha pulls her phone out of her pocket and tries to read a new text message without me seeing it.

Having a good time, rocker girl?

She flinches away from me when my grip on her shoulders tightens. “What was that?”

“It was nothing,” she lies.

“If it was nothing, why are you trying to make sure I don’t see it?” I ask, ready to say fuck it all to the rest of the night. She’s nervous as hell with her eyes darting around the room and I want to get her out of here.

“Dylan, really, it’s nothing. We can talk about it when you’re done working.”

Her phone goes off again and this time I grab it. I don’t give a shit if it pisses her off, I can’t think of a single reason anyone would call her ‘rocker girl’ and that means it’s someone here sending messages. The number isn’t familiar, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s also not stored in her phone, so I doubt it’s anyone she’s close to.

Did I get you in trouble?
I can only imagine the beating he’ll be all too happy to give you when he takes you home tonight.

What the fuck? I pull my own phone out of my pocket and send Zeke a message telling him to get
up here immediately. Then, I turn my attention back to her phone.

Who is this and what do you want with Tasha?

None of your concern, give her the phone back.

Not a chance. You’d better hope I don’t find out who you are. Leave her the fuck alone.

I see Zeke shov
ing his way through the crowd. Even better, Tommy’s following close behind. When they reach us, I toss the phone to Tommy, needing him to see what’s going on. If someone is threatening Tasha, I’m not going to take any chances.

“What’s going on?” Zeke asks, still out of the loop.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out
. Get her home while we figure out what’s going on,” I demand. Zeke stands there waiting for me to explain it to him. “Now, Z. I’ll call you as soon as I can and fill in the blanks.”

Tasha reaches for her phone as Tommy hands it back to me. I stuff it in my pocket, not letting her have it back just yet.

“Dylan,” she screeches. “You’re being unreasonable. It’s probably just Holly screwing around with someone else’s phone.”

“Holly’s here tonight?”

“Yes. I haven’t talked to her yet, but I saw her when I was outside. Now, can I have my phone back?”

“No.”

“No?” She shoves past me and I stop myself as I reach out to grab her by the arm. She needs to know what I know about Holly, but I doubt she would listen to me if I dare to bring it up. She turns on her heel
, jerking her arm away from me, and gets right in my face. “You’re impossible! It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you no one is going to control my life, you keep trying. Now, please give me my phone.”

We’re starting to attract attention and that’s not good since I’m technically working. I need to defuse the situation before one of us explodes. “Precious, I’m going to have Tommy take a look at the messages and I’ll bring your phone when I come home. Now, can you
please
go with Zeke? Maybe you’re right and it’s nothing, but that’s not a risk any of us are willing to take right now.”

I
watch her follow Zeke outside. As defensive as she is being, I know there’s more to the story and I refuse to feel guilty for my actions.

(Tasha)

Rather than getting off on the fourth floor and going
to his place, Zeke stays on the elevator until we reach the twelfth floor. “I don’t need a babysitter, Zeke.”

“Never said you did. But something’s going on and
if Dylan’s not going to tell me, you sure as shit are. Otherwise, I can go ask Tommy. I saw you two talking outside for a long while earlier. What was that about?”

I could easily tell Zeke to get lost, that it’s non
e of his business but it seems, in their minds, I became their business the second I set foot on Marquee property last week.

“Fine. You want a beer?” I motion for him to take a seat and grab two beers from the fridge.

I curl up on the opposite end of the couch and tell him everything. Given Dylan’s reaction and the fact that I don’t have my phone with me right now, I imagine everything will be out in the open by the time he gets home.

“And you don’t know who’s sending them?” He turns to face me, curling one leg on the seat.

“Not a clue. That’s why I told Tommy tonight. He wrote down the phone number and said he’s going to look into it.”

I start pulling at the knotted end of the rope, needing to get it
off my arm. I’m fine with the feel of it being there, but looking at it hurts now because I don’t know what Dylan is going to say when he comes home. The first time I choose to stand up to him so boldly would have to be in a public place. And from what I know of him, he’s not going to appreciate it much.

Zeke extends a hand, offering to help me. In a move that surprises me, I don’t hesitate to give him my arm. He carefully loosens each knot, making sure he doesn’t touch me more than is necessary.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Zeke laughs at me as he continues freeing my wrist. “You just did.”

“Very funny, can I ask another then?”

“Just did that, too.”

I groan at his response. “Fine, then I’m just going to ask since you’re acting like you’re ten… You mentioned some things about you and Dylan and I’m curious. Are you two Doms?”

I know Dylan is definitely dominant and loves to get creative, but he doesn’t strike me as being a Dominant. I picture a Dom as more forceful
, more controlling of every aspect of his submissive’s life.

The rope drops to the ground as Zeke places a hand on my knee. “Does that bother you?”

“No… I mean, I’m not sure. It’s not really something I’ve thought about.” I rest my head on my knees, regretting that I asked. If I’m going to talk to someone about this, it should be Dylan, but I feel like I have too much to lose by asking him if I can’t accept the answers.

“Fair enough. Now, what makes you think you should see something wrong with what we do? I mean, other than the fact that I’m assuming
you’re fucking my best friend, and it’s part of who he is. And in that case, you need to either be okay with him or let him go. He might act all tough, but he has a big heart that bruises easily. I don’t want to deal with the aftermath ever again.”

His warning stuns me
. Not only are we not sleeping together, I can’t imagine Dylan as the type of guy who is easily hurt by a woman. Dylan hasn’t once tried to force me to accept any sort of punishment. He’s offered punishment that I’ve been all too willing to take, but he’s not forceful. No, the extent of his dominant tendencies has been insisting that I stay in his home, which I have to admit has been a blessing given my anxiety, playing slap and tickle a couple times, and referring to me as ‘his’ which is slightly annoying, but nothing to get upset about.

“I suppose you’re right, but he’s nothing like what I picture when I think of a Dom. He’s so…”

“Normal?” Zeke says and I laugh.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Look, not every Dom is into the same kink. With Dylan, it’s not whips and chains. It’s more…” I can see Zeke hesitating to share any more information about his friend. I respect that about him. He’s very careful to say enough to put my mind at ease without betraying Dylan’s trust or privacy.

“A mind game?” I say in more of a question than anything else. It’s what it feels like to me.

“It’s not just that, and it’s not really a game. You know, if you allow it to be, submitting to someone can make you feel freer than you ever have in your life.”

I’m sure the look on my face does nothing to hide the shock I feel at his statement. How in the world is allowing someone to control my every move supposed to give me a sense of freedom?

“You don’t believe me, do you?” This is, without a doubt, one of the strangest conversations I’ve ever had.

“Not really, no,” I admit.

“Well, it’s true. Not only that, but in many ways, you are the one in control when you submit to him. When it gets to be too much for the submissive, everything stops, no matter what the Dom wants.”