Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,43

suddenly iced over the room.

“You did what?” she hissed.

Shutting the door, I moved over a fraction and leaned against the counter. “Went to see her.”

Mel sighed. It was sympathy and disbelief. “Jesus, Rhys. Do you have a death wish?”

Looking to the ceiling, I blew out a strained breath before I dropped my attention back to her. “I know.”

Her head barely shook. “You’re just askin’ for it. He finds out and—”

“He already did.” I cut her off before she could finish the thought. I sipped the beer and then crossed my arms over my chest, still clutching the bottle in one hand.

Her eyes snapped to mine. “What do you mean?”

“Got a text…a picture of my mama. Someone was in Dalton…watching her in the distance.”

Worry filled her expression, and she inched closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper, even though there wasn’t a soul around to hear her. “What did it say?”

I shrugged. “Same shit as always. More money. More threats.”

And he wouldn’t stop until he had my head on a plate.

“Rhys…you’ve got to let it go. Stop goin’ there. He seems content to swindle you out of your money, but one day, I’m afraid he’s gonna take it farther. He hates you.”

I tipped up the beer and sucked it down like I could suck the regrets down with it. Erase the anger and the grief. Make it better.

But it never was gonna be.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Melanie shook her head. “Seriously? All this blackmailin’ is just fine?”

“Owe her,” I grated, barely able to force out the words.

She touched my arm, and her voice slipped into a plea. “You’ve got to take back control. You don’t know the lengths he might go to when he realizes you’re willing to give into whatever he demands.”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

She squeezed my arm tighter, her words a whisp of terror. “You matter. You matter and you keep forgettin’ that.”

“I’ll take whatever’s comin’ to me.”

Disbelief twisted her features, and Mel pushed farther into my space. Like maybe she wanted to reach inside and shake me. “What’s coming to you?” she hissed, words nothin’ but razors.

“It was my fault. What the hell do you want me to do?” I finally asked, helpless.

“I want you to stay away. Every single time you go there, he has something else to hang over your head. Pretty soon, he’s gonna own you.”

“He already does.” The words were shards.

Visions flashed.

The lights.

The screams.

The pain.

My heart seized around the images.

My throat so damned tight I could barely breathe. “How am I just supposed to turn a blind eye? Fuckin’ how?”

“I don’t know, Rhys. But you have to. For you and your mama.”

Agony crushed me, and I dropped my head.

Only for the world to tilt when I felt the shift in the air.

A pulse of intensity went slicing through the room. A warm chaos that soothed and stoked.

This girl, who against my better judgment, I’d left trembling and crumbling after whatever fuckin’ thing had gone down between us in that bathroom yesterday.

I hadn’t seen her come out since.

She’d had me pacing the floors all night.

I’d even gone to the lengths of pressing my ear to her door like some kind of creeper.

Worried.

Listening for any intonation that she wasn’t all right and listening harder when I couldn’t hear her make a sound.

This girl who was wrecking me bit by bit.

Blowing up walls and demolishing sanity.

Wasn’t like I was all that known for playing it smart.

I lived large in the limelight to keep the rest in the dark.

But this girl threatened to draw it all out.

I looked over Mel’s head at Maggie who stood on the other side of the island just inside the room.

Frozen like she thought she’d walked in on somethin’ that she shouldn’t have walked in on. Something salacious. Something private.

Which it was, but not close to the way that she was imagining.

Looking at her nearly dropped me to my knees.

She was wearing a floral sleeveless blouse with spaghetti straps. She’d paired it with a sleek pair of black jeans and sandals, the girl making casual look queen.

I was bettin’ those jeans were to cover up where she’d been hurt.

My fingers itched.

Ached, really.

Desperate to fist around that high ponytail, so long that it still swished down her back in these lush waves.

Charcoal eyes slashes of dark, stormy secrets.

Lightning strikes.

Each flare created a crater that opened up to depths that I knew better than to go diving into.

Body a beacon.

A treasure that couldn’t be touched, and there I stood, the fool who was salivating to do