Love Resolution

Marcus’ heart slammed against his ribs. Grimacing when he noted the time, he grabbed his ringing cell off the hotel nightstand.

Two f*cking a.m.

His muscles tensed. Nothing good ever happens after two a.m.

“Yeah,” he answered, sitting up in bed.

“You better get down here quick, Boss,” Ray said ominously.

“Where? Why? What’s going on?”

“The hotel bar. It’s Avery.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers and swiped his room key off the dresser. Once in the elevator, he ran his fingers impatiently through his tangled hair and tapped his cell and the plastic room key together. The ride down from the twentieth floor seemed to take forever. The lobby was quiet, except for the piped in piano music. He skirted through it without seeing another soul.

Alongside Ray, two hotel security guards manned the entrance of the hotel bar. Both men were about Ray’s height, not near as intimidating though, but they more than made up for that in bulk.

“Is that Avery I hear singing?” Marcus asked, cringing at the off key rendition of ‘Maneater’ emanating from inside.

Ray paused before answering. “Unfortunately.”

“What the hell’s going on in there?” Marcus raised a quizzical brow.

“You’ll see.” Ray patted one of the men on the shoulder. “It’s ok Charlie. He’s with me.” He moved into the small dark red and gold themed club, gesturing over his shoulder for Marcus to follow. As soon as they turned the corner, Marcus immediately came to a halt.

Avery was totally hammered. From the way she swayed, it appeared that the microphone stand she was leaning on was the only thing keeping her upright.

Not only that, she was practically naked from the waist up, her black shirt open to the waist revealing a lacy black bra and an enticing amount of cleavage. The lights were low, the chairs turned over on top of all the tables. The bar was completely empty except for Sam, his brother, and the Tempest guitarist, who was slumped down in a club chair, his long legs splayed out within inches of where Avery was performing on the club’s small stage.

“Red,” the Tempest guitarist coaxed as she paused to throw back a shot of clear liquid. “No more tequila. You’ve had enough. You need to let me take you to bed.”

“No,” she said with her full lips forming a cute little pout. “I don’t want to. I can’t sleep anyway. I told you that.” Turning her attention away from Jackson, her unblinking green gaze roamed Marcus’ body as if she was taking inventory.

“Ray, I told you not to call him,” Sam admonished turning to Marcus and tightening the sash on her teal robe. “We’ve got the situation under control.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” Marcus commented dryly.

“Ok, Mr. Judgmental. We’ve been trying to rein her in for the past hour. Sober, you know she has a stubborn streak. Wasted, well…” She motioned to Avery. “Go on ahead. You give it a try.”

“Whatcha doing Avery?” Marcus asked her voice deceptively even. Inside he was seething, furious to find her in this condition. He lobbed a glower at Jackson as he approached his chair.

“Now wait a minute.” Bryan stood and held up his hands. He listed to the right, not looking much better off than she did.

“No, you wait a minute, Junior Mint,” Marcus snapped, gesturing at Avery. “She been with you all night?”

“Yeah,” he replied, eyes narrowing.

“You mean to tell me she got f*cked up like this on your watch?”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Bryan bit out.

“Looks to me like you both need a keeper.”

“Oh that’s priceless.” Jaw rigid, Bryan hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “See the scar on her forehead, a*shole? Wasn’t me that put it there.”

In a surge of anger Marcus threw out his hands and shoved. Jackson staggered back and then rounded on him, giving him back equal measure. Nostrils flared and fists clenched as they squared off against each other.

“Whoa. Why don’t we all just calm down?” Dwight wedged himself into the space between them. “Marcus, come on, he’s as drunk as she is.”

Avery giggled.

Everyone turned back to her.

Seeming oblivious to the growing tension in the room, she pointed at Marcus. “You don’t have a shirt on,” she said slurring the words together. “We almost match.” She tugged her shirt off one shoulder but after she managed to pull it down her arm, the cuff got stuck on her wrist. She giggled again, holding up one finger. “Just give me one second.”

Dwight snickered, and Sam covered up a smile with her hand.

Avery’s eyes swerved to her. “You could help me, girlfriend.” She puffed, bangs lifting off her forehead.

“I don’t think getting you more undressed will help the situation, Avery,” Sam scolded. “But if you’d let me take you…”

“No,” Avery interrupted, plopping down on the floor emphatically. “I told you. I’m not tired.”

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest, angling his head to one side. She was so disinhibited, it was almost cute. The shock value lured him in, making him want to stay and watch things unfold like a bad reality show. But he realized they needed to get her out of there before things got any more out of control.

Maneuvering around Dwight and Bryan, he extended his hand down to her.

She stared at it, before craning her neck back and peering up at him through her long lashes. “Marcus?” she inquired softly, licking her lips and looking into his eyes.

“Yes.” His body jolted with heat. He wanted her so bad.

“You’re here.”

“Yes I am,” he replied voice low.

“You look yummy.”

He smirked.

“I always liked you with your shirt off.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” She covered her eyes. “You make me hot.” She paused. He thought she was through. No such luck. “You have such lickable labs.”

Marcus heard Dwight sniggering. “I think you mean abs.”

“That’s what I said.” She moved her hands to her lap, twisted them together, and frowned. “But you don’t want me anymore. What did that woman have that I don’t?” she asked sadly, tears glistening in her eyes.

Marcus grimaced.

Dwight let out an expletive and flopped down in the nearest chair, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Someone please make it stop before I’m scarred for life.”

“Enough!” Marcus bellowed. He bent over and curled his fingers around her upper arms, hauling her up to her feet. The feel of her intoxicated him. He fought against the temptation to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his room. Maybe she did still have feelings for him but taking advantage of her while she was drunk was not going to help him get her back. “You’re going to your room, Ace.”

She leaned heavily into him. He heard her draw in a deep breath. “You don’t get to call me that anymore,” she whispered, lips grazing his bare chest, making his body harden even more than it already had.

Suddenly, he felt moisture between her face and his chest. Her body shook.

Shit.

Now she was really crying. His heart twisted in his ribcage.

She pulled away from him, her lips twitching into a sad facsimile of a smile. She took another step back, staggered for a moment, and then turned away. “Sam?” she called.

“Here, Avery,” Sam answered scurrying to her side.

“Can you help me to my room?”

“Sure, absolutely.” Sam quickly straightened Avery’s shirt, refastening the buttons before ducking under her arm. “I may need some more help. I’m too small.”

Avery’s jaw tightened. Her eyes passed over both Marcus and Bryan. “Dwight would you…”

“Sure, I’d be happy to help,” he said.

“I love you, Dwight,” she slurred. “You’re such a great guy, so I forgive you for thinking Marcus and I shouldn’t have gotten engaged.” She sagged as he walked toward her. “Because obviously you were right.”

“I love you too, kid,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He shot Marcus an accusatory stare.

Marcus passed a glare of his own to Bryan before he followed after them.