“I thought you were away till next week?” he questioned. His eyebrows were drawn down and he blinked rapidly as a look of complete panic washed over his face. It was only there for a few seconds before he composed himself. Bailey Layton looked worried, what the fuck was that all about?
“I got things sorted sooner than expected and thought I’d fly straight home to surprise your sister.”
He swallowed hard and nodded his head slowly. He wasn’t happy that we were together, but he’d been pretty good about things so far. I wasn’t sure how he was gonna feel about Georgia moving in with me, though. Fuck, I missed her. I needed to see those pretty blue eyes that finally had some light back in them.
“Where is she?”
He shrugged his shoulders and sat himself down on a bar stool. “Not sure, but if I know Georgia, she’s probably dancing. Have a drink.”
He caught the attention of Kelly, one of our barmaids, and motioned with his finger between us. She brought over a bottle of bourbon and two glasses, moving the ice bucket along the bar so it was within our reach.
“So, your brother’s here, the one that’s in Carnage?”
“Er, yeah. Yeah he is. Both my brothers are here.” He looked all around himself as he spoke. He looked like he was either in pain, or he was terrified.
What the fuck was going on?
My office door opened.
“I think George said she was gonna go to the dance floor downstairs, perhaps you’d be better off looking for her there,” Bailey said, whipping the sweat that was shining on his forehead.
“Why the fuck would she go down there?”
A bloke that seemed vaguely familiar appeared over Bailey’s shoulder, dangling a bunch of keys.
“Cheers, mate. We owe you big time.”
I looked from the bloke, to the keys, to Bailey.
He closed his eyes and seemed to hold his breath before turning around on the stool he was sitting on. I followed his gaze.
Kitten.
“You wanna drink, baby?” the bloke, the key-dangling fucker, kissed her temple and asked.
I was torn between telling him to take his hands off my woman and smiling at her. I opened my mouth to speak when realisation of who he was started to seep into my poor, stupid, love-fucked brain.
The singer from the band.
Mac?
Maca?
Something like that.
I looked from her to him, he’d kissed her and he was holding her hand. I looked at her face. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she were about to speak, and her eyes were wide. My gaze swung back to him to find him looking at her as if she were the most beautiful, amazing creature to have ever graced the earth.
He’d kissed her.
He was holding her hand.
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
“Gia, what’s wrong?” he asked her gently. Love, devotion, concern, and worship all too obvious in his voice. My heart stopped beating. For a few split seconds, I thought I was going to choke on it as it crawled from my chest and lodged itself in my throat.
Two days.
I’d been gone for two fucking days.
I needed to get out of there.
I needed to … I had no clue what I needed, but it needed to make me numb.
I turned to walk away.
“Cam?”
That voice. Her voice. She was calling my name, talking to me. Hope began to infiltrate the empty spot my heart had just left vacant, and stupidly, for a few seconds, I allowed it to affect my way of thinking. I’d got it all wrong, they were friends, just her brother’s band mate. She’d probably known him for years. I had nothing to worry about. She wouldn’t do that to me, not my Kitten.
I swung back around, and the control I had over my own fists was hanging tenuously by a thread.
Bailey jerked in his stool. He could read me like a book. Him and I were the same, it was in our genes. We could read a person’s body language from ten feet away and sniff out trouble from twenty.
Because I needed to do something—anything other than stand there, dying—I held out my hand.
“Cameron King, joint owner of the place.”
“Sean McCarthy.”
My world ended. I nodded my head in acknowledgment of this fact.
“You’re Sean? The lead singer of Carnage. Of course.” I had no clue how I managed to string that sentence together.
He looked from me to her.
“Do you need a minute to talk?”
He knew. That fucker knew about me.
I sure as shit knew about him. Sean. Her Sean.
She gave her head a slight nod in answer to his question.
I wasn’t sure whose head I wanted to rip off the most—hers, his, or my own.
He said something in her ear and then turned to me, “I’m gonna go get a drink from the other bar.”
Good. Fuck off and don’t come back. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze.
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Bailey stated in his rough voice.
“Cam.” She reached out to touch my arm, hesitated, and then put it back down to her side.
Touch me. Please touch me and tell me that I’ve got this all wrong. I need that. I need you, Kitten.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
No. No. No. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go.
I’d bought a house.
For us.
A fucking house with stables.