Unexpected (Unexpected #1) Page 7

  "She's a fucking tease," Tim said, rubbing salt into the wound. "Paraded her fine ass around here for years, cock blocking every step of the way. She likes being chased, but won't put out. Seems like she finally fucked someone like the cheap-ass whore she is."

  West was standing there like someone had just kicked his kitten. His face twitched like he was struggling to hold himself back and then he just exploded. Grabbing Tim by the front of his shirt, he punched him square in the jaw, the flat packed sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing through the empty shop, but he didn't stop there. Tim fell to the ground, clutching his face and West was on him, punching again and again.

  A part of me was cheering that the fuck finally got what was coming to his perverted ass, but there was a line and West was currently crossing it.

  "West, stop it," I shrieked, running forward. I fisted my hands into his shirt, pulling back as hard as I could, and he fell backwards into the floor almost on top of me.

  "Crazy fucking psycho," Tim cried, trying to wipe the blood from his face. "You're going down for this."

  "Blair," West said, looking right at me, ignoring Tim's profanity.

  "Get up," I hissed, scrambling to my feet.

  "I've got security footage, you asshole," Tim was saying in the background.

  I was already halfway across the shop floor, my mind on the same thing. Tim would try and extort money out of West and the last thing I wanted was my attempted rapist getting a load of cash. The “security system” was just an old-fashioned VCR with a series of tapes I changed every morning. I pressed eject and yanked out today’s, the evidence firmly in my possession.

  "This security footage?" I asked, waving it around as I crossed the floor again.

  "A VCR?" West scoffed. "What, are we in the fucking eighties?"

  Grabbing my jacket from under the counter, I said, "I think we're done here."

  "Fucking bitch," Tim hissed at me, spitting blood on the floor. His face was cut and he was bleeding everywhere. Split lip, cracked eyebrow, grazed cheek. No doubt he'd have a swollen black eye tomorrow and I hoped he suffered.

  West pushed him back against the wall, their faces an inch apart. "If you try to take me down, I'm taking you with me and you will never see a cent. I'll make sure you lose everything. Your reputation and your dirty fucking cock. Got it?"

  Tim shoved at him. "Get offa me."

  "You've been warned." He pointed a finger at my now ex-boss and backed away toward the door. Looking at me, he held out his hand. "Blair."

  What was I supposed to do? My face was in some tabloid and I had a right to be pissed about it, but he'd just come in here and saved me from potential rape. Right then, I didn't want to know how he found me, but I was glad he did. I took his hand and he guided me from the shop, his touch gentle…safe.

  "Don't think about coming back, Blair," Tim yelled out after us as the door slammed shut.

  Gagging, I flipped him the bird as we passed the window, West guiding me toward a fancy black car parked a few spots down the street. Opening the back door, he gestured for me to get in. I think I owed him that much. Sliding into the car along the leather seat, he sat next to me, tapping the driver's shoulder.

  "Get us out of here."

  The guy looked at West's cut hand and then to him and nodded. "Where to?"

  West glanced at me and I shrugged. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go home.

  "Just drive back toward the city for now."

  The driver nodded and pulled out into traffic.

  Silence fell and for the first time in my life I didn't have anything bitchy to say. I began to shiver as I thought about what had just happened and what could've happened if West didn't show up when he did. I might've got away from Tim, but I might not have. I could've been on the way to the hospital or the police station right now. I remembered the day the police had come to my door and bile rose in the back of my throat.

  I guess this was what shock felt like. You see it in movies all the time, but it's different feeling it in real life. You want to pull it together, but it's just impossible. The tough exterior I'd been wearing all day cracked and before I could rein it in, a sob escaped my throat.

  "Blair," West breathed, pulling me against him.

  I crumbled into his arms, my head resting against his hard chest, fingers curling into his shirt. I forgot how much I hated him, how pissed I was about the photo, how terrified I was that he'd break me and leave. He came back. He came back.

  "It's okay," he crooned, resting a cheek against the top of my head. "I've got you."

  We probably sat that way for ten minutes, my tears staining the front of his shirt. The poor driver probably thought I was some mental case.

  "You would go down for me? Over that dirty fuck?" I asked, wiping tears away with the back of my hand.

  "As long as it saved you, then yeah."

  I didn't know what to say to that, so I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his.

  "I'm sorry about the magazine," he said after a moment. "But I can't promise that it won't happen again."

  "I know." Of course I did. That was part of his life and it didn't mean that he liked it or wanted it. If I was going to spend time with him then it was bound to happen sooner or later. Like I'd been saying all my life, life's a piece of shit and some chunks are bigger than the others. The paparazzi and the people who printed that junk were in the extra-large category. West and I had to talk about it more before I'd be satisfied and I wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

  "I want you in my life, Blair," he murmured, before kissing the top of my head.

  My jaw tensed. I knew he meant longer than a week. I wasn't quite sure what that feeling was inside me, the churning that went from my fingertips to my toes and everywhere in between. Staring at our hands, I didn't know what to do about it, so I said, "Can I go back to the hotel with you?"

  "Yeah," he sighed. "Of course you can."

  When we finally got back to the hotel, Furlough was waiting in the hallway outside my room, looking like someone had kicked over his sandcastle. I'd been hard on him the last few days and he'd been just as difficult, but right now, he could go to fucking hell for all I cared. My main concern was for Blair. She needed a quiet place to have a shower, have some downtime. The drama that was about to explode was the last thing I wanted to expose her to.

  Furlough's eyes went straight to the cut over my eyebrow, then to my raw knuckles. His face was like an open book. Ignoring him, I unlocked the door and guided Blair inside. She'd tensed the moment she'd laid eyes on my manager and I didn't blame her.

  "West? What the fuck did you do?" he exclaimed, following us into the room.

  "What does it look like?" I was suddenly angry at his constant nagging. After what I'd witnessed at Blair's work, I could’ve punched him, too. I doubt he thought I’d go out and assault someone when he encouraged me to find Blair, but neither did I.

  "West, fucking hell."

  I spun on my heel, eyes blazing. "I walked in on Blair's boss trying to fucking force himself on her." Furlough's eyes widened, but I wasn't anywhere near finished. "What was I supposed to do? Let him have her even when she was fighting him and saying no? It's taking everything I've got not to go back there and put the asshole in the ground."

  "You've got to calm yourself down."

  I waved the tape Blair had pulled from the shop under his nose. "I've got all your precious evidence right here. He's got nothing unless he wants to go down with me. I know how to threaten people, Furlough." I slapped the tape into his chest and he took it, his usual calm exterior cracking.

  "West, you need to think before you act. What if…"

  "I can't fucking change who I am," I yelled. "I'll always be the fucker from that band, Affliction. I'll always carry around my mistakes no matter what I've done to redeem myself. That's who I am and I can't change it. I can't apologize for that. What I can apologize for is the fact that her face is in that magazine. I will not apologize or make e
xcuses for beating the shit out of a rapist."

  "Calm down, West," he said, holding his hands out.

  "She never wanted any of it."

  "She's standing right here," Blair said like we were fucking idiots.

  "Get out," I said to Furlough and he just grimaced. A moment later the door closed behind him and I was alone with Blair. Finally.

  "Drama-rama," she said, trying to make a joke.

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. Furlough needs to apologize to you."

  "You've got nothing to be sorry about." She shrugged. "Deep down I knew this was your life. Consequences matter more to you than normal people. And Furlough can go suck a dick for all I care."

  "It doesn't make up for the fact that you're in that stupid magazine."

  "West," she sighed, winding her arms around my waist. "Shut the fuck up."

  I encased her in my arms, running my fingers through her wild hair. I couldn't think about what would've happened if I hadn't grown the balls to go find her. Seeing that jerk wad with his hands all over her body and rubbing his disgusting penis against her made my blood boil.

  "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

  She stiffened in my arms, but didn't pull away. "You came, that's all that matters."

  "Of course I came."

  "I know I can't go to the cops," she said. "If I do, then you'll go down with him."

  "You can do whatever you want," I breathed. "I don't care what happens to me." Maybe I should’ve cared, but we were talking about attempted rape here, not that stupid magazine article.

  "When the guys see his face and I don't show up, they'll know what happened. It'll be enough deterrent for him."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, his business is his life. And if he tries anything else, we've got evidence we can doctor."

  "Glad one of us thought of it."

  She looked up at me with a frown. "Did you call and hang up on me today?"

  I hesitated.

  "You did, didn't you?"

  "Yeah."

  "Why didn't you say anything?"

  "I thought my apology would've been better in person."

  "Well, I'm glad the thought crossed your mind."

  "Take a shower if you want," I said, kissing her forehead. "You can wear some of my clothes until we can get your stuff."

  She looked down at herself like she was unsure. She'd had to deal with so much shit since I walked into her life and it'd only been four days. Four days and already she was shell-shocked. After what that asshole had tried to do at the tattoo shop, I didn't blame her in the slightest.

  "I can send your clothes down to be laundered," I added.

  "Okay."

  As she wandered into the bathroom and the sound of running water filled the air, I rifled through my stuff and pulled out a clean T-shirt and some boxers. Placing them in the bathroom, I scooped up her stuff and called down for someone to come get them.

  I could’ve stripped and taken Blair in the shower. I could’ve done a lot of things to her in there, but what kind of ass would I be? I looked at the guitar case sitting in the corner of the room and for the first time in ages, I actually felt like picking it up and playing. The concert the other night was different. That was business, like going to work. This was more like pleasure. I glanced toward the closed bathroom door and back toward the guitar. I felt the pull toward it like old times and knew something had changed along the way, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the firecracker in my shower.

  Deciding not to think about it too hard, I picked up the case and flipped it open.

  I stood underneath the spray of hot water, watching the steam condense on the shower screen. There were no salmon tiles, no putrid mustard-colored carpet and no cheap brand soap on the rack. Instead there was expensive-looking body wash that smelled like West. I felt like I was standing in another reality and I was another version of myself. I'd slipped on another mask. This one was a shell to keep out the world, but somehow a certain Dark and Dangerous was clawing his way inside. I wasn't sure if I should let him, or kick him out.

  Shouldn't I be having a breakdown right about now, considering all the crap that had gone on in the last four days? I should be a blubbering sookie la la, eating chocolate and ice cream, or at least in a corner somewhere rocking myself backward and forward. I should feel Tim's mouth on mine and that thing in his pants rubbing against me. I should still be in some kind of shock. Weird as it was, I felt calm. I'd let it out in the car and that seemed like enough for now.

  I had no job, a couple of hundred bucks in my savings account and absolutely no prospects after West was gone. That terrified me more than Tim coming back and finishing the job.

  Turning off the shower, I stepped out and dragged a towel around myself. It was one of those fluffy white monogramed numbers and didn't I feel all la di da. The soft sounds of music filtered through from the other room and I stilled, listening. It was an acoustic guitar, some mournful and depressing song, but I couldn't tell if it was a CD or not. The voice reminded me of West's and for the first time since the concert, I remembered what he'd been like up there on stage. Commanding, raw, passionate. All of the things he was in bed, he was on stage. No wonder all those woman wanted to fuck him.

  I toweled myself dry, pulling on the T-shirt and boxers he'd left for me, and tiptoed across to the door. Cracking it open, I peered out into the bedroom and saw West sitting on the edge of the bed, a guitar in his hands.

  I didn't recognize the song he was playing and I found myself wondering if it was something he'd written. It was delicate, not like the stuff I'd heard before, and when he sung my heart melted a little around the edges. His fingers slid along the strings and it reminded me of the way he'd touched me that night on the balcony. Fuck, he just commanded that guitar and bent it to his will. No wonder Affliction was this mighty megalith of a thing. Fame, money, world tours, it wasn't just luck, it was talent.

  The stupidest thought crossed my mind and I almost snorted out loud, it was that ridiculous. The passion he put into playing that guitar was the same he'd put into me. It was then that I knew the moment he left, I would be the one who was broken. I'd never recover from West. Never.

  This attraction was nothing like I'd ever felt, but somewhere along the line it'd changed into something more. I had no idea how West felt, but maybe I'd be better off not knowing. I sucked in a shaky breath and got a grip. I was not one of those women. I was badass Blair Hayden. The bitch of the century. I did not fawn all over men, they fawned all over me.

  West must've sensed I was standing there staring, because he looked up and a smile spread across his handsome as fuck face.

  "Are you feeling a bit better?" he asked, putting the guitar back in its case.

  "A little," I said, walking forward.

  "I like you in my clothes.” He pulled me down onto the bed with him and it was then I noticed he'd ditched his jeans and boots and was just in his shirt and boxers. We looked like one of those couples. You know, the kind that dressed alike.

  I smiled thinly, the revelation I'd just had prickling my skin. I guess it was fear that I was struggling with.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked with a frown.

  I shook my head, lying back on the bed, resting my head against the soft pillows. "No. There's nothing to talk about."

  West stretched out beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his hands finding their way underneath to touch my skin. "What are you running from, B?"

  Wow, he'd given me a nickname. That wasn't alarming, not in the slightest. All I could retort with was what classic defense mechanism Blair would say. "It makes me wet when you call me that."

  "You didn't answer the question."

  I frowned, turning over so I didn't have to look him in the eye. "Life." I shivered as I felt his hand slide between the boxers and my ass before slipping between my legs.

  "Who else hurt you?"

  "No one."

  "I don't belie
ve you." He slid a finger between my folds, dipping just inside.

  I shifted backwards, trying to make him press deeper, but he pulled away.

  "You can't fuck the pain away."

  "Maybe not," I said. "But, I'm still gonna try."

  "No," he whispered in my ear. "Not tonight. Not after… Being with you is enough."

  "Why do you care?" I asked impulsively.

  "I care about you more than you know."

  I sighed, closing my eyes. Why did he want to talk? Talking never did anyone any good, most of all me. Besides, I didn't want to relive that bullshit. It was in the past where it belonged and opening it up would just ruin everything.

  "You seem really unhappy," West murmured in my ear.

  "Yes, I am. But, that's none of your business."

  "Ex-boyfriend fuck you over?"

  "I've never had a boyfriend." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them. Fuck West and this thing he'd done to me. He'd cracked me open with one strategically placed finger and I was pissed to the maximum.

  "I don't believe it," he said. "Have you seen you?"

  "Every fucking day."

  "Why not?"

  "It's not like I haven't tried," I sighed. "But, it always ends the same way."

  "And what way is that?"

  "Everyone leaves me."

  His arms tightened around my waist, pulling by body back into his, our legs tangling. "Well, they're all assholes."

  What I didn't say was after he'd had his little holiday and was back on the road, he would've done just that. Left me behind, just like everyone else. Just like my parents did, like every friend and boyfriend. Like everyone ever after they realized how broken I was. Would he look back or just keep running? Experience told me not to get my hopes up. Live the fantasy for as long as I could and when the time came, just let it the fuck go.

  "So, you leave people before they can leave you?"

  My entire body stiffened. That was the answer to the billion-dollar question. Bang, right on the head.

  "That's why you left the first night. That's why you keep fighting me, isn't it?"