AllFreeNovel
Share Us
20
LACHLAN
Miranda sat on the sofa, staring out into space. After what had been a long night, we’d finally left the police station and returned to the apartment.
She turned to me. “He’s Linda’s husband. He said that you fucked her, and because of that, their relationship ended.”
“She told me he beat her and that she’d left him.”
“That’s easy enough to believe. He’s a pig. No wonder she was so unhinged. At the time, I looked down on her. Now I feel sorry for her.”
I held my arms out. “Why did you go outside with him?”
“I didn’t,” she said. “I left to go home.”
After gulping down a shot of bourbon, I asked, “Why?”
“You were ignoring me. I waited for you. And you just kept laughing and chatting with a bunch of admirers.”
I moved to sit by her side and placed my hand on hers. “I’m sorry. Gigs are like that. People come at you. And I didn’t want to appear rude. One of the women was the lead singer’s sister, and she went on and on.”
“She was very pretty,” Miranda said, staring down at her hands.
“Not like you.” I smiled faintly before souring again. “Where did he touch you? You wouldn’t tell me at the station.”
“He squeezed my breasts, but he didn’t go much further. You arrived just in time.”
“I’m so sorry. He’s a fucking danger to women. I’m glad you pressed charges.”
“I’m also sensing something else is eating at you. Is there an issue with your stepmother?” She studied me closely.
The time wasn’t right to tell her about Tamara’s threats, especially since my father had refused to rescind the prenup.
“I’m good. What about you? Are you going to be okay?”
She took a deep breath. “Sure. I feel a little better now. And you did save me. I probably could’ve been a little more gracious in that department. I was just pissed off with you.”
Stroking her arm, I said, “You’re everything to me, Miranda.” I held out my hand. “Let’s go to bed. We can sleep in.”
Miranda studied my knuckles. “They’re bruised. They must be sore.”
“I’ll live.”
It frightened me how far I might have gone. I’d wanted to kill him.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” she asked.
“At school. On the streets. In bars.” I sniffed. “I’ve had my share of black eyes.”
She frowned. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Booze. Girls. The regular shit. Hormones make us act like dicks. We want to come across as heroes, I suppose.”
“But you’re a musician. You need those hands to play.”
I leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft and transported me to that heavenly place where I could find the good in myself. Miranda didn’t need to know how my father had pitted me against Brent for his entertainment, like those twisted scumbags who extracted entertainment from watching animals killing each other.
“I won’t be playing for a while.” I rubbed my sore knuckles.
