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He flinched as she said those words, but he still hesitated. “Jace is mine,” he said, his voice ringing in the small kitchen. “I have every right to be here.” He glared at her.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” I said, and I don’t know how I found the courage. “She’s right. This is her house, and she wants you to go. Leave.”
He took another menacing step toward us, and I couldn’t look directly at him. I couldn’t help that, but I did stand my ground. “Go, Dylan. She wants you to leave.”
He gave me one more dark, smoldering look and I thought for one crazy moment he was about to attack us both. Then he left, slamming out the back door, leaving a shocked silence spiraling in the air behind him like wisps of smoke.
That had been the last time I’d seen him. I had tried calling him the next day, just to check on him, and because I couldn’t help myself. But he hadn’t answered. I knew I shouldn’t have cared, but I did. I had wanted to stop him from coming around for some time now, but not so irrevocably and so violently. God help me, I still had feelings for him.
But I had made myself a promise during the night that I’d never let him back in my life in any capacity again, no matter what. I was still worried, but only because he’d seemed so upset and so out of control.
In New York, after he’d gotten out of that mess with the loan sharks, he swore to me he’d never do that again. I’d paid his way out of that situation, but back then I’d have done anything for him. Anything at all. Risked any hurt, borne any shame. I told him once I’d die for him, and between us, we had very nearly made that happen.
Chapter Six
After lunch that day, I lured Tyler away from the TV with promises of fudge ripple, and we went for a walk in the neighborhood. Most of the old houses had been renovated, but it’s still possible to see the neighborhood’s roots, which, at one time, were firmly planted in Appalachia.
There were a lot of stories about how the neighborhood got its name, but nobody really knew for sure. One story said the mill people who lived there cooked a lot of cabbage and the cabbage funk would hang in the hot, humid air all day long in a miasma like swamp gas. Other folks said a truck flipped one day while turning a sharp corner, spilling dozens of cabbages on the road, and since the load was spoiled by the crash anyway, the driver gave the cabbages away to residents. Anyway, nobody really knew, and it had been simply the Cabbagetown District as long as most people could remember and was listed that way on the National Register of Historic Places.
Every November, the neighborhood hosted a bluegrass and chili festival in the park, and that’s where Tyler and I wound up, mixing in with the crowds and sampling chili at the booths, while bluegrass twanged in the background. Tyler spilled some chili on both of us, but overall, it was a good day, a gorgeous day for a walk, and it was late afternoon before I got Tyler his ice cream cone.
The tiny flat screen television on the wall of the little ice cream parlor was set to a local news channel, but with the sound turned off. When the commercial ended, I glanced up to see an old picture of Dylan staring down at me from the screen. It was like one I had myself, one of the professional shots he took to leave with producers when he was in New York, going on auditions. I wasn’t wearing my glasses, so I couldn’t read the small print running along the bottom of the tiny screen, but I knew what it must be saying anyway. Dylan Malone was missing and now his picture was being shown on TV. God, it was surreal in a way, and I thought Dylan would have loved the idea of his face being on TV. Free publicity, he’d probably have said. The photo was one of my favorites and had been taken a long time ago, though he’d changed very little since then. It was a still from when he played Stanley Kowalski in an off, off-Broadway production ofStreetcar Named Desire.Dylan had been kind of brilliant, or so I’d thought at the time. We’d been seeing each other then for only two weeks, and I was desperately, incandescently in love with him.
I watched him swagger all over the stage, looking coarse and common and sexy as fuck. I was completely enthralled by him and as soon as the last curtain fell, I went backstage to his ‘dressing room,’ a tiny area, closed off from the hallway only by a curtain.
I had to fight my way through a crowd of actors and their families and well-wishers, all excited and keyed up from the performance and the applause. It was crowded and chaotic and when I’d asked for him by name, no one seemed to know who I was talking about. It occurred to me that he might be using a stage name.
Finally, someone pointed at a curtain, and when I stepped behind it, he was there, taking off his makeup. He grinned at me and pulled me into his arms, fingers fumbling for my shirt buttons. I pushed at him, blushing and hyperaware of people laughing and talking on the other side of the curtain, literally inches away as he pinched my nipples. He laughingly chased a kiss, and I caught the succulent curve of his bottom lip between my teeth as he found it and I whimpered into his mouth. It only made him kiss me harder and lift me up to shove me onto the makeup table, so he could unfasten my jeans.
“Not here,” I whispered, looking around with wide eyes, and he smiled, his mouth kiss swollen and turned up on one side.
“Why not?”
He grabbed my wrists as I tried to push him away, and I became very aware of how much stronger he was, and the muscles in his arms and legs and the hardness of our cocks trapped between us and the feel of him against my belly.
He peeled my jeans and boxers down to my thighs as I panted and twisted and writhed under him. Then I was pushing my cock into his hands while a woman’s loud voice called out, “Hey, Stella!” right by my ear and then gave a shrill, cackling laugh. And it should have made me go soft in his hand but it only excited me more. It was dangerous and mad and raw and real. I spurted into his hand as he ravaged my lips and he laughed. He buried his face in my shoulder and bit and sucked on the side of my throat. I was in ecstasy, the sweaty, salty smell of him was intoxicating. His breath was hot and shallow on my neck.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said to me, long afterward, I think, as I was drowsing against his chest, lost in him. “I want to take you home and fuck you properly.”
“Yes, please. I want you so much, Dylan. Only you. Always you.”
“More,” said a voice across from me. “I want more.”
I blinked and focused on Tyler who had finished his cone and was patting my arm with his sticky, ice cream coated fingers.
“Now, Jay. More.”
“Um…no, No, Tyler. You’ll ruin your dinner, honey.” His lips stuck out in the first sign of an impending meltdown, so I pretended to look at my watch. “Oh gosh, Tyler, look. It’s almost four o’clock.”
I had to say it a couple of times, but finally he paused in his pursuit of a major snit to look up at me.
“Almost time for Steve. If we leave right now, we won’t miss any of it, though. They’re giving away a car today, right?”
“‘A brand new, state of th’ ahrt, Ford Edge,’” he said, doing a fairly creditable imitation of his hero, southern accent and all. He had a real talent for mimicry, just like he could name any country music song by listening to the first few notes. Both talents were totally useless, of course, and nothing that could do him any real good, but it was fascinating all the same. It reminded me suddenly of those words he’d said to Dylan. They’d sounded like a foreign language for sure, something maybe Spanish and nothing he should have known. And the word “diablo” meant devil, I was sure. I wondered if maybe he’d heard those words on some TV show or if Mrs. Anderson had taught him the phrase. But why would she do that?
He jumped to his feet as I grabbed for napkins from the dispenser to wipe his hands, then took off after him as he ran to the door, mowing down any customers who happened to stray into his path. We made good time back to our house since we ran all the way, and when we turned the corner on our street, I was out of breath and had a stitch in my side. Damn, I needed to go back to the gym.
That’s when I saw the dark sedan pulled into the alley beside the house and the detectives waiting for me on the front porch.
