Black-haired, leather-clad people stood around in clumps smoking cigarettes and, based on the smell, more. One fanged girl actually snarled at me as I passed. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. A bunch of kids toying with darkness because it was their only escape from the sun-drenched reality of Los Angeles.
Leighton obviously didn't want to be found, evidenced by the fact that she'd gone out of her way to find this hole in the wall to disappear into. Finding her car at the Hilton had been easy since Devlin had every car on the property low-jacked. Once there, however, things had gotten a bit trickier.
Management had known better than to reveal Leighton's location, even to her bodyguard, because she regularly spent money there with her jet-setting friends. When I'd finally found the valet who'd parked her car, it had taken a brief, but intense conversation to jog his memory. Before I finished, he even remembered the medallion number of the cab that had picked her up.
It'd been easy enough to find the right cab, and when I did, the driver seemed relieved that someone was asking after his fare. That had been my first clue that Leighton had done something even more stupid than I'd originally thought. He'd said she had that look in her eye, like someone who'd wanted trouble. He'd given me the address of the club then. The Seventh Circle. Not exactly the most welcoming of names.
I walked down the stairs without sparing a look for anyone else. The club was pumping out dance music into a hazy dungeon atmosphere. The decor tried too hard to be dark, resulting in a lot of black paint and very little of anything else.
Leighton was easy to spot. She glowed, her white dress lit up by the black lights. I watched as a tall dark-haired man untied a black satin ribbon from her throat and replaced it with a studded leather collar. My hands curled into fists and I took a step forward.
The bartender took a twenty-dollar bill from the black-haired man and boosted herself onto the bar. I really didn't like where this was going. Leighton leaned over the bar tender's bare stomach to do a body shot of tequila, and even as I went down the last couple steps to the floor level, I realized what the dark-haired man was after. A camera came out and I pushed the shadowy party-goers out of the way, reaching the photographer in time to knock the camera out of his hand.
“Haze? How did you find me?” Leighton slurred up at me.
“He's taking pictures of you to sell to the tabloids.” I shoved the black-haired man back before he could pick up his camera. He glared at me, but didn't try to do anything about it.
“So what?” Leighton asked.
She swayed on her heels, but managed to retrieve the camera and hand it back to the photographer. She gave the dark-haired man a grin and then grabbed a nearby man who wore red horns and kissed him long and hard. The camera flashed half a dozen times before the photographer saw my look and ran, clutching his camera to his chest. I longed to go after him and wipe that smug look from his face...with my fist.
“Where'd he go?” Leighton asked with a pout. “Always a buzzkill, Haze. Oh well, I'm sure plenty of people here have camera phones.” She shrugged and started to turn back to the bartender.
“Come on, Leighton. You don't know what you're doing,” I said, grabbing her arm.
She yanked away from me, eyes flashing. “I know exactly what I'm doing.” She frowned. “It's my button and I can push it if I want to.”
“What button? What are you talking about?” I tried to grab her arm again, but she danced away.
“Self-destruct in five, four, three–”
She laughed as I swung her up and over my shoulder. No one even blinked as I carried her away. We were halfway up the stairs before she started kicking.
“Put me down!” she insisted. “I'm not leaving until I've hit it.”
“Hit what? The self-destruct button?” I asked. She needed to get sober.
“No, silly.” She wiggled harder as we pushed through the thick black doors. “Rock bottom. Take me back down! You could use a little fun in your life too.”
“I'm taking you home, Leighton,” I said.
As annoyed as I was by her behavior, I couldn't help but wonder what happened since I'd last seen her. Why did she want to hit rock bottom?
Sure, I left her this morning, but I'd intended to come back. I needed to clear my head, and figure out what to say to her. Devlin had made it clear that he didn't want Leighton to know about the threats, but I wasn't sure I could be with her and protect her. And I didn't know how I could explain any of that to her without telling her too much.
“Leighton, I'm sorry. I screwed everything up this morning,” I said.
“Yeah, I got your note. 'Please forgive me.'” She snickered. “I'm not some innocent little girl, Haze.”
Leighton kicked hard and I put her down, leaning her back against my car as I looked down at her.
“I needed to clear my head,” I said honestly. I forced myself to say the rest. “My job is to protect you and last night...complicated things.”
Leighton snorted and rolled her eyes. “I've moved on. I don't want you or anyone anymore. I don't need your protection. I can take care of myself.”
She tried to push away and head back down the alley, but I caught her and tucked her into the car. I easily made it back to the driver's seat before she could fumble the door open. When I hit the locks, I engaged the child-lock, taking a brief moment to wonder if Devlin had ordered them installed with instances like this in mind.
“Did something else happen this morning?” My eyes narrowed as I looked at her. “Are you okay?”
“Paris is back in town,” Leighton said as she poked at the door. She wasn't really trying to get out, so I started the car. “So I went to see her. Wanted to let her tear you apart.”
My heart twisted. This wasn't going any place good, and it was my fault.
“Ricky was in her. I mean with her.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I shouldn't have found them. Then I didn't want to be found.” She looked at me and scowled. “Wait, how did you find me?”
“The cab driver remembered you.”
“I didn't want to be found, Haze. I don't need anyone.”
When I pulled up to the stoplight, I glanced to my left. I didn't realize what she was doing until I saw she’d rolled down her window and tried to climb out. Tried being the operative word. She stumbled getting out of the car and fell hard on the asphalt.
“Shit.” I scrambled out of the car, ignoring the car horns honking as I hurried to the other side.
When I picked her up, her dress was ripped, her leg scraped and bleeding. I quickly shoved her back into the car and belted her in this time. I could only hope she'd be too wasted to be able to figure out how to work it.
As I slid back into my seat, Leighton looked at her scuffed hands and the blood on her dress and smiled.
“Rock bottom?”
Before I'd driven more than a few feet, she was out cold. I should've relaxed, knowing there was no way she'd get out again. But I couldn't relax, couldn't stop thinking about what had happened and why.
I didn't understand exactly what she'd said about Paris and Ricky, but it was clear whatever happened had tipped her over the edge. She wanted to ruin her life, hit rock bottom. I knew I couldn't let them take all the blame though. Most of it, I knew, was my fault. I'd encouraged Ian to re-enlist and leave his sister. Then I'd swooped in and comforted her, which turned into sex. I'd taken advantage of her, and I didn't have enough courage to tell her how I really felt.
It was a long drive back home as I beat myself up. Instead of protecting her, I'd fucked it all up. My job was to protect her, but who would protect her from me?
Leighton's words kept coming back to me – self-destruct and rock bottom. She felt like everything was falling apart anyway, so she decided to smash everything she had left. As the wrought-iron gates opened, I realized I'd accidentally helped her succeed on her mission.
I told Devlin she'd run. He was across the country on business, but he hadn't been surprised to hear from me.<
br />
“Having a tantrum about her brother's decision?” Devlin had asked. “I should have known she'd react like a spoiled child instead of an adult.”
“I think there's more to it than that,” I'd tried to say, but her grandfather had cut me off.
“I'll put out the word with my network that she's on the town. I swear that girl doesn't have a thought in her head for anyone other than herself,” Devlin said before he'd hung up.
It was my fault he knew she'd been out again. Leighton had wanted to ruin everything, and that included her grandfather's opinion of her. Now I wondered if I could catch him before he made any harsh decisions about his wayward granddaughter when he got back in town.
I drove to the side of the house and hesitated before getting out. Was this the right place for Leighton? Devlin would be livid when he saw the inevitable tabloid feeding frenzy. But there was nowhere else to take her, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to take her back to Ricky's. I scooped her up gently and carried her into the house.
She looked so small, so fragile in my arms.
I paused at her door and held her for a moment longer. My heart throbbed and I brushed my cheek against her soft curls one last time. I had to be done with my feelings for her. She was going to need my protection even more in the coming days, and I couldn't let anything get in the way of that. Not even how I felt about her.
I didn't matter. Only she did.
Chapter 11
Leighton
My entire body hurt.
The muscles that weren't sore from whatever the hell I'd been doing last night ached from the alcohol still coursing through my system. Soon, I knew, dehydration would bring on the worst of the pain, including the blinding headache. I squeezed my eyes shut, and wished I could disappear.
There was a sharp sting on my knee and I searched through the chaos of my memories of the prior night.
A red, flashing, neon arrow.
Black walls and black floors.
Shots of tequila.
I sat bolt upright at the memory of the drinks and swallowed hard. Once I was sure my system had settled and I didn't have to run for the bathroom, I was able to peel back the covers of my bed and look at my knee.
The long scrape still had little pebbles of asphalt in it. Shit. I'd fallen out of Haze's car when I tried to run. I looked at my hands and saw the scuff marks from where my palms had skidded on the pavement.
Fuck me.
Haze had found me and brought me back here.
He found me when I'd been drinking, dancing. But who had I been with? I squeezed my eyes shut again and tried to remember. A bright flash blinded me and I ran for the bathroom. Heaving over the white porcelain toilet, I remembered the black-haired photographer. A series of possible photographs flashed through my head and I got sick again.
I'd danced on a tabletop with a writhing crowd below me. I'd smoked pot in the VIP Lounge, wrapped myself around the demon statue on the staircase and kissed its stone cold lips. And I was pretty sure I'd done body shots off the female bartender.
When I was finished heaving up what remained of my stomach, I shuffled to the shower and turned it on. I was glad to peel off my ruined dress and toss it to the floor. If only I could get rid of the rest of the night that easily. Something clanked and I looked down. My face burned as I saw a collar. I had only the dimmest memory of someone taking off the ribbon I'd tied around my neck and replacing it with that...thing.
The hot water soothed my aching body, but my mind kept whirling over and over the night. It was what I'd wanted, to see how low I could get. I had just neglected to think about the day after and how hard it would be to get back up.
The problem was it didn't matter if I picked myself up or not. I had nowhere to be, nothing to do, and no one looking for me. Haze had found me in the club, but that was his job. If he hadn't been my bodyguard, I knew he would've walked away. Like everyone else.
I washed my hair, rinsed it, and washed it again. Then I scrubbed myself raw and stood under the pounding shower head until I was sure all traces of last night were gone. When I wiped the steamy mirror clear and looked at myself, I could still see the mindless party girl spinning through the dark night club.
It hadn't worked. Nothing had changed.
I wanted to cry, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. I'd said I didn't need anyone and I'd be damned if I let that change now. I didn't bother to brush my hair or put make-up on my puffy eyes. Instead, I tugged on sweatpants and an old tank top and went downstairs.
I entered the kitchen to find it empty. Even the cook was gone and the coffee was cold. Figured. I poured a mug anyway and placed it in the microwave. As I watched it turn slowly, the kitchen door opened and my grandfather came in. I would've preferred being alone to having to be with him. Instead of comfort, he'd only ever given me sharp reminders to do better.
The microwaved dinged and the hot mug burned my fingers as I pulled it out. I held on to it and turned to face him dry-eyed. “Good morning, Grandfather.”
He dropped a heavy stack of newspapers between us on the granite kitchen island, the disappointment clearly written on his face. As he spread out the tabloids, I saw a dozen pictures of me from the night before. It was worse than I remembered. The compromising positions, the drugs, the wad of cash I'd tossed around. My entire downfall was well documented and plastered with eye-catching headlines.
“I want you to walk me through your night, Leighton.” His voice was flat. “It should be easy with all the visuals right here.”
“Then you can see why I don't remember much,” I said. I took a sip of my coffee. It wasn't the best tasting thing in the world, but it was hot and caffeinated.
“What I don't see is the point,” Grandfather said. “Are you trying to tell me something, tell the world something, or are you just so thoughtless that this is your idea of fun?”
“Why do you care?” I asked, barely able to keep my tone civil.
Eyes so much like mine narrowed. “Because you are part of this family whether you like it or not. What you do affects your brother and me.”
“Oh, that's why you're upset?” I set down my mug and smirked. “You think I made you look bad?”
He grabbed the largest picture and held it up. “If that wasn't your intention, then tell me what was the point of all this?”
I was silent for a moment. How could I tell him I wanted to ruin my life? That I wanted to raze it to the ground so I could start over and try to build something real. My grandfather would never understand. He'd been so focused, so driven his entire life, he'd never made a misstep, much less such a mess that he felt the need to start over.
“You wouldn't understand,” I said, finally. It was true, but I couldn't help but wish he'd at least try.
“You're right, I don't,” he said, shaking his head. “I don't understand how someone with all your privileges and opportunities would waste their life doing foolish things like this.”
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to point out that all my privileges and opportunities, as he called them, were empty because no one would let me use them to be me. He wanted me to live the life he wanted, be the person he wanted, not who I really was. Hell, I didn't even know who I really was.
“What should I be doing?” I asked.
“You think just because this is what your wastrel friends do, you should do it too?” Grandfather asked. “You see how your friend Paris lives, and you think that'll make you happy? You think Ricky spending all his parents money is the way to go through your life?”
“What else do I have?” I asked, my tone bitter. “Let me put it this way. What do you think I can do?”
“I don't know, Leighton,” he said, exasperated. “I've never seen you do anything else.” He tossed the paper back onto the table. “I'm not even sure you're capable of anything more than this.”
I looked down at the tabloids. This was what he thought of me. That the only thing I was capable of was causing more scenes like this. There wa
s no encouragement to use my talents because I had none. No reminder of what path I could take to success, because, even with all of his lectures, he didn't believe I was going anywhere.
In the background of one was Haze's face. His blond hair lit by the overhead lights like an angel's halo, his dark eyes filled with concern. I felt queasy. He thought he'd been coming to save me, coming to bring me safely home, but I would have been better off if he'd just walked away. I was better off alone.
“I'm sorry to say this, but these photographs show me that you are nothing more than a silly, spoiled child.” Grandfather ripped the paper out of my hand and stacked them all together. “If you can't see that, if you think this is all fun, then you are worse off than I thought.”
“So now what?” I asked. I wanted to cross my arms, try to protect myself from the words cutting deep into my heart.
He studied me for a moment before speaking, “Now, as much as it pains me, if you don't grow up, I am going to cut you off. You'll lose your inheritance from me, and jeopardize your claim to the trust your parents created.”
I felt sick again, but I refused to let it show. The words fell from stiff lips. “If you want to cut me off, just do it.”
His eyes widened slightly. “You don't understand what that would mean.” He shook his head. “I'm giving you another chance, but you have to do better.”
I didn’t really think he'd do it, especially since, with Ian leaving, I was all Grandfather had left, but the knot in my stomach eased as he said the words.
“What should I do?” I felt like a little kid, but I really wanted to know.
“Just do better,” he said.
Huge help. Anger twisted inside me. I truly ask him for help, and he blows me off, just like everyone else.
“Better?” I asked. “Like Ian? Do you think he's doing better now that he's re-enlisted?”
Grandfather frowned and tossed the tabloids in the garbage. “Yes, I think your brother is a good example for you.”
I balled my fingers into a fist. “I have one wild night and you lecture me, but Ian signs up to be killed and you're just fine with it?”