Captivated by You (Crossfire 4)

Through it, I glimpsed Scott shoving to his feet, and then I braced for the impact of Christopher’s body hurtling into mine. We went down. I rolled, punching his ribs until he groaned. He slammed his head into my temple.

The room spun.

Dazed, I rolled away and clambered to my feet.

Christopher pulled himself up by the coffee table, blood running from the side of his lips and onto the carpet. His jaw was swelling and he gasped for air, dragging in harsh breaths. My fists ached and I flexed my hands, tensing with the need to hit him again. If he’d been anyone else, I would have.

“Do it,” he taunted, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “You’ve wanted me dead since the day I was born. Why stop now?”

“You’re insane.”

Two security guards rounded the corner at a run, but I held up a hand to stop them.

“I’m fucking onto you, asshole,” my brother growled, pushing heavily to his feet. “I’ve talked to members of the board. Explained what you’re doing. You want to take me down, I’m fighting you all the way.”

“You’ve lost it, you fucking idiot. Take your crazy somewhere else. And leave Eva alone. You want to make an enemy out of me, screwing around with her is the way to do it.”

He stared at me for a long minute, then laughed harshly. “Does she know what you’re doing to Brett?”

I winced through a deep breath, a dull ache in my side from a forming bruise. “I’m not doing anything to Kline. I’m protecting Eva.”

“And the band is just collateral damage?”

“Better him than her.”

“Fuck that,” he snarled.

“Fuck you.”

Christopher stalked toward the door.

I should’ve let him go but found myself speaking instead. “For Christ’s sake, Christopher, they’re talented. They don’t need a gimmick to be successful. If you weren’t so damned eager to make me pay for something you’ve imagined I’ve done, you’d be concentrating on better angles than making them into a one-hit wonder.”

He rounded on me with clenched fists. “Don’t tell me how to do my job. And don’t get in my way or I’ll shove you out.”

I watched him leave, escorted by security. Then I went to my desk and checked my message log. Scott had noted that two of Vidal Records’ board members had called over the course of the day.

I opened the line between Scott and me. “Get me Arash Madani.”

If Christopher wanted a war, I’d give him one.

—

I arrived at Dr. Lyle Petersen’s office on time at six o’clock. The psychologist greeted me with a welcoming smile, his dark blue eyes warm and friendly.

After the day I’d had, spending an hour with a shrink was the last thing I wanted to do. Spending an hour alone with Eva was what I needed more.

Our session began as they always did, with Dr. Petersen asking how my week had been and me answering as succinctly as possible. Then he said, “Let’s talk about the nightmares.”

I leaned back, laying my arm on the sofa’s armrest. I’d been up front about my sleep problems from the beginning in order to get the prescription medication that made me marginally safer for Eva to be near at night, but dissecting the dreams had never been one of the topics on discussion.

That meant someone else had brought them up. “You talked to Eva.”

It wasn’t a question, since the answer was evident.

“She sent me an e-mail earlier,” he confirmed, folding his hands atop his tablet screen.

My fingers drummed silently.

His gaze followed the movement. “Does it bother you that she contacted me?”

I weighed my response before giving it. “She worries. If talking to you alleviates that, I won’t complain. You’re also her therapist, so she has a right to discuss it with you.”

“But you don’t like it. You’d prefer to choose which issues you share with me.”

“I’d prefer Eva to feel safe.”

Dr. Petersen nodded. “That’s why you’re here. For her.”

“Of course.”

“What does she hope the outcome of our sessions will be?”

“Don’t you know?”

He smiled. “I’d like to hear your answer to that question.”

After a moment, I gave it to him. “Eva previously made bad decisions. She learned to rely on the advice of therapists. It worked well for her and it’s what she knows.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Do I have to feel anything?” I countered. “She asked me to try it out and I agreed. Relationships are about compromise, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” Picking up his stylus, he tapped at the screen of his tablet. “Tell me about your previous experience with therapy.”

I took a breath. Let it out. “I was a child. I don’t remember.”

He glanced at me over the rim of his glasses. “How did you feel about seeing someone? Angry, frightened, sad?”

Glancing down at my wedding ring, I replied, “A little of all that.”

“I imagine you felt similarly about your father’s suicide.”

I stilled. Studying him, my gaze narrowed. “Your point?”

“We’re just talking, Gideon.” He leaned back. “I often feel like you’re wondering what the angle is. I don’t have an angle. I just want to help you.”

I forced my posture to relax.

I wanted the nightmares to stop. I wanted to share the same bed as my wife. I needed Dr. Petersen to help me do that.

However, I didn’t want to talk about things that couldn’t be changed to get there.

8

“HEY, GIRL. WHAT are your thoughts on karaoke?” Shawna Ellison asked the second I answered the phone.

I dropped my pencil onto the notepad I’d been scribbling in, then sat back on the couch and curled my legs onto the cushion. It was rolling past nine o’clock and I hadn’t heard from Gideon yet. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign, considering he’d had an appointment with Dr. Petersen earlier.

The sun had set nearly an hour before, and I’d been trying not to think of my husband every five seconds since. Chatting with Shawna was a welcome distraction.

“Well,” I hedged, “since I’m tone deaf, my thoughts on singing in public are pretty much nonexistent. Why?”

In my head, I pictured the vibrant redhead who was quickly becoming a friend. In a lot of ways, she was like her brother Steven, who happened to be engaged to my boss. They were both fun and easygoing, quick to tease and yet rock solid, too. I liked the Ellison siblings a lot.

“Because I was thinking we could go to this new karaoke bar I heard about today at work,” she explained. “Instead of those cheesy background tracks, this place has a live band. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to. A lot people go just to watch.”

I reached for the tablet lying on the coffee table. “What’s the name of this place?”

“The Starlight Lounge. I thought it might be fun for Friday.”

My brows went up. Friday was our bringing-the-crew-together night. I tried to imagine Arnoldo or Arash singing karaoke and just the thought made me smile. Why the hell not? At the very least, it’d break the ice.

“I’ll mention it to Gideon.” I ran a search for the bar and pulled up its website. “Looks nice.”

The name had conjured thoughts of old-school crooner hangouts, but the images on the site were of a contemporary club decorated in shades of blue with chrome accents. It looked upscale and swank.

“Right? I thought so, too. And it’ll be entertaining.”

“Yeah. Wait ’til you see Cary with a mic. He’s shameless.”

She laughed and I grinned at the sound, which was as bubbly as champagne. “So is Steven. Let me know what you decide. Can’t wait to see you.”

We hung up, and I tossed my phone onto the cushion beside me. I was leaning forward to get back to my project when I heard the ping of a text message.

It was from Brett. We need to talk. Call me.

I stared at his picture on the screen for a long minute. He’d been calling all day but hanging up when he got my voice mail. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t conflicted about him still reaching out, but it was a dead end. Maybe we’d be friends someday, but not now. I wasn’t up for it or the stress it caused Gideon.

I used to think facing issues that made me uncomfortable showed strength and responsibility. Now, I realized that sometimes resolution wasn’t the purpose. Sometimes, you just had to take the opportunity to examine yourself better.

I’ll give you a ring when I can, I typed back. Then I set the phone aside again. I’d call him when Gideon was with me. No secrets and nothing to hide.

“Hey.” Cary strolled into the living room from the hallway dressed in pajama bottoms and a threadbare T-shirt. His dark brown hair was still damp from the shower he must have taken after Tatiana left an hour earlier.

I was glad she hadn’t spent the night. I wanted to like the woman who said she was carrying my best friend’s baby, but the leggy model didn’t make it easy for me. I felt like she deliberately baited me whenever she could. I got the strong impression that she would like nothing more than to keep Cary all to herself and I was viewed as a big roadblock to that end.

My best friend sprawled facedown on the other section of the sofa, his head near my thigh and his long legs stretched out. “Whatcha working on?”

“Making lists. I want to get started on something for abuse survivors.”

“Yeah? What are you thinking?”

One of my shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “I don’t really know. I keep thinking about Megumi and how she didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell anyone, either. Neither did you, until way later.”

“Because who’s going to give a shit?” he said gruffly, propping his chin on his hands.

“And it’s scary to talk about it. There are a lot of hotlines and shelters for victims. I want to find something else that makes a difference, but I don’t have any groundbreaking ideas.”

“So talk to idea people.”

My mouth curved. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Hell, why reinvent the wheel? Find someone who’s doing it right and help ’em out.” He rolled onto his back and scrubbed at his face with both hands.

I knew that gesture and what it signified. Something was eating at him.

“Tell me about your day,” I said. I’d ended up spending more one-on-one time with Gideon in San Diego than I had with Cary, and I felt bad about that. Cary said he’d had a good time hanging with his old crowd, but that hadn’t been the purpose of our trip. I felt like I’d let him down, even though he didn’t accuse me of doing so.

He dropped his hands to his sides. “I had a shoot this morning, and then I saw Trey for a late lunch.”

“Did you say anything to him about the baby?”

He shook his head. “I thought about it, but I couldn’t do it. I’m such a dick.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. It’s a rough spot you’re in.”

Cary’s eyes closed, shuttering the vivid green of his irises. “I was thinking the other day how much easier it’d be if Trey swung both ways. Then we could both be banging Tat and each other, and I could have it all. Then I realized I didn’t want to share Trey with Tat. Don’t mind sharing her. But not him. Tell me that doesn’t make me a total douche.”

Reaching out, I ruffled my fingers through his dark hair. “It makes you human.”

I’d been in a similar situation with Gideon, thinking I could work out a way to be friends with Brett, even while I was aggravated that Gideon was friends with Corinne. “In a perfect world, none of us would be selfish, but that’s not the way it goes. We just do our best.”

“You’re always making excuses for me,” he muttered.

I thought about that for a second. “No,” I corrected gently, bending over to press a kiss to his forehead. “I just forgive you. Someone has to, since you won’t forgive yourself.”

—

WEDNESDAY morning came and went in a flurry. Lunch was on me before I knew it.

“We were celebrating our engagement two weeks ago,” Steven Ellison said, as I settled into the chair he held out for me. “Now we get to celebrate yours.”

I smiled; I couldn’t help it. There was something infectiously joyful about my boss’s fiancé, which you couldn’t help but pick up on. “Must be something in the water.”

“Must be.” He glanced at his partner, then back at me. “Mark’s not losing you, is he?”

“Steven,” Mark admonished, shaking his head. “Don’t.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I answered, which earned me a surprised and pleased grin from my boss. His goatee-framed smile was as contagious as Steven’s gregariousness. Really, our scheduled lunches were worth the price of admission.