Talon (Ashes & Embers 4)

I playfully smack him again. "Exactly. No sex."

"Ever?" he asks incredulously.

I stand up and straighten out my clothes. "Let's not think about that. I think we should focus on our first task of figuring out where we're going to live."

Chapter 11

Talon

"This is yours?" she asks in disbelief when I lead her to my truck in the hotel parking lot.

"Yup." My latest toy is a black Ford F-150 pickup truck with a fourteen-inch lift kit, forty-inch tires, and skulls airbrushed down the sides.

"A monster truck? Is this legal to be on the street?" She peers up at the truck, her head barely reaching the door.

I take her bag from her hand and throw it in the back of the truck. We asked the concierge to have the wedding gown boxed and shipped to my condo because it's too big and ruffly to cart around. "Of course it is," I reply, opening the passenger door for her. "Get in, milady."

She stares up at the inside of the truck and then back at me. "Talon. I can't even get my leg up there. How am I supposed to get in?"

Well, shit, she's right. Her legs are too short to reach the doorframe. I wrap my hands around her tiny waist and lift her up into the seat effortlessly. "I'll get running boards and a step, baby. Simple fix."

I run around the front of the truck and climb in behind the wheel. "Or I'll just drive the Beemer when you're with me. No big deal."

"You have a BMW too?"

I nod and light up a cigarette as I start the truck and pull out of the lot. "Yeah. It's much lower to the ground."

She looks out the windshield, wide-eyed at the traffic around us, clinging to the armrest on her door. "Holy shit. We're so high up. You can totally drive right over the other cars."

"If we wanted to, hell yeah, I could."

She giggles. "Let's not do that."

The team gave us a guideline sheet we're supposed to follow, and the first order of business is to move in together, whether we move in to one of our own homes together, or get an entirely new place to live. The latter is my preference since I live in a condo with my brother, and we sure as hell wouldn't have any privacy as a couple living with him. We're supposed to check out each other’s places before we decide, though, so we stop at my place first.

"This is really nice," she comments as we head up the walkway to my front door.

"Yeah, it is," I answer, unlocking the door. "I've lived here for about three years."

Once inside, she scans the condo with a small frown, probably because it's a bit of a mess. But hey, two single guys live here, and Mikah is kind of a slob and just throws stuff anywhere and everywhere.

"Sorry for the clutter… We had a maid, but she was stealing our stuff to sell on eBay."

"Oh, wow. That's terrible."

"Yeah, some people will buy anything. Like my dirty socks. Do you believe that?

Her face scrunches up. "That's pretty gross."

"It is," I agree. "So, me and my brother Mikah live here. He's the drummer in the band. Not sure if you remember him from the wedding." She shakes her head. "But I don't think this would be a good place for us to live, for obvious reasons."

"Why not? I'm a great fucking roommate." We both turn to see Mikah coming down the stairs from the second floor where the four bedrooms are. His long, dark hair is a tangled mop on his head, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, with dark circles shadowing them. He looks completely hungover.

"Dude, did you get drunk at my wedding last night? You're a fucking mess."

He opens the refrigerator and grabs a soda. "I did." He narrows his half-opened eyes at us. "What the hell are you two doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon? Or is this game over already?"

"It's not a game," Asia tells him with a hint of defensiveness in her voice, and it kind of makes me proud of her. I like a chick who won't take crap from people.

"We're going on the honeymoon later," I say. "First, we need to move in together."

He chugs some of his soda. "Not here, I hope?"

"No. We're going to get a house."

He nods and shuffles back toward the stairway. "Good idea. You'll probably want to get a new bedroom set." He focuses on Asia and grins. "His bed has seen a ton of pussy. I wouldn’t want to be sleeping in that."

She visibly cringes, her cheeks reddening as her eyes meet mine awkwardly across the room. "Good to know," she says, her voice strained.

I shove my asshole brother up against the wall, and Asia jumps back away from us. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I seethe, my face inches from his. "That's my wife now, not some band slut."

He pushes me back. "What's your problem, Tal?"

"She doesn't need to hear that shit." I shove him again and then back away from him.

"She better get fucking used to it. We fuck chicks. That's what rock stars do."

The sound of the front door slamming makes us both turn. She just walked out.

"Thanks a lot, asshole," I growl. "Did you hafta fucking say that?"

"What's the big deal?"

"I'm trying to gain her trust, Mikah. This isn't exactly easy for her."

He smirks. "Well, maybe she should divorce you now, then, if she can't fucking deal with who you are."

I run my hand through my hair, hoping Asia isn't running away right now. "Whatever, bro," I throw back as I run to the front door to catch her. Thankfully, I find her sitting on the sidewalk out front, twirling a dandelion in her fingers.

"Hey, I'm sorry," I say when I reach her. "He's a sarcastic asshole."

"I guess we won't be living here," she mutters, then closes her eyes and blows on the dandelion, opening them again to watch its little seeds floating away in the breeze with a wistful expression on her face. I think she wants to float away too. Away from me.

I hold my hand out to her and pull her up when she puts her small hand in mine. "Definitely not, babe. Let's go visit your place."

"Can we just skip that? There's really no reason for us to go to my place. You're not gonna want to live there."

"No, I want to see where you live. And it’s in the guidelines. We're supposed to visit each other's homes."

She blows out a frustrated sigh. "I don't understand why we have to do this. It's a waste of time," she argues as we walk back to the truck. "Can't we just look for our own place?"

I lift her up into the passenger seat again. "You don't want me to see your house, do you?"

Her eyes dart away from me nervously. "It's an apartment."

"House, apartment, whatever. You don't want me there. Why not?"

"I never said that."

"You don't have to. You're transparent as fuck. It's written all over your face."

Her eyes shoot daggers as I lean against the truck door, not budging.

"Let's just go, then," she relents. "And get this over with."

As she gives me directions to her apartment while I drive, her reasons for not wanting me there become clear. She lives in the ghetto. Like, I used to buy drugs here when I was younger, it's that kind of shitty neighborhood.

I glance over at her as I park in front of the run-down apartment building. She's just staring out the window, her fingers making circles on her jeans. "Are you okay?" I ask her.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

She doesn't sound fine, though. She sounds distant.

"Asia, it's okay. No big deal."

"You don't belong here."

"Neither do you. Not

anymore."

Her eyes shift down to the floor. "Yeah, I do. Marrying you doesn't change who I am."

"No, but it changes who we are together," I grab her hand to stop her fingers from nervously circling on her leg. "Together, we're supposed to be better."

What the fuck just came out of my mouth?

Her hand squeezes mine. "That's very sweet. Thank you for saying that."

Wow. I actually said something right, even though I was momentarily possessed by Hallmark when I said it. Score.

As luck would have it, the elevator is broken, so we have to walk up the three flights of trash-infested stairs to her apartment. The hallway smells like the pit of hell. I can't believe the team put me with someone who lives like this. We could not be more different in every possible way.

As she digs her keys out of her bag and unlocks the three locks on the door, I worry about my truck parked out on the street in this neighborhood. If someone breaks my windows or spray-paints graffiti on my truck, I'm going to be pissed.

An unexpected pang hits me when we finally walk inside. Her apartment is incredibly small. So tiny I feel like I have to go outside just to change my mind. And it's suddenly painfully clear to me—my new wife does not have much of anything. I feel bad now for taking her to my huge condo in a gated community and whining about the clutter in the 2,500 square feet of space Mikah and I share, and mostly wreck. I can't help but wonder if one of the reasons they put us together is because I have money and can get her out of here. And I also wonder if she did this for the money we'll receive and not to find a life partner. She doesn't seem like the using type, but damn, fifty grand has to be tempting for her. If that's true, so would my multimillion-dollar inheritance and my music royalties. Thankfully, we signed a prenup, so my assets are safe if she turns out to be a gold digger. But a part of me was actually hoping this would turn into a real marriage like my parents have. I don't want to be standing here like an asshole in six months, watching her walk away with a fat check and flipping me the bird.

Fuck it. If it happens, it happens. I'll take my own fifty grand from this and party my ass off with every big-titted blond I can find.