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The metal door opens, and I lift my lids, turning to face the handler waiting for me. I walk, sluggishly to the door, stepping into the hallway to wait while they retrieve my new owner. Moments later, I glance up, staring into the face of a fat, white man flanked by two guards. The guards draw my attention more than my owner does.
The one on the right is staring at me, his gaze hard, lips pressed in a firm line. He's dark skinned, the color of chocolate, with a gold earring with thick dreadlocks that almost reach his waist. His suit is nicely pressed, and I can see the butt of a gun sticking out of a holster on his hip.
My new owner walks past me, and the guard, keeping his eyes on mine stops next to me, and gestures for me to follow.
"After you," he says his voice deep and calm
Well, here we go again.
The room is in total darkness when I open my eyes, shaking my head to dispel the remainder of the dream. Blake's sleeping soundly next to me, his arm draped across my stomach. Gently, I slide from his embrace and sit up on the side of the bed. Running my hands over my face, inhaling deeply, I glance at the clock and blanch— two a.m.
Fuck, we spent the whole day in bed.
I sigh and stand, pulling my pants on. I need coffee and a way to take my mind off everything. If not for this case, I'd be holed up in my apartment with my keyboard and guitar. I walk into the closet, grabbing a sports bra and sliding it on. Glancing at Blake, my heart sputters and thuds in my chest.
Quietly, I make my way to the living room. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I gaze around the room, finally settling on the piano. My eyes dart to it every few seconds as I pour a tumbler of Tequila. Teresa has me hooked on this shit. At home, I feel better, calmer when I play music. There hasn’t been much time for anything like that here since it’s either work or just being in Blake’s presence, which I’m not complaining about by any means. I stroll to the piano and sit down. Lightly, I run my fingers over the keys, taking a long sip from my glass.
I set it next to me on the bench and take a deep breath. My fingers glide over the keys as I start to playIndependence Dayby Martina McBride. The words flow from my lips in perfect pitch . . . and I'm lost.
I close my eyes, singing the lyrics as my hands fly over the keys, never missing a beat. My insides relax, a blanket of warmth falling over me. My thoughts wander and my body unconsciously falls into the music. As I end the song, I leave my hands on the keys, an odd pulling sensation at my back.
I don't bother turning around. I know Blake's there, along with probably half the other people in the house. Instead, I begin playingGod Bless the Broken Roadby Rascal Flatts. It's almost perfect.
As I sing the second verse, the realization of my feelings for Blake sweeps through me. I've never been sure about God or divine intervention— but looking at Blake, I wonder if it's possible that my past led me here. If I weren't an Interpol agent, I never would've met him. And if I weren’t so fucked-up, I wouldn't know how to push through all the pain and hurt . . . but all that makes these feelings stronger.
My voice cracks as I finish the song, and tears escape my eyes. My fingers rest on the keys as strong but gentle hands glide over my shoulders. I sigh, wiping the moisture from my face.
"You sing beautifully," Blake says in a hushed tone.
"Thank you," I mumble.
His lips press against my neck, my blood boiling from his touch. "What's bothering you, baby?"
He wraps his arms around my shoulders, and I lean my lips onto his forearm.
"Tomorrow we're all going to stay at a hotel for twenty-four hours. Vlad's having the windows replaced with bulletproof glass."
His chest rises and falls against my back with his deep breath and I pray he isn't going to argue.
"Okay," he whispers, kissing my hair.
"You're not going to fight me on this?"
"No, baby," he chuckles. "Not tonight."
Pulling his arms from around me, I stand, and walk around the piano bench. I glance up . . . everyone is awake.
Well, this is awkward . . .
I shake my head and bust into a fit of laughter. Amusement shines in Blake's eyes as he reaches out for my hand. I take it and pick up my glass with the other. Walking into the kitchen, I drain what's left, and slide it onto the counter. Blake drops my hand and goes to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.
"Alright, we have to leave here by eight a.m. Shows over, everyone go back to bed," I say playfully.
Several people laugh and I glance up in time to see Shannon reach out and touch the side of Dresden's face. She smiles a wide cheesy grin, her eyes locked on his. As she turns to go, he glances back, meeting my gaze. I lift my eyebrows at him. He looks like a little kid, who's been caught stealing cookies. I shake my head, a smile spreading across his face as he shrugs his shoulders and leaves the room.
Wow . . . Dresden and Shannon . . .
Turning back to Blake, I sit at the island, resting my elbows on the counter. I tangle my fingers in my hair, staring down at the granite patterns. The house is back to its strained quietness. Since returning to the apartment, things have spiraled quietly into chaos. I've been trying my best to keep shit together.