Page 31 of Extended Bridge (Passionate Beats #2)

Chapter Sixteen

I blink at the noise, trying to understand what I’m hearing. Bennett doesn’t acknowledge it, merely crawls on top of me. Our lips clash in an out-of-control dance.

The knocking morphs into banging. Even the doorbell—who knew hotel rooms have doorbells?—rings several times. Bennett’s fingers skim down to the top of my thigh.

A voice wafts in from the hallway. “Bennett, open up. I know you’re in there!”

My boyfriend collapses on top of me.

The assault on the door continues.

“Luke,” Bennett sighs, then focuses on me. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back as soon as I kick the dickwad’s ass.”

Luke bangs again.

“Fuck!” Bennett jumps away from me, adjusts his jeans, and exits the bedroom. The door remains slightly ajar.

On the comfy bed, a smile plays around my lips. Our interruption doesn’t dim my light spirit. I love this man, and he loves me. Or is it the other way around? My hands stretch above my head, and I perform snow angels above the comforter as I hear the front door open and close.

Bennett grouses, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’ll let you get back to whomever—or whomevers—are in your bedroom in a sec. I need to ask you if you know where Jenna is. She’s not in her room.”

At the sound of my name, I sit straight up. Why is the band’s manager looking for me?

Bennett shares my sentiment. “Why?”

“Look, something happened. Have you seen her?”

“Since you think I have a couple of groupies in my bedroom, why are you asking me?”

Bennett’s sarcasm spurs me to my feet. I toss his T-shirt over my head. Since it drops to my knees, I don’t bother with my pants and cross the threshold to the living room area.

“Luke?”

Two heads spin in my direction. They both mutter my name, Luke with relief and Bennett with possession.

The slightly shorter man with shoulder-length brown hair a couple of shades darker than my man’s takes a few steps in my direction. “You’re here.”

Bennett growls, “Where else would she be? And why on earth could you think I was with groupies?”

Luke’s shoulder bumps up and down. “I needed to be sure. Listen, we have to talk. All of us.” He points toward the sofa and chairs.

My stomach plummets. What’s going on? We settle on the sofa—me on Bennett’s lap, even though I tried to sit like a lady—as much as I can wearing only a T-shirt. His T-shirt.

In a chair opposite us, Luke closes his eyes. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. There’s an article.”

Of course there’s an article. Or fifty. Or one hundred. All of them hating on me as UC’s Black Widow. Claiming I’ve settled in on my next prey, namely the lead singer .

Luke doesn’t stop talking simply because my mind is supplying its own narrative.

“A Lissa Baker says she had a wild night in the Hamptons with you, Bennett, including drugs and alcohol. Says you two had uninhibited sex, although she described it in excruciating detail. Claims you were complaining about Jenna to her all night.” His gaze bounces to me.

“She said you were Darren’s pusher, and you encouraged him to take his fatal overdose as a way to keep him under your thrall. ”

I lean back against Bennett, my palm preventing my gasp from ricocheting around the room. For his part, Bennett kisses my cheek.

“She claims Jenna’s causing UC to implode,” Luke finishes talking.

My ears ring. I shake my head. No, no, no. I never would’ve done anything to hurt Darren like that. Nor come between UC. Was Bennett complaining to her about me when I was in the ladies’ room? My entire body goes cold.

Bennett’s hands weigh down my shoulders. He snarls, “She’s a freaking liar.”

“I know,” Luke replies. “Let’s start at the beginning. Who the fuck is this Lissa chick?”

“She was Bennett’s high school girlfriend.” The words pass my lips by rote.

The manager sits taller. “She was, B?”

“Yes,” Bennett hisses. I try to squirm off his lap, but strong hands on my shoulders press down, not allowing me to move. Providing me an unusual comfort.

I disengage from their conversation, swimming inside my own brain.

Lissa told reporters a multipart lie, one which most people will believe.

How could she do this, after the way she treated a teenaged Bennett?

She and his ex-best friend messed him up back then, and she’s doing it again to him. What kind of sadist is this woman?

The kind that has it out for me, clearly. Her venom is unbearable. I try to lean forward. Bennett draws me back against his chest.

“What are your thoughts, Jenna? ”

“Jenna’s innocent,” Bennett growls.

“I need to hear her side of the story,” Luke protests.

Bennett’s fingers dig into my shoulders. “This is total bullshit.”

Is this how my life is going to be? Women coming out of the woodwork to complain about Bennett being with me? Is he worth it? Am I?

I know the answer to the last question—no way. If I leave the tour now, I can slip under the radar again in Aroostook. UC will continue its tour without a blip—my still unprofessed love for the incredible man behind me notwithstanding.

“Jenna?”

When I’m out of here, these awful articles will stop. Everything will go back to normal for UC.

“Jenna?”

Protective walls around my heart start to reform. The ones I built when Darren died and somehow allowed Bennett to take down. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Bennett kisses my cheek and whispers my name in my ear. “Jenna?”

My head swivels toward him. I don’t try to look into his eyes, I don’t want to. All I want to do is escape. From Bennett’s arms. From this hotel room. From Louisville.

“Talk to me, Sweetheart.”

His endearment zings straight to my soul.

Catching my breath becomes more difficult.

Why is this happening? The universe must not like it when I’m happy.

Do I deserve happiness? First it took my grandmother.

Then Darren. Now it’s trying to take Bennett away even though, thank God, he’s still very much alive.

The man’s warm hands skim my frigid arms. Yes, he’s very much alive. “You didn’t spend any time with Lissa?” My voice ticks up at the end indicating I’m asking a question rather than stating a truth.

“You know I didn’t. She’s a lying bitch, among other things.”

I stare at the beige carpet. “How could she do this to you? ”

He chuckles. “This, I’m sure, gave her a nice payday. I’m surprised she didn’t hand the paps some photos from back then.”

“Actually,” Luke pipes up. “She did.” He passes his cell to us, which Bennett takes without disturbing me from his lap.

Despite not wanting to, I stare at the screen as Bennett bounces through several pages.

Photos of a teen Bennett, still cute but nowhere near as sexy as today, with adoration in his eyes for the girl-next-door Lissa, with her long blond hair and blue eyes.

Not the current plastic, extensioned, Botoxed version.

The story paints quite the picture of young love.

Bennett flips through more screens, faster as the headlines change to focusing on me. Ruining UC. The Black Widow. Preparing to strike again.

I address Luke. “If I leave, do you think this will die down?”

Behind me, a tenor voice rumbles, “You’re not going anywhere, except with me.”

“Some of it would quiet down, yes,” Luke answers. His gaze bounces between Bennett and me. “But remember why you’re here in the first place—to give physical therapy to Bennett. Among other things, I’m sure you don’t want to leave your patient before his therapy is complete?”

“He’s almost healed.” This is the truth. Hell, we were about to have sex, proving he doesn’t need me. No one does. I can escape to Aroostook and hide in my anonymity. “He can keep up the exercises without me.”

Bennett asks, “Did you forget about the ones we haven’t done yet?”

I don’t answer, just keep on trying to leave his lap, which he continues to resist. Going limp, I say, “I can leave instructions.”

Luke pushes to do his job. “So I’ll confirm to our PR team that this whole wild night with Lissa never happened.”

“Yes,” Bennett passes the cell phone back to his manager. “Even if my heart weren’t otherwise occupied, I’d never touch that skank again with a twenty-foot pole. ”

His protest does nothing to soothe my aching conscience. He didn’t tell Luke I’m the woman he loves. Why would he? Who needs a Black Widow in their life unless they also like playing Russian roulette?

Luke taps on his phone. “Great. We’ll deny her sex, booze, and drugs claims.” He swallows. “I’m hate to ask this, but we want to be perfectly clear in our response. What about your supposed complaining to her about Jenna?”

The encounter replays in my mind, even though I tried to deny it before. No way did anything remotely close to this happen. I guess she thought we were together and wanted to insert herself in the middle.

Bennett’s hands go around my waist. “Lies.”

The manager nods. “Jenna?”

Because he used my name, I stare at Luke. He continues, “I think we really need to address her allegations about your relationship with Darren, and the fact you weren’t involved in his death in any way.”

Without energy, I say, “That’s not what his mother said in the recent article.”

Bennett tugs at me, securing me against him. “When we visited her, we got her to see how wrong she was. Right?”

“We tried, B. I’m not convinced we persuaded her all the way.” Coffee-colored eyes hold me immobile. “Although, thankfully, she isn’t quoted in this article.”

I state the truth. “I wasn’t even in the same state when Darren passed.”

“007 was the first to find him,” Bennett says in a strained voice. “Why do we have to keep rehashing all this shit? Didn’t I give an interview to Jeremy Davis recently, and address what happened?”

“We have to respond because the media refuses to stop.” Luke’s reply gets to the heart of the matter.

“I can’t prescribe pills.” I find some reserve deep within to stand up for myself. “I never encouraged Darren to take more pills than he needed. ”

“We know, Sweetheart.”

“We do.” Luke picks his words with care. “Perhaps we can put out a statement about how you tried to help Darren get his problem under control.”

“Which means I’d have to admit to knowing he was addicted—which I didn’t.”

“None of us did,” Bennett adds.

Luke queries, “Are you sure you didn’t have an inkling, Jenna?

” In rapid succession he piles on the questions.

“Were you aware he was still taking pills at all? How much did you push to know? Was there anything more you could’ve done to get control over him?

Why didn’t you reach out to me or the band? Do you think?—”

Each question is like a body blow, gaining more momentum with his unrelenting pounding.

His accusations grow. Combined with Lissa’s awful article and the recent terrible articles about me as UC’s Black Widow, plus Ma’s stern warning against Bennett before I left home, it’s as if the three words I almost said to Bennett can never blossom.

My heart cracks.

I can never be happy. I don’t deserve it.

My breath catches.

Around me, Bennett and Luke have dissolved into a battle over me.

Stop. This has to stop.

I can’t control my emotions any longer. Tears cascading from my eyes, they pour down my cheeks and sobs drown out the building tension.