Page 25 of Nothing to Beat (Nothing to… #13)

“I’LL BE FINE,” she said to Bastian just outside the suite door.

“It’s been a long day.” He rubbed her arm. “I can stay, or you can come to the house. Mom would love to have you.”

The last thing she needed was well-intentioned people fussing.

“No. Thank you. I appreciate the offer, and send her my love, but you’ve done plenty.”

“I wasn’t the one swinging the bat,” he said, addressing her with pride rather than the expected revulsion. “You surprised Ackley and that’s not an easy thing to do.”

“I told the truth.”

“All these years you’ve known… Now that you’ve shared what you know, will there be retribution?”

“Not if no one mentions my name.” She started to turn, then thought twice.

“Look, like I said in the meeting, this is a backup plan. Chicago might put my father away. If they don’t, I want LA waiting in the wings.

And, truthfully, Ackley’s only one part of that.

They’ve kept Enter Out off law enforcement’s radar for a long time. ”

“Your father’s associates won’t be pleased to fall under suspicion because of their connection to him.”

“No. They won’t.”

“Okay.” He leaned in to kiss her head. “Stick with Roxie and her security.”

“I will.”

“And you may not appreciate the suggestion—”

“I’ll call Breck.”

His smile grew. “Thank you.”

She slipped into the suite and closed the door, pausing just a moment to catch her breath.

It was surreal. On going to the DA’s office, she had every intention of dishing up her father on a silver platter.

That wasn’t the surreal part, or even what bothered her, that was what came next.

It could actually happen, actually work, there was a real possibility she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

Not of her father or the family, she’d never feared them for herself, but there was a distinct possibility she could let go of the fear that her father might hurt the Breckenridges.

Except she was scared to hope. This might seem like progress, but it wouldn’t be the first time her father pulled a rabbit from his hat at the eleventh hour. If he beat her this time… the consequences for all of them…

Ackley had been open to it. Seemed more optimistic with every word she uttered. It could happen.

Before making any final decisions, she’d have to tell Breck everything. That would be a fun conversation.

“Who’s out there?”

Roxie’s calling from the living room curled her lips. Pushing away from the door, she traversed the foyer to join her friend. Sitting on the couch with her feet propped on the coffee table, the TV was playing on mute while Roxie blew toward the hot pink varnish on her toenails.

But the color wasn’t the biggest shock, not the color of her nails anyway.

“You changed your hair.”

Shaking her head, Roxie ran a hand through her glossy tresses. “Do you like it? I promised Jane, she has a plan… Not sure what it is exactly, but it’s Jane’s plan, so it will be amazing.”

Dirty blonde, with hints of various lighter, brighter blonde hues through it. Reminded her a little of Tripp’s.

“It’s beautiful.” She dumped her purse on the bar and went around to snag some lemonade. “It will contrast better with your dress. Are you wearing white?”

“Jane insisted. She says it’s not for the virgin thing, but like you said, white sets off my coloring better, apparently. We handed autonomy over to our beautiful Jane; what she wants, she gets.” Roxie waved the words away. “Enough about that, how did it go today? Was Ackley an asshole?”

There was a correct response. Sort of a correct response. A particular response Roxie expected. Though she didn’t want to disappoint her friend, she had to be fair, honest.

“I don’t know.” Twisting off the bottle cap, she tossed it in the trash and considered her day as she sipped. “He seemed receptive, but was that for me or him?” She shrugged and wandered toward her friend. “I don’t suppose it matters. He wants to meet again tomorrow.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I get he’ll have questions. And, as Bastian put it, Ackley needs a minute to figure this out for himself.”

“He’ll want to check you’re for real.”

She dropped onto the couch. “Exactly.”

“And you’d be offended except you accept you’re a stranger to him.”

“I’m not wholly convinced he even knew of my existence before today.” After another sip, she licked her lips. “One thing he did say, communication with Trish has been… sporadic.”

Keeping her wiggling toes on the edge of the table, Roxie relaxed back onto the couch next to her. She held up both hands, showing her matching nails, though that wasn’t the point.

“That’s Zairn’s deal, not mine.” Roxie gestured finality in the air. “I take nothing to do with it.”

“Because you disapprove?” Huh, why hadn’t she thought to ask Roxie how she felt about Trish relying so heavily on a man she’d once been intimate with? The man Roxie was currently intimate with. “Are you mad he’s protecting her?”

“God, no. No one else could do it, I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.” Neither would Trish, which was how they’d ended up in their predicament. “I leave it to him because I do trust him. He doesn’t need me getting in between things or questioning him.”

“Funny, I’ve heard the opposite about you.”

Roxie’s head rolled on her shoulders. “Okay, so it’s possible, in the past, I’ve been known to inject myself—” She held up a pointed index finger. “—for the greater good, you understand.”

“Of course,” she said on a laugh.

“But this is serious shit, it’s not playing.

I’m always with Zairn. I’d support him in anything and he offloads on me if he needs to, when he needs to.

” She was familiar with that genre of relationship dynamic.

“But it’s a big responsibility, holding a woman’s safety, her life, in his hands.

He’s got it covered, he knows what’s expected of him. ”

“You do know he probably doesn’t tell you more to protect you.”

“Physically? Maybe. Except if he really thought someone would try to hurt me for the information, he’d give it to me.

As for emotionally? Mentally? Spiritually…

” The newly minted brunette exaggerated that last one.

“In every other way? No. We don’t do that.

It’s all cards on the table, there’s nothing I wouldn’t share with him.

” Shifting, Roxie got her shoulder into the backrest to make eye contact.

“Isn’t it like that with you and Breck?”

“Yes,” she said on a sigh. “Which is why I’m not looking forward to our next conversation. Where’s Tripp?”

“At the club. He’ll be back for dinner, though I do think he wants to go out tonight. Are you up for dancing the night away?”

“Yeah, maybe. “Just then, something on the TV caught her eye. “Zairn.” Sitting up straight, she pointed at the screen. “Zairn’s on the TV.”

“So what else is new?” Roxie crunched her abs to boost herself back up and reach between her feet for the remote control to turn up the volume. “What does my love have to say?”

Except it wasn’t him talking, it was only a picture of him with a reporter or someone talking over the top of the various images as they changed.

“…with the wedding so close?”

“We have attempted to reach Ms. Kyst for comment,” said another reporter they couldn’t see.

Roxie looked left and right. “They didn’t try very hard, did they?”

“Is your phone on?”

“I’m not even sure it’s in the building.”

The suite door suddenly slammed and in came Tripp at a hundred miles an hour. “What the fuck?”

That was the first thing he said, and for an explanation, all turned to the TV.

“…news of the affair has been confirmed by our sources inside the Rouge camp.”

“Unnamed sources,” Roxie muttered.

“Zairn and Anjelica have been involved, intimately, for months.”

Tripp exhaled a laugh. “Like how they added ‘intimately’ there in case anyone didn’t know what ‘affair’ meant.”

“Behind Roxie’s back?” the first reporter asked. A picture of a stunning blonde jumped to the screen, not Roxie, presumably it was the other woman. “Anjelica is a beautiful woman, is Ms. Kyst worried Zairn might prefer the younger model?”

“Oh, ouch…” On a laugh, Roxie shook her head. “I’m not even thirty and already I’ve aged out.”

“Who is she? Do you know her?” she asked when Roxie muted the TV again.

“Never seen her before in my life. Doesn’t mean she’s not been a part of it. I suppose, apparently, she has been behind my back.”

“My phone’s a fucking control tower. Know how many calls I’ve had?” Tripp said and tossed his phone onto the couch. “Z called too, once.”

“You better be lying,” Roxie said, picking it up to scroll through the call list. “I have no intention of talking to him.”

“Roxie,” she said, stroking her back. “You should at least give him a chance to explain.”

“The call was from his phone,” her friend said to Tripp. “That doesn’t mean it was him. It was probably Tibbs.”

“Why would you—”

“I saw Breck screwing a Laker Girl in the lobby,” Roxie stated. “Two of them actually, might’ve been three. Right there under the chandelier.” Her friend arched a brow. “Believe me?”

Her head tilted. “He would never—”

“Neither would Z and he knows I know that. Trust me, we’ve been through all of this before. One time they accused Astrid of sleeping with him. Can you imagine? Poor girl was mortified. It’s not a huge deal, it’ll die down.”

“They’re only interested because of the wedding,” Tripp said, sitting on the perpendicular couch. “This nix us going out tonight?”

“No! We never let them win. It’s what they want. That younger woman is being exploited and probably doesn’t know it.”

“Oh, she’ll know it by the number of zeroes on her check. Want me to find out?” Tripp asked, relaxing. “Find out where she is and I’ll—”

“Aww, that’s very sweet of you to offer to screw the truth out of Zairn’s fake mistress. I’m tearing up.” Roxie blew out a long breath, fanning her face. “This is not a thing. Let’s just go about our lives as normal. No one has to worry about this. There’s zero truth in it.”

“It doesn’t piss you off that they’re saying these things about the man you love?”

“Of course it pisses me off, but I’ve done the angry at the media thing before. Only one who ends up exhausted is me. Don’t fuel their fire. I’ll stream tonight. Soon as people see me making fun of the story, they’ll lose their steam.”

Wow, this woman was a pro.

“Okay then,” Tripp said and clapped once. “What’s for dinner?” His finger jumped her way. “And do not say deep dish. Some of us have a wedding to look good for. We’re having a night off, pizza junkie.”

“A junkie or…” When her eyes met Roxie’s, the possibility glowed in them. “Could’ve been a false negative.”

“Great.” Tripp exhaled. “Just what I need, to find out I’ve been dragging my pregnant sister-in-law around the country, waving her in front of gangsters and assholes.”

“There are gangsters and assholes in New York just the same. And I’m fine. Negative is negative.”

“You can’t be sure. What’s with all the pizza? Feels like a craving to me.”

“Which you know from the dozens of times you’ve been pregnant,” she replied to Tripp with an incredulous, prolonged blink.

“It’s not a pregnancy craving…” Her spine sprang straight. That voice came from the foyer. From in the damn room. “It’s rebellion.”

The moment he came into view, she jumped up and rushed to him. “Breck!”

Leaping onto him, she didn’t even care that her dramatic show was over the top.

Her arms locked around his neck and she buried her face there, breathing him in.

It was ridiculous that her eyes watered.

Why was she in such a state over him just walking in?

She should be mad or uncomfortable that he’d happened upon her without invitation. Instead, joy infused her.

“What took you so long?” she mumbled against him.

He stroked from the top of her head, down her spine, and patted her ass, bending forward to put her back on her feet.

On her feet, right. Yes. Polite company.

Etiquette rules. At least she hadn’t wrapped her legs around him and planted her mouth on his.

That’s what she usually did in hotel suites.

Though they didn’t usually have an audience.

Wow, she deserved a medal for remembering there were others in the room, in the state.

Though he prompted her to take her own weight, he kept his arm tight around her, holding them together.

Tripp came over, arms open. “Good to see you, brother.”

Instead of a hug, or other warm welcome, Breck glared. “You’re lucky I’m not in charge of Trust Fund Tax anymore. What have you got my girl mixed up in?”

“Hey, this one isn’t me.” Showing his palms in surrender, Tripp stalled. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“Yeah,” Breck muttered. “That’s usually the way with her.”

“I’m right here.”

“Not for long.”

“Wait…” Tripp frowned. “Does that mean Caber’s in charge of Trust Fund Tax?”