Page 128 of Tortured Tones

That had to count for something.

I followed her into the bathroom, caught her around the waist, and guided her into the shower. “We’ve done dirty sex—now you want clean sex?”

“Yes, please.”

“If you insist.” I turned on the faucets and let the steaming water cascade over our entwined bodies.

We took a long, hot, soapy shower, then fell back into bed. After tasting every inch of her body again, covering every space between her head and her toes, I made her come twice. I fell asleep somewhere around five a.m. with Ava in my arms.

Crazy dreams filled my head. Dreams of running down the beach with Charlotte and Josh, and Ava laughing as her hair blew in the breeze. Us with our kids, standing in my kitchen, baking chocolate-chip cookies. Singing and playing music together. Lazing on the sofa watching movies. Eating ice cream covered in sprinkles.

They were just dreams. Not reality.

When I woke at eleven a.m., Ava was gone.

I’d just had the longest and best night’s sleep I’d had in years.

But my skin prickled. Something wasn’t right.

The ache in my chest burned—burned hot and bright.

And I was terrified it would burn me to the ground.

Chapter 29

AVA

I made it down to my floor in the hotel without seeing anyone from my team or The Flintlocks entourage. I swiped my key and slipped into my room. But my boot kicked something on the floor—a large yellow envelope with my name scribbled across the front. I picked it up and headed toward the twin beds that hadn’t been slept in. Ramona must have been with Wells. Again.

After taking off my jacket, holster, and comms gear, I sat on the end of my bed and let out a deep breath. Last night blazed behind my eyelids and spun through my mind. Being with Cole had been mind-blowing. Between my legs still throbbed and ached. But I’d panicked when he’d wanted to talk about us. The emotional day had derailed my focus. We’d had an incredible night together. We cared about each other. I couldn’t contemplate anything more than that until I got more custody of Josh. Even then it was impossible to fathom a relationship with him. It was best to accept that Cole and I had no future.

I needed my son—nothing else.

My energy was homed in him, not Cole.

I slid my finger underneath the lip of the envelope and tore it open. As I shook the packet, a mass of printed pages fell onto the bed.

Photos?

I picked up the top picture. My lungs froze. My hand trembled, out of control. It was an image of me and Cole running near his home. The next one was of us at the park he’d taken Charlotte to. We were having coffee, but his hand touched mine. That few seconds of comfort he’d given me had been caught on camera. What the fuck? The following snap was at the Angels in LA after-party. The picture was of Cole and me dancing close together. My chin rested on his shoulder. His hands on my bare back.

The blood drained from my face. Nausea flooded my gut.

I sifted through more of the pictures. They were all of us. Us, dashing back to the hotel where we’d stayed. Us, leaving together in the morning. Us, in the café in Atlanta. Fuck. Going by the angle, this photo had been taken by the woman in the corner. More shots showed us in a gym, laughing as we did yoga. Us, outside Gabrielle’s Boutique. Us, at parties after their shows, giving each other suggestive gazes. Fuck.

My pulse pounded in my skull as I scanned more of the images. The next shots were of the fan-filled crowds we’d encountered. Me, escorting Cole through a mass of screaming people. There were zoomed in shots of the cut on my face I’d gotten at the first photoshoot we’d taken the band too. Several pictures were of incidents where I’d shoved or blocked some girls and guys to get them out of the way.

The pile consisted of at least fifty photos of me with Cole. But something about the angle of the shots was off. They’d caught me laughing, blushing after he’d told me a dirty joke or brushing against him. They’d captured me focused, often scowling, when I was being diligent in my job, protecting Cole and Charlotte against the overzealous fans.

The last page was a note.

Ice prickled my skin, and shards stabbed my heart:

I’ve been watching you, Ava.

You thought you’d get away with this?

See you in court.

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