Page 95 of Wine & Whiskey
She dangles in the air, suspended by his fists wrapped around her. Pain stabs her throat, head, and back. But mostly her heart. From the emptiness of his eyes, hollow except for the madness overcoming him. His voice. His hands. But, not him. Not the man she loves. His body just a vessel for his misguided fury.
“Where is she? What have you done to her?”
“Let her go.” The barrage stops at Max’s enraged voice behind them, and her chest constricts at his gun pointed at Nick’s head.
Nick jerks toward him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m protecting Shae. The Nick I used to know would have wanted me to. Now let her go.”
Nick’s grip loosens, and she falls to the floor, her muscles aching from the adrenaline racing through them, never expecting to need rescuing from Nick. She scrambles to her feet and runs past him to Max. He pushes her behind him, creating a barrier between them.
“Don’t you see what I’m trying to do?” Nick’s fingers curl around his scalp, digging into his forehead. “I have to find her.” Nick sways again and topples against the desk. His eyes widen as he stares at her, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he whispers, “Shae?”
He’s as scared as she is. Reaching out a trembling hand, she tries to soothe him. “I’m here.”
His voice falters as he tries to speak again. Blood trickles from his nose, and his eyes roll up into his head. He falls to the floor, violent convulsions racking his body.
Max kneels over him before looking up at her. The first time she’s ever seen fear in his eyes. “Call an ambulance.”
* * *
Max drumshis fingers on the arm rest and looks over at Shae. She hasn’t said a word since they were ushered into this tiny, windowless room more than three hours ago. Just stares at her arms, running her fingertips across the angry red silhouette of Nick’s handprints.
Proof of his failure to protect her. And his broken promise to Nick. He rubs his hands down his face. Any other man would already be dead for touching her like this. And, Nick will want to be when he finds out what he did to her.
Unable to sit in these hard-ass chairs any longer, he paces in the small space. Gray walls and furniture with black swirl carpet evoke a subdued environment, devoid of all emotion and stimulation. A sharp contrast to the turmoil embroiling them.
Two members of Nick’s security team stand outside the door, along with a hospital security guard. He shakes his head, knowing it irritates the hell out of them. They can’t stand real or wannabe cops, but hospital protocol requires in-house protection for celebrities while they’re in the building. Another surreal aspect of living in L.A.
“It’s my fault. I did this to him.”
Her cracking voice stabs his heart, and he drops back into the seat next to her. “What are you talking about?”
She tilts her head, pursing her lips together, trying to keep from crying. “Juan and Spencer’s threats pushed him over the edge. If he didn’t worry about me so much, it wouldn’t have broken him.”
He doesn’t know how to respond. Her words may be truer than he wants to admit. Nick’s obsession with her and, in turn, the relentless need to keep her safe could destroy a man just like any other addiction. However, there’s more to this than stress. Not wanting to scare her with his own fears of a brain tumor, he’ll let Nathan tell them the diagnosis.
But he can’t let her blame herself. Innocent and sweet-natured, she didn’t fully understand the circumstances she was drawn into until it was too late. He wraps his arm around her trembling shoulders. “He’ll be okay. You know how stubborn he is. He’ll be fine just to spite me for being hotter than him.”
Her quiet laugh contrasts with the tears shining in her eyes. “I’d forgotten about that. I didn’t even know you were listening to us at the coffee house.”
“My job’s security. I always know what’s going on.” He shakes his head, guilt burning in his gut. “Or, at least I used to. Nick has me questioning myself right now.”
“Me too.” She lays her head on his shoulder, a welcome reminder she still trusts him amidst the chaos. “Thank you for helping me earlier. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t come in.”
He doesn’t either. The image of Nick with her still shakes him, grateful the meltdown didn’t escalate beyond him grabbing her wrists. Not certain if he could have pulled the trigger on his best friend, no matter how much they both want to protect her. There’s no question Nick can be an ass, but not to women, and especially never to Shae. Nick would destroy any man, including himself, who would hurt her. He dreads the implosion when the truth comes out.
“I never thought in a million years I would have to pull a gun on him, let alone see him hurt you.”
A shaky breath and small nod are her only responses. He refrains from giving her the lecture she deserves. Just like Carrie, he told her to wait, but she took off anyway as soon as his back was turned. At least with Carrie, her busting into the bedroom ended up awkward yet funny. This time could have ended with him at the morgue rather than the emergency room. Why the fuck don’t these women listen?
He swipes at the screen of his buzzing phone. “Carter’s here.”
With twisted irony, Nick’s collapse on a Sunday buys them an extra day without anyone being aware of his condition. Carter’s schemes to cover for his absence give them only one or two more days before word gets out and the threats really escalate. They need a game plan. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders. “Will you be okay?”
“Yes. Thanks for always taking care of us. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” She tucks her arms inside the sleeves and wraps them around her legs, resting her head on her knees. Her red, splotchy face and dark circled eyes reflect her worried exhaustion.
His shoulders droop. Fuck. He can’t leave her like this, so pitiful and scared. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
