Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY
GEMMA
“—I mean, come on. Their music has been going downhill since Mads started hooking up with Reed’s sister. I don’t really blame him. Chick is hot. I’d be slacking too if I was hitting that every night—”
I shake my head at the video Rad just posted, then swipe over to my message thread with Kade.
Take it down before Mads goes to jail for murder again.
He won’t get as lucky pleading self-defense for this one.
KADE
Already on it.
Flagging his account, too.
Do you want another text to Bonnie while you’re driving this morning?
Not today. I think I’m in the clear.
The last four days have been hell.
Absolute fucking hell.
I was on the phone with the band’s PR team for what felt like hours the morning after their livestream. I had to make sure any strategy they came up with for keeping Rad from becoming an even bigger problem didn’t interfere with my own work. I even had to drive into LA to have a meeting at Heartless about it.
It could have been an email.
I can’t stand Rad being back in their lives, can’t stand his snappy little snide comments. I wish I could go over to his apartment—wherever the fuck it is—and threaten to cut off his dick as a warning. I want him to know that I’m eventually coming for all of him, and when I get there, his days are over.
I didn’t miss the opportunity to check on Bonnie’s apartment when I was back in town. I had to make sure her door had been changed and had to creep in on her space to see if anything was out of place. I even went as far as leaving rose petals on her bedspread and sending her a picture to continue the charade.
And Bonnie…
Fuck .
I haven’t been alone with her for more than a few minutes—a conscious decision after the other night. I lost myself in her embrace, in her pretty words. More than once, I thought I was dreaming. She had her hands on me… between my thighs…
And I stood there with my hands at my sides like touching her would be the end of the world.
I was too stunned to move, too entranced to think about anything except the fact that she was touching me. In the open—not beneath the shadows in the middle of the night.
I blow out an audible breath as I lean against the SUV door, waiting to take Bonnie and Zeb home. It’s just for a couple of days—requested not just by Bonnie begging to sleep in her own bed, but also by Andi.
“Do you think they can have two or three days off this week?” Andi asks, pulling me to the side in the kitchen.
“Ah…” I cross my arms over my chest and look back at the band jamming on the couch. “Maybe. Why? Something wrong?”
She gives me a solemn look. “It’s Maddox. I just think he needs a couple of days away from everything. I wanted to take him up to the redwoods. Let him clear his head. Everything with Rad is coming back hard, and he’s…” She sighs as she looks his way. “He isn’t okay.”
I nod because I’ve noticed him acting off. “Bonnie mentioned wanting to sleep in her bed,” I say. “So, yeah. We can do that. That’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Andi asks.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Avie doesn’t have to know. And even if he finds out, I’ll take the hit. I do ask that you allow Liam to drive you.”
Andi nods. “Deal.”
They still have to record a song before we head out to Radio Eleven, but I couldn’t deny them time away.
Seeing Bonnie smiling this morning as she approaches my SUV makes all the stress worth it.
God, she’s fucking killing me with this adorable little outfit.
She’s wearing a cropped black hoodie and tight cartoon pajama shorts that show off all the tattoos on her legs—most in the neo-traditional style. Some of the brighter ones she’s only had done recently. They practically melt into her clunky, half-calf combat boots.
I smirk as I open the door for her, squirming inside at the grin on her lips.
“Morning, babygirl,” she says, tongue raking over her teeth as if she knows exactly what those words are going to do to me.
I scoff. “Morning to you,” I reply, unable to keep my eyes from peering her over. I try not to think about her hands between my thighs or the taste of her skin, but it’s nearly impossible.
“Do you have more bags?” I ask.
“I travel light,” she says, huffing the bag into the front and taking out a set of drumsticks.
I grab her bag and place it into the back seat instead. “All this fucking space and you put your bag up front?” I tease her.
“Didn’t want to assume anything. You might have bodies back there. I don’t know what you do in your free time,” she replies.
“Eh, not today,” I say with a shrug, closing the back door. “Emptied the bodies out into the river late last night. I had to make sure your chariot was spotless.”
“Oh, am I Cinderella now? Should I leave one of my boots somewhere for you to find?” she jokes.
“Ha. Why? Are you looking to be whisked away from this life by a well-off monarch?” I ask.
Bonnie’s lip slides upward as she looks at me. “Monarchs are usually the ones sitting on their asses on some pompous throne. I’d rather get whisked away by the person actually doing the legwork.” She twirls one of her drumsticks between her fingers, that smile somehow holding me in place.
It takes all of my restraint not to smell her hair when she lifts herself into the SUV. Not to lean in closer and graze my fingers against the soft space above her elbow or the curve of her slender hip as if she needs help climbing in.
“Mind if I play while we ride?” she asks.
I blink out of my daze and say a quick, “Go for it,” before peering over my shoulder to look for Zeb. “Where’s your other half?” I ask.
“Oh, he left in his car early this morning while you were out,” she says.
“He what?” I ask, annoyed that now I’m going to have to have a chat with our guitarist about sneaking off.
Bonnie snickers. “Yeah, I told him you’d be pissed. He didn’t listen. He left while Liam was taking a piss break.”
I’m going to fucking kill him.
Jaw clenched, I take my phone from my pocket, hit Kade’s contact name, and call him.
“Yeah, Gem,” Kade answers.
“Where is he?” I ask.
Kade huffs. “I have him,” he says. “He’s exactly where we lost him the last time. Must not have much reception on the property.”
“Or he’s blocked it,” I mutter. “Okay. As long as you have him.”
“I got him, boss. Might head up that way just to see what he has going on. I’ll keep you in the loop,” he replies.
“Thanks. We’re heading out now,” I say.
I can practically hear him grinning when he says, “Have a good ride home.”
Because he had to block out the security footage from the foyer the other night.
“I hope you can hear me flipping you off,” I say.
“Loud and clear.”
I shake my head as I end the phone call and turn my attention back to Bonnie. She’s watching me from the passenger seat, still toying with her sticks between her hands.
“You find him?” she asks.
“I always find them,” I say before closing her door and making my way to my own.
If I make it all the way through this drive without touching her, I might buy myself something nice as a reward.
I’ve barely pulled out of the spot before Bonnie begins tapping out the new song the band was working on yesterday, starting over a couple of times like she doesn’t like the rhythm.
“James used to hate this,” she says after a few minutes. “Banished me to the backseat for doing it.”
“So you were banished to the backseat for drumming, but he was okay with Reed being an absolute maniac up here,” I say, basing the sentence on the one time I’ve driven Reed around.
That perfect laugh leaves her. “I think it had to do with Reed being so damn tall. Put him anywhere else in the car and he stuffs up like a shrimp.”
I laugh, and she goes on to strike the console a few more times, her leg tapping as if she’s hitting the bass kick. It’s the same rhythmic line over and over, each one a little faster than the last, though this one is completely different from the one she was working on mere minutes before.
“Fuck—” she snaps when she misses a hit.
“What are you working on?” I ask.
“I have this thing in my head that I can’t stop thinking about. It came to me in my dreams last night,” she admits. She sighs and sinks her head into her hand, peering sideways at me. “I keep thinking about… just like… mayhem.”
“Mayhem?” I repeat.
“Yeah, just like a song that makes the entire room lose their minds. An anthem to scream at the top of your lungs. A breakdown that makes you want to vomit with how profound it makes you feel. Grimy. Just absolutely filthy, nasty chords.”
“Sick and twisted,” I say.
“So fucking sick and twisted,” she agrees.
I chuckle under my breath at the look on her face, the enamored way she’s talking about it. “I like that.”
“Is that fucking weird?” she asks, her nose wrinkling in the cutest way. “Wanting people to lose their shit over our music?”
I switch hands on the wheel. “I think people are already losing their minds over you, and if they aren’t, they should be.”
Her chuckle fades as she hits the console again and again, nailing the quick rhythm and adding embellishments, stick twists, and more as if she can hear the song playing back through her mind.
“Do you need me to stick close today?” I ask after a few minutes. “Or are you staying in?”
“Are you asking if I need your company as my bodyguard or as my friend?” she asks.
I consider the question. “Either,” I reply.
“Darcy mentioned coffee later,” she says. “You could come with us.”
“Darcy, as in… your sponsor, Darcy?” I ask.
I can see her smirking at me from the corner of my eye.
“What?” I ask, seeing the coy look on her face.
“Did I hear jealousy in that question?”
I could kiss that little smirk off her lips.
I chuckle, avoiding the answer entirely. “Darcy wouldn’t be mad about a security guard intruding on your date?”
“Not a date,” Bonnie says. “Never mix romance with the person helping you stay sober. That was like… rule one. It’s barely a good idea to try and be in a relationship while getting sober, period.”
“How long have you been sober?” I ask.
“Two hundred and fifty-seven Saturdays,” she answers without skipping a beat.
“You keep track of it in Saturday’s?” I ask because I’ve always wondered why.
“Easier for my ADHD to keep track of,” she replies. “I could go by the years, but the numbers never sounded large enough for how long every day seems—if that makes sense. I started thinking I had only been sober for a year… only thirteen months. So, I tried total days, and that started getting overwhelming after I hit a thousand. But if I measure in Saturdays… Saturdays were a happy medium I could wrap my mind around.”
“Is that why you’ve pushed romantic relationships away the last few years?” I chance asking. “Hoping it wouldn’t interfere with your sobriety?”
“How do you know I haven’t been in a relationship?” she asks.
Another quiet laugh leaves me. “I did my homework, Bonnie. Wouldn’t be any good at my job if I didn’t.”
“And here I thought it was just because you think I’m cute,” she says, batting her lashes. “If you did your homework, you already know Darcy is my sponsor.”
I switch hands on the wheel again. “Darcy Lozano. Sober for eight years. Lives in Pendleton Heights right down the street from you. Nonbinary—pronouns are they/them. They worked at a bioengineering firm for Big Pharma a few years before deciding to use their talents for the greater good, and now Darcy helps design lightweight and transportable medical equipment being sent into third-world countries to help kids who don’t have access to modern medicine.” I look at Bonnie. “What did I miss?”
“You missed who Darcy actually is.”
“And that is…”
“A really fucking awesome person,” she replies.
I shift in my seat. “Now, you’re definitely making me jealous.”
A playful grin spreads wide over her face. “Normally, the very big, bad overprotective shit pisses me off… Though on you…” Her eyes drag over me as she twists that damn drumstick between her fingers again.
I shake my head as her voice trails, my insides squirming at her flirt, unable to keep the same smile off my lips.
“You know, I’m free after coffee,” she says, and there’s a seriousness in her voice I’m not used to during our flirtatious conversations. I shift in my seat and clear my throat. I can’t appear too eager, too excited… Even if I feel like I’m suddenly on fire.
“Bonnie Miller, are you asking me out?” I eventually manage.
“Maybe I’m just telling you that I don’t have plans after coffee,” Bonnie answers in the most sly, yet nonchalant voice I’ve ever heard.
I smile sideways at her, feeling the heat creep up my throat. “What time is coffee?”
“Ah…” She takes out her phone and checks a message. “Darcy wants to meet at four.”
“Do you need me to drive you?” I ask, trying to calculate how long my previously planned outing might take and whether I’ll need to dial back the scheme.
“I would love for you to ride me,” she says.
I give her a look, and she grins.
“Right. You said drive, not ride. I’ll walk. Darcy is meeting me at my apartment. Don’t worry, babygirl. I’ll be safe with them.”
God, this flirting is going to have me running off the road soon.
I force myself to laugh. “Yeah, whatever you say, rockstar.”
Bonnie misses a tap in the rhythm when I say the nickname, then gives me a playful glare that I chuckle at.
“Do you want me to stop teasing you about that?” I ask.
She plays another four-count. “No,” she answers. “As long as I get to tease you about coming in your leggings.”
I grind my teeth, eyes drifting her way. “Flirt.”
For a while, she continues working, occasionally making some frustrated noise or talking aloud about her process, and all I can do is admire her.
It’s another part of her life that I’d never known… now, unlocked , and a lump rises in my throat when she peers my way.
My obsession with her has always been apparent. I’m bewitched by her… tormented… even haunted. I thought getting to know who she is without the mask would feel the same. I knew I wouldn’t last any time before I started actually falling for her. Still, I thought it wouldn’t feel any different, and I prepared myself for that. Though, this… this, I couldn’t have prepared for. It has my stomach twisting in a way that makes me want to reach over and gently touch her, be the reason she’s laughing, lean into her touch when she cups my face…
The realization has me more on edge than I thought it would.
Her phone dings after a bit, and I watch her face as she looks at it.
“Is it your stalker?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “Zeb wants to know if I made it home. I actually haven’t heard from my stalker in a couple of days. And I don’t usually text her without her giving me a reason to.”
“Probably shouldn’t be texting her at all,” I say.
“Probably,” she agrees. She glances my way and sets her phone down. “I won’t next time. I’m done.”
We’ll never be done.
I want to tell her I know she’s lying; however, I simply switch hands on the wheel and smile softly at her. “Something tells me I’ll have to have Kade pull phone records to find out if that’s the truth.”
Her eyes widen at me. “Wait… you haven’t… I mean, you haven’t seen, like, my dating apps or anything, have you?”
I scoff. “We’re your security team, not the CIA,” I say, lying through my fucking teeth.
Relief visibly sweeps over her. “Thank fuck for that,” she mutters.
“I mean, I have seen who you’re chatting with,” I partially admit. “But not the messages.”
“Oh yeah? Am I being catfished by anyone?” she asks, and I wish I could share her amusement.
I chew on the inside of my bottom lip, shoulders tensing, and I keep my eyes on the road. “You don’t need to worry about that,” I choose to say.
“Oh shit. I am, aren’t I?” she asks.
“If you are, you won’t have to worry about them any longer,” I tell her.
“What does that mean?” she asks, balking slightly.
I smile as I realize exactly how that sounded. “I just mean they won’t show up on your app anymore,” I say, lying once again.
“Oh. Wow, that was a little terrifying for a minute. The thought of you as a fixer kind of got me all warm and fuzzy,” she says jokingly.
You’d be really hot and bothered if you truly knew the things I’m capable of.
“Kade is the fixer,” I tell her. “I’m usually the one fucking things up.”
“That’s really hot,” she says.
I laugh and shake my head. “You shouldn’t think that’s hot.”
She’s quiet for a beat, and when she doesn’t argue, I finally look her way.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me why I shouldn’t think it’s sexy,” she says.
“You know, for someone who is completely against relationships, you flirt a lot ,” I say, changing the subject.
“And for someone who doesn’t do casual, you rode my hand like a fucking pro,” she argues.
My tongue darts out over my lips, my muscles feeling more and more restless with every passing second.
I can’t even argue with her.
“Shut up,” is the only hiss of words I can manage.
The only stop we make on the way is a quick one at a farmer’s stand to get her fruit for the week. It’s really fucking cute how she barely tries to disguise herself. A couple of fans give her the horns hand gesture upon seeing her, and she does it back with glee.
I don’t think I had produce shopping on my list of things I ever wanted to do with her, though now that I have, I’m imagining lazy Sunday’s at markets and brunch and hiking and so many activities that were unattainable just weeks before.
By the time we get to her apartment, my face hurts from smiling. I’m high from her presence. She’s so much more than the person I had made up in my head, so much better than the fantasy I clung to for years.
I don’t know what to do with my warming insides each time she looks my way.
“Home sweet home,” I say, putting the car in park.
“Thank fuck,” she mumbles. “That new couch is really comfortable at the studio, but I love my bed.”
“I get that.”
She starts to open the door, and I grab her wrist before she can slip away.
“Hey—”
She twists her head fast, eyes staggering on my hand before then lifting to mine.
I have to lick the dryness from my lips before I can even speak.
“Dinner,” I manage. “Really.”
A hesitant smile rises at the corners of her lips, and I feel my chest cave at the desire in her eyes that’s so different from the pure lust she looked at me with just days ago. However, the bliss is short-lived as something like pain clouds it, and she looks toward the windshield instead.
“I…”
I wish I could see what she sees.
I wish I knew the torture holding her hostage.
“Bonnie?”
I’m about to burst out of my skin if she doesn’t say anything.
“I… Sorry, I don’t… I know I flirt, and I said it first, but… coming down to the actual question, I don’t know that I can,” she answers.
I’ve never hated and loved honesty all at once.
“Are you afraid of me?” I ask.
Bonnie scoffs as if she’s cursing herself inwardly. “I… yeah,” she admits, finally looking at me. “Yeah, you scare the shit out of me, Gemma.”
I’m tempted to laugh. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “You’re real. You’re like healthy and shit, a good person—”
“Bonnie, I am not a good person,” I breathlessly interject.
I am a horrible person.
She sighs, reaches for my hand, and twists her entire body in the seat to face me. She turns my hand over, and in the center of my palm, she draws IOU with her nail.
I squint at her. “Why IOU?” I ask.
“Because I owe you a date when I’m ready,” she says. “And that IOU is my promise that I will be. I want to eventually give this a chance.”
I could fucking kiss her.
She kisses my hand then, and I’m stuck on the softness of her lips even as she opens the door for herself. She slides out of the passenger seat, and I lift her bag out of the back to give it to her.
“Text me later?” she asks.
“You know I will,” I reply, heart firing rapidly.
Bonnie draws her lip behind her teeth and smiles one more time before closing the SUV door. I can’t drag my eyes away from her as she crosses the space into the front doors of the building and disappears past the corner.
Shit.
I barely know what to do with myself right now. I can still feel those letters on my palm, and it takes me remembering my plans for the afternoon to finally drag myself out of this daze.
Time to get to work.
Where is my friend?
Kade replies within a few seconds.
KADE
I wondered if you were still going through with this today.
Thought Bonnie might have lured you into her apartment instead after all that fucking flirting.
I send him a middle finger emoji.
Just tell me where this creep is.
I’ll send you a pin.
Try not to actually cut him into pieces when you get there.
Don’t take away my fun.
I’ll be ready with that info whenever you’re ready.
Perfect. Thanks.