21. Twenty One
There was a loud ringing in his ears, then there was nothing but black. As West tried to open his eyes, his entire body protested in pain.
What the hell had happened?
He felt the hard cement beneath his hands as he tried to push himself up, and a firm hand pressed on his back, stopping him from moving.
“Don’t move, sir,” the voice said.
Every muscle and bone in his body ached, as he tried to clear the fuzziness form his brain. He had been on the phone with Kat; he remembered that. She had told him to get out of the car, which had seemed ridiculous, but something in her voice told him to listen.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the splitting pain in his head to go away.
Why won’t this fucking ringing stop?
He forced one eye open, and then he saw the car. It was on its side, the front completely blown out. Two other cars had run into it, and their drivers looked to be okay standing next to their vehicles.
Then it all came flooding back to him.
He had yelled at the driver to get out, which had made the driver none too happy. West recalled promising to buy him a new car.
Then they’d both heard a pop from the front, and West knew that sound wasn’t good. The driver said the brakes weren’t working. West flung his door open, tucking and rolling out of the moving car. Luckily, it wasn’t moving too fast in the midday traffic.
West had stood just in time to see the driver maneuver over to the passenger side, flinging himself out. As West had run up to check on him, the car hit a large truck and the entire front had blown up. The explosion had knocked him back, and now here he was lying on the pavement, barely able to string two thoughts together.
He groaned as two men, presumably EMS, rolled him slowly to his back. He heard the two speaking in Indonesian and had no idea what they were talking about. Most likely what to do with him. He would be fine in a minute. He just needed water and some Advil. Now if he could just convey that sentiment to these guys.
“No . . . let . . . me . . . through!” A voice pierced through the din of the ringing, and West felt his entire body come back to life.
She was here.
And then there were hands all over him. Her hands.
Kat was crying and practically lying on him, and he could feel her tears as they slid down his neck. “You’re okay,” she said between sobs. “Oh my god, I thought you were dead.”
“Excuse me . . . miss?” one man said.
“No!” West heard her slap his hand away. “Just give me a minute.”
West smiled at his feisty, adorable Kat, and slowly opened his eyes. “What? You worried about me, sweetheart?” His voice was scratchy and barely audible.
Another tear slipped down her cheek as her hand brushed a strand of hair out of his face. He nuzzled his face into her palm. “I’m just glad you listened to me.”
West grunted as he tried to sit up. “Help me up.”
“Uh, sir . . . that’s not . . .” He said in surprisingly clear English.
West gave the EMS guy a look and pushed himself up to sitting with Kat’s look of disapproval clear. “You need to be checked out by the doctor.”
“I’ll go in a minute. I need to know how you knew the car was rigged to blow up.”
Kat sat back on her heels and held West’s hand, looking down at where their fingers intertwined. “I’d rather not be the one to tell you.” She huffed a strand of hair from her face, training her golden eyes on him. “What do you remember about the night you fell off the yacht?”
West’s mind was cloudy, much like the night on the boat, and suddenly one piece came together in his mind from the night he went overboard. It had been dark, but he had seen a shadow. Something had moved behind him and he had turned, and that’s when he remembered. The shadow, the outline of a face. A face he knew almost as well as his own.
It hadn’t been Declan.
“It was Luke! He pushed me off the yacht.”
Kat nodded as her hand moved up and down his arms.
“But why?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask him. After I called you, I had Stacy call the cops. She’s much better in a crisis with a language barrier than me. They should have arrested him and Dec by now.”
“Dec was a part of this too?”
Kat nodded.
West felt a piece of him break off. A piece of his life now gone. He and Luke had been through so much together, and now he realized his best friend had never really been his friend at all. A friend would never stoop so low. Kat had shown him that people could be real and genuine, and as much as it hurt to know that his and Luke’s friendship hadn’t been real for a very long time, there was still a chance for him to have a real connection with someone.
“I want to talk to him and Declan.” West pushed off the ground, but he wobbled.
“West, you were almost blown up. You need to go to the hospital.”
“No, not until I talk to them. I must know why. I’ve been nothing but fucking loyal to them, and they betrayed me.” West heard his voice falter and hated himself for having any emotion for either of those pricks.
Something in his expression must have worked because Kat conceded, turning to find Stacy in the crowd.
“Stay here. I’m going to see if the ambulance will take you to the hotel first.”
West watched Kat walk to Stacy, and he knew he was the luckiest man in the world. His life had been saved yet again by this perfect woman, and that wasn’t even why he loved her. She was strong, sure, but beyond that she was kind, caring, and real. He would always have the true, authentic Kat, and that meant more to him than anything.
One very long ambulance ride later, West was propped up in a chair in the hotel’s outdoor café waiting for his moment of reckoning.
Kat was standing behind him fiddling with the zipper on her hoodie. “You sure you want to do this? You could just send them off to prison.”
“I need to know why.”
“I think the fact that they’re assholes would suffice,” she mumbled under her breath.
West smirked, knowing Kat had never liked Declan or Luke, and now he would always trust her judgment when it came to who to trust.
Three cops walked in and gave him a quick spiel about not getting out of his chair, not touching them, and some other safety measures. West didn’t care. He just wanted answers. And then he saw the bastards. They were both handcuffed, and the cops dragged them into the café.
West’s eyes narrowed on the raw marks the cuffs had left on Luke’s wrists and almost laughed at how soft Luke was. He wasn’t going to survive the Indonesian prison for one second, and as far as West knew, Indonesia didn’t have an extradition treaty with the states.
While Declan looked him right in the eye, Luke looked everywhere but at West. He leaned forward in his chair, slightly annoyed that they were standing and he was sitting. The power dynamic felt off.
“Can we get them chairs?”
One cop nodded and two chairs were instantly procured, and they shoved the two men into them.
Much better.
West steepled his hands in front of him. Now what the fuck was he going to say?
Declan made it easy on him, speaking first. “What do you want, Monroe?”
West pushed his hair back. “I just want to know why. After all these years, why the hell would you steal from me?” His eyes shifted to Luke, then back to Declan. “Scratch that. I know why you stole from me. You’re a selfish bastard with a cocaine problem, always have been. But why would my best friend try to kill me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t! Kat overheard you guys. Thanks to her I’m still alive, you fucking idiot.”
Declan let out a humorless laugh. “No, Luke’s an idiot. Once your accountant found that money was missing I knew it was only a matter of time before they traced it back to us. I’m good, but I’m not that good. You know your little buddy here runs through his trust every month faster than his daddy gives it to him? He found out what I was up to and forced me to give him a cut, or he’d tell you. Turns out money is more important to him than loyalty.”
West tried not flinch at Declan’s words. He wouldn’t let them see that their betrayal hurt.
“I told Luke I’d take him down with me if he didn’t take care of you.”
If Luke could dip his head any farther down, he would have.
West glared at him. “Why the hell would you stab me in the back like that?”
Luke’s head snapped up, his eyes a swirling storm of gray. “Because, you just have it all . . . The fame, the fortune, the girls, the looks. Everyone loves you; they want to be you. I just snapped. After thirty fucking years of following you around, I wanted to be the center of attention, you know? Why should you get to have it all? The last thing I was gonna do was fucking beg for money.”
Kat snorted behind him, but West said nothing. Luke was a moron, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. He was raised by nannies and tutors and needed a lot of therapy he’d never bothered to get.
“I didn’t want to kill you. Dec said he’d take me down with him, so I freaked. Then there you were on the deck, drunk as hell, walking right on the edge in the dark. Acting as if nothing could touch you, like you always do. It was so easy. I just pushed the deck chair and as you lost your balance, I gave you a little extra push. But here you are, still alive. Like a damn cat. No wonder you want her so bad.”
He nodded toward Kat, and West felt ice go through his body. Luke had caused all of this. He was grateful it had brought him and Kat together, but they also could have died. She could have died. He could never forgive Luke.
Declan laughed as the cops pulled them up. “Must be real good pussy, West. She’s got you on your knees. Sorry you had to wait so long. You tell her where you ended up that night at the House of Blues?”
“Shut up, Dec!” West flew out of his chair as panic rose in his chest because he knew what was coming. The cops pulled him back, stopping him from cracking Declan’s skull.
Declan looked at Kat. “He didn’t come back, did he?”
“Declan, that’s enough. Leave her out of it.” West’s voice was murderously low as he looked at Kat, who was standing stock-still, her eyes moving between him and Declan.
With a smirk, Declan looked directly at West. “How was the lead singer of . . . what was that group called? Body Count? Cute little blonde thing, wasn’t she?”
West roared his anger as he ripped free of the cops, getting in one good punch before the cops pulled him back, all while Declan laughed hysterically. He got what he wanted. One backhanded comment and everything was ruined.
He pulled free of the cops.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said, straightening his clothes, as Declan and Luke were carted away.
“Fucking hell.” West ran his hands through his hair and turned to find Kat, but she was already gone.
He went to run after her, but EMS stopped him.
He was so utterly fucked.
It was over. Luke and Declan were in an Indonesian prison. She had been told the medics cleared West, and they were going home. According to the cops, thanks to Kat and West’s descriptions of Cocaine Island, they had arrested many of the workers. Sadly, the big bosses had run off, and would most likely set up shop on another island, but for now Kat could rest easy knowing she had slowed down a drug ring.
The next day went by in a blur of packing and meeting with the authorities and the doctors to make sure she was also clear to fly. Kat’s mother fussed over her, still shocked that “that nice boy” Luke could do such a thing as attempt murder. Declan, on the other hand, had always come off as rather sleazy, and no one was very shocked to hear he had been skimming funds off the top for himself.
Kat had been avoiding West all day, refusing to talk to him about where they stood because she couldn’t admit out loud that it was over. He had lied to her, and she had never felt so small or insignificant as she had when Declan revealed West hadn’t been alone that night all those years ago. Her heart had broken all over again.
Tomorrow they would all board their plane to L.A., and then Kat and her mom would continue to Iowa where she would have to figure some things out.
At lunch together, her mom asked question after question. “Where was West? Why wasn’t he eating with them?” Kat brushed off most of them, saying he was with the police or his PR rep, or doing other things important people had to do. Eventually, she would have to tell her mother that her hopes of having a son-in-law were dashed.
Kat stepped into her hotel room, ready to finalize her packing. Maybe afterward, she’d hit the pool, wallow in more self-pity, and continue to avoid West.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Well, scratch the last thing off her list.
Kat jumped at his voice; its deep timbre wrapped around her like smooth velvet. She’d know his voice anywhere. It would forever be imprinted on her soul.
Sighing, she sat in the chair next to him, knowing it was now or never. They had to talk. She was an adult, for fuck’s sake. She could do this. She just had to stay strong. Then she looked at his chiseled jawline and the scratch above his eyebrow, which made him look even more dangerous, and she almost lost her nerve.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He leaned back, always so relaxed, but Kat knew it was an act. His foot was bouncing up and down with nervous energy. “You know why. After all the shit with Dec and Luke and the cops and doctors, we didn’t get to talk, and I know you’re mad at me. I just need you to listen.”
“So, I misheard the part where you left me in a hallway after making out and then had sex with the tiniest, most petite lead singer on the planet? Oh, and then lied to me about it?”
He bit his bottom lip, and Kat’s eyes were immediately drawn to it. “No, that was true.”
“And you’re not taking the acting gig? I misheard that, right?”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “No . . . that’s all true, but listen, Kat—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Two days . . . we’re back in civilization for two days and you’ve lied to me and cut me out of a major life decision. And I know I’m nothing to you and I’m not your girlfriend, but I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t hurt.”
West tried to speak, but Kat stopped him again.
“You don’t owe me any explanation right now. We had sex. Mind-altering, life-changing sex, but we never put stipulations on what that meant. We weren’t together back then, and we’re not together now. I just . . . I guess I’m just disappointed. I thought you would be better.”
“I want to be better. I am better.”
“West, you lied to me. You said you went to the trailer alone that night. I had finally trusted you. I believed that I was enough.” Her calm fa?ade began to crack.
West sat up in his chair, his hand reaching out to grab hers and then pulling back. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know what an asshole I was. I was embarrassed because I’ve done some shitty things over the years. But I want to be more. You make me want to show the world there is more to me. And babe, you are not nothing to me, you . . . you are my everything.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “If that were true you would have told me the truth.”
West’s eyes bore into hers, and Kat had to stop herself from looking away. “I’m sorry, I’m still figuring this out. I’m not used to this committed relationship thing, but I know I want it with you because the thought of not waking up to you every morning sounds like my own personal hell.”
Kat sat in stunned silence. It was the first time West had wanted to define what they were.
“Last night was our first night apart in weeks, and I didn’t sleep at all,” he continued. “You’re so close. I just want to hold you, and yet you seem so far away from me.”
Kat’s mind was reeling. What could she say? That she loved him, but she didn’t trust him to always love her? That he would one day break her heart and she wasn’t sure she could let him do it? That deep down she was still that girl standing in the dark hallway, and she was afraid he was still that guy who’d left her for another?
West grabbed her hand. “Can you say something?”
Kat raised her gaze to look at him. His perfect face looked tired from lack of sleep. “What are you asking me?”
“Move in with me when we get back to L.A.”
“And what will I do?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you want. Write music, start your music program for kids.”
“So, live off of you?”
“I want to take care of you.”
She dropped his hand. “But I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“Okay, then don’t move in with me. We can take it slower, and just try dating like normal people.” West sank to his knees in front of her, grabbing both of her hands, and Kat felt a solitary tear slip down her cheek at the gesture. Why had he lied? She thought he’d been open and honest with her, and now she couldn’t help but wonder what else he was lying about.
“I write a lot of songs about love and women, but I realize now how hollow they’ve been because I’ve never actually experienced the emotion.”
Kat looked at their hands intertwined in her lap, willing him not to say it. She would have no defenses if he did.
“That is . . . until you, sweetheart. I love you, and I want to be with you. You showed me that I am more than living in my father’s shadow, more than the playboy musician, and that I can still write my own music. You make me want to be more in this world, to fight for those who need it, and to be a voice for those who don’t have one. Kat, you own me.”
Well, fuck.
What was she supposed to say to that? Her heart swelled with emotion, but she couldn’t let it take her over. He lied to her. She had asked him point-blank if he’d been alone that night, and even though he hadn’t said no, he had shaken his head in the “no” fashion. He had evaded her.
She felt another tear slide down her cheek, followed by another. How many times would this man make her cry? They weren’t even together, and she’d lost count.
His hand wiped the tear off her face. “I wish there was something I could do to make you believe me.” His hand came around the back of her neck, and he touched his forehead to hers. Kat inhaled his familiar scent, imprinting the feel of him forever in her mind. Just like this.
She lifted her head, wiping at her nose with her arm.
“I do believe you,” she said between whimpers. “But for how long?”
Every ounce of confidence he had given her was laying shattered on the floor at her feet.
West’s hand fisted in the hair at her nape, moving her to face him, not rough but just enough to prove a point. Her body went on high alert. “I know you didn’t grow up in the most encouraging environment, and I certainly haven’t helped things, but what is it going to take for you to believe me?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. I’ve battled this feeling my whole life, and just when I felt that I could be enough for you, a woman you’d be proud to have by your side, I find out you lied to me.” He didn’t say anything, waiting for her, somehow knowing there was more. Kat took a deep breath, bracing for the truth she would give him; her truth, the raw and unfiltered side.
“I’ve never been enough, always hovering on being something, but never quite there. Always average, not short or fat, just average. Not sporty enough, not graceful enough, just slightly musical, but not talented enough to make it in this business, not really. Not White enough, but not Native enough, my hair’s not straight enough, but it’s not gorgeous with thick curls either. I have a good singing voice, but not great, and while my brothers have families and careers and direction, I have nothing. If I stand up for myself, I’m too loud and obnoxious, but if I don’t say anything, I’m too quiet and a pushover. I blamed you for ruining my career when, in truth, I ruined it long ago when I became complacent with the way things were and never once tried again. You didn’t want me years ago, and now I find out it was easy for you just to replace me with someone else that night. I wasn’t enough then. Why would I ever be enough for you now?”
West’s eyes softened, his hand coming up to cradle her face. “How do you not see the woman I see? The woman who heals snakebites or catches a fish with a makeshift spear. Who took a bullet that surely would have hit me and then sewed herself up, and then saved me from being blown up? Who wants to bring change to a world that is so resistant to it, and yet fights anyway? The only person who would tell me when a song sounded like crap. Shit, Kat, how could I not want to be with someone like you? To me, you will always be enough. You encompass every piece of me, and I can’t get rid of you because it would be like cutting off a piece of myself. There is nothing I want more than to love you. All of you.”
She sucked in a breath at his words. It would be so easy for her to forgive him. To trust that he would put her above all others. That she could continue to be this strong, assertive, confident woman who had appeared on the island.
It would have been so easy, but something pulled at Kat, telling her she was still missing something of herself.
At her silence West sighed in resignation. “I will apologize for the rest of my life for nine years ago if that’s what you want. I was stupid. I wanted you that night. I couldn’t have you. I’m not proud of who I was, but please don’t hold that against the man I am now.”
She couldn’t stop them. The tears spilled out, one after the other, and West held her as they fell. The rush of feeling loved for who she was, along with all they had been through over the past few weeks, culminated in one giant emotional spillover, and Kat needed to think. She couldn’t process.
After who knows how long in West’s sturdy arms, Kat managed to pull away. “I need time to think,” she said between sniffles.
He stroked her hair but said nothing.
“I can’t make any decisions right now.”
West stood slowly, his powerful body hovering over her. “You’re scared, and there is nothing I can say or do that is going to change that. When you’re ready to take that leap with me, I’ll be there.” He bent down, kissing the top of her head before walking toward the door.
He might be right, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She had to think, and she had to think away from him. His presence was too overpowering for her to think clearly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking up at him.
West shook his head as he turned to leave. “This isn’t over.” And then he was gone. The silence engulfed her as she cried the rest of the night until there were no more tears left inside her.
The flight from Jakarta to L.A. was interminable. While Tommy Monroe had secured them first-class seats, he had stupidly assumed that West and Kat would want to sit together while he sat next to her mother in the row across the aisle.
She was exhausted and pretended to sleep, but sleep was elusive with West’s body radiating all his powerful maleness next to her. She wanted to reach out and apologize to him. Tell him she trusted him, that she loved him more than the air she breathed, and that she wanted him to hold her forever, but she couldn’t, her reasons still held true.
What life would she have with him? She’d forever be the woman of Weston Monroe, and while there were plenty of women who would be fine with that, Kat wasn’t one of them. She had to have something of her own, something she’d accomplished on her own for herself by her own merits, not her boyfriend’s or husband’s. She was done spending her life on the sideline.
Not to mention all her other insecurities with all the women that surrounded him daily. She would have to learn to deal with that if she did end up trusting him. Maybe she could, but building that trust back was hard for her.
She watched him through slitted eyes as he read a book. How did he know she found men who read incredibly sexy? It was almost as hot as watching him play his guitar. His sinewy forearms called to her with each turn of the page, and she couldn’t stop looking at how his big hands handled the book with as much care as he would a lover. Her body ached for his touch, and she felt warmth pooling in her core. Why oh why was she cursed to be stuck on this plane for eighteen hours with this man?
He was reading the latest spy thriller, probably getting into the mindset of the character he was going back to play. Which reminded her of why she was mad. He’d chosen acting over her. Well, okay maybe not acting, but he knew her thoughts on the matter, and he had decided he didn’t care, so what else would he disregard? He’d had a chance to change alternative music, especially for women and people of color, to make it a more inclusive space, but he was throwing it away and Kat couldn’t let go of her disappointment.
Eventually, sleep took over, and she awoke to an announcement on the PA asking them to prepare for landing. She felt the weirdest sensation at the thought of returning home. She hadn’t been in the United States for over six months.
They had been in Europe touring, and then her trip to Bali, plus her island survival time. It was strange to be back. She figured not much would have changed; no doubt it would be as divisive as ever—a place that needed more love than hate.
She sat up, gathering her things, and noticed West was looking at her.
“Kat.” His gorgeous voice rumbled through her. Even in the few hours they hadn’t spoken to each other she had missed it. “I meant what I said, this isn’t over. I’ll give you your space, but then we’re going to talk.”
She nodded, unsure of what to say. He wouldn’t hunt her down in Iowa, would he?
His hand came under her chin, lifting her face to his, and he kissed her lightly, his lips there, then gone. “I mean it, Kat. Don’t make me hunt you down.”
How did he always read her mind?
His eyes sparkled mischievously, although he was probably serious.
As they walked toward baggage claim, cameras clicked and reporters swarmed them. There were video cameras of all sizes, including reputable news outlets like ABC, NBC, and TMZ, along with amateur bloggers looking to get the inside scoop.
“Weston, can you comment on your manager siphoning funds?”
“Weston, what more can you tell us about the island?”
He was surrounded by a flurry of movement. He answered each question with charm and poise. She was in awe of his ability. Grabbing her and her mother’s bags, she slinked away unnoticed.
“That poor man, are you going to help him?” her mom asked.
Kat knit her brow, glaring at her mother. “Why would I help him?”
Her mother gave her a look that spoke volumes.
Kat shook her head, rolling their luggage to the escalator leading to departures. “You don’t understand, Mom.”
She passed her mom her bag and turned back to get one last look at West, but she didn’t see him. Instead, all she saw was Tommy talking to the press.
A firm grasp wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back just as she was about to step on the first stair. “You weren’t going to say goodbye?” West asked, his eyes questioning, hurt burning in them.
She sighed. “I thought it would be easier this way.”
His eyes narrowed. His hair was pushed away from his face in an unruly mess, making him look even more endearing than usual. She wanted to reach out and push it back, feel the softness of it one last time, but she resisted. “Easier for who?” he asked.
Fair point.
“I told you; I just need time. I need to figure me out, figure us out. There has to be a world where I’m not always your backing singer.”
“You’re right, you deserve to be front and center.”
“I don’t want to be front and center, I just need something that fulfills me.” West’s eyes widened.
Before West had the chance to respond, the media had flocked around him again, questions coming from all directions. One, who seemed to have noticed their heated conversation, asked, “Who’s this, Weston?”
Suddenly all eyes were on them, and West grabbed her wrist, not allowing her to leave. “This is Katrina Brooks, my former pianist and backing singer, and the woman I am in love with.”
Kat’s mouth fell open at his public declaration. Hadn’t that been what she was asking for? She didn’t actually think he’d do it. He’d just told the whole world he was in love with her, and she didn’t know whether to run away or jump into his arms and stay there forever.
“She has a plane to catch, and I have to go; please direct all questions to my PR rep.”
The press swarmed in like bees as West pushed her up the escalator. “Go,” he whispered in her ear. “Go now before I change my mind. Figure out how to make us work and come back to me.”
She looked back as he fielded a question, and for a split second, she almost ran back down the escalator. He loved her, and she loved him. He had just declared it to the entire world, so what was she doing running away?
But something stopped her.
Muscle memory drove her as she and her mom checked in for their flight to Iowa, but inside she wondered if, by walking away, she had just made the worst mistake of her life.
“I’m sorry, dear.” Her mother hugged her, fully aware of the emotions roiling within her, and she felt the dam breaking.
No, no, no, no, not in the middle of airport security.
She gulped in large quantities of air, holding back tears as she trudged through security. Why did airports not have a crying room? Considering how many people said goodbye in these places, they really should. Kat put the idea in the back of her mind to patent later as she and her mom walked toward their gate and her future—whatever it held.