Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)

Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2) Page 25

That infuriated me to a ridiculous degree. I took instant offense.

“You think you know her like I do?” I asked him.

His eyes widened in innocence. “I wasn’t trying to offend. You don’t have any reason to be defensive. She’s loyal—“

I didn’t let him finish, gripping the front of his shirt in my hands, lifting him up on his toes. I shoved him back against the wall, getting in his face. “Don’t even think about it! You’ll never have a chance with her. Never. So if you think that if you just put enough time in, that somehow, someway, you’ll get your shot with her, you can forget it. I’ll always be here, in your way. For-fucking-ever, you understand?”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, just looking at me with wide, frightened eyes. I let him go in disgust.

Good, I thought. Anything was better than him talking and revealing just how much he cared about her.

I only realized as I turned away from him that we had an audience.

Frankie, Estella, Anthony, and of course, Danika stood just a few feet away, all looking at me with different degrees of baffled horror.

Frankie’s reaction was the easiest to take. She smacked her hand to her forehead, muttering, “What the fuck, man?”

Estella’s eyes were wide and shocked, but she didn’t say a word. More intimidated by me by the minute, I thought.

Anthony shook his head back and forth, throwing his hands in the air like I’d done something way crazier than grab a guy’s shirt.

Danika just watched me, arms crossed, eyes troubled. After one pregnant moment, she looked away, striding to Preston.

She touched his arm, asking if he was all right.

“I’m fine,” he said shakily. “I’m fine. Just a misunderstanding.”

Unaccountably, that just made me want to deck him. Hard.

She gave him a quick hug. “Thanks for being cool about this. I’ll see you next week.” She let him go quickly, turning away.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm, saying something too low for me to catch.

I body checked him.

Danika moved into my chest, trying to shove me away from him. I let her. As long as she was coming with me, I was fine with that.

She ushered me out of there like the place was on fire. We didn’t speak until we were driving home in her car. I just left mine behind. I’d get it later.

“Why Tristan? Why did you behave like that? Did he say something awful?”

I shook my head. My excuse was not so solid as that. “He’s just so fucking pleasant.”

She shot me a wild-eyed look. “Are you kidding me? You attacked a guy, my friend, because he was being pleasant?”

My hand cut through the air in a negative motion. “No, though that didn’t help. He’s just the kind of naive fucker that reminds me how fucked up I am. Life must be a fucking picnic, to grow up and never have a bad thing happen to you, like your Preston there.”

“First of all, he’s not my Preston. And second, you don’t know a thing about him, or what he’s been through.”

“Oh, was I wrong then? Does he not come from a perfect fucking family, with two parents, probably still married, who think the sun sets in his ass?”

Her mouth twisted, and I could tell she was trying not to smile. “How did you know that? What did you guys talk about?”

“I could just tell. The stars in his eyes are too fucking shiny. And we talked about you. You know he has a thing for you, right?”

She grimaced. “He knows I’m not interested.”

“So that’s a yes, you do know. How fucking perfect. You’ve got a bullpen all ready in case I screw up.”

She pulled over, turning to look at me. “What’s gotten into you? Did something happen?”

I closed my eyes, my head dropping back against the seat. I was being an ass, and I damn well knew it. I’d let my jealousy get the best of me, and I felt like a tool because of it.

“I’m sorry, alright?” It was a plea. “I know I was a jerk.”

“Tristan, answer me. Did something happen?”

I hated talking about some things, and this was one of them. “My mom called me earlier just to tell me that she missed Jared, and that she still blamed me. Sweet, huh?” It didn’t matter how old I got, my mother could still make me feel like scum in a few short sentences.

She made a soft noise of sympathy, unbuckling her seat belt, and climbing over to my seat, hugging me tightly.

I squeezed her back so hard that the breath whooshed out of her.

“Oh, Tristan, you know how wrong she is, don’t you? You know she’s just lashing out, right? She’s like a wounded animal, attacking anyone that gets in reach.”

“Yes, I know,” I spoke softly into her hair. That wasn’t precisely true, but it was the easiest answer.

I needed her comfort more than I needed her sympathy.

“Are you mad at me over the Preston thing?” I asked her. I didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but I needed it if I was going to take my next breath.

I’d been out of line, there was no doubt, but she didn’t hesitate. “No, Tristan. I just want you to take better care of yourself, and I need you to work on your temper.”

“I will,” I promised, my tone solemn.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DANIKA

I got a short text from Tristan, asking me to meet him at a specific time at his apartment. I’m not sure what got my back up, but I was suspicious right away. The message just didn’t feel like Tristan.

Something was up. I knew it in my gut.

I called him. And called, and called. I left him text after text, but his responses were short, each one stressing the exact time I should come over to his place. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but the whole thing reeked of Dean.

I made a point of showing up early, letting myself in the door. I was very quiet. Deliberately stealthy, in fact.

I could hear Dean talking loudly somewhere in the house, and a female voice responding. As I got closer, I could tell that it was Nat. I waited on the other side of the wall from the hallway that led to the two bedrooms, trying to make out what they were saying.

I only caught about every third word, but I could tell they were plotting something. Something nasty. And all the while, not a peep out of Tristan.

Dean said a terse good luck to Nat, moving into his room and closing the door. I moved.

The hallway was empty as I made my way to Tristan’s bedroom. I knew what that meant, but I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing as I slowly opened the door to his dark bedroom.

I switched on the light just as a topless, fake tits barely jostling Twatalie was slipping her skirt and panties down past her knees. She was a good six feet from the bed, where a passed out Tristan wasn’t so much as twitching.

She started when she saw me, looking guilty as hell. The irony was, if she’d actually been hooking up with my man behind my back, I doubted she’d have shown an ounce of guilt about it. Getting caught faking it, though, now that threw her off.

“Are you serious?” I shouted at her, pissed beyond all measure.

The skank didn’t even have the decency to put her clothes back on, instead letting her skirt drop completely to the floor and stepping out of it.

She shrugged at me, her guilty look transforming into a nasty sneer in the time it took her to respond. “Sorry, Danika. We couldn’t seem to help ourselves. You know we have this long history together.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I repeated, starting towards her. I wanted to wrap my hands around her spray-tanned little neck in the worst way.

She took a step back, then another. “We couldn’t stay away from each other.”

I spared my sleeping Tristan another glance. It was alarming how still he was. “What did you do, drug him? Are you really that desperate? And did you really think I’d fall for this, when I just caught you undressing, with him already asleep? Didn’t think I’d come early, did you, you stupid bitch?”

“Fuck you!” she screamed.

I backhanded her, making her stagger back.

It was the single most violent thing I’d ever done in my entire life, and I wasn’t finished.

She tried to scratch me as I grabbed her by the hair, and slapped her again, and then again, batting her hands away easily. My white-hot rage had given me the edge of strength.

I shoved her hard to the ground, taking a few steps back, disgusted that I’d even had to touch her. “Did you think that if I broke up with him, he’d want you again? Quit deluding yourself. You’ve slept with half of Vegas. You are used goods, and he will never want you again, you dumb whore!”

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head to look just as Dean filled the doorway, his shit-eating grin completely out of sync with what was going on.

“Aw, busted!” he said, pleased as punch. “Tough break, Danika. Looks like Tryst had a case of the ex.”

I grabbed the nearest hard object (an ashtray) and threw it at his head.

He barely dodged it.

“You piece of shit!” I shouted at him. “You thought I’d fall for this? You’re as transparent as glass, you idiot. I heard you plotting this nonsense out weeks ago. I saw this coming a mile away. What are you thinking? Do you want Tristan to leave the band? Because that’s what’s going to happen if I tell him about your part in this.”

Now his reaction looked appropriate. He looked worried.

I moved to Tristan, feeling for his pulse. He was just so still, I’d had to check. It was there, steady and sure, though slow, I thought, and he stirred slightly at my touch, but didn’t rouse.

“What did you do to him?” I snarled at Dean.

“Nothing! I fucking swear! He did that to himself. The rest I’ll fess up to, but not that shit. He just needs to sleep it off.”

He sounded sincere, but I studied him hard, wondering if he was lying. I wouldn’t put anything past him, at this point.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What did you hope to accomplish with that stunt? Do you want him to kick your ass?”

He shrugged, that infuriating grin still on his face.

“Seriously, what do you want?”

“I want you gone,” he told me, still smiling. “Ever since he got all caught up in that pussy of yours, he’s a different guy. As long as he’s with you, every deal the band gets, every opportunity, is going to be fucking ruined by Yoko Ono.”

If my stare could have caused him physical harm, he’d have dropped dead on the spot, bleeding from a million vicious wounds.

“I know how it is with you two,” he continued. “You think I haven’t heard you? What a joke. I’ve seen you together. You aren’t fucking subtle. You think you can fuck in my kitchen and I won’t see it? I’ve watched you. In the living room, against the door, I’ve seen firsthand how you lead him around by his dick; how you squeeze it so hard when you’re coming that it scrambles his fucking brain. You’re good, I’ll give you that. You’ve got him so deep inside your pussy that he can’t see straight. But I can. If it’s a choice between you or the band, and it is, I choose the band. I choose this fucking sweet deal we’ve been given, but because of you, Tristan may just throw it all away.”