Ashes to Ashes Page 4

  Until all that existed between us was explicit carnal pleasure.

  And then I wanted to do it all over again.

  Chapter Five

  Rae

  With Charlotte and Gage off collecting everything she’d need for the two weeks she’d be sequestered, I was culling through some of the lyrics I’d penned over the years, pulling out ones that best touched on the highs and the lows of my relationship with Ford and explained how I’d hit rock bottom and then come back out on top again. Honestly, it was a struggle. That time of my life wasn’t one I liked to revisit, and while it was necessary for the album Rocky and I had proposed to the label, I hesitated to give away too much of myself in the process.

  I was playing around with the chorus of a song that was giving me the most trouble when a knock at the door forced my attention away from the pad of paper perched on the table next to me. I wasn’t expecting visitors, so my immediate reaction was fear, but I tamped it down almost as quick as it had come. Aside from Rocky, Charlotte, and me, the only other people who were getting in here all had government-level clearance and were well acquainted with black ops.

  I set my guitar to the side and made my way to the door. There wasn’t a peephole for me to look out, but the small digital screen built into the wall let me see who was on the other side.

  Ash.

  Charlotte and I had spent twenty minutes debating whether that was his first name or his last, and I still didn’t know. With the way things worked around this place, there was no telling.

  “Hello?” I said, pressing the button so he could hear me speak.

  “Can I come in?”

  In the days Ash had been guarding me, he’d spoken maybe fifty words in my presence. Lots of head nods and grunts, but that was about it. Oh, and he’d called me ma’am a lot. This question—all four words of it—were the longest sentence he’d strung together in a week.

  “Um, sure,” I replied and hit the release.

  Ash stepped over the threshold, looked around, and shoved his hands in his pockets before facing me. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather band wrapped around his wrist, he looked more like the man I’d met at that bar in Boise, and less like the hardened ex-soldier I now knew he was. When he continued studying me without speaking, I grew nervous.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I turned toward the kitchen.

  “No,” he barked. And then, more gently, added, “Sorry. No thank you. I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” I responded weakly.

  Sliding my hands into my skirt pockets so I wouldn’t wring them, I asked, “What can I do for you then?”

  “I didn’t recognize you—” Ash blurted “—that night.”

  Ever since he’d walked into the conference room and saw me sitting across the table from his boss, I’d wondered as much. We hadn’t done a lot of talking that night, and the words we had shared hadn’t exactly lent themselves to polite conversation.

  “And later?”

  Was it wrong that I was curious if after Ash left my room he’d put two and two together? If not immediately, I was certain he would have in the weeks that followed. When the press reported I’d been wheeled out of a hotel room by ambulance after having suffered an overdose, my face had been plastered on every network and on the cover of every gossip magazine known to man.

  “I only learned who you were when I walked into the meeting,” he answered.

  And though his words seemed genuine, I had a hard time believing them. How Ash hadn’t figured out the woman he’d slept with was a bonafide celebrity worth millions of dollars wasn’t very likely. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I didn’t have a TV back then and I don’t spend much time on the internet.”

  “Were you living in a cave?” I didn’t mean to sound snide, but there’d been an honest-to-goodness death watch outside my hospital.

  Overdosing would have required me actually being on drugs, which I’d never been. But I hadn’t been healthy either. Almost immediately upon arrival, the doctors had diagnosed me with exhaustion, dehydration, malnutrition, anxiety, and depression.

  Ash scanned the apartment and gestured toward the living room. “You mind if we sit for a spell?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged as I made my way toward the sleek, leather sectional that was placed in the corner of the room large, open room.

  Ash sat at the far end of the sofa. Rubbing his hands together, he observed offhandedly, “The apartment looks nice.”

  My annoyance spiked. This past week, Ash had done his best to keep his distance and now he was behaving like an 1800’s gentleman caller, making small talk with the woman he was courting. I had a lot of things to square away before I was sent into exile, and I’d rather be working through my to-do list than sitting here feeling awkward.

  Pulling my legs into a crossed position, I tugged a throw pillow into my lap and fiddled with the fringe. “It’s nice, but I’m trying not to get too comfortable.”

  “Right. That’s actually why I’m here,” he pronounced.

  I canted my head to the side and waited for him to continue.

  Ash shook his head, and a smirk crossed his lips, drawing out a dimple I hadn’t noticed before. “Sorry. I’m shit at this.”

  “That depends on what ‘this’ is. If it’s creating long, awkward silences, you’re actually quite good at it.” I laughed to lessen the sting of my words. “If, however, you mean having a conversation with a woman you once fucked six ways to Sunday, then yeah … you’re shit at it.”

  Ash’s eyes flashed with surprise and he barked out a deep, throaty laugh. I’d been on my best behavior the past several days, keeping The Swears at a minimum since most people outside my inner circle weren’t well acquainted with my trucker’s mouth.

  “Ouch,” he answered, bringing his large, rough hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

  I grinned then, happy to have the stilted silence behind us. “I'm sure you'll be fine.”

  But then our laughter died down and the mood turned serious. “You look good,” he observed. “Better.”

  “Thank you. I feel better.”

  Ash leaned forward, resting his forearms on his muscled thighs, and clasped his hands between his knees. He glanced down, and then raised his eyes back up. “I thought about you a lot … after.”

  “And you swear you didn’t know who I was?”

  “No. I kept thinking you looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I convinced myself it was because you looked like someone I must have once knew, and that’s why I couldn’t get your face out of my head. It niggled at me for a long time.”

  “You said you didn’t have a TV or a computer?”

  “Nah,” he said. “Just me, a duffle bag, and my Harley.”

  “So, you don’t live in Boise then?”

  He shook his head. “Was only there for one night, passing through on my way to Sun Valley for a job.”

  I nodded in response. That made sense. He hadn’t looked like he belonged in that bar because, like me, he hadn’t. Maybe that’s what had drawn me to him in the first place. My eyes darted to his muscled forearms. Yeah, that and his body. Even now I couldn’t keep my gaze from wandering over his body.

  “I remember being surprised by your Southern accent,” I said. “I guess I’d been too drunk the night before, but I’d just assumed you were a local—if not by birth, then by residence.”

  “I was actually born in Ohio, but spent some time in Louisiana when I was a kid. I pick up accents pretty easily. No one’s ever really been able to identify where I’m from.” He shrugged. “That’s probably because I’m not actually from anywhere. My family moved around a lot when I was a kid, and then I spent some time in the military so … ” His sentence trailed off, unfinished.

  “My mom and I moved around a lot when I was younger too. And when you’re a singer, you spend a lot of time on the road.”

  Ash licked his lips, drawing my eyes to his mouth, and I had a brief flash of memo
ry: his tongue trailing down my middle, his eyes looking up at me in wicked delight, and then the feel of his surprisingly soft beard rubbing against the inside of my thighs before he put those lips on my clit and made me come.

  He startled me back to attention when he said, “I came here to admit that I’ve done some reading up on you.”

  I dragged my gaze from his mouth to his eyes, looking for the censure I was sure I’d find. Instead, he regarded me with a look of quiet contemplation, like he was trying to fit together all the pieces of the puzzle that made up Rae Griffin, country superstar.

  “Like I was saying before, when I left that morning, I couldn’t help but feel like I should have stayed—even though you obviously wanted me gone.” He chuckled, as if my being a complete bitch hadn’t been uncalled for. “If you don’t mind me saying, Ms. Griffin, you appeared lost and like you needed some help. It never sat right with me that I didn’t at least offer.”

  My heart clenched and my stomach dropped. I’d made my peace with everyone who was close to me; had atoned for all the sins I’d committed against them—and myself. Now, I didn’t like revisiting that dark period of my life any more than necessary. Everyone around me knew that. But Ash wasn’t part of my inner circle, and this was the first chance we’d had to talk since he’d walked back into my life. The only reason I was even willing to have this conversation was because we were going to be spending a lot of time together and it was important we clear the air and hopefully move beyond our shared past. If he’d been anyone else—if we’d stumbled upon one another in some random situation—I would never allow things to get this personal.

  And since we were getting personal, I said, “Please, call me Rae. I think we’re well past the point of using last names. Which reminds me, with all you McClintock men, I’m not sure if you’re Ash Something or Something Ash. I figure if we’re going to be living together for the next who-knows-how-long, I should at least know your full name.”

  His lips hitched up in a smirk, and I noticed the dimple in his right cheek again. It looked good on him—but all too fleeting since he wasn’t exactly a smiler. Not like Warsaw who, every time I saw him, was grinning ear to ear like life was one big happy accident and he was just enjoying every carefree moment of it.

  Pushing off his thighs with his palms, Ash reached across the space separating us. Extending his hand, he answered, “Ash Devereaux, at your service.”

  I leaned forward and clasped his hand in my own. “Nice to meet you again, Ash Devereaux.”

  We sank back into our seats and I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt. “As you correctly surmised, I was in a bad place when we first met,” I said, my pulse quickening and my palms beginning to sweat. Swiping them on the sofa next to me, I continued, “And even if you had refused to budge from that room, I’m not sure you could have helped me.” I raised my eyes and when they locked with his, I forced myself not to look away. “You see, as bad as it was, I hadn’t hit rock bottom yet.”

  “Forgive me for asking, but you didn’t really …”

  He didn’t have to finish his question; I knew exactly what came next.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  His lips thinned and he nodded. “That’s what I figured. It didn’t jive with my impression of you. Then, or now.

  “You’re probably giving me too much credit then,” I said. “I was pretty fucked up for a long time. I didn’t try to kill myself, and I certainly didn’t overdose, but I was pretty far gone down a deep, dark hole nonetheless.” I wrapped my arms around my center. “Rocky found me face down in a pool of my own vomit.”

  Ash swiped his hand across his chin and covered his lush, full mouth for a second before dropping it away. “They said you weren’t alone.”

  It was a statement posed as a question. One I hated, but knew needed to be answered. It was all part of the atoning thing I’d learned about in rehab. Still, that didn’t mean I had to watch his face turn from interested to disgusted. Turning away from his probing, questioning stare, I responded. “I wasn’t.”

  Silence hung awkward and heavy between us before he spoke again. “Should I get tested?”

  My cheeks pink with shame, I let out the breath I’d been holding. “I’m clean. Here,” I said, moving to my computer to pull up a scanned copy of my health report. “I’ll show you my test results so you know I’m not lying.”

  Ash stood and waved his hand. “That’s okay, I believe you.”

  “You do?” I asked, surprised at his easy capitulation.

  He scrutinized me for a moment, and then nodded his. “You have no reason to lie. Besides, I’ve already been tested and came back clean.”

  “Why’d you ask me then?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes, honestly.” I huffed.

  “Because I wanted to see how you’d respond.”

  “And did I pass your little test?” I asked, my voice laced with disdain and a touch of fury.

  “It wasn’t a test, per se,” Ash answered. “More of a confirmation of what I already thought.”

  “And that was?”

  He stepped closer. “That even though you’ve been through some shit these past couple of years, you don’t make excuses for your behavior. You own it. You own up to what you’ve done and who you were. You could play the woe-is-me card, but I don’t think that’s what you want.”

  I shouldn’t have been shocked that he’d read me so well. Ash had been military—Special Forces—and that meant he was trained to assess situations and make snap-judgement decisions that could literally be the difference between life and death. Ash trusted his instincts and went with what his gut told him, and his gut said I was trustworthy—even if I hadn’t always been responsible.

  But he was wrong about one thing. I was feeling very woe is me. Or at least my music was.

  “About that …” I began. “You were at the label with us the other day, so you know what this record is going to be like. My music is going to address a number of hard truths and it’s going to sound like I’m asking for people’s sympathy.”

  “But you’re not,” he affirmed, taking another step forward. “I understand what you’re doing and why. It wouldn’t be my first choice if I were in your shoes, but you need to set the record straight. I get that.”

  “Do you?” I asked, my head tilted to the side as I studied him up close.

  “I do,” he answered, his voice dropping low and gruff. His eyes flicked between mine, looking for something I didn’t know how to give, and then his hand came up and hovered near my hip. When he raised his eyebrow in question, looking for my permission, I swallowed and gave it to him. Ash slid his palm over my hip to rest in the curve of my waist. “I know I’m just a nobody, but I’ve been to my own dark places, Rae, and I know sometimes you just need to tell someone what you’ve seen, where you’ve been. How you survived to come out into the light.”

  His fingers skimmed under the hem of my cotton tank to rest against bare flesh. Their presence was warm and comforting against my skin; tantalizing and tempting. “You’re a survivor.”

  “How can you say that?” I asked on a pained whisper. “I wasn’t a good person. I hurt people, I hurt myself.”

  “And you survived.” He squeezed my waist and then took a few steps back, his hands sliding from my body in a soft caress I felt down to the tips of my toes.

  Our gazes locked, and we shared a moment of silent understanding. We came from completely different worlds—since making it big, I’d been pampered and coddled and I’d almost fallen apart when my world came crashing down, while Ash had seen horrors and atrocities I could only imagine—but in each other we recognized a kindred soul, someone who knew what it was like to fight with demons every damn day. I’d never forgotten how I’d felt after my night with him, and I’d been surprised as hell when he’d walked back into my life, but never for a moment had I thought he’d be the person who saw straight through the walls I’d built … and understand exactly what lay hidden there.

>   I never expected Ash Devereaux, but I was thankful for him.

  “I’m going now,” he whispered and I nodded, shoving my small hands back into my pockets.

  His leaving was for the best. I wasn’t sure what the rules were for this type of interaction, but I’d seen The Bodyguard and I knew well enough that we were playing with fire. We were attracted to each other—that much was clear to me now—and while most of our night together remained tucked away in the alcohol-soaked recesses of my brain, I was smart enough to recognize that, for better or worse, we had amazing sexual chemistry that could combust at any moment if we let it. I was pretty sure we weren’t supposed to.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  As he walked backward toward the door, his eyes never leaving mine, he smiled. “And the day after, and the day after, and the day after that.”

  His return to lightness helped restore balance between us.

  “Ugh,” I grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”

  His hand cupped the spot over his heart. “Again, bullseye. What is with you and those barbed arrows?”

  “Like I said before, you’ll live.”

  I tinkled out a tiny laugh.

  His face grew serious as he stopped and stared at me from across the hall. “And so will you,” he vowed, reminding me why we were here in the first place.

  “Right,” I said with a nod and a flattening of my lips.

  His eyes flashed with sympathy before they turned flinty and determined. “First and foremost, I’m here to protect you, Rae. Neither of us can forget that’s what this—” his hand flicked between us “—is about.”

  “No, I know,” I agreed. “You’re my bodyguard.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “I am,” he agreed. “But I’d also like to be your friend … if you’ll let me?”