48

Ava
“Who was Kennedy? My roommate?” I asked as Clinton handed me a glass of wine.
Weston turned around, his eyes opening wide. “She was. She was also a groupie of the Elite, for the lack of a better word.”
I thought about the bits and pieces of my memory. “A chosen one.”
“Yes,” Clinton said quietly. “Part of our large flock of women who would do anything we asked.”
“Including luring me to the party.” I had no anger in my voice. There was no need. We were different people now, the experience altering all our lives significantly. I’d seen the pain in their faces when I’d left the gangway, the desire roaring through them as well as twisted anticipation.
“If you’re thinking she had something to do with this, think again. She’s currently married to a senator. She had three kids and they own four homes,” Weston said casually.
I’d clung to the three of them as they’d surrounded me inside the airport, realizing that we’d made a spectacle of ourselves. I’d learned soldiers had surrounded the airport and that I was in danger from the person or persons responsible for sending the threats.
“She knew she’d get married to someone who could provide her with a wealthy life.”
“You remember more than you let on,” Christian said as he sat back against the couch.
A whiteboard had been set up, the men determined to work through the mystery methodically. I’d learned someone had attempted to kill the three of them while I was jetting off to San Diego. I’d also heard stories of attempts made on their lives before.
No wonder they were dead set on finding out what was going on.
And it was no wonder they initially suspected I might be behind what they called a game being played. I called it a recipe for disaster.
“I remember enough. Theo hated you. Kennedy was in love with one or all of you. Did you know that?”
Christian lifted his eyebrows. “Kennedy hoped to be selected that night, promised to one of the Elite.”
“But that was never allowed again after what occurred.”
Weston shook his head, studying me as he’d done continuously. “It was the last straw for the administration. I can’t tell you how many people were angry that the house was shut down. A lot of kids were tossed out, the ripple effect derailing many careers. She obviously did okay.”
“A reason for revenge. Maybe not Kennedy, but you can’t put it past the ones who didn’t land on their feet.” I said the words in passing, and Clinton was the first to react, his chuckle leaving a vibrating hum across my already heated skin.
I dragged my tongue around the rim of the glass, my legs curled under me. I felt more protected than I had my entire life, the three men keeping their weapons close.
There were also at least six of Clinton’s soldiers protecting the perimeter. They were nervous that the game was escalating. In truth, so was I. The last words written on my dressing room mirror remained in the forefront of my mind.
They’d confessed everything, although Weston and Christian had done most of the talking while Clinton had kept his dark eyes pinned on me. He’d tossed back at least three glasses of expensive Macallan scotch while they’d answered my questions, and I’d provided what limited information I had in return.
What none of them had asked about was my father. But it was on Clinton’s mind. I could feel the intense hum of his anger just below the surface. He wanted to rip my father’s head off.
I understood why, but I wouldn’t allow the man who’d raised me to be killed because of…
The truth wouldn’t set him free. In fact, I suspected it would destroy him more than I originally thought.
To learn my father had been called the Iceman because he showed no remorse was strange, yet almost freeing. He’d killed dozens of people, on call with several crime syndicate families. For as horrid as my father had been, once home, he’d been a doting father and loving husband.
Maybe that’s why I could imagine a life spent with three dangerous, deadly men.
“Our little pet has a good point. Perhaps we should broaden our list,” Weston said.
I eased to my feet, moving towards the set of open French doors. I’d removed my shoes, the warm summer late afternoon begging for my attention. It seemed like forever since I’d walked in my bare feet on pristine grass.
Once outside, I took a deep breath, holding the fresh air until my lungs were filled.
It’d hoped it would calm my nerves. But it didn’t.
I walked down the steps, keeping my eyes locked on the large body of water as a light breeze drifted through my hair.
Romance.
I’d mastered the art of singing my heart out, writing love songs masquerading as hard rock. My fans had eaten it up. I’d made a lot of money feeding off the energy of sexual tension. The electricity was the thing fantasies were made of. What I’d realized the moment I’d stepped foot off the plane was that every song I’d written, every ballad crooned out to a massive audience, had been about the three men I hadn’t been able to remember.
Yet their aura and the erotic magic we’d shared together had never left the back of my mind. I wondered if they had any idea how many top ten songs they’d inspired over the years. Now that I knew the source of my muse, I wondered if it would change my music.
I’d learned from Christian that when enrolled in Crandall U, I’d gone on late night adventures, singing my heart out while performing in costumes. He’d been there protecting me.
They’d admitted they’d stalked me, including Clinton placing Maria petals on my nightstands, and cameras and listening devices in the rooms.
And they’d read my stories, ones similar to what I’d penned in the middle of the night little more than a week before.
Some people would say I was crazy to continue caring about them, but the heart refused to be denied. Was it something I might regret later? I doubted it. I had a new lease on life, a need to explore the joys we shared.
Yet at that moment my heart was still heavy.
Now, I stood staring out at Lake Michigan, the water only a stone’s throw away. Clinton’s estate was incredible, one of the prettiest I’d ever seen. His backyard was perfectly green, the grass rolling towards the water’s edge and dock where two boats were moored. There was even a section of beach, a gorgeous gazebo a few feet away.
I’d expected his house to be modern or gothic, but the charming gingerbread detail on the palatial estate added to the charm of the Victorian setting. So many things had surprised me about all three men, but certainly not their possessiveness. I pulled the wine glass to my lips, feeling a presence behind me.
A smile curled across my face, my mind still whirling from the upload of information they’d provided. From what I could tell, they hadn’t left out a single thing that had occurred that awful night. I was grateful the pieces had been filled in. However, the weight of having the letter meant for Clinton still in my possession was strangling me. It was past time to provide what he needed to be able to heal.
If that was possible.
He was an angry man, his hatred and rage ebbing and flowing like the electricity we shared. As he closed the distance, I was immediately thrown by his exotic scent. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket, soft yet demanding at the same time.
When he brushed his fingers down the length of my arm at a lazy pace, a single tremor drifted down my spine.
“Clinton,” I whispered, for no other reason than I enjoyed saying his name.
“Beautiful little Ava .”
“I’m not so little any longer.”
He chuckled. “You’re exactly as you should be. Perfect.”
“I’m far from it.”
“And I’m a cold-blooded killer.”
“With a heart.”
His sigh was heavy, as if he also felt the weight of the world much like I did.
I couldn’t just blurt it out. He needed to read what my father had written. If he could believe him.
“I’m not a good man, Ava . Neither are Weston and Christian. When this is finished, you’re free to return to your life.”
For the first time, I heard what sounded like remorse. “No one will ever be able to take the music away from me, but I want more. I want all three of you. I know it’s crazy. I know people will think badly of us, but I don’t care.”
He fisted my hair, yanking my head back until I was forced to rest it on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about what other people think. Just worry about what you need.”
“Then that’s easy. All three of you.”
“You’re certain?” There was a strange sound to his voice, hopeful.
“Very much so.”
“Mmm…” he growled. “Then if that’s what you want, you do realize there will be rules to follow.”
He wasn’t asking a question, merely making a statement of what would be. He spun me around and pulled me even closer, narrowing his eyes.
A tiny thrill coursed through me. “Rules. Huh? What happens if I don’t follow them?”
“Then you’ll be punished.” He cracked his hand against my backside and I yelped, which allowed the first real smile to cross his face since I’d returned.
“I’m a good girl.”
“That remains to be seen.”
There was such heartache in his tone, his voice barely recognizable. I ached inside, wanting to be his everything, but the demons were eating him alive.
“It’s so beautiful here. I love it.”
He squeezed my waist, pulling me closer. “It’s peaceful. Sometimes I come here by myself.”
“Without your soldiers?” I teased.
“It’s the only place I can reflect and be myself.”
“That’s so sad, Clinton.”
“That’s what life has been. Without you.”
“If you’re trying to win points, it’s working.”
His chuckle was deep, but I sensed he had a great deal on his mind. No matter the lists or the searches into the lives of those Clinton and the others had known before, I sensed he didn’t feel as if they were any closer to discovering the person responsible.
“I’m sorry about your parents, Ava .”
“Don’t be sorry. At least I know the truth. It’s hard to think of my father as a hitman, but at least now all the pieces are starting to fit. Are you still close to your parents?”
He stiffened. “My mother is dead.”
The statement sounded hollow, but I sensed another tragedy. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She’s out of her misery.”
“Families don’t need to be weird or contentious. Maybe if we have kids, we can provide an entirely different home.”
His breath caught, and I was certain he would tell me in no uncertain terms there would be no children. That made what he said just another beautiful surprise. “I’d like that. No more talking. I need to fuck you. Come inside.” When he leaned over, pressing his lips against mine, I couldn’t stop tingling. He tangled his fingers in my hair as he captured my mouth.
His hold was more possessive than before, his needs entirely different. All of us discovering the truth had taken us to a different level, our needs heightened. The hum of electricity surrounded us like a protective cocoon, but I knew it would be short lived. Still, as he dominated my tongue, I rolled one hand over his shoulders. His cock was throbbing, pushing into my stomach and as happened around him every time we touched, my core ignited.
My heart was skipping several beats, desire clawing its way to the surface. However, I pressed my hand against his chest, breaking the kiss.
“There’s something I need you to know.”
He allowed his gaze to fall to my lips then shook his head. “I’m finished with talking.”
“This is important.”
“So is what I need.”
“No. You need to read something. Please.”
He took a step back when I pulled the envelope from my pocket. “What is it?”
“My father gave me an envelope of things about my past as well as well as this letter addressed to you.”
The afternoon sun illuminated his face in such a way that it was as if his eyes were glowing. I expected anger, but there was only a quiet reverence, as if a small part of him was eager to find out what was inside. He took it from my hand, fingering it for a few seconds. Then he slipped it into his pocket.
“You need to read it.”