Give Me Grace (9 page)

“Jesus, Grace.” Henry rubbed at his eyes. After a brief moment he walked over to me. Crouching so we were eye level, he rested his hands on my knees. “I didn’t mean to get into this. The past is in the past, it’s just … having you here, I didn’t realise I was still so angry. All the hurt just came flooding back like it never left. You know I love you, right? You’re my little sister. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

I exhaled a shaky breath at the intense sincerity in his pretty blue eyes. “Promise?”

“Of course I promise.” He cocked his head, his brows drawing together. “Why? Has something happened I should know about?”

“No,” I lied, and my heart broke. “Everything’s fine.”

After taking a few minutes to freshen up and compose myself, Henry led me down to the basement so they could start on teaching me the song. Being underground, the whole area was windowless, but the space was large enough not to induce a claustrophobic attack. The soundproofed walls featured big black and white prints of Jamieson playing at live venues, and the room was filled with their equipment: drums, amplifiers, guitars, and microphones on stands. Evie and Cooper fiddled with dials and sound on the keyboard while Frog sat on a nearby amplifier offering suggestions. Cables snaked all over the floor, leading behind a worn, comfortable couch where Mac stood talking to a guy I recognised as Jake Romero, the band’s drummer. His size was intimidating. A fitted tee shirt emphasised wide muscular shoulders and thick biceps covered with tattoos. His golden brown hair was shorn in a simple buzz cut and eyes the colour of single malt scotch were busy glaring at something Mac said.

“What was I supposed to do?” he replied, his voice raised in anger as Henry led us over to introduce me. “You pushed and you pushed, just like you always do, but in the end you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

The guy looked like he wanted to rip someone’s face off. Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, I tugged at Henry’s hand but he wouldn’t let go.

“Don’t deny you got what you wanted too, Jake, so fuck you,” she hissed.

“Too late!” he shouted. “You already did.”

Everyone froze, including Henry and I. The sudden silence was thick with tension and everyone looked to Mac, appearing breathless as they waited for her to say something.

“I don’t have time for this. I have work to do.” Spinning on her heel, Mac disappeared up the stairs, her shoes clicking loudly on each step as everyone watched in silence.

“
Dammit,” Jake muttered, brushing a hand over his buzzed hair before dropping it to his side in defeat.

Cooper’s grin encompassed the room when Jake angrily flung his set of
drum sticks on the couch and disappeared up the stairs after her.

“You all owe me ten bucks,” he crowed with glee.

“So that was Jake,” Henry informed me, pulling his wallet from his back pocket as money began changing hands. The swift transaction was peppered with a few grumbles and two unsavoury threats that alluded to Cooper’s lack of morals.

I raised my brows. “He seems
… nice.”

“Sure he is,” Frog agreed and held his bass guitar out towards me. “Here
, Grace. You can play my guitar. It’s tuned and ready to go.”

“Bet that’s not all that’s tuned and ready to go,” I heard Cooper mutter as I took hold of the gleaming black and silver guitar, testing the weight in my hands. It was heavier than mine and likely a thousand times more expensive.

“Flip it over,” he told me.

Doing as he said, I turned it over in my hands and saw flowing script on the back that read
: Live hard, fuck hard, play hard. I grinned at Frog as I lifted the strap over my shoulder and settled the guitar in my hands. “That’s your motto, is it?”

“Yep.” He returned my grin and reached for the button on his jeans, saying, “I’ve got it tattooed across my lower abs. Wanna see?”

Two hours later and I was confident enough with the song to know I wasn’t going to embarrass both the band and myself. After a quick shower, my hair and makeup was done courtesy of a stylist Mac arranged to come to the duplex. I was given dark smoky eyes, glossy coral lips, and my hair styled in loose, textured waves. Returning to my room in a cotton dressing gown, I noticed my suitcase had been ransacked and an outfit was laid out on the bed—my black leather bustier and a pair of royal blue pants that flared at the hip and tapered at the ankle.

“Jesus, Grace.” Mac said from behind, startling me. She waved her hand towards my things. “Your clothes. Gorgeous. I took the liberty of getting your outfit together and ironing your pants. Hurry up and get dressed because we have to motor. Sing out when you’re ready and I’ll come in and do the zipper up on your bustier, okay?”

“Wait!” I called when she was halfway out the door.

She paused.

“You and Jake. Is everything okay?”

She opened her
mouth, ready to say something before snapping it shut. “Everything’s fine,” she told me, and when she left, I wondered if I sounded more convincing when I lied about the same thing to Henry just hours earlier.

Taking off my cotton robe, I pulled on my pants
and buckled up the black, diamante stilettos. I was just sliding the bustier down and settling it in place when a tap came at the door.

“Just in time. I’m ready to go. Can you get the zipper?”

My hair was swept gently aside, baring my back. Warm, rough fingertips trailed gently down my spine, making me shiver. “You smell like honey, Slim,” came the hoarse voice in my ear.

I spun around, suddenly
breathless. “Casey.” The hasty movement made my unzipped bustier slide down. I grappled with it, holding it in place with my hands, as he stood there and watched. “What are you doing in here?”

Casey gave an unconcerned shrug like he had all the time in the world, which was convenient, because right then I needed all the time in the world just to take him in.

He’d changed from his worn jeans into a suit—navy silk with a crisp white shirt. The fitted cut made it obvious the suit was tailored specifically for him, and the open collar gave a tantalising glimpse of tanned, muscled chest. He was … Good Lord, he was
beautiful.

Breathe, Grace,
I had to remind myself.
This man is
not
your friend.

“Get out,” I snapped.

“And miss seeing you half dressed? I think not.” He tilted his head, cocky grin in place as I wrestled with the back of the zipper trying to do it up myself. “Can I do that for you?”

Nothing good could come out of him doing anything for me, or to me, for that matter. From the minute I’d set foot on Sydney soil, I’d lost all sense of emotional composure around the man. He was a menace to my mental health. “No.”

“No?” He leaned casually against the wall and folded his arms.

“Grace!” Henry shouted from downstairs. “The limo’s here!”

“Where’s Mac?” I called back.

“She’s already in the car. We’re waiting for you!”

Goddammit.

“Well,” Casey drawled, inspecting his fingernails calmly. “Looks like you’re in a bit of pickle there, Slim. Everyone’s waiting for you, but don’t worry, I’ve got an idea.” A smirk spread slowly across his face
, and I felt the urge to slap it off. “How about asking me nicely to do your zipper? I think I’ll like hearing a please and thank you from those pretty lips of yours.”

Anger made my stomach churn
, and the fact that I couldn’t remember the last time I ate only made it worse. “I’d rather eat dirt,” I hissed. Holding my bustier in place with one hand, I grabbed my bag with the other.
Asshole!
I’d just get Henry to do the damn zipper and be done with it. Straightening my shoulders, I made for the door, doing my best to escape with dignity and failing in a spectacular fashion.

Casey’s arm snapped out, grabbing my wrist. “Wait.”

I tugged, but his strength was superhuman, reminding me of his earlier assault at the airport. “Oh, okay. We’re doing this again.” I rolled my eyes as he dragged me unwillingly towards him.

The subtle scent of his aftershave hit me and I recognised the warm, woodsy tone of
Bvlgari Man
instantly. It suited him perfectly, and I wondered if it was something he’d purchased himself or was bought for him. Then I wondered why the hell I was wondering something like that.

I made a show of looking at my watch. “Make
your lecture quick this time. Everyone’s waiting remember?”

Casey’s chuckle came deep from his chest, surprising me. I met his amused eyes, falling in love with the clear, pretty blue c
olour. “This is funny now?”

“Will you let me speak?”

“Grace!” Henry yelled.

“Be right there!” I yelled back.

“Slim,” Casey murmured, and his thumb started rubbing the inside of my wrist. The touch was both soothing and sensual. I repressed a visible shiver. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

He nodded. “For today. For jumping to conclusions. I have some stuff going on and it’s made me a bit …”

“Of a loose cannon?
A Batman wannabe? An irrational vigilante?” I supplied.

Amusement returned to his eyes as his hand started sliding up my arm, the rough callouses of his palm scraping my skin. Reaching halfway, his thumb started rubbing again—this time the inside crease of my elbow. My breathing escalated along with the sensual touch.

“I was going to say a bit stressed.”

“That’s you
a bit stressed?
”
I tugged my arm from his grip and this time he let go. “God help the universe then if you have a major meltdown. Planets will get thrown out of alignment. Stars will collide. Perhaps an asteroid will change trajectory towards Earth.” A look of mock horror crossed my face. “You would go down in infamy as the sole man responsible for Armageddon.”

Casey laughed and dimples popped on his cheeks, morphing the man from
beautiful
to
adorable.
A kitten with a ball of yarn had nothing on Casey when he was laughing. I stood there for a moment staring in wonder.

“I think we should call a ceasefire, don’t you? I shouldn’t have made assumptions about you
, and I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I just …” Casey looked away, sliding his hands into his pockets. It was an oddly vulnerable move. I had the urge to reach out and cup his face, forcing him to look at me so I could see into his eyes. I’d never felt that with any other man before—so much irritation along with intrigue and an overwhelming craving to touch.

“You just what?”

He looked at me then, but his eyes were clear, giving me nothing. “A shitty day, Slim. That’s all. I just had a shitty day.” He stepped closer but didn’t get in my face like he had earlier. Instead, he cocked his head, waiting. “So will you accept my apology and let me do your zipper?”

I relaxed a little until I remembered Mitsy and his annihilation of Casey’s car. I had to accept his apology or appear churlish, but damn, when he saw the torn interior—because there was no quick fix for the damage I’d allowed Mitsy to inflict—all bets would be off. The ceasefire would cease.

Travis was right. I was a dead woman walking. My panic must have been obvious because his brows drew together.