Page 18 of Ashes to Ashes

I slipped into the darkened interior of the Lincoln Navigator, its windows somehow even darker than the one that had brought me to McClintock Security’s offices in the first place. In the time between he’d left the apartment upstairs and I’d descended, I resigned myself to Ash’s presence in my life. I’d also resigned myself to the fact that it wasn’t his fault we had a history. It had taken two of us to fuck mindlessly in that ugly hotel room, and I needed to own the role I’d played in what had come afterward. I also needed to own how I felt about himnow.

The truth was, I was attracted to Ash. Ridiculously so. That was the easy admission. What wasn’t so easy to admit was that I felt more than attraction. At the time, something about the way he’d moved inside of me in the cold dark of night, and then the way he’d looked at me the next morning, made me feel like he’d seen the real me. And that feeling had grown stronger since he’d walked back into my life again.

That night, the trappings of my fame and fortune had been stripped away so all that was left was Norma Rae Griffin, the white trash redneck who’d made it out of Hicksville, USA, through talent and hard work. He hadn’t known my name; he’d only known me as the woman who’d lain in his arms and welcomed him into her body, seeking a few hours of solace from a stranger she’d never see again.

Except maybe that wasn’t all I’dbeen.

In the days since we’d been thrown together again, there was something about the way we seemed tethered to one another. Even as we fought it, and I’d begun to wonder if he didn’t feel something more as well. Almost as if I’d also given him a measure of comfort, as if during that night he’d been running from his own demons, and I’d offered a few hours of numbness—a moment to forget who he was, where he’d been, and instead focus on the warmth and succor that could be found in someone who didn’t know the baggage you carried every moment of yourlife.

When the car door shut, I chanced a quick glance at Ash out the corner of my eye. His arms were crossed over his expansive chest and his jaw was clenched.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “About earlier.” He huffed out a noise that said he wasn’t buying what I was selling. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s … well, let’s just say it’s a defense mechanism I’m not proud of. When I feel cornered, I lash out. I’m working on it, but …” I shrugged my shoulders.

Ash palmed the seat leather and turned to face me. “Do you know why I took thisjob?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

“I’m not one of McClintock’s regulars. I don’t babysit pretty starlets.” His eyes flashed with ire. “You have a truck full of diamonds being transported across hostile territory, I’m your man. Or,” he growled leaning forward, an intimidation tactic I recognized from my conflict resolution class, “say you’re a Russian oligarch who’s on Putin’s shit list, you call me in to get you the fuck out of dodge and to safety. Do you get what I’m saying?”

I did. Or at least I thought so. I was nothing more to him than a pain in the ass. All those notions I’d had about how we might be kindred spirits vanished in an instant. I licked my suddenly parched lips, nodded my head, and swallowed down the lump of embarrassment in my throat.

“But I’m also the only goddamn person McClintock has on the roster who knows fuck all about music and can run a goddamn soundboard, so we’re stuck with each other until they catch whoever’s afteryou.”

I would have asked more about the types of jobs he typically took on, but I got the impression they weren’t open for discussion. That was fine, now that he’d made it perfectly clear what I was to him, I didn’t need to know anything more about him. All I needed to confirm now was he could do the job I was paying him to do—both ofthem.

“How is it you know so much about music?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation into neutral territory.

“I play the guitar.”

“And you’ve been in a studio before?”

His eyes raked over me with disdain. “This ain’t my first rodeo, baby.” He leaned back in his seat and stared out the window as we drove down the freeway.

I’d never been particularly good at keeping my feelings bottled up inside—that’s probably what made me a good songwriter—but I’d always been hyper aware of being polite because of that flaw. I didn’t know what was going on in Ash’s brain, but I wasn’t going to sit back and take his abuse. I’d done enough of that with Ford—smiling and nodding while he put me down—and look where that had gotten me. At least Ford had been my husband; keeping the peace had been worthwhile.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I seethed.

“Do you really want to know, or are you hoping I’ll say ‘nothing, I’mfine.’”

“No, I really, genuinely want to know why you’re being such a dick,” I responded as he continued staring out the window, refusing to meet my angry glare.

“Look Rae. You’re paying me to keep you safe—and I’m willing to put my life on the line because I’m a good little soldier and that’s my job—and I’ll help you with your damn album, but I think it’s best if we kept it to that. We don’t need to talk about our feelings or anything else, so if you don’t mind, I’m just going to sit here and keep quiet for the rest of our journey.”

“You’re the one who keeps coming on to me, who keeps touching me and trying to get into my pants.”

Inwardly I cheered when his head whipped around and angry eyes clapped on mine. “What did yousay?”

“You heard me,” I volleyed back. Pointing at him, I added, “This is onyou.”

Angrily, he undid his seatbelt and slid across the leather separating us. “I know you’ve got some shit going on, and you’re dealing with a whole lot on your plate at the moment. But nothing I’ve heard you say this past week has pointed to a woman who is stupid or manipulative, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt right now.” His eyes raked over my face and he licked his lips. “I hate to break it to you, Rae, but every time you look my way, I catch you undressing me. Every time we talk, your eyes rove over me appreciatively. You watch my mouth and your pupils dilate, thinking about—remembering—what these lips can do. You’ve been eye fucking me for a week and a man can only take somuch.”

“Wh … how … is …” I sputtered. I had some pretty major shortcomings, but the inability to express myself wasn’t one of them. Sure, there were times in my past I’d decided not to say what was on my mind, but that hadn’t meant the words hadn’t been there—just that I’d chosen not to use them. But with Ash’s snide statement ringing in my ears, I was actually speechless. The only other time that had happened was when Ford had announced on TV that we were separating and I hadn’t known.

I blinked long and slow, and when I opened my eyes, I was finally able to give Ash a piece of my mind. A very loud, very vulgar piece of it. “You motherfucking cocksucking piece of shit! Who the fuck do you think you are?” I shoved at him with my palms and then punched his solid chest with balled fists. “You sexist piece of trash!” I wailed as I took out my disgust on his rock-hard body. “Just because a woman looks at you appreciatively does not mean she wants you to lay your grubby fucking hands on her! Just because I’m attracted to you doesn’t give you license to accost me every damn time we’re in the same goddamn room. Just because I fucked you before doesn’t mean I’m going to spread my legs and let you slide that magnificent fucking cock into my needy, aching cunt. It doesn’t mean I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name and I can’t stop screaming yours!”

By the time I finished my tirade, my furious hollering had morphed into a yearning entreaty, and before I knew what I was doing, I threw my arms around Ash’s neck, twisted my hands in his hair, and pulled his face tomine.

And then, just before our lips crashed together, he chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong, babycakes. That’s exactly what it means.”

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