Page 115 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“No small talk? I appreciate a woman who gets right down to business.”

I can picture his smug smile through the phone. There’s music playing in the background and people talking. Is he at a party?

“Right, well, I’ll cut to the chase then,” he continues. “I want your article forEarworm.”

Did I just have a stroke? The wheels in my head stutter and stop, malfunctioning like my ability to hear sounds and speak words.

“Bella?”

“You—you what?” I whisper.

“I want the feature you’re writing forEarworm Magazine.”

“What?” I shout incredulously. “Why the hell would I give you more of my work?”

There’s a pause. “TheChronicleisn’t accepting any of my ideas. They want more shit about that stupid band—”

“Carnal Sins,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Whatever. Anyway, I need you to give me what you wrote about their tour.”

“Fuck you!”

“If you’re offering, I’m always happy to oblige a casual hate fuck.”

My grip tightens on the phone until I’m hunched over, my knuckles white. “I would rather die than give you more of my work to pawn off as your own.”

He sighs. “Well, then I guess a whole lot more people are going to get to see that sweet ass of yours.”

I blink. “What are you saying?”

“I’ll make it crystal clear for you. You fax me your draft forEarwormby the weekend or that salacious picture will be seen by more than me.”

My face burns red hot and my jaw is sore from trying to control the trembling. “I’ll kill you.”

“You have until Saturday to decide. It would be a shame to have to humiliate you like this. I’ve been enjoying having this small part of you to myself.”

I slam the phone down and scream. Rage like I’ve never felt before races through my veins like acid. I want to hurt him, torture him, kill him. Grabbing the ceramic ashtray from the motel nightstand, I hurl it across the room. The ashtray shatters, the sound seemingly knocking some sense into me as I rush over to stare at the wreckage.

There are pieces everywhere. On the desk, on the carpet. I freeze and try to take in a deep breath, but my body shakes so hard I can’t even do that properly. This can’t be real. How can someone get away with this? I bend down to pick up one of the larger pieces of shattered ceramic when there’s a knock at the door. Jumping, the broken piece falls from my hand back to the floor, slicing my palm in the process.

“Shit!” I mutter as I press my lips together to keep from crying out. Blood begins to pool in my hand and trickle down onto the carpet.

“Izzy?”

Looking at the door, I suck in a breath. “Dave?”

He knocks again. “Izzy, are you okay? I heard shouting.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.“Just a second,” I say, running to the bathroom and grabbing a towel to wrap around my hand. The rough terry cloth stings, but I head back for the door, opening the lock and pulling it open to find a wet-haired and wide-eyed Dave.

CHAPTER 35

Do You Wanna Touch Me?

DAVE

Idon’t even wait for her to invite me in as I step past her into the motel room. I’d been getting out of the shower when I heard it. Muffled shouting followed by a loud bang against our adjoining walls. Something primal took over my brain then, spiraling into all sorts of horrible scenarios of Izzy,myIzzy, in danger.

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