Skeletons of Us (Unquiet Mind Book 2) (5 page)

Two things took the edge off the pulsing pain that had been constant for almost four years. Booze and fighting. He’d only just had a fight a week ago, so alcohol it was.

He sighed and poured another.

“Lexie Williams, lead singer of Unquiet Mind and the rock world’s darling leaving the funeral of her boyfriend, actor Andrew Bruntley. She was flanked by her band members who’ve rarely left her side. It’s said the star is taking his death hard…”

Killian’s entire body stiffened at the sound of the television that up until now had been background noise. His body moved from the slumped position along the bar to sit up and twist around. Preferably to smash that fuckin’ TV into smithereens. Or shoot it. Anything to shut it up. To stop hearing about her with anyone. He was going to hell because he was fuckin’ glad the fucker who touched his girl was dead. He’d barely been able to contain himself when the first images broke of them leavin’ some club, his hands on her.
His girl
. Now, he was dead. The respite would be short, he guessed. Lexie, his freckles, had turned into something more beautiful than she’d already been. She was a woman now. Some other Hollywood fuck would have his manicured hands on her in no time. Those thoughts tortured him.

He squeezed his glass tighter. It was surprising it didn’t shatter.

Not only was he glad the fucker was dead, he was fuckin’ jealous,
jealous
that she was mourning over him. Then he hurt knowing she hurt. That she had to lose another person in her life. She didn’t need that shit. More loss.

Fuck.

The TV needed to be turned off. Or more accurately, shot full of bullets so he didn’t have to hear any more of this shit.

He had been planning on doing that, until his blurry eyes focused on the images on the screen.

Lexie, surrounded by cameras, by a huge crowd of them. Swarming her. Sam, Wyatt, and Noah were flanking her, their faces grim and tight with fury as they navigated the crowd.

“Sam Kennedy was unable to control his temper as they pushed through the cameras,”
the voice on the TV continued.

“Get the
fuck
out of the way, assholes, before I put a fist through that fucking camera,” Sam growled at the men who were crowding Lexie. Surrounding her.

She looked small, tiny, amidst the crowd of men. Dark glasses covered most of her face and her head was down, her beautiful golden hair piled on top of her head, wayward curls escaping.

She was beautiful, as always.

But Killian couldn’t focus on that. He was focusing on the fact that Sam, Wyatt, and Noah were struggling to get through the crowd of them. They weren’t small, those boys. He guessed they were men now; they looked it. All of them had gained muscle, a shit ton of it. All were covered in tattoos. Noah, the biggest of them all, was pushing them away with ferocity. But still, it wasn’t enough. Those camera-toting bastards outnumbered them, desperate for the story. For a photo.

It had been bad since Lexie became famous. Really famous. Killian avoided watching her on TV, looking at photos of her, any of it really. But it was hard to avoid someone who had taken over the world. Unquiet Mind dominated news, it seemed. Sam and Wyatt did enough stupid shit to constantly be in the news. But the paps were fascinated with Lexie, with the beautiful, down-to-earth rock star who didn’t party, didn’t do drugs, and whose throaty voice would make any man in a hundred-mile radius hard as a rock.

So no, he couldn’t watch that shit. But when he couldn’t avoid it, he barely stopped himself from driving out to L.A. and shooting every single paparazzo. They were obsessed with Lexie. Followed her everywhere. To lunch, out shopping, the fuckin’ grocery store.

This was somethin’ different. This shit was insane. This could get Lexie hurt. He wouldn’t stand for that. She’d been hurt enough.

He should know; he was the one who hurt her. Who’d destroyed her. The reason why in all those pictures, in every concert she played, she was beautiful, beyond beautiful, but she was broken.

He’d done that. He broke her.

The pictures on the screen were now moving to various images of Lexie, some with the dead fuck, some stills of her in concert.

“Bro, you used to tap that, right?”

Killian’s head snapped up to the prospect whose eyes were glued to the TV screen. The very dumb fuckin’ prospect. Killian hadn’t liked him since he started prospecting a couple of months ago, but he still had another six months or so before he could vote no on his patch.

Killian stared at him, his fists clenched. “Say again?”

Anyone else, anyone with a fuckin’ brain cell would read Killian’s tone and register the danger lurking beneath it.

Anyone but this dumb fuck.

He nodded toward the TV. “Lexie. Bull’s old lady’s daughter.”

“Bull’s
daughter
,” Killian corrected through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, whatever.” The prospect threw up his hand in a ‘it doesn’t matter’ gesture. “Just between us, what was she like in the sack? She looks like a fuckin’ wild little piece. All innocent on the outside, but I bet that snatch—”

The prospect’s words were cutoff when Killian launched across the room to throw him against the wall, his gun out of his jeans in a split second and pointed at the prospect’s temple.

“You want to die today?” Killian asked, his voice flat.

The prospect’s eyes bugged out, but Killian’s hand at his throat meant he couldn’t answer.

“’Cause that’s what’s gonna happen. I’ll put a bullet in your skull for even
thinkin
’ bout her. Sayin’ that shit. You do not speak about her, unless you want to die. You ready to meet the reaper?”

“Shit, the prospect fuck up the taco order again?” an amused voice asked before Killian could make good on his promise.

Killian’s gaze flickered to the door where Lucky and Cade had just entered, not loosening his grip on the prospect or lowering his piece.

Lucky was glancing at him amused. “I know it’s annoying when he forgets the hot sauce, but, bro, do you really want to shoot him? If you kill the prospect, who will clean up his blood? Not me.” He bit into an apple with a smile and sank down on the sofa behind them, switching the channel and putting his attention to the TV.

Cade was a little less blasé about the situation, maybe because he registered the murderous glint in Killian’s eyes. He stepped forward, his face blank as always.

“You wanna loosen your grip, brother? Prospect’s turning blue,” Cade remarked casually, crossing his arms as he came to stand beside him.

“Good,” Killian replied, glaring at the man who he was holding, who was indeed changing color. “Fucker deserves it.”

His president didn’t betray any emotion. “Let me be the judge of that. We try not to make a habit of killing prospects, fucks with our membership.”

Killian didn’t move, but he loosened his grip enough so the prospect could suck in a mangled breath. He didn’t lower his gun.

“I’m assuming there’s a good reason for this.” Cade nodded his head to the gun.

“We shouldn’t have a prospect who talks shit about the club’s family. Who doesn’t respect that.”

Cade’s body stiffened a smidgeon at Killian’s words, his jaw stiffening. Family, loyalty, and respect were more than important to the club. It was the foundation of the brotherhood. Cade took that shit seriously.

“Lexie?” he guessed correctly. Cade was shrewd and didn’t miss a thing.

Killian nodded sharply.

Cade sucked in a breath. He eyed the prospect. “You should be glad Bull wasn’t here. We’d be cleaning your brains off the walls right now.”

“Who says we won’t be?” Killian asked, serious.

“’Cause we don’t kill prospects for sayin’ stupid shit. If we did, Lucky never would have gotten his patch and we’d have dug his grave the day he first set foot in here,” Cade remarked.

“Hey!” Lucky called from the sofa. “I resent that.”

Cade ignored him; his blank eyes were on the prospect. “Though it’s tempting. Let him go, Kill,” he said in a flat voice.

Killian didn’t miss the command in his president’s tone. He loved the club, lived for it in fact. Breathed it. Respected Cade; hell, he was more of a father to him. But right now, he was ready to disobey him and put a bullet in this fucker’s skull just for saying those words about Lexie.

After a moment, he did let him go. Not because he was afraid of killing someone, he’d done that, what was another black mark on his soul? No, because he respected the club. Because the club was the only thing he had left to live for.

That didn’t mean he didn’t switch his grip on his piece so he could coldcock the fucker in front of him, sending him crumpling to the ground, unconscious.

Cade clapped him on the shoulder, not blinking at the violence. “He’ll be educated on just how serious we take shit like that.” He glanced down. “If he hasn’t been already.”

Kill regarded Cade. “Just keep that fucker away from me if you don’t want me murdering a prospect.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the common room. Not before tagging the bottle of whisky on the bar.

“And you need a code to get into the property?” the officer asked me, glancing up from his notepad.

I nodded, hugging my arms around me. “And you have to get through security at the front gate.”

“But that fuckin’ security guard was too busy stuffing his fat face to check anyone too closely,” Noah clipped from beside me, his arms going around my shoulders, squeezing me into his warm chest. “He’ll be getting fired. Tomorrow.”

Wyatt and Sam stood on either side of me, their arms crossed and faces tight. I’d called to the three of them as soon as I’d gotten off the phone with Zane, but by the time they’d come into the kitchen, the figure was gone. Sam had immediately gone out to check, despite my protests, while Wyatt called the cops. Sam didn’t find any sign of the lurker, which I was glad of. Not that the boys couldn’t take care of themselves, they’d grown up and turned into men. Like, real, muscly badass, rock star
men
. They could hold their own. Evidenced by the handful of bar fights they seemed to find themselves in. Brawls I didn’t condone but they’d won.

“And you’ve not had security breaches such as this in the past?” the officer continued, his eyes flickering back from Noah.

I shook my head again. “Not since we moved here.”

“And you can’t be sure it wasn’t just a paparazzo?”

“I didn’t see a camera,” I told him, shivering slightly. That’s the thing that freaked me out the most. I was used to people going to great lengths to get a photo, but I hadn’t had my privacy invaded like this before. I’d be feeling a lot less freaked out right now if the person had had a camera, instead of just
watching me
. I shivered again at the memory of that stare. Even from a distance it had sent an uncomfortable prickle down my spine. Scared me.

“What do you mean, ‘just a paparazzo’?” Wyatt asked, voice tight. “They fuckin’ trespassed. It’s a goddamn crime. It’s enough those scum follow her around enough as it is. Whoever this was, they invaded her privacy. It’s not fuckin’ acceptable.” He glared at him like this single cop was responsible for making the law.

“I agree,” the cop said, surprising all four of us. His expression was hard, betraying distaste that didn’t suit his face. He was older, with salt in his pepper hair and lines around his tanned face. But he didn’t have a gut hanging over his belt like a lot of older police officers. There didn’t seem to be an inch of fat on his body. “But as I can’t change those particular laws, I’ll enforce the ones I can.” He moved his attention to me. “I’ll do everything I can to catch this person. You’ve got cameras?”

I nodded again. “I handed the tapes over to another officer earlier.”

“Good. I’ll be honest with you, Ms. Williams. The chances of finding people like this are slim, especially since you didn’t see his face. The fact he was smart enough to get in without raising any alarms makes me suspect he won’t be stupid enough to get caught on camera. I’ll do my best. In the meantime, I’ll have a squad car outside your property tonight. You won’t be staying here alone?” he asked, his eyes touching on the boys.

“Of course she fuckin’ won’t,” Sam answered for me. Even though the officer was polite and just doing his job, the boys were glaring at him.

Before they did anything that may or may not get them arrested, again—another story for another day—I ushered the officer outside with a thanks and a promise to call if I had any more problems. It wasn’t his fault, really. I knew that. Celebrities—ugh, I hated calling myself that—got people lurking around and harassing them all the time. It came with the territory. But something about this was different. The gaze, the figure, I couldn’t put my finger on it. It felt… menacing. I had eyes on me all the time; I was used to it. But I could feel the change in that gaze.

But of course, that was ridiculous. You couldn’t
feel
something in a gaze. Well, only one person could make me feel something in a gaze.

Careful, Lexie, mustn’t think of that.

“I’m calling Duke,” Wyatt declared once I reentered my kitchen where Noah had started preparing food. Eating was the last thing I wanted to do. My stomach was full of ash. The combination of the funeral and the peeping Tom outside my window had me feeling unnerved. But I’d eat. I didn’t want the boys to worry. They did. Like old grandmothers.