Path of Destruction Page 5

  I checked listings every now and then, just to make sure. This was still our best option. The owners wanted to sell the house in the worst time imaginable. Four houses on this street alone stood abandoned, and there was no light at the end of the tunnel. So Mr. and Mrs. Hardy had moved down to Florida and rented out this place to me while they waited for better days.

  Checking the time, I noticed I had an hour before the boys were home. Jesse had picked up an early shift of doing deliveries, and Abel had tagged along to be his brother's helper.

  There was a knock on the door as I was about to check the noodles, so I set the pot aside and then glanced out the window, instantly nervous. My heart rate spiked. It was a man, though I couldn’t see him clearly.

  His car looked like a rental, which was a relief. It meant it was unlikely that it was CPS. Given the increasing number of times I got called to school for Abel's fighting, it wasn’t mere fear I had that the school would involve the authorities. It was goddamn terror.

  I walked out to the hallway and opened the door, keeping the chain lock in place. "Yes?" As my gaze met the man's, my pulse skyrocketed. Holy fuck. "Mr. H-Hayes?" I stammered. My fingers shook, decade-old memories rushing back, and I got the chain free to open the door wider.

  "Long time, no see, Adeline." He gave me a friendly smile, looking like an older version of Lincoln. An older, lumberjack-like, bushier version. He still had his mustache.

  "Is Lincoln okay?" I blurted out.

  He chuckled. "He's fine, hon. Mind if I come in?"

  "Oh, of course not." I stepped aside as my mind spun with questions. If Lincoln was all right, I didn’t know any reason for his dad to be here. How did he even know where I lived? We hadn't spoken since the trial.

  "You look like a question mark." He grinned and hung up his jacket.

  I managed a smile. "I'm kinda confused, yeah."

  He nodded, doing a quick scan of the hallway, and got stuck for a second. There was a photo on the wall of the boys, their dad, and me. "Lincoln asked me to get in touch with you," he said, facing me again. "You left your address on the back of a letter…?" Oh. Okay. Lincoln must've saved the one I sent asking to visit him. "I told him I could stop by on the way to the prison."

  "All right," I answered warily. "Is something wrong?" Wait. I had manners. I shook my head quickly. "I'm sorry. Come on in. We can sit in the kitchen." The living room was still a war zone from Abel tearing through it yesterday. "Coffee?"

  "Sounds great, thanks."

  Lord, it was strange seeing him in my house. Nine years later. He was large and imposing, just like Lincoln.

  "Please, have a seat." I hurried to gather all the bills that littered the table, and Mr. Hayes nodded at my polo.

  "They recently closed ours back home." He spoke of Blockbuster, I assumed. I worked a dead shift there earlier today and hadn't changed. No one rented movies during the day. "I tried doing that, uh, what do you call it—" He gestured with his hands. "DVD on demand—something. They ship movies to you, and then you send 'em back."

  I dipped my head in acknowledgment.

  Awkward chitchat was awkward.

  Chapter 7

  Lincoln Hayes

  2007

  "Fuck." I scrubbed my hands down my face and blinked sleepily. Too tired to be angry, too caught up in the past to get a night's rest.

  Stop thinking.

  Sleep dragged me under, and I tossed and turned while the memories took over. Hazy images of an elevator filled my head, and it took a moment to remember where we were. First night in Vegas. After dinner, and my tiny dancer looked like sin in a skimpy dress.

  "Hey." Adeline tugged on my arm, and I bent down so she could whisper in my ear. "Wouldn’t it be fun if Morgan came with us?"

  I cocked a brow. "Do you even know where we're going?"

  "A club?"

  "Strip club," I corrected, and she squealed out loud. Jesus Christ. I slapped a hand over her mouth 'cause we weren't alone. She was fucking giddy. "The VIP area's ours for the night. You sure you want straitlaced Morgan there?" She was nodding and mumbling about licking my hand. "You got a hard-on for him?"

  "Silly goose," she giggled. "Women can't have boners."

  I groaned and turned onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow. I needed her gone, I needed her gone, I needed her gone.

  In the limo toward the club, she'd been wriggling her sweet little ass in my lap. She'd lost the ability to whisper, and everyone cracked up when she said our drummer's two women were "big-boobed." Then she confessed she was wary around Tony—our singer—which was less hilarious. Everyone heard that, too. She found him scary-looking.

  "I'm sorry I can't stop smiling." She poked at my scruffy cheek. "My stomach is filled with butterflies and rainbows and happiness. Do you like roller coasters? It's like that."

  She was goddamn adorable. Unfiltered, sweet, filthy, and high.

  "I wanna be in a stripper sandwich!" she shouted.

  I threw her over my shoulder and slapped her ass on the way inside the club.

  We got to the VIP area upstairs, and Adeline was enamored of the two strippers who joined us. I sat down with the guys and let my pet roam free. Lines of blow were drawn, booze flowed, and the music pumped.

  Adeline shouted over the music, wondering if a stripper's tits were real. She drew the stupidest damn grins from me.

  The dancer laughed. "Nothing's real here, babe."

  I gave up on sleep and jumped down to do push-ups. Count them, motherfucker. Count each and every one. Kid snored. Rage, grief, lust, and desolation rolled over me, cracking down like thunder. One. Two. Three. It wasn’t enough. There had to be pain, so I hit each push-up on my knuckles instead.

  She'd had enough fun with the strippers. It was my turn. Leaving the seating area, I stalked over to the little dance floor and yanked Adeline to me. She wore a drunken smile from champagne, and she eagerly jumped into my arms.

  "My rock star! Do you see the colors, Lincoln? Aren't they amazing?" Wrapping her legs around my hips, she held her arms out wide and looked up at the blue and red disco lights hitting the smoky air.

  She sang of crazy, crazy nights and got lost in her chemical bliss. Eleven, twelve, thirteen. Sweat poured down my chest, and I grunted at the burning pain in my muscles.

  It wasn’t until we were halfway out of the club she even noticed I was taking her somewhere.

  "Oh!" She palmed my cheeks and focused her eyes. "Is it time for lovemaking yet?"

  Christ, I was gonna ruin her. She made me laugh unlike anyone ever had, but I fucking hated having this control over her. "We're gonna fuck, yeah." I exited the joint with her in my arms, and our driver was ready.

  Pushing off the floor, panting and wheezing, I fumbled until I found the letter in the dark. I squinted. I remembered most of her words. She'd stopped before it got too wild. Shit. I blinked, my head spinning. I swallowed dryly and looked closer. I needed her words. A quick fix. I'd only reread the last bit.

  …I lost the last ounce of control. The moment was everything—the music that reached my core, all the scents, the fucking glitter, spotlights, champagne, and you guiding me to the exit. Fingers in your hair, smooth and damp and thick.

  Whiskey on your breath, eyes dark and penetrating. Tonight was taking my breath away, and then I was trapped between a car door and the guitar player from Path of Destruction, and then we were kissing.

  A dizzy spell swept me away. You kissed me possessively and turned me into a starving lunatic.

  I let out a long, breathless moan.

  It wasn’t a haze; it was a damn ocean, and I was drowning in it. Head swimming, sweat making for some sticky skin. I kissed you with all the passion I had and loved the feel of your tongue against mine.

  "Fuck, Ade…" You hissed and dragged my bottom lip between your teeth.

  It was the first time you called me Ade, and it was the first of many crazy nights.

  *

  "You look like crap." Nunez jerked
his chin at me.

  I lifted my brows, only to lower my gaze to my breakfast tray and stick a piece of bread into my mouth. Of course I looked like crap. I hadn't slept in a week.

  Seven nights in a row, I'd ended up doing push-ups until I crashed before dawn. Seven nights of reading Ade's letters until the words bled together, until it wasn’t my dyslexia that tripped me up anymore. Memories long gone had resurfaced, seemingly here to stay.

  This morning, I threw the letters out—except one.

  My pop visited yesterday, and he'd spoken to Ade. She wasn’t gonna publish the damn book, so now it was back to normal. Back to counting. I was in prison, a place in which men roamed without identity. The past distracted as much as the future did; neither belonged. The proof was right fucking there. Since I let Ade visit me and since her letters…I'd been a mess. No more.

  The letters she'd sent in the past hadn't fucked me over 'cause I never read them. When did my self-control go down the crapper, huh? I shook my head at myself and forced down some oatmeal.

  "How much for a packet of honey?" I nodded at Nunez.

  He thought about it, then smirked. "A song in the chapel next Sunday."

  "Fuck you." I'd buy honey later, then.

  *

  "One more." I planted my boot on Kid's back. "Come on, push."

  He growled. I bet the snow on the ground was giving his hands a nice cooldown. Rubbing my hands together, I blew out a breath between them. It was a nice day, just more frigid than a nun's cunt.

  Cars drove outside the prison. We were on one side of the highway, fields that shone bright green or yellow before harvest on the other side. People lived their lives and happened to pass a prison on their way to work or maybe after picking up their kids. Lately, thanks to Ade again, I had random thoughts on life outside the gates, and they did me nothing good.

  Imagine the day I was released? I would be forty next summer. I knew how to take care of myself in here. I was a sheep that followed the herd according to a schedule set by people who were free. Out there…I was still a thirty-year-old guitar player. Even with money, I'd be absolutely nobody. Enough news and trends entered the prison to let me know I'd missed out on a lot. I'd be clueless, useless, and overwhelmed.

  Ade remained fresh in my mind because time had stopped the minute I was incarcerated. For her, I was a distant past. A part of a memoir.

  Kid trembled beneath my boot, but fuck if he didn’t pull through. With another growl, he pushed himself off the ground, even with the added weight.

  "Good." I helped him up. "You're getting better."

  "You still suck." He grimaced and wiped melting snow off his clothes.

  "Yeah, yeah." I was ready to get back inside. "You start the dinner shift in a bit, yeah?"

  He nodded and trailed after me toward the doors. "Do you think I'll be like you soon?"

  He didn’t wanna be like me. It bothered him that I was gonna talk to Mack on his behalf tonight, but he didn’t wanna be like me. I'd merely done a decent job at putting up a front. He thought I was indifferent. Laughable. I was a joke.

  "You'll be a stronger version of yourself," I said. "You'll be fine."

  We headed inside and passed the rec room, inmates and COs, the showers, and the stairs to the infirmary. Sheep.

  "Where did you go to school?" Kid asked randomly.

  I frowned. "Why?"

  "Just wondering." He shrugged, scraping the end of his toothbrush along the wall. I had no clue why he carried that around him. "I saw the lyrics on the wall in our cell. They're lyrics, right?"

  Probably. Writing to a rhythm came easier, but I wouldn’t call that scribbling anything at all. "What's that got to do with my school?"

  Kid shrugged a lot. And he wouldn’t look at me. "You spelled thief without the 'i' and with two 'e's."

  Oh. I rubbed the back of my neck, and we reached the common area in our block. "S'got nothin' to do with education. I have dyslexia."

  "Really?" He was surprised. "But you read and write a lot."

  "I'm dyslexic, not retarded." I gave him a shove, and shit, it sent him flying into the wall. "Damn, Kid. You make it too fucking easy."

  He shot me a glare and rubbed his arm. "Why do you have to be a dick?"

  I didn’t reply, feeling weird. Uneasy.

  * * *

  1998

  When was I gonna kick her off the bus? I'd expected an easy lay for two nights. Vegas was long gone, and so were Phoenix, Albuquerque, Denver, and some places I'd already forgotten. It was early in the morning when we checked out of the hotel in Oklahoma City. Ade looked fucking adorable in her tiny-ass denim skirt, one of my tees that she'd knotted at her waist, and a pair of shades I'd hooked her up with. She looked almost…seasoned. Like she'd done this before.

  We headed outside like hungover zombies, which was a fairly accurate description, and I signed some autographs while she got straight on the bus. She wasn’t very talkative today, and I was pretty sure she'd had a nightmare.

  Texas was next. We had three shows there. In Dallas, Houston, and Austin. I didn’t remember the order.

  By the time I got on the bus with Tony, Mikey, and Sam, Ade was sipping coffee in a booth with Morgan, some other PA whose name I'd forgotten, and Leo from the crew.

  I used to roll with Leo quite a bit. Then he had kids, and now they were all he talked about.

  I jerked my chin at the sleeping quarters, wanting a nap and some groping.

  "Maybe later. We're making plans for tonight," Ade said. "I've never been to Dallas."

  "We could do dinner before heading over to the arena," Morgan suggested.

  I frowned and slid my shades up to my head. "We got a show tonight."

  Since when did she get cozy with Morgan? He was too uptight for her. Too ordinary. He had an ex-wife, kids, and a house in Reseda. There was probably a station wagon and dog mixed in there somewhere, too.

  "I know." Ade smiled sweetly—too sweetly. "So, since you'll be busy, you don't mind if I go out with the guys before the concert, right?"

  Who were the guys? The only friend she needed to make in this bunch was in my jeans.

  "Whatever." I was tired as fuck, so I ditched them to get up close and personal with my bunk in the back.

  *

  A couple hours later, another headache was gone. The drapes to Mikey's bunk were shut, and unless he'd picked up some skank along the way, he was fucking that PA. Sam was snoring in his bunk underneath mine, and Tony was playing cards with Leo, while doing shots and coke.

  I yawned and left my bed.

  "You want in?" Tony asked.

  I shook my head and left the sleeping quarters, pausing in the kitchen nook to grab a soda. Morgan was working on his laptop, and Ade had retreated to the other booth to read.

  She looked up and smiled softly when she spotted me. "Hi. Come here."

  She made room for me, and I slid into the corner before she settled sideways on my lap. It felt…good. Better than before, when she'd wanted to stay out here.

  "Sleep well?"

  I nodded and kissed her neck, then spotted a magazine on the table I'd left behind the other day. Who the fuck…? I grabbed it and saw that someone had finished the crossword puzzle I'd worked on.

  It wasn’t a big hobby or anything, but it helped me practice with words and spelling. I'd been fucking close to figuring this one out too, so it irritated me.

  "Who the hell solved this?" I asked.

  "I did," Ade replied, and at my look, her curious smile faded. "Crap, I'm sorry. Was it yours?"

  Goddammit. If it'd been one of the guys, I'd have no issue getting violent about it. Now I found it difficult to snap at her, only because it was her.

  "Whatever," I grumbled. "I'll get a new one."

  "Aw, don’t get broody on me." She pouted and began kissing my face. "I'm sorry, Lincoln. How about I make it up to you?"

  That worked. "Deal." I stole a quick kiss and then nodded at the book in her lap. "What're you reading?"
/>
  "Morgan let me borrow On the Road. It's interesting."

  "Interesting," I snorted quietly. "Morgan suddenly makes more sense, though." I smirked lazily, absently stroking Ade's thigh, and faced Morgan across the aisle. "Let me guess. You read it after your divorce, and the fact that our manager's too lazy to grace us with his presence when we're on the road means you get to travel America to find yourself. Just like Kerouac did."

  He furrowed his brow. "Yeah, that’s it, Lincoln. You've got me completely figured out."

  I grinned at his sarcasm, and while he returned to work, I refocused on the girl in my lap. And the crossword puzzle. I didn’t even know what "macadamize" meant. She evidently did. I narrowed my eyes. What the fuck was a lugu…brious?

  Ade flipped a page, lost in her book, and rested her head on my shoulder. "Why are you acting like a jackass?"

  Or maybe she wasn’t all that lost in the book.

  "What're you talking about?" I kept my voice low and caressed her higher up along her inner thigh. "People love me."

  At that, she lifted her head and kissed my cheek. "They don’t know you."

  I chuckled. "And you do?"

  "No." She shook her head and bit her lip. "I think I know your type."

  This oughta be good. "Enlighten me." I took a swig from my Coke and pulled out my smokes.

  "Okay. I'll blow your mind." She closed her book and then made a show of cracking her knuckles. She was too cute for words. "Have you ever told a girl not to fall in love with you?"

  My forehead creased in confusion. "Maybe…?" A dozen times. So what? "Women get clingy as fuck."

  She rolled her eyes. "Moving right on—actually, a quick by the way: you don’t have to tell me that."

  "I don’t have to tell you what?"

  "That I shouldn’t fall for you," she replied frankly. "It won't happen."

  Well, all right. That was good. I guess? I felt a bit irritated, though I didn’t know why. Was she gonna psychoanalyze me or not?

  "Do you put others down?" she wondered. "Like, would you describe yourself as patronizing?"

  I narrowed my eyes.