A Stone in the Sea(12)

Even though I wasn’t looking at her, I could still feel her judgmental eyes narrow into slits. “You certain about that? He sure seems to think so.”

Humorless laughter seeped from me, and I lifted the container that held all the condiments and scrubbed under it before I set it back down. “Lots of guys think we’re friends,” I said with all the sarcasm I could muster.

“He seems to be the first one you’re inclined to agree.”

I stopped to look at her. “What?”

Red lips spread into a knowing smirk. “Oh, come on, Shea, you’ve been a jittery mess since the moment he came waltzing in here last night.”

My mouth dropped open.

“What?” She repeated my question with a casual shrug. “I know you better than you think I do.”

I wondered if that were possible.

She studied me for a moment, like she was trying to pry the real answer out of me. “So you know who he is?”

I lifted a shoulder, letting it propel my motion as I went to work on a sticky spill that had gathered behind a couple of bottles. “Who knows? Another tourist from California out looking for a good time.”

Her dark, perfectly drawn eyebrows drew together in a fierce line. “You’ve never seen him before?”

“Nope. Not before yesterday.”

Almost in disbelief, she shook her head slowly, then pursed her lips when she peeked over at Baz whose entire face turned fiery and hard when her attention landed on him.

I’d thought of him as dangerous. But right then? He looked a little terrifying.

What was with this guy?

She turned back to me. “Just be careful with him, okay?”

Baz’s gaze locked on me for the longest moment before he pushed open the door and disappeared into the night.

Warily, I glanced back at Tamar who was staring at me, her expression pointed when I finally snapped out of my stupor. “Because he’s going to be back.”

And she was right. Over the next week, he came in three different times, each time sitting alone in his secluded corner. Each time he ordered one expensive drink and each time he left me an even larger tip.

Each time he talked with me like our words were the most casual in the world while the intensity brimming between us only seemed to grow.

And each time, he slipped a little deeper into my bones.





“ANTHONY, WHAT’S UP, MAN?” I asked with my phone pressed to my ear, standing at the large windows in the kitchen that looked out over the ocean. Even though it was fucking hotter than Hades out there, the humidity thick and suffocating, my gaze landed on the lone figure who sat along the shoreline, legs drawn up to his chest, a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head.

Austin.

Worry fisted my entire being.

“Baz, thanks for calling me back,” Anthony said.

“You have news for me?”

I heard his hesitation through the line, then he blew out a breath. “I do, but I’m afraid it’s not the good kind.”

My nerves fired, and I began to pace, running my hand over the nape of my neck. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Martin Jennings doesn’t seem to be willing to flex on this. In fact, it’s worse than we expected. He’s filing a personal injury suit.”

That son of a bitch was suing me?

I should have ended him when I had the chance.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“Wish I was.”

“What’s he claiming?”

“He has the medical files. Broken jaw. Broken ribs. Facial lacerations. Multiple sutures. Extensive bruising. Of course they tacked on emotional trauma to that long list of injuries.”

Emotional trauma? I’d show that douchebag emotional trauma.

“The good news is I talked with Kenny and he was able to facilitate a mediation with Jennings’s attorney. We’re still trying to figure all this out without it going to court.”

Kenny Lane and I had become really good friends in the last couple of years, considering my attorney and my agent spent half their time trying to get my ass out of trouble.

“What’s he asking for?”

“Two million.”

“Fucking hell.”

Figured. Those greedy industry assholes were all the same. Looking to live off someone else’s dime. What the hell still didn’t make any sense was him dragging my little brother right back into what he’d fought so hard to escape from in the first place. As much as Austin fought to deny it, I didn’t question for a second that Jennings had been involved. I had seen him coming out of the trailer.

Saw it.

Knew it.

Felt it deep.

Punk kids like your brother aren’t ever going to make it, anyway.

That’s what that slimy bastard had said when I confronted him, right before he followed it up with a creepy smirk, and I’d lost my goddamned mind.