Gabe pulls me to him and presses his lips to my forehead.
"Is there any way we can trace these bugs back to those bastards?" Gabe's voice rumbles through his chest.
"It won't be easy … but leave it to me," Martin says. "I know a few people who might be able to help. Are there any other places that could be bugged? Do you have any other properties? What about your car?"
"No other properties. And that bitch, Sandy, didn't have access to my car."
"You'd be surprised," Martin says. "I'll check it out just to be sure." He gets to his feet.
Gabe lets me go momentarily and gets his car keys from the coffee table. He hands them to Martin. "Could you check Ava's car as well, just to be sure?"
"Sure thing."
"Thanks, man. I appreciate you coming down and doing this for us," Gabe says to Martin.
"Anytime," Martin replies.
Charly gets my car keys from her bag and gives them to Martin.
"I'll take you down to the garage," Julian says to Martin.
We watch them leave. I can feel Gabe's silent rage vibrating through him.
"Fucking Digby," Vaughn bites out. "I hate that bastard. I can't believe the lengths he'll go to for a story."
"Nothing surprises me anymore," Charly says. "Ava, you doing okay?" she asks me.
"Yeah." I meet her eyes. "Just feeling … violated, I guess."
"That's understandable."
"I need a smoke."
I glance up at Gabe. I can see the frustration etched into his forehead, his jaw clenched so hard that it might shatter.
"Okay."
"I'll be out on the terrace."
I watch him walk out onto the terrace. He leans against the railing and lights up a cigarette.
"He's feeling helpless," Vaughn says to me. "I know that's how I'd be feeling right now, and if there's one thing a man hates, it's feeling helpless. If someone had done that to Charly and me … recorded us doing … well, fuck. Put it this way, I'd want to tear the fucker apart with my bare hands."
"I should go talk to him," I tell them.
"I'm going to make some drinks." Charly gets up from the sofa. "I think we could all do with a little something strong right now."
Leaving the living room, I go outside to Gabe. I can see how tense he is. His shoulders rigid. His body taut with anger and frustration.
"Hey," I say in a quiet voice. I rest my arm on the railing, standing next to him, and stare out at the sky. "You okay?"
"No." He takes a drag of his cigarette and flicks the ash off the end. "I want to kill Digby. I want to get in my car, drive to his house, and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. And I would never hit a woman." His eyes come to mine. "Never. But that bitch … "
"I know." I put my hand on his arm. "I want to kick her ass, too. But getting angry isn't going to change anything."
"I can't help it." He grinds his teeth, working his jaw. "Having sex with you … making love to you, it was the first time in my life that sex actually meant anything to me. And, now, they've fucking cheapened it." He takes a pull on his smoke, drops it on the floor, and stubs it out with his shoe. He turns to face me. The sadness in his eyes hurts me. "They've made me feel like a whore all over again."
"No, Gabe. No." I take his face in my hands, forcing his eyes to me. "Feeling like that means they win. And I refuse to let them. Those moments with you-you making love to me, you fucking me, all of it-aren't cheap. They're everything."
He lowers his eyes.
"Gabe, if you allow them to make you feel like a whore, that means that I'm one, too."
His eyes snap back to mine. "Fuck no. Never, Ava. Never."
"Then, don't let them make you feel like a whore. Because, if you do, they win."
"God, this is all just so fucked up." He blows out a breath. "I feel like this is my fault. I brought you into my life, and then this happens … "
"You didn't bring me into your life. I crashed into yours, remember? And the rest of it … I came willingly. And so what? They recorded us having sex." I lift a shoulder, letting a smile onto my lips. "We gave them some pretty damn good shows."
Light seeps into his eyes. "We gave some astro-fucking-nomical shows, baby."
"Damn right, we did."
"God, I love you, Speedy."
"I love you, too." I gently kiss him on the lips.
"Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but I come bearing alcohol. Bourbon for Gabe. I figured you liked whiskey; you have enough of it in there. And I made a G and T for you, Ava."
"Thanks." I smile at her.
Charly leaves the drinks on the table and disappears back inside.
Gabe is staring over at the glass of whiskey, an expression on his face I've never seen before.
"Gabe?"
"I drink too much, Speedy." His eyes come back to mine. "Way too much."
I know he does. I've always known, but he needs to come to this realization on his own.
"What do you want to do about it?" I ask slowly.
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "I don't know. I think maybe I need to slow the drinking down. Or … I dunno … stop altogether." He blows out a breath. "I think … "
"What?"
"I think maybe I use it as a crutch … to make myself feel better."
"What are you saying?"
He needs to say this, not me. He needs to admit it to himself.
"I don't know. I just know, when I think about never having a drink … the thought scares me."
"Okay. So, what should we do about that?"
He lifts a shoulder. "I think maybe I need help stopping."
"Then, we'll get you help. Whatever you need."
He's silent, and then he lets out a self-deprecating laugh. "After watching Julian struggle with drugs, I was so worried that it could happen to me. I never even realized that I was struggling just with alcohol."
I press my hand to his cheek. "It's going to be okay, Gabe."
His eyes tell me he's not so sure.
"Whatever happens, I'll be with you, every step of the way. I've got your back."
He leans his forehead against mine and breathes deeply. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so fucking glad you're mine."
"Right back at ya, babe."
He kisses me again. Then, he takes my hand and leads me over to a lounger. He sits first and then pulls me to sit between his legs. I rest my back against his chest and lay my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me. I can feel his heart beating strong against me.
I glance over at the glasses of alcohol that Charly left for us. Thinking about what he just said, I ask, "Do you want me to get rid of the drinks?"
He's silent a moment. "No. Leave them there. I'm not saying I'm going to drink it right now, but I know that I won't be able to not drink it either-without some help."
"Then, we'll get you help real soon."
He presses a kiss to the top of my head.
We sit in silence, just being together.
I think about everything. About Digby and Sandy. The bugs in the apartment. Gabe's past out there for public fodder.
"What's going to happen with Digby and Sandy?" I ask him.
He sighs. "I don't know. I guess we wait and see what Martin can find out about those bugs, if they're traceable back to either of them. But I know one thing for sure. I'm not letting those fuckers get away with this. Bugging my apartment and setting you up to take the fall. I nearly lost you because of those bastards."
I slide my hands over his and link our fingers together. "We'd have found our way back to each other; I'm sure of it."
"Once I stopped being an asshole and started listening to you, you mean?"
"Yeah, something like that." I laugh softly. "You're going to need to call Gil and let him know what's going on-about Sandy and the bugs in your apartment."
"I had Vaughn call him to fill him in while I came to see you. But I do need to talk to Gil about all that shit and about the press release. I know he's probably getting twitchy, waiting for my answer on it."
"Press release?" I ask.
"About my past. Gil had my publicist draft a statement. I have to sign off on it."
"You don't sound convinced."
"I'm not."
I sit around and look at him. "Don't you want to tell your side of the story? Get the actual truth out there to your fans?"
"Yeah, I do. But the statement just doesn't feel right. It says nothing about the truth in it. It's just basically an apology for my past."
"So, change it. Rewrite it yourself."
"I'm not exactly a great writer, Speedy. I'm more of a verbal guy, if you haven't noticed."
"So, if talking is your strength, tell them face-to-face from your own mouth."
"I don't want to go on a fucking talk show and spill my guts."