Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) (12 page)

“Her hair? What the hell did you do to her hair that had her running scared?”

“Her hair was fucking red.” The words came out through clenched teeth.

“Jesus.” I ran a hand over my face. “You’re making absolutely no sense.”

Dash shook his head. “I thought her fucking hair was brown,” he said. “Last night at the club it looked dark brown. But this morning I woke up next to a redhead!” He lifted his head up. “FUUUUCK!”

“Okay,” I said, frowning. “Sounds like an honest mistake.” I’d had some unfortunate beer-goggle incidents when I’d been trying to fuck Ree out of my head. I was glad I’d been drunk enough to forget most as soon as they were over. “Not sure what you’re getting so upset about. Shit happens, Dash.”

“I don’t make mistakes.” His jaw tightened. “And I don’t DO redheads!”

“Funny, I could’ve sworn you did anything and everything with a pulse.” I laughed, relaxing a little. Though, the more I thought about it, I realized that in the two months I’d been with the band not a single redhead had come out of my brother’s room. Dash shot me a look that could’ve cut through glass, so I raised my hands and backed off. “Okay, okay. No red-haired chicks. Got it.” More seriously, I added, “So you didn’t actually hurt her, right?”

“Of course not. I just told her to get the fuck out.”

“Because of her hair.” I started laughing again.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Alright then,” I said with a shrug. “I personally find your war on gingers baffling and
hairist
as shit, but at least we aren’t going to have any trouble on our hands. Save for your poor girl’s bruised ego.”

“She’s not MY girl.” He growled the words as his fingers impulsively drifted to the little wren on his chest.

Interesting. “You know, if you have such a stick up your ass about redheads, maybe you shouldn’t have let me add so much auburn to your wren tattoo. All those dark red feathers—”

“Shut it, Dare.” His grip tightened around his coffee cup. “You may be blood, but do not go there.”

VERY interesting.

Before either of us could say anything more, my phone buzzed, the caller ID lighting up with Rex’s number.

Today was turning out to be full of surprises. “If you’re calling to ask about Jasmine for the third time this week, she’s safe and sound,” I said as I picked up. “And still very married.”

“Dare…” Rex’s voice caused a chill to run down my spine.

There were only three reasons he would sound like that. Two of those were currently partying in Vienna. The other—my mom—I hadn’t talked to for a week. Shit.

“What is it? What happened?”

“Your mom’s counselor called.” I could hear him sigh. “She’s been skipping her meetings.”

I ran a hand through my hair, at a loss for words. “Why?” was all I could manage. “Why now?” She had been doing SO well lately. She’d earned her one year sobriety chip just last month.

“Something has her spooked,” he said.

Spooked?
Shit
. That could only mean—

Dash leaned in and mouthed,
What’s wrong?

I shook my head, worry taking hold, and turned on the speaker so Dash could hear.

“Rex?” I said. “What happened?”

“She got a call from Rykers.”

All the air rushed out of my lungs. Dash white-knuckled the edge of the counter.

“When?” we both asked in unison. As if that REALLY mattered.

He had found her number. He had found her.

FUCK.

Rex didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he said, “Two weeks ago. He said he was coming for her, that he was being released soon. She pleaded with me not to tell you, but I can’t keep it from you now that she’s missing meetings.” Another few heartbeats of silence followed. “I’m sorry, Dare. This is my fault. I should be taking better care of her while you kids are away.”

I shook my head. “Rex, it’s enough that you flew to L.A. to be with her this summer so Dalia and Dax could travel and I could be here. The last thing you should be doing is blaming yourself. She’s not your responsibility. She’s mine.”

And so was my father and his threat.

Dash bent down to the speaker and asked the one question I wasn’t brave enough to ask. “Is Celia using again?”

“From what I can tell she’s clean,” Rex said, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. “I’m keeping a close eye on her and I’ll drag her to those goddamn meetings if I have to. She’s safe, Dare. I swear. I just thought you should know why she hasn’t been herself lately. She’s so afraid to tell you about Daren’s call.”

That name. That fucking name still haunted me to this day.

“Maybe I should come back,” I said.

“No!” There was a sharp edge in Rex’s voice. “You need to live YOUR life.
For once
. Your mom will be fine.”

“Rex—”

“No, Dare. Listen to me. You stay where you are. If you show up here all of a sudden, that’s just going to spook her more.”

I nodded, torn. For the moment, he was probably right. If she was already scared, it could send her over the edge, and I really didn’t want to be the cause of her falling off the wagon again.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll stay. But you call me the minute you hear anything at all. Promise me that, Rex.”

“Of course. If anything changes, I’ll call.”

As soon as Rex hung up, Dash began pacing the room.

“I’ll call my mom and see if he’s been in touch,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “We don’t know if it’s really him yet.”

My head pounded. “Sure we do, Dash. My mom doesn’t have that many admirers from Rykers.”

“At least we know he’s still incarcerated, right?” I was pretty sure Dash had meant that to sound reassuring. Except his words had the opposite effect.

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “For now.”

Ree had warned me that her father had the power to reduce my dad’s sentence. She had also told me what she’d said to the reporters back in the Galerie Yves Robert. The message she’d had for her parents. If the mayor saw me as the reason she was dissing Harvard and the McKinley name…
shit.

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Dash said.

Where the hell did his optimism come from? Did it have something to do with the fact that Dash had never crossed our father the way that I had? That fucker had never had it as bad for anyone as he’d had it for me. His name on my birth certificate was like a target on my back.

“Maybe I need to go back home,” I said, placing my head in my hands.

“When I got out of rehab,” Dash said, quietly, “I had someone who helped me through it all, and I never would have made it to sobriety without her. But if she hadn’t been there for me at that time…”

His voice trailed off and I lifted my head to look at him. He had this far-off look in his eyes—a painful mixture of sweetness and sorrow on his face.

I immediately knew what I needed to do, what I
wanted
to do.

For the moment, I needed to put this out of my mind and focus on Ree. Right now, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to help her win this fight. I had to do everything in my power to ensure her happiness. That also meant not telling her about my parents. If she got even one whiff of the potential threat—especially if it was brought on by her father—it could send her running for the pills again.

I would just have to take things one day at a time and trust that everything would work out.
For once.

Having lived in the middle of a shitstorm for so long, I’d taken the relative quiet of the last few years to be a deserved respite. Having Ree in my life had to be my reward for all the hurt I’d survived growing up.

I just had to hope this wasn’t the calm before the real storm.

fourteen

“R
eady?” Dare squeezed my hand and smiled as we stood on the doorstep of Dash’s place.

Yeah, the former scene of my worst walk of shame ever. Talk about your first test straight out of rehab. My heart was pounding, my palms sweating, and I felt like I couldn’t get any oxygen into my lungs.

I started shaking my head. “I don’t know about this, Dare.”

The people inside were foreign to me. Not to mention, the last time they’d seen me had not been my most shining moment, to say the least. I had a vague recollection of insulting some girl with blue hair before realizing Dare was there, and then hanging my head as Dash had walked me out. Sure, the eldest Wilde had been incredibly kind, but he had to think the worst of me. Anyone would.

God, I wished I had some pills to settle my nerves.

Shit.

I couldn’t think like that. I had to be able to do it on my own, to live life without help. I’d already faced much worse in my past. I had to be able to handle
this
with my head held high.

“Ree.” Dare’s lips were pressed against my ear, his warm breath shivering me. “They’re not going to judge you. Some of them have been where you are—Dash has, for one.” I pulled back from him so I could see his eyes. Dash had been in rehab? Somehow, I could breathe a little easier knowing that. “They don’t know you. You have a clean slate with them. I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

I nodded, took a breath, and then tried to smile.

“Think about them like they’re your new therapy group,” he said. “Out of one rehab program and into—”

“No man’s land?” I said, a genuine smile blooming. “That doesn’t sound dangerous at all.”

Dare laughed, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t.” Then he reached over and brushed his thumb across my cheek. “I’m here. Okay?”

Leaning into his hand, I sighed. “Yeah,” I said, kissing his palm. “I can do this.”

“I know.”

No one had ever believed in me before, and his words filled me with strength.

His strength. My strength.
Our
strength.

“So…are you ready?” he asked, gently nudging my shoulder.

Not really, but I was never fully going to be. Might as well make this first step.

I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

He opened the door, and I followed him inside.

“—don’t understand why we can’t at least have beer here,” a male voice was saying. “And why aren’t there any women?”

There was a loud smack and the guy said “OW! Jesus, Indie, that fucking hurt!”

The band members were assembled around the dining room table. All four of them, save for Dash.

Food was set out along the breakfast bar and the table as if they were having a party, and there were a couple of bottles of soda, seltzer, and juice. But not a drop of alcohol to be seen.

Because of me. No. FOR me.

I wasn’t sure whether to feel touched at the gesture or guilty that they were being denied. A little bit of both settled over me.

“And what am
I,
Hawke?” The blue-haired girl glared at a tall guy with messy black hair and tribal tattoos winding around both arms.

“A fucking banshee,” another guy said, and the girl reached over and smacked him on the back of his dirty blond head. “Bloody hell, Blue. No matter how much you wish I was, I’m not your boy toy anymore.”

Synner. I bit back a smile.

A dark-skinned guy with short hair grabbed a handful of chips. “Hawke meant
real women
, Indie. Not you.”

Indie’s eyes widened into huge blue saucers. She planted her hands on her hips, and I could practically see steam coming out of her ears. “I’m not a REAL WOMAN, Leo?”

He glared at her. “It’s
Lynx
, Banshee. And I’m not sure…Synner? You’re the only one who’s had her. Is she a real woman?”

“She sure screamed like one.” Synner ducked when Indie swung at his head again. “Aw, come on, Blue,” he said, laughing as he dodged every one of her blows. “It’s thanks to me that you can reach all those high notes now.”

“Well, in THAT case…” Hawke grabbed Indie, threw her over his shoulder and started carrying her toward what I could only assume was his bedroom.

“Put me down this minute, Hawke, or I swear you’ll NEVER have children!”

Hawke laughed as she pounded her fists into his back, then gently set her back on the floor. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she kneed him in the groin. Then she spun around, her blue hair flying as she stalked away, while Synner and Leo howled at Hawke doubled over in pain.

As soon as Indie saw Dare and me standing in the doorway, she stopped. Then she glanced back at the guys in the kitchen, rolled her eyes, and with a resigned sigh said, “Welcome to the island of horny, immature misfit toys, Ree.”