12. Luna

12

"They won't arrest him, will they?" I asked Randall as we drove toward Blackwood's office. Ryder had promised I'd be safe there, although I didn't like leaving the scene of the accident without him.

"Not with Gina on the scene. She's the cop whisperer."

"Really?"

"Her papa was a cop, and his father before him, and now her family runs the Blue Line Tavern. Cross Gina, and an officer can find himself barred from the best watering hole in town."

That's what Randall said, but I couldn't believe him, not completely. Not after what had happened with the cops in San Gallicano. When we got to Blackwood, he parked in a lot surrounded by high walls with spikes on top and led me into a squat two-storey building. Grey brickwork with mirrored windows, no logo or sign showing who inhabited it.

"Not quite as fancy as what you're used to, I suppose, but I can get someone to bring you a coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

How could I drink anything when I felt so sick? It was my fault Ryder was being questioned by the police. Me that he'd been driving around. And the paparazzi had only followed there because for years, I'd measured my worth in column inches. They were the wasps, but week after week, I'd laid out the picnic.

Randall led me past the front desk, into an elevator, and up to the second floor. I felt the receptionist's gaze burning into me until the doors closed, and I steeled myself to be the centre of attention when we exited. Everywhere I went, people stared.

I could cope as long as they didn't also try to talk to me. Every time I'd tried to tell Mom that I got anxious around people, she'd just brushed my fears away. Probably because parties and dinners and meetings had the opposite effect on her. She thrived in social situations. Talking to people energised her, while it drained me. If I ever told that to anyone, though, they'd think I was crazy. How could I get up on stage in front of thousands and sing? Well, those words were all pre-written and learned by heart. If I had a conversation, I had to try and work out what the other person was thinking, which was often different from what they were saying. Then I had to respond appropriately, and I usually messed that part up. Maybe that was why I'd gone along with Mom's plan to turn me into a diva? Divas were meant to be demanding and unreasonable.

Huh, strange. A couple of folks glanced up as Randall led me across an open-plan office, but nobody stared. Did they not use the internet at Blackwood?

"You can wait in here," he said, ushering me into a glass-walled meeting room. "Ryder would probably be pissed if I put you somewhere with external windows."

"Because he doesn't want me to see out?"

"Because he doesn't want snipers to see in."

I froze. "S-s-snipers?"

"Relax. The chances are infinitesimally small, but a man like Ryder doesn't survive as long as he has without a touch of paranoia settling in."

Relax? Randall mentioned snipers and then told me to relax? The room was small, and when he closed the door behind him, I felt as if I were a goldfish in a bowl. Trapped. On display.

On display in one of those dusty old stores that nobody ever visited because why was everyone ignoring me? I wasn't complaining; I just didn't understand. Although on the internet it was situation: normal. I was trending on every social media site, and my "nobody tells me what to do" line had already been turned into a meme. At least I'd put make-up on before I left the apartment. I read every post I could find, inwardly cringing, but there was no mention of an arrest, and the only pictures of Ryder showed him in the background while I was front and centre. Thank goodness for small mercies.

A half hour passed before a brunette not much older than me approached, but instead of walking past as everyone else had done, she knocked, didn't wait for me to say "come in," and opened the door. A scrawny black dog with wiry hair trailed behind her. Its huge ears reminded me of the Anubis mask Luis wore on stage.

Wait.

A dog?

"Hey, are you okay?" The brunette rolled her eyes. "I can't believe Randall just abandoned you in a meeting room and didn't even bring you a drink."

"He did offer me coffee."

"You should have accepted—he used to work as a barista, and he draws little animals in the foam. Or do you want a soft drink? Water? I'm Shani, by the way."

"I'm Luna."

"Yeah, literally the whole world knows that. Tannis brought kombucha in if you feel like punishing your tastebuds, and we also have fruit tea. How about a snack?"

"I couldn't eat anything right now. Do you know how Ryder is?"

"Gina would have called if there was a problem. Do you need onward transportation? Randall was hazy on that."

"I don't know. I mean, we'll need to get back to my apartment, but we were coming here first. Ryder was going to drop some notes off for analysis."

"Right, the Julius thing?"

"Julius?"

What did my agent have to do with this? He was a rapist pig—notes were way too subtle for him.

"Julius Caesar? He thinks you're Cleopatra?"

"No, no, he calls himself Mark A. Like Mark Antony? Caesar and Cleopatra got divorced."

Another eye roll. "Sheesh, relationship drama. History was my worst subject in high school."

"I only know about Mark Antony because I googled."

"Do you have the notes? We have a courier leaving for the lab this afternoon, and I can send them."

"They're still in the car." I checked my phone again. "What if it gets towed? What if Ryder gets arrested?"

"Nobody's getting arrested."

"But—"

My phone pinged.

Ryder

On my way, all good.

Thank heavens. I slumped in my seat, and tension flowed out of me like a river. He wasn't in jail.

"You okay?" Shani asked.

"He's coming back. Ryder's coming back."

"Cool. So, do you want a snack now? We have a whole bunch of veggies with dip…" She pulled a face. "Or chocolate cake."

The dog barked, and I jumped, but it wasn't a proper bark, more of a whisper. Did dogs whisper?

"Sorry, he knows the word ‘cake.'" She scratched his head. "He's real smart."

He sure was. I mean, he hadn't barked at "veggies."

"Maybe I could have a small slice. Is he okay? Don't dogs usually bark louder than that?"

"He's been debarked."

"Huh?"

"He's had surgery to remove part of his vocal cords. It makes him quieter."

Surgery? Vocal cords? I gasped. What kind of barbarian would mutilate him like that?

"You stole his voice?" My hands balled into fists. "You stole his freaking voice?"

"Whoa, no, no, no. Not me. I'm fostering him for the shelter. Someone dumped him in the desert six weeks ago, and he was so thin that we weren't even sure if he'd make it. But he's doing much better now."

"Can I pet him?"

"Sure. He loves people, which is amazing after all he's been through."

I scratched his head the way Shani had done, and he leaned against my leg. Until I went to San Gallicano, I hadn't been the biggest fan of dogs, mainly because Mom always said they were dirty and dangerous, but there had been a dog at the turtle sanctuary, and I'd learned that was just one more thing Mom had lied about. Dogs were sweet and loyal and protective. Everything a girl could wish for, really.

"What's his name?"

"Rocky. He's a fighter."

"I could buy him a cake?"

"He's actually only allowed tiny pieces, and definitely not chocolate cake, but he'd love some doggy treats. Sure you don't want a coffee?"

"Do you have syrup?"

"Caramel, hazelnut, or gingerbread?"

"Caramel." Then I added a "please" because I didn't have to go full-on diva with these folks.

Shani came back a few minutes later with coffee for both of us, slices of cake that definitely weren't small, and a bowl of dog cookies. Rocky settled beside me, and when he rested his head on my foot, my heart swelled in my chest.

"Did you teach him to do that?"

"Do what?" Shani asked.

I pointed down at him. "Be so cute."

She laughed. "No, that's all him. He likes you."

"I like him too."

Animals were much easier to like than humans. Their love was pure, unlike that of people. People always let you down. They were confusing, and annoying, and sometimes downright cruel.

"Why isn't anyone staring at me?" I blurted.

Shani paused with a forkful of cake halfway to her mouth. "Uh…do you want people to stare at you?"

"No! But they usually do, and apart from the receptionist who was shooting daggers from her eyes, people are mostly ignoring me. It's weird."

"Donna was shooting daggers at Randall, not you. He skipped the whole signing-in procedure, and she's a stickler for the rules."

"Why'd he skip it? Should I go back and sign in?"

"He figured you'd had your photo taken enough times already today. And forget about it—I smoothed things over with Donna. We found a photo on your Instagram account, she made you a visitor badge, and I dropped it in the trash on the way up here. If there's a fire drill, just follow me out of the building."

I liked Shani as well as Rocky. She wasn't gushing over me, but nor was she doing that weird thing where people pretended so hard that they didn't know who I was, even though they obviously did. She was treating me like a regular person. We ate cake, drank coffee, and taught Rocky how to give a paw in return for a treat.

And then Ryder was there.

I looked up from stroking Rocky to see him standing in the doorway, watching us with a soft smile on his face, hands in his pockets.

"I might have known Shani would corrupt you," he said.

"Are you okay? Everything's really all right?"

"I doubt Jorge will be running a marathon any time soon, but everything's fine." He nodded at Rocky. "Looks as if you made a new friend."

"Someone took his voice. Can you believe that? The poor, poor puppy."

Shani backed out of the room, squeezing past Ryder on the way. "So I just have to go do something at my desk. Rocky, come here."

The moment the door closed behind her, Ryder tapped a panel on the wall, and the glass walls turned white. What the heck was this magic? I needed that wizardy glass everywhere.

"Moon."

That was all he said, just one word, but he opened his arms and I walked into them. Ryder Metcalfe was a safe port in a storm, and I'd missed this so much during our time apart.

"I'm super sorry," I mumbled against his chest.

"Sorry for what? I was the one driving."

"Sorry that Jorge was there."

"And how is that your fault?"

"Because half of America knows my name, and pictures of me make him money."

"Shut up."

"What? How dare?—"

I trailed off because the way he was looking at me… The intensity made my breath hitch. A hand slid over my back, and his fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently, returning my gaze to his when I tried to look away.

"Never blame yourself for somebody else's actions."

His head dipped, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. I stiffened, not out of fear but out of anticipation. Okay, maybe a tiny bit of fear. But worry about the past soon morphed into disappointment when he didn't move any farther. Why?

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

"I promised I wouldn't touch you, and I already fucked that up."

"What if I touch you?"

His lips flickered into a smile. "That's acceptable."

Every emotion I felt, his presence amplified it tenfold. The urge to find out if his lips were as soft as they looked was so freaking strong that I stood on tiptoe and brushed my own over them. Then he was kissing me properly, one arm wrapped around me as heat fizzed through my veins. His tongue teased the seam of my lips, and they parted of their own accord, inviting him in. I wanted this. I wanted him. But then I closed my eyes, lost to the moment, which was a mistake because the next thing I saw was Julius, the monster of my nightmares, dilated pupils glittering in the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. The nausea threatened to overwhelm me, and I pulled away, breathing hard.

"Shit, moon. I'm sorry."

"Give me a second."

Ryder tried to step back, but I gripped his T-shirt with both hands, holding him close. Julius would not win. Not this time. He'd toyed with me for years, and it wasn't only the way he'd forced himself on me that night, it was the clauses he slipped into my contracts to keep me bound to him. The clauses Mom said I had to accept because Julius was an industry titan and I needed him to build my career.

Get out of my head, you self-important psycho.

I gulped in a breath, then another, and forced myself to focus on Ryder. He wasn't Julius. He would never act that way.

"Kiss me again."

"That's not a good?—"

"Never blame yourself for somebody else's actions. Your words, not mine. Now kiss me again, baby."

I wrapped my arms around his neck because I'd seen that in the movies, and somehow, I ended up backed against the wall. He gripped my ass and hoisted me up so I could reach his lips better, and this time, the heat wasn't a fizz, it was a full-on inferno.

"Moon," he groaned, and I kept my gaze fixed on his as he kissed me so thoroughly my toes curled. Up close, his eyes weren't just green, they had flecks of brown and gold and a tiny little me reflected in them. I shifted for a better angle and…holy heck. Was he carrying some type of weapon in his pocket? I wiggled a bit, trying to work out what it was, and then I realised and gasped.

"Your dick has turned into a baseball bat."

He smiled against my lips. "Yeah, that happens regularly when you're around."

"It didn't happen in San Gallicano."

"You never wondered why I spent so much time in the bathroom?"

"I thought you just had a small bladder."

His smile turned into an actual guffaw, and I poked him in the chest. "Hey, that's not funny."

"Oh, it is."

"It's not my fault I skipped sex ed. I skipped most of school."

Ryder turned serious again. "Luna Maara, I'm going to teach you everything."

"Do I have to call you ‘sir'?"

He rested his forehead against mine. "Promise me you'll never lose that smart mouth."

"You like it when I talk back?"

"I love it when you talk back. But I am curious about one thing—why don't you ever swear?"

Memories made me shudder. I couldn't help it. But Ryder's arms tightened, and I spilled another secret.

"Mom used to wash my mouth out with soapy water when I cursed, and it made me puke."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Pageant queens shouldn't use that kind of language, she said. It only happened a time or two. I got out of the habit real quick."

His eyes lost their softness. "How old were you when that happened?"

"Seven or eight? It was a long time ago."

"Moon, that's child abuse."

Deep down, I guess I'd always known the way she treated me wasn't right, but it was easier to clean up my words than to argue with Amethyst Puckett. She was a force of nature. A tsunami that threatened to drown me if I tried standing up to her.

"Can we just stop talking about my past?"

This time, his kiss was softer. Sweeter. It wasn't my first kiss, but it was the best by a country mile. I'd fake-dated a handful of guys in the past, and one had even seemed nice enough that I'd let him kiss me in a quiet hallway at an upscale hotel in Miami. I'd been listening to some stupid podcast that said I should face my fears. Anyhow, he'd changed in a heartbeat. The charm had vanished, and as I was trying to swallow the vomit welling up in my throat, he'd stuck his hand up my dress and pushed my panties to the side. The strength I'd found had surprised even me, and I'd run before he managed to get back to his feet. A prick-teasing skank, that's what he'd called me. By text message, obviously, because no way was I ever speaking to him again. Anyhow, I'd run around the corner and puked, which someone filmed, so the press said I was an alcoholic and that was the start of my third stint in rehab.

But this…this was new. Jubilee once told me that if I met the right man, everything would be different, and I'd told her she was a fool. Now I'd have to admit I was wrong, and that sucked, but so did Ryder. In a good way. He teased my bottom lip with his teeth, and the tiny pinch of pain zinged through my belly, straight between my legs. What the heck? How did that happen?

I tunnelled my fingers through his hair and let the sensations take over. Warmth, goosebumps, a weird lightness that spread from the inside out. Then a knock at the door made me jump out of my skin.

"Fuck," Ryder muttered, and I realised I was leaning against the magic panel on the wall. The glass wasn't frosted anymore. No, it was crystal clear, and half the people in the office were staring at us. The other half were studiously looking away, but in that stiff way that meant they'd seen everything. Shani had a hand over her mouth as she pushed the door open.

"Uh, so those panels are pretty sensitive," she said as I wriggled out of Ryder's arms and put space between us. "I guess that answers the question of whether you're just a client."

"I'm so sorry."

"Why? If my boyfriend looked like that, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him either."

"Shani…" someone warned from behind her.

"What? It's not as if she doesn't know he's hot. Anyhow, I came to tell you guys that there's a fresh car waiting downstairs. We'll get the scratches polished out of the other one in a day or two."

Rocky slunk past her into the room and nudged my hand with his nose, and I crouched to pet him, grateful for the distraction.

"Sorry, boy. I don't have any more snacks." I looked up at Shani. "Is there anything I can do for him? Buy him some treats?"

"Sure, he loves treats. But what he really needs is a permanent home."

"I can't believe he hasn't found one yet."

"Most folks want puppies. Plus Rocky's still a little sick at the moment."

"Sick how?"

"He has heartworms. Luckily, we caught the infection at stage one, so he has a great chance of recovery as long as he finishes his treatment plan."

"Why don't you pay a visit to the shelter, moon?" Ryder suggested. "A pack of reporters will follow you, and you can use the publicity to the dogs' advantage."

Shani squealed. "I'm going there after work tomorrow. Wanna come?"

I shook my head. "Monday is my only day off. All the other evenings, I have shows."

"Saturday morning?"

"As long as it's early."

"I'll get up at four a.m. if you want."

"Ugh, not that early."

"Eight a.m.?"

I glanced to Ryder, and he nodded. "Okay, eight a.m."

"I'll make sure there's cake," Shani promised, and she knew me so well already. "But if you don't work Mondays, that's perfect. You can both come to our quiz night next week. We're raising money for the shelter."

"Shani…" Ryder said, and I got the impression people warned her in that tone a lot. "Luna needs a break."

"Eating pizza and answering trivia questions will be a perfect break from showbiz. Plus Rocky will be there, and how can you turn down that cute face?"

"I don't mind—" I started, but my words were cut off by another squeal, and this time, it wasn't Shani's. A small man with slicked-back brown hair had his hands and face pressed against the glass, and his mouth was hanging open. Before anyone could put him in a straitjacket, he burst into the room. Ryder moved in front of me in a heartbeat, shielding my body with his. I hadn't even noticed him pull his gun. The newcomer shrieked, Rocky shot under the table, and now everyone was looking at us.