Page 76 of Uncharted Desires
If Luke could dip his head any farther down, he would have.
West glared at him. “Why the hell would you stab me in the back like that?”
Luke’s head snapped up, his eyes a swirling storm of gray. “Because, you just have it all . . . The fame, the fortune, the girls, the looks. Everyone loves you; they want to be you. I just snapped. After thirty fucking years of following you around, I wanted to be the center of attention, you know? Why should you get to have it all? The last thing I was gonna do was fucking beg for money.”
Kat snorted behind him, but West said nothing. Luke was a moron, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. He was raised by nannies and tutors and needed a lot of therapy he’d never bothered to get.
“I didn’t want to kill you. Dec said he’d take me down with him, so I freaked. Then there you were on the deck, drunk as hell, walking right on the edge in the dark. Acting as if nothing could touch you, like you always do. It was so easy. I just pushed the deck chair and as you lost your balance, I gave you a little extra push. But here you are, still alive. Like a damn cat. No wonder you want her so bad.”
He nodded toward Kat, and West felt ice go through his body. Luke had caused all of this. He was grateful it had brought him and Kat together, but they also could have died. She could have died. He could never forgive Luke.
Declan laughed as the cops pulled them up. “Must be real good pussy, West. She’s got you on your knees. Sorry you had to wait so long. You tell her where you ended up that night at the House of Blues?”
“Shut up, Dec!” West flew out of his chair as panic rose in his chest because he knew what was coming. The cops pulled him back, stopping him from cracking Declan’s skull.
Declan looked at Kat. “He didn’t come back, did he?”
“Declan, that’s enough. Leave her out of it.” West’s voice was murderously low as he looked at Kat, who was standing stock-still, her eyes moving between him and Declan.
With a smirk, Declan looked directly at West. “How was the lead singer of . . . what was that group called? Body Count? Cute little blonde thing, wasn’t she?”
West roared his anger as he ripped free of the cops, getting in one good punch before the cops pulled him back, all while Declan laughed hysterically. He got what he wanted. One backhanded comment and everything was ruined.
He pulled free of the cops.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said, straightening his clothes, as Declan and Luke were carted away.
“Fucking hell.” West ran his hands through his hair and turned to find Kat, but she was already gone.
He went to run after her, but EMS stopped him.
He was so utterly fucked.
It was over. Luke and Declan were in an Indonesian prison. She had been told the medics cleared West, and they were going home. According to the cops, thanks to Kat and West’s descriptions of Cocaine Island, they had arrested many of the workers. Sadly, the big bosses had run off, and would most likely set up shop on another island, but for now Kat could rest easy knowing she had slowed down a drug ring.
The next day went by in a blur of packing and meeting with the authorities and the doctors to make sure she was also clear to fly. Kat’s mother fussed over her, still shocked that “that nice boy” Luke could do such a thing as attempt murder. Declan, on the other hand, had always come off as rather sleazy, and no one was very shocked to hear he had been skimming funds off the top for himself.
Kat had been avoiding West all day, refusing to talk to him about where they stood because she couldn’t admit out loud that it was over. He had lied to her, and she had never felt so small or insignificant as she had when Declan revealed West hadn’t been alone that night all those years ago. Her heart had broken all over again.
Tomorrow they would all board their plane to L.A., and then Kat and her mom would continue to Iowa where she would have to figure some things out.
At lunch together, her mom asked question after question. “Where was West? Why wasn’t he eating with them?” Kat brushed off most of them, saying he was with the police or his PR rep, or doing other things important people had to do. Eventually, she would have to tell her mother that her hopes of having a son-in-law were dashed.
Kat stepped into her hotel room, ready to finalize her packing. Maybe afterward, she’d hit the pool, wallow in more self-pity, and continue to avoid West.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Well, scratch the last thing off her list.
Kat jumped at his voice; its deep timbre wrapped around her like smooth velvet. She’d know his voice anywhere. It would forever be imprinted on her soul.
Sighing, she sat in the chair next to him, knowing it was now or never. They had to talk. She was an adult, for fuck’s sake. She could do this. She just had to stay strong. Then she looked at his chiseled jawline and the scratch above his eyebrow, which made him look even more dangerous, and she almost lost her nerve.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He leaned back, always so relaxed, but Kat knew it was an act. His foot was bouncing up and down with nervous energy. “You know why. After all the shit with Dec and Luke and the cops and doctors, we didn’t get to talk, and I know you’re mad at me. I just need you to listen.”
“So, I misheard the part where you left me in a hallway after making out and then had sex with the tiniest, most petite lead singer on the planet? Oh, and then lied to me about it?”