Sanctuary (RiffRaff Records Book 5) Read online

  “Midge? Like Barbie’s red-haired friend?” Maykin was sitting up on his table, a blanket covering her naked chest. “Clever.”

  “I thought so.” Bleu winked as he washed his hands. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” She lied down on her stomach, resting her face on the back of her hand. “E, the key to my studio is in my bag. Stay as long as you want, but there isn’t any food in the fridge.” Evie grabbed a light brown leather tote from the chair in the corner, digging through it with her whole head hiding inside. “If Collin didn’t have anything, I’ve got some Valium in that small outside pocket.”

  “Who is Collin?” Was that her dealer? I’d seen his name pop up on her phone while she’d been at my house. I hadn’t wanted to be nosey, but now I wished I had. Maybe I could have blocked his number. Or threatened to kill him.

  “Her—”

  “No one.” Evie shot Maykin a glare that could set fire to a block of ice. “Thanks for the space, and have fun with Bleu.” She blew her friend a kiss and then left the room without any further explanation.

  “Whoa, wait, where are you going?” I reached for her arm again, stopping her before she made it all the way to the lobby.

  She whirled around, her eyes narrowing on my grip. “Let go of me.” Her words were said with such anger than I dropped her arm immediately. I hadn’t been trying to upset her; I’d only wanted to keep her from running out on me. “Can I have my fake ID?”

  I drew my wallet out of my back pocket, picking the expensive fake between my fingers and dragging it out slowly. When she reached for it, I moved it out of her grasp. “Who’s Collin?”

  “None of your business.” She reached again, missing by a mile.

  “Where are you going?”

  When she tried and came up short for a third time she rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Maykin has a studio space she uses over in the Bishop Arts District every once in a while. I’m going to stay there for a couple of days.”

  “Why?”

  I thought she’d be defiant, I thought she’d tell me to fuck off. Instead she answered, in her real voice. “I need to get away. I need a break.”

  I handed her the card, but followed close behind as she made her way to the front of the shop “You shouldn’t be alone, Evie.” I’d been around her for all of five minutes and I could tell that she was spiraling again. Her eyes were wide, and her hands were shaking. But she was slowing, like all the fight and energy was starting to drain from her. “You sure as shit shouldn’t be driving.”

  She snorted. “I’ll take a driver. Thanks.” Her tone was snotty once again, like I was a commoner that couldn’t possibly understand her aristocratic ways.

  She was hot and cold, her mood ebbing and flowing like the ocean.

  “What did you take today? How much?” I hated how desperate she was making me. I hated that she had this hold over me. There was no reason for it. She wasn’t my family, and she sure as shit wasn’t my girlfriend. Fuck, she was barely even a friend at all. But yet, here I was, seconds away from losing my mind at the thought of her leaving.

  She spun around, her gaze heavy. “Contrary to what you think, sometimes I am sober.”

  “Doubtful.” And even if there was some truth to what she’d said, she sure as fuck wasn’t sober right now. Her eyelids were getting heavier by the minute. “Come on, I’ll drive you.” Her fists went to her thin hips and I knew she was about to argue with me some more. “Look.” I held out my hands, stopping her protest. “You let me drive you, and I’ll stop with all the questions.”

  She scoffed. “Why won’t you let me be?”

  “I wish I knew, little bird.” I sighed, shrugging lightly. “Would you please let me drive you?” I was standing here, basically begging her to let me be part of her disaster of a life. I was asking for the heartache. I was asking for it all.

  She stared at me, her eyes zeroed in on mine. I could tell the instant the fight left her, the moment the downers started to pull her under. “Whatever. Let’s go.” She turned on her flat sandals and threw the front door open, the night breeze making her long thin dress blow around her legs. High or not, skinny as a stick, she still looked stunning.

  I’d run errands earlier, so I had my old Scout with me. I helped her climb into the vintage ride I’d spent two whole summers working on in high school. As soon as we pulled away from the curb, Evie’s head rested back against the seat. I turned on the radio, keeping the volume low. And I drove.

  But not to the Bishop Arts District. Basically, I drove in circles until I knew for sure she was out cold. Then I pulled up outside my apartment and cut the engine. Evie James was going to be one pissed-off chick when she woke up.

  I couldn’t explain my concern for her. I couldn’t tell you why she mattered, or why I felt compelled to help her. All I knew was that I did. I wanted to make sure she was safe. I wanted to make sure she ate and she rested. I wanted her to be sober, and I wanted her to see that she didn’t need the pills.

  I wanted to give her a safe space. A place where she could be herself—the real Evie. The girl I’d met two years ago that blushed at the thought of removing her pants for a tattoo.

  The girl who liked Brontë quotes and cheeseburgers.

  The girl who spooned my dog.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Evie

  I was awake, but opening my eyes felt like a chore. I was hot, and it was hard to move. I lifted my head, checking my surroundings. It was still dark outside—there was almost zero light filtering in through the grey curtains. Wait. My curtains were white. And I didn’t have a dog…did I? Was I at my parents’ house?

  I turned my head to the left. Nope. Not at home. “What the actual fuck, Nicky?” I shoved his arm off my stomach, waking Ollie in the process. “Are you insane? I’m pretty sure this is considered kidnapping.”

  “Calm down, little bird.” His voice was groggy, like he was still mostly asleep. “You passed out before I could get directions to that chick’s studio, so I brought you here.”

  “She was in your shop, getting tattooed by your friend.” I sat up, scratching Ollie under her chin. It wasn’t her fault her dad was batshit crazy. “You could have called and asked.”

  Nicky rolled on his back, putting his gorgeously defined torso on display. “And then what? Carry you inside a stranger’s house and drop you on her couch.”

  I looked down at him in the dark. “Yeah, or maybe you could have woken me up.” I was pissed that he’d brought me here. I was pissed that he kept trying to help me. And I was pissed that I needed help in the first place. I was mad at Nicky, but I was mad at myself too. “You’re the worst.” He wasn’t anywhere near the worst. He was the best, at everything, unfortunately for me. I gave myself a mental headshake. Now wasn’t the time to start remembering how good Nicky was in bed. “Where is my purse?” I needed to get out of here before I started to drool.

  “Your phone is charging on the nightstand. But your purse is locked in my safe.” Nicky sat up in bed, clicking on a lamp and then turning to face me. “Your pills are flushed down the toilet.”

  “What?” I shoved him with shaky hands. I carried my pills with me, but I wasn’t stupid; I had more at home. “Who the hell do you think you are? Fuck, Nick. You aren’t my father, you aren’t my therapist—”

  “No, I’m the guy that you keep passing out on.”

  I sent him one of my best sneers. “Falling asleep isn’t a crime.”

  “You don’t fall asleep, Evie, you collapse. Your body gives up, and you go limp. Bleu wanted to call an ambulance the other night.”

  I got out of his warm bed, sparing my bare legs a quick glance. He changed me out of my dress? I waved my hands down my body. “And why the hell do you think it’s okay to look at me naked?” I shook my head, glaring at him. “You want me off my pills? You have an odd fucking way of showing it, because every fucking step you take only makes me feel like I’m spiraling further out of control.”

  Before Nicky, I could ha
ndle my life. I could handle my ups and downs. I knew how to manage every little nuisance of being me. But the second I’d seen his face again, saw the way he looked at me, everything tilted. Now nothing made sense.

  Stupid handsome tattooed god.

  He stood, his soft shorts hanging temptingly low on his hips. “If you leave this apartment, I’ll call your parents and tell them everything that’s going on.”

  “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “I’m extorting you. How does it feel, princess?”

  I saw red, and immediately picked up the thing closest to me. I threw a baseball at Nicky’s head. Quick with the reflexes, he ducked and the ball missed him, but I put a hole in the sheet rock above his head. “Fuck you.”

  He stood to his full height, his eyes boring into mine. “Nothing you do or say will change my mind. You’re staying. Like it or not, I’m your only option at the moment, little bird.” His voice had gone a little softer, almost as if he was apologizing without saying the words. “You can kick and scream and throw things…but you aren’t leaving.” He crossed the room, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I can’t explain to you why I care, but I really fucking do. And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  I had to look up—he was standing right in front of me. “I’m not sorry I threw the ball at your head.” I felt my anger start to dissipate slightly, even though I was trying desperately to hang on to it.

  “That ball was signed by the entire Rangers ball club the first year they went to the World Series.” He pointed behind him. “And you used it to put a hole in my wall.”

  “You called me princess.” I bit my bottom lip when it started to tremble. I suddenly felt like crying. I wanted to curl into myself and sob for hours. I was all over the place mood-wise, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it.

  “Tell me why you don’t like being called princess.”

  I shrugged and made my way into the living room with Ollie on my heels, trying to outrun my tears. “It makes me sound like a spoiled brat.”

  “No, now that would be me calling you a stuck-up bitch.” When I glared at him over my shoulder he held his hands up. “Which I didn’t.” He reached for my wrist, stopping me. “If you ever want your stuff back, you’re going to need to stop lying to me, little bird.”

  Stop lying? Did I even know how to do that anymore? If only Nicky knew I was more honest with him than anyone else in my entire life. “I have a friend, a not-so-nice friend, and that is what they call me.” So hearing it come out of your mouth makes my skin crawl.

  “Tell me about this friend.”

  I shook my head, mashing my lips together and shifting on my feet. I didn’t want to bring Collin into Nicky’s apartment. I was virtually being held prisoner here, but it still felt like a safe space. I wasn’t ready to violate that by discussing every fucked-up aspect of my world.

  “Okay. Fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes assessing my body in his thin t-shirt. “Would you like me to take you to your house so you can get a change of clothes?”

  I didn’t want to change. I wanted to stay in Nicky’s clothes. They were soft and they smelled like him. “I had another bag with me. Did you get it out of your car?” I also didn’t want to go back to the sorority house, which was why I’d asked Maykin if I could stay at her place last night.

  “No, I didn’t realize you had anything else with you.” He grabbed his keys off a small, thin table against the entryway wall. “I’ll get it.”

  I nodded and sat on the couch, curling my legs underneath me. When Ollie jumped up next to me, I cuddled close. As soon as Nicky left I laid on her, resting my cheek against her short, soft fur.

  If I’d never walked back into Revival Ink, I’d be fine. I’d have spent this whole evening being the life of the party. I would have danced and laughed, I would have winked and flirted. Collin would have draped himself all over me. My fake friends would have swooned when he picked me up to carry me upstairs. They all wanted to be me.

  I’d be in his room, not Nicky’s apartment. The sound of Collin’s frat brothers hooking up would be coming through the thin walls. Not the soft snores of a sweet dog and the tick of an old clock.

  I’d yelled at Nicky, pissed that he kept taking my choices away from me. But maybe that was what I needed. When I was left to my own devices, I made all the wrong ones.

  Chapter Twenty

  Evie

  I was wearing my own clothes, but I was snuggled under Nicky’s covers. After our fight last night, I’d changed and then gone back to sleep. This morning he’d made me breakfast, sitting next to me to make sure I ate it all. He also made me drink some disgusting protein shake from a can. The guy needed a weekly grocery service and a blender.

  We’d barely spoken since our screaming match in the middle of the night. But he’d slept next to me, hugging the edge of the bed and staying out of my way.

  “How are you feeling?” He walked in the room, a bottle of water in his hands. He’d been gone for a few hours, said he had some work to do in his office and that I should rest. I didn’t know what kind of work a tattoo artist could do from home, but I hadn’t had the energy to ask at that point.

  I cleared my throat and sat up a little. “My head hurts.” Hurts was an understatement—it was pounding. “You can’t go cold turkey with Adderall, Nicky.” I held up my hand, showing him the tremors. “See?”

  “I know.” He handed me the water and pulled a bottle of ibuprofen from his pocket, tossing it to me as well. I missed and it landed in my lap. “I Googled.”

  “Okay great, so can you please bring me my pills?”

  He shook his head. “I told you, I flushed them.”

  “I have more in my room. I’ll call the car service and…”

  “Not a chance.” He sent me a large grin and then crawled back into bed, picking up the TV remote. “I made you a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow morning. We’re going to find someone to help wean you off. And we’re going to be honest with her about your addiction and how long you’ve been taking them.”

  “We?” Logically I knew I needed to see a doctor if I was going to stop taking pills all the time.

  But Nicky was ignoring the fact that I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to stop the Adderall, and that pissed me off. When Nicky got bored of trying to save me, and I went back to my real life, I’d need them. Classes would pick back up in a couple of months and I was head of our rush committee. I was busy. I didn’t know how to function without them. I didn’t think I could.

  “We.” He clicked on the TV, searching through things to watch. Nicky was taking this way too seriously, but for now I was fine sitting in his apartment for the next few days. I was due some down time, and I’d already made arrangements to be gone. The only difference between Nicky’s place and Maykin’s studio was that here, I was sober.

  Other than the headaches, it wasn’t so bad. My captor was easy on the eyes, and his bed was comfortable as fuck. Now that my anger had faded, for the moment, I was feeling pretty okay. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that the anger would return at some point. Mood swings were a part of any detox, right?

  I took the pain medicine he gave me and then leaned back against the covers. He’d picked some documentary about the pyramids of Egypt. Was he trying to make me pass out again? He was still shirtless, and wearing those low-sitting shorts. I could see every inch of his tattooed torso. His upper chest was covered in a large piece that looked like a cross between a bird and a skeleton, the wings stretching out to his shoulders. He had designs trailing down his arms, trees and roads and mountain peaks. His hands were bare except for his knuckles, and they were resting on his stomach. God Lord, his abs.

  “Your phone is ringing.”

  “Huh?” I quickly tore my eyes off his body to find him looking right at me, a smirk on his face.

  “Your phone is ringing, little bird.”

  I shook my head and quickly turned to grab it, fumbling around a little before I could
finally hit accept on Beau’s call. “Hello?”

  “How’s it going, Evs?”

  Out of all my cousins, I talked to Beau the most often. We’d bonded when he’d moved back home after his biological father’s death. He knew a little about what I was going through, and it felt nice to have someone I didn’t have to completely lie to.

  “It’s going fucking spectacular, Beau. I’m living in the sorority house now. I’m in charge of spring rush. I’m spending the week finalizing details for the officers’ dinner next weekend. Busy, busy, busy.” I used my fake Evie James voice, the one that said I had it all under control and everyone better bend to my fucking will or else.

  “Oh yeah? Awesome.” Beau’s chuckle on the other end of the line matched Nicky’s beside me. “Now tell me the truth.”

  “I’m currently wearing next to nothing, curled up in the bed of my tattoo artist-slash-kidnapper.” I looked over at Nicky, sending him a toothless smirk. Take that, chuckles.

  “Is this like a TMI situation? Or do I need to send the cops to his door?”

  “Jury’s still out.” I raised an eyebrow when Nicky kept staring at me, a smile on his stupid gorgeous face. “He thinks he’s my saving grace or whatever. He’s helping me cut back on the Adderall.” Demanding was more like it. The guy had decided that I was going to detox and stay that way, but he hadn’t consulted me. Design flaw if I’d ever seen one.

  “’Bout fucking time, Evs.”

  “Yeah, yeah, everyone’s got an opinion.” I trained my gaze on the TV, no longer able to take the lust that was forming in my veins from staring at Nicky. “Tell me what’s going on at the compound. How is Hales? How’s Wyatt?” Our baby cousin Wyatt was the cutest, happiest baby on the planet. I wished I went home more. I wished I wasn’t missing him grow up.

  “Wyatt is good, he’s starting to crawl. And Hales is good, she’s taking summer classes so she can graduate early.” He paused. “But, um, some stuff went down here a couple of days ago.”