Rough Rhythm: A Made in Jersey Novella (1001 Dark Nights)(3)

The guard pushed open the waiting room door, indicating Lita should precede him. When Lita entered the room and saw James, standing with his suited back to her, a smug smile tugged at her lips. God, his tailored glory put their surroundings to shame. Dark hair dusted with salt and pepper at the temples made him more suited to a corporate boardroom than a county jail. The scene reminded Lita of a Marvel Comics movie where the hero tries to blend in among mortals, but is so obviously everyone’s savior. Her savior. If he would only allow himself to be. “Well. If it isn’t my prom date.”

The band manager turned around—and ice formed in Lita’s belly, halting her progress halfway across the room. There was one thing she could count on in life—and that was James being furious with her for f*cking up. For placing herself in jeopardy. Hell, for getting him out of bed at the crack of dawn. On rare occasions, James tried a new tactic, such as feigned indifference, but he usually broke before they even reached the parking lot. Once he’d attempted sensitivity, but that had failed with flying colors as well. James was a hard, unbendable man. It was one of the reasons she couldn’t live without him.

But this? This man waiting for her looked…blank. His arms were at his sides, eyes devoid of feeling as he gave her his typical once-over to determine she’d survived in one piece. A hamster ran on a wheel inside Lita’s stomach, faster and faster, when James said nothing. Just existing across the room without any of his usual bark or bite.

“James?”

His slate gray eyes lit on the guard, a silent command to leave. Although he held no authority in the jail, the guard turned and lumbered back into the hallway, keys clanking as he went. “Let’s go.”

She couldn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

A muscle ticced in his cheek. “We’ll need to go out the back exit to avoid the cameras.” He left the sentence hanging in the air, turning on a heel to stride from the room. Lita commanded her feet to move, to follow, but catching up to him was like wading through chilled molasses. Maybe this was just a new tactic James had thought up to frighten her. If so, it was working. So much dread had settled in her midsection, it was an effort to walk straight.

At the end of a brightly lit corridor, James stopped at the back entrance and pried open the metal door. He placed one shiny wingtip just outside and checked both directions, presumably for cameras, before gesturing her forward. “All clear.”

She started to pass him in the doorway and stopped, craning her neck to meet his stony gaze. “Why won’t you talk to me? Why aren’t you lecturing me?”

There. It was only a flash, but her proximity affected him, as always. Shoulders tensing, Adam’s apple sliding up and down. Yet his tone was dull when he answered. “When has lecturing you ever done any good, Lita?”

“Stop being so cryptic,” she whispered. “You’re scaring me.”

Another tick in his expression, so fleeting she might have imagined it. He stared over her head, though, not directly at her. “Are you hurt in any way?”

“I’m fine.”

He gave a single nod and left her in the doorway to unlock the passenger side door. Lita had no choice but to climb inside and engage her seatbelt, as if in a daydream. One from which she desperately needed to wake up. Granted, she hadn’t known exactly how James would break—what it would look like—but gut instinct told her this reaction wasn’t what she’d been after. She’d wanted James so angry that he’d have no choice but to stop hiding. Stop pretending they weren’t denying themselves something vital. Something they both needed.

The hotel she’d been living in since their international tour ended was a fifteen-minute drive from the jail. Silence filled the car, growing denser by the mile until a scream clawed at Lita’s throat. “James—”

“You could have been killed.”

Finally, a reaction. Disapproval. Lita soaked it in like a sponge, sounding breathless when she said, “I’ve never seen you this mad.” Was this the breaking point? Please, please let this be it.

“I don’t know what mad is supposed to feel like anymore.” His deep voice reached out and smothered her from across the car. “Admit why you did it.”

“What do you mean?”

They pulled to a stop at a red light. “You stole a police car last night.” His eyes closed, then opened to reveal more nothing. Nothing. Just emptiness. “You could have gotten in an accident. Or been shot by the responding officers. And I want to hear you admit why you did it. No more games, Lita.”

“I’m not the only one playing games,” she whispered.

James was silent for too long. “So you admit it. This is my fault.”

“Yes.” Hearing herself confess to such recklessness out loud brought home the reality of what she’d done, forcing redness to spread up from her neck. “I don’t know how else to get through to you.” Lita’s voice vibrated, her mind scrambling for the right words to make him understand. “This is what it takes just to get a crumb of what I need. The rest of the time you’re a statue just watching and watching and watching me. At least when you’re angry, I can feel a tiny part of what I felt that night.”

Gray eyes grew even more shuttered, and his hands flexed on the steering wheel at the forbidden mention of the night they’d met. They pulled into the valet driveway outside her hotel, but James held up a finger to the attendant who stood outside the driver’s side window. “I can’t give you what you need, Lita.” His hand paused on the door handle, his voice grave as she’d ever heard it. “And I will not stay around knowing I’m the reason you continually put yourself at risk.”