Sweet Seduction Serenade (6 page)

And even if it was just me against Levi, he had to have had at least fifty odd kilos on me, not to mention a foot and a half in height. Still, I never gave in. I always fought as though I would come out on top. Always. I never stopped until I was on the ground and some arsehole was sitting on me. Usually Levi, because although he'd never land a blow himself, he'd always be the one to claim victory and rub the loss in my face hard.

I felt a tug on my back, which at first didn't register, I kept swing and kicking out at anyone who came too close to my front and sides. I caught Bailey again, this time a beauty in the nuts that would have had him down for the count and left only three - until Tyler returned. With renewed energy at my victory hit, I swung around to confront whoever was still tugging on my back, in the process unhooking my guitar over my shoulder and handing them the one thing that would get me to stop.

Ryder stood there holding my Martin, an evil, satisfied grin on his face.

"Hold her!," Levi shouted, racing towards the spoils of the fight, to claim them as his own no doubt.

Tyler, back from depositing Dad, got to me first yanking me down to my already abused and aching knees on the ground, with Leo offering support in the shape of an arm around my neck from behind. I didn't struggle, I should have, because at this point nothing would have stopped Levi from his goal.

Ryder handed over my dream guitar to an almost panting with anticipation Levi, who turned slowly to look me in the eye.

"This ain't the one you used to play on at the Reserve," he said slowly, strumming his fingers down the strings in a piss-poor attempt to look like a rock star.

"It's one of my spares," I muttered, the only defence I could muster right now. To claim it wasn't my precious, favourite, expensive Martin D28 Acoustic Guitar.

"I always wanted to be a rock singer," Levi announced.

"You got the name for it, Levi," Tyler said from beside me, his fingers biting into my upper arm. Levi just continued to strut his stuff around the backyard, strumming too heavily on the strings, whacking the back of the guitar against his fat thighs, wrenching the neck as though he could wring a tune out of the darn thing just by being a prick.

"That's where you went wrong, Eva. Rock songs is where it's at," Levi declared, but as he wasn't expecting an answer and I was now holding my breath with every heart wrenching strum of the those strings, I stayed mute.

"Or rap," Leo said at my shoulder.

"R & B," Ryder threw in and received a few punches in the side of his arm from Levi, which thankfully ceased the strumming for all of ten seconds. It sucked to be the youngest of the Russell clan it seemed.

"Well," Levi said, returning his attention to me, a gleam starting up in his eyes. "As you're obviously too important, too big, for us now, I think we should get rid of your toy. Make you go home to get your others, then maybe you won't come round here anymore."

I closed my eyes, knowing now there was nothing I could do to stop what was going to happen. I didn't want to watch. For the first time in my life, I considered revenge. I can take a beating, as long as my fingers don't get hurt. They can call me any name under the sun. Tell lies about me to all my friends and family. Let down the tyres on my bicycle, chuck my school bag in the creek on the pathway home, make me trip over in the cafeteria in school, so I land in a pile of sodden sandwiches and stolen chips at the feet of the cutest boy in tenth grade.

They could even cut off my hair. I'd fight them, but when it was done, I'd let them walk away.

But no more. This was it. The straw that broke the camel's back, so they say.

"Open your eyes, bitch," Levi ground out from directly in front of me.

Leo began to cut off my air by tightening his hold around my neck. Ryder just dug his fingernails into my flesh, drawing blood - I could feel it trickling down my arm. And Bailey, having recovered from my booted foot to his nuts, yanked on my hair to bring my head upright, from where I'd been frowning at the ground. All that left was Tyler and Levi. Levi was holding my guitar before me, a snarl marring his face.

"Watch," he whispered, as he raised my guitar in two hands above his head, lifted his knee and brought the back of Martin down hard across it. Shattering it in two.

I didn't show a reaction at all. I just stared at him in the eyes, let him see my hatred, let him know to watch his back from the look on my face alone.

His smile grew bigger. He nodded, the hell if I knew who to, and then dropped the remnants of the guitar in the dirt and turned and walked away. Leo's arm relaxed at my neck, Ryder released his hold, his fingernails no longer drawing blood in skin and Bailey gave one more hard tug on my hair, then stepped back.

And Tyler swung his fist at my face, connecting with my jaw.

I could hear their laughter as they stormed off around the side of Dad's flat, while I lay stunned on the hard packed back lawn. My jaw ached, a bruise already forming. But what was left of my tattered heart, shattered even more. I rolled over and reached out for my guitar, pulling it towards my chest, tucking it protectively underneath my body.

It was like this, that Nick found me an hour later, after a neighbour had placed a call to the cops.

"I still don't understand why you're here," I muttered beneath the tea towel wrapped frozen bag of peas against my chin.

"I've got friends at North Com," Nick murmured, eyes on my father, who had eyes on him from his wheelchair across the lounge from where we sat in the open plan kitchen.

"North Com?" I asked, wanting his attention on me and off my Dad. I didn't like the way he was glaring at him as though my bruised jaw and broken Martin guitar were all his fault. The poor man was dying, he didn't need Nick Anscombe's high and mighty opinions thrust down his throat.

"Police communications centre, where they take the emergency calls," he said, not removing his eyes from my Dad.

For Dad's part, he was holding the Anscombe glare pretty well. I knew I inherited something else from the man, other than my voice.

"That doesn't explain how you knew it was me. They must get thousands of a calls a day. Why this one?" I could be stubborn and determined when I wanted to. Right now I was darn sure I wanted Nick looking at me and not my sick and dying Dad.

"You're on radar," was all he said, eyes on Dad.

"Would you stop glaring at my Dad and look at me!" I demanded, hurting my jaw by clenching my teeth at the end of that little snap in control.

Nick's head swung lazily back to look me in the eye. Ice-blue met my chocolate brown. I gave him a serving of
my
stare down. He stared impassively back.

"Who were they, angel?" he asked, surprising me with the question, but not as much as the fact he was using his nick-name for me.

"What does
you're on radar
mean?" Determination, that's me.

"As soon I knew you were in town I put your name out there, any hits come back to me."

What?

"Why in the darn hell would you do that, cowboy," I Tennessee'd back at him.

His lips twitched, causing my heart to race. It didn't need the workout, it had irreparably been damaged when my Martin D28 was smashed in two.

"Angel," he said and nothing else, as though that answered the question.

I frowned at him and then - I must be slipping, because I was the first to look away - frowned down at the floor. I heard my Dad make a choking sound from across the room, I was thinking I'd just let the Rowe Family down.

"Who were they, Eva?" Nick asked.

"Are you the cops?" I shot back at him. "Because I'm sure when people dial triple one they expect a blue and white to appear outside the door."

"I'm worth ten cops," he answered arrogantly. Dad chuckled. Traitor.

"Why do you care, Nick?" I asked, realising that was the first time I had called him by name since I'd been back, since I'd been faced with him at Sweet Seduction, had all those sordid, beautiful memories of my past refreshed in my brain. I thought the moment deserved some respect, maybe little cupids playing on their harps or something. At the very least a Garth Brooks song blasting out in the background.

"You're playing at Gen's big night. I don't want anything to spoil it for her."

And there you go, shattered heart just pulverised. How could I forget Genevieve Cain, his gorgeous, lovely,
fiancée
?

"I'll be fine to play, you can leave."

"Who were they, Evangeline?"

"Oh, and now we're onto full names, Nicholas. How grown up of you."

"I'm not the one acting like a spoilt child," Nick shot back. And then bizarrely added, "I don't sleep with someone and then leave without a word, a note, a backwards glance. Nothing for eight fucking years. You're the child not me."

Holy heck, cowboy! Where the darn hell did that come from?

I glanced at my Dad, his head was down, chin on chest. I think he had fallen asleep. My eyes found the ice-blue frost king still staring icicle daggers at me.

"That was a mistake," I declared.

"Yes it was. You should have woken me and told me you had to leave."

"No, not the
not
telling you part," I corrected, going for my own cowgirl ice princess, "the sleeping with you part."

"Is that right, angel," he said, jaw clenched. "That's not what it felt like when you writhed beneath me, begged me not to stop and screamed my name when you came.
Seven times
." Jesus, he remembered.

I pulled the make-shift ice pack away from my face and slammed it down on the bench at my side.

"Do you mind?" I growled, flicking a glance at my sleeping Dad. "This is hardly relevant."

He ignored my statement completely. "Who the fuck were they, Eva?" he asked again, slowly, emphasising each word.

"My dumbass cousins, all right."

"Their names," he demanded, pulling a little pad from his back pocket and pen from inside his jacket. Just like a cop. Who was this guy?

"Why..." I started and he banged a fist down on the bench, making the frozen pea packet jump a few centimetres off the surface and land with a wet splat.

"Names," he bit out.

"Levi, Ryder, Leo, Bailey and Tyler Russell," I rapid-fire spat back at him.

"Five?" he asked incredulously, flicking his gaze over my bruised face.

"You should've seen
them
when I was done," I said cockily.

"Yeah? Get a few good hits in?"

"Managed to land a decent blow to Bailey's gonads and Leo's gonna have a headache round 'bout now. I'm saving Levi for later."

His lips twitched again. "Why a special occasion for Levi?"

"He's the one who broke my guitar," I muttered, eyes on the floor, frown in place.

Nick didn't say anything for several seconds. The clock ticked loudly on the wall in the hall.

"OK, I'll have my boys round 'em up," he announced casually, standing up from his seat and impressing the hell out of me with his height.

"Why would you do that?" I demanded up at him.

"You don't pick on a girl," he said simply and Dad grunted in his sleep. Subconsciously disagreeing with him, I think.

I snorted. "They don't see me as a girl. I'm their annoying little cousin with too big cowgirl boots and a fuck you, cowboy personality," I pointed out from my seat.

He hesitated, as though he was going to say something smart back at me, but whatever it was, he changed his mind and shook his head. Then bizarrely ran - what looked like a frustrated - hand though his short black hair. Ice-blue eyes came back to mine.

"Practising at the shop tonight?"

I sighed. "I'll have to see if Gus has an Acoustic I can borrow."

I didn't have enough left in the bank to buy a new one, continue to pay for Dad's house to be cleaned up, food put in the fridge and have money for a plane ticket back home. Gen's cheque for our performance on Saturday would help, but that'd have to be split four ways and wouldn't go far. We were picking up a few gigs here and there, and hopefully after Saturday a few more, but money was tight. I'd brought all my Nashville savings with me. Buying a new Martin was not in the budget this year.

"I'm sure one of the band will have something you could use," he offered helpfully and in what I thought was quite an uncaring fashion. Playing on a hand-me-down Acoustic could not come close to strumming a Martin D28.

I shrugged in reply. He wasn't a Country musician, he wasn't even a cowboy. I'd made a mistake, what the darn hell would he know?

"Play
Thunder Rolls
," he said over his shoulder as he crossed to the front door. Dad's head back up tracking his progress across the lounge with interest again. "I liked that extra verse you threw in at the end last night," he added, just before the door swung shut behind his rather fine tight butt.

I frowned after him - and his fine butt - how the darn hell did he know what I played last night at Sweet Seduction? He wasn't even there to hear it. He hadn't been there at all since Saturday. There was no way in hell he should have known I'd thrown in Garth's live performance extra verse last night. Much to Kelly's delight. I got the impression Kelly agreed with the ending of the story. Another audience member completely consumed by the story being sung.