She laughed. "Not hardly," she assured me. "Quite the opposite, actually. Mick's never brought anyone home before," she said as she patted my leg and stood from my side.

  My whole body froze. Had I heard her correctly? I gripped the empty beer in my hand, barely noticing when the object was replaced by the small bottle that I had just returned to her.

  "Maybe you'll need this after all," she said, smiling down at me before turning and heading back towards the rest of the group.

  *****

  I awoke sometime later as the ground beneath me shifted and moved. I gripped the edges of the lawn chair, remembering where I was and what I was waking up to - the situation that I'd tried to drink out of my mind.

  "Don't move," Griff said. His voice was clipped, but the command came as a whisper.

  "Now why in the hell would I listen to you?" my mouth popped off, apparently still a little agitated at having to watch him and Felicia fawn all over each other all afternoon. The emotion was extremely ridiculous, something that I took the time to admonish myself for feeling.

  "Because there's a snake under your chair and I'm trying to figure out whether or not it's poisonous," he said, his voice remaining cool and calm.

  My eyes snapped into focus, his face slowly coming into view through the darkness; the distant lights from the house barely allowing me to search his eyes for seriousness.

  "Griff, stop messing with me. I don't do snakes and if you knew me, you wouldn't joke about something-"

  "Shut...up," he whispered sharply.

  I heard something move beneath me, my body morphing into a petrified mess as my brain conjured scenes from the movie Anaconda. "You're serious," I whispered. "Oh God, you're serious," I repeated nervously.

  He held his hands out in front of him, palms out flat as he patted the air soothingly. "Don't do anything rash. Chances are, it's a harmless rat snake, but I want to make sure."

  "It is of my opinion that the words harmless and snake should never be used in the same sentence," I pointed out, my words coming out in spurts as I spoke in between labored breaths.

  "Christ, Kennedy. Just shut up, okay?"

  There were too many silent moments that passed by before any action was taken and I could feel my fear trying to do something rash. I wasn't a wait-and-see type of person. I sprang from my spot on the lawn chair, magically walking on air as I covered the distance between myself and Griff and bounded into his arms, nearly toppling us over in the process. Griff reacted swiftly, despite my erratic decision, and had us onto the pier before I could process the situation.

  "What did I say?" he mumbled, visibly shaken and angry. His breathing was heavy, my body lifting up and down with every inhale and exhale.

  "I-you-" I began, my eyes settling on his lips. I could feel my body tremble, my own breathing heavy and my heart having trouble settling back into a steady pattern. "I'm sorry," I finally managed meekly. "I don't like snakes," I offered as an excuse for my reckless behavior. Call it a product of the situation, an involuntary action caused by my fear, but my shaky fingers found their way to the back of his neck and into his hair. He closed his eyes tightly, leaning his head back in the process, the action inadvertently pressing him even farther into the palm of my hand.

  I sucked in a sudden breath, the air making a sharp, exaggerated sound as it was pulled back into my throat and into my lungs. His eyes snapped open, presumably as a direct result of the God-awful sound I'd just made. The electricity from our first meeting returned, my heartbeat shifting into a different rhythmic pattern altogether.

  "You just can't stand it, can you Griff?" a voice boomed through the silence from behind us.

  I felt Griff's body tense, his muscles tightening as his grip around me intensified. The same look of annoyance, almost hatred, spread across his face that had been there that morning. I counted the two controlled breaths that he took before he turned towards his brother, my body still cradled in his arms. "I'm not quite sure I know what you mean," he said calmly.

  A little too calm.

  "I told you she was mine. I told you to keep your hands off of her; that I didn't want you within ten feet of her and yet, here you are…You just can't help trying to take what's mine," Mick seethed.

  Stray. That. Dirty work. Mine. None of them fit. None of them were true.

  Griff somehow managed to maneuver my body into a standing position without both of us landing in a heaping mess on the pier. I was very quickly tucked behind him, my fingers lacing around his wrist behind his back. I looked down at the fingers, willing them to let go, but they wouldn't budge. Maybe it was a bi-product of almost being bitten by a snake and then having to experience the exchange of Callahan venom - two emotional events happening so closely together - but I felt safe hanging onto him.

  Stupid, I knew, but transpiring nonetheless. Griff was either okay with the action or too wrapped up in the exchange with his brother to protest, so he allowed my fingers to hold one of his hands behind his back while he used the other to punctuate his statements.

  "You don't know what you're talking about, Mick, and if you had an ounce of maturity in you, you'd realize that nothing is happening here," he spat.

  Apparently his comment was enough to dislodge my fingers from around his wrist because as the words left his lips, my hand snapped back to my chest, my free hand comforting the other with a reassuring pat.

  "Really?" Mick questioned incredulously as he took a few lethal steps forward. "I come back to find her in your arms and you expect me to believe that nothing is happening? I don’t know about you but I don’t make a habit of walking around with a woman in my arms when I intend for nothing to happen," he ground out, one usage shy of putting air quotes around the word.

  "No, you don't make it a habit of having a woman in your arms for very long at all, do you?" Griff seethed, matching his level of frustration with Mick's. "Fuck them then leave them. That's your policy isn't it, Mick? I'm surprised you even came back for her at all."

  Griff turned quickly towards me, his gaze enough to make me want to turn and jump into the water, sinking just below the surface just so I wouldn't have to play victim to it. The visual reminder of the snake that I'd just escaped from coming to mind squashed any further desire I had to follow through with the thought. "You're just another notch on his belt. Don't you dare think for one second any differently. His foot's already halfway out the door and the sooner that you wrap your pretty little head around that, the better off you'll be," he spat before turning and making his way back towards the house, pushing past Mick on his way by.

  "Come on," Mick said softy. "You're not staying here."

  I moved forward hesitantly, numbly. Too much had transpired since my decision to make Mel jealous. This situation had snowballed into something far worse than anything I'd ever had to deal with. So far I'd managed to sleep with Mick and not remember a single moment of it, I had pissed off a woman who I hardly knew by insinuating things with Griff that weren't true, I had nearly lost my life to a snake and now I had caused another argument between two brothers who just so happened to be sworn enemies. They didn't need my help, but I needed my help. Starting now.

  "You know what, Mick?" I said hesitantly, my apprehensive voice rising above the crickets that were humming melodies into the night. "You're right. Staying here is the last thing that I need. Please, if you don't mind taking me to a hotel, I'd appreciate it."

  He looked surprised by my request though I wasn't sure why. It seemed the most logical thing to do in my mind. It would get me away from Griff Callahan and that much closer to the city. And it would give Mick the easy way out, the direction that Griff and the paper from today seemed confident that Mick would take.

  He drew in a breath, one that I knew initially was intended for words that would try to change my mind, but with a heavy exhale he seemed to shift mental directions. He kicked a leather toe at the pier and frowned, his gaze meeting mine. "Sure, yeah. Anywhere you need me to take you."

  It was in the rare moments of Mick Callahan, the tiny slivers of time where he allowed a vulnerability to sneak through that I thought just maybe people were wrong about him. People like Griff. And then Griff's face came to view, Mick's arch nemesis, and I couldn't shake it away. My gut churned, a suffocating vise grip moving from my stomach to my chest, putting an uncomfortable pressure on both.

  "Just somewhere in town, anywhere," I managed, my words coming out a little too forced for Mick not to notice. I caught the patronizing stare that he shot me before having good enough sense to look away. I took a few breaths, gulping down some good old humid Tennessee air, before managing to put one foot in front of the other and heading in the general direction of the house.

  Chapter Five

  "You sure about this?" Mick questioned, his eyeballs combing the desolate parking lot, presumably for anyone that might have loose lips. Or muggers, I mentally added after doing my own assessment. We weren't exactly on the best side of town. I was fairly certain that this was Nashville's version of The Bate's Motel.

  I nodded, not in the least bit sure, but could see little other choice. I couldn't exactly stay in a hotel downtown, not with their typical rates coupled with my current financial situation. I was banking on a credit card to work that I hadn't paid the bill for, with a limit that was already maxed.

  As I shut the door of Mick's expensive ride, I thought briefly about the probability of this being the last time I'd see luxury of any kind for some time. I grabbed my suitcase and guitar case from the popped trunk before rounding the corner towards the driver's side. Mick had rolled down the window and had a look of both apprehension and apology adorning his face.

  I bent down to get a good look at him as I asked the question in which I already knew the answer. "Am I still on the tour?"

  His eyes diverted elsewhere as he cleared his throat, a sure sign that I wasn't going to like his answer. "Yeah, about that…"

  "That's what I thought," I said, unable to hide the bitterness from seeping into the words.

  "Kennedy," he pleaded, a sincere tone latching onto his voice.

  I nodded, ignoring his attempt to excuse what he felt he couldn't control. My eyes set their sights on the VACANCY sign up ahead, the last three letters blinking on and off, winking at me, taunting me. Hesitantly, I pointed my feet in the same direction.

  "It's just for a few stops. Until we get a handle on things," Mick said as the car inched forward beside me. "They just want to make sure everything is smoothed over before reconsidering…"

  I fought the urge to look at him, my mind willing myself not to, to simply continue. He sounded so damned pained by his words, but I knew the truth. I was certain there were a whole group of important individuals behind this decision, but also just as aware that if he had wanted to fight it he could've. He was the talent and ultimately what put the trucks on the road and the fans in the stadiums, but he was also a coward. He was taking the easy way out. Exactly as Griff had predicted.

  One foot out the door.

  I bit back tears, the letters on the neon sign blending together. Determined to put on a confident façade, I kicked my chin up in the air another notch and didn't release the shaky breath that I was holding until after I heard the tires bark second and the engine fade into the distance, confirming that even luxury cars could sound angry when pushed hard enough.

  "How can I heelp ya, Miss?"

  I blinked twice as I entered the rundown welcome center - if you could even call it that. Nothing about it was very welcoming, from the faux-leather, puke green covered chairs to the machine that promised to tell you your fortune with an 'Out of Order' sign plastered across the front. The fake palm trees, which stuck out like a sore thumb considering the miles in any direction that you'd have to travel to get to anyplace tropical, were the only semi-welcoming items in sight.

  The welcomer, if you will, was a short, stumpy gentleman who appeared to be about eight-and-a-half months pregnant, dawning a plain white t-shirt that had the words 'Don't hug me, burp me' written across the front in red sharpie, underneath his unzipped camouflage coveralls.

  He repeated his earlier question with hungry eyes. I got the impression that he wasn't accustomed to human contact and considering my dress attire had been planned with the original idea of returning to the city in mind, I wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion. I couldn't put a finger on his dialect, but judging by the fact that my brain was processing his words, it had to be English.

  I smiled politely and headed in his general direction, inwardly protesting this decision with every step. The faulty sign outside of the establishment was merely a precursor to what was inside. A warning, I corrected.

  "Ya'll stayin' fur the night? I seen that fancy car. Whoo-wee, musta cost a purty penny, Miss," he said.

  Country slang English, maybe?

  "You lookin' fur a whole night or is he jest comin' back later? After the kids are in bed?" he said, making an assumption and then throwing in a wink afterwards. "Let me guess, he's a lawyer? Lots o' money, but the wife…" He made an inappropriate gesture that involved some sort of hip thrusting while allowing his statement to trail off and me to fill in the blanks. Real nice of him. I shook my head, too confused with the conflicting emotions of fear and disgust to speak.

  "A owner of a big fancy comp'ny then," he offered, overly pleased with his alternate scenario.

  "No," I managed, swallowing the lump in my throat. With trembling hands, I set my guitar case on the ground to fish into my purse for the questionable credit card, certain that a masked man with a chainsaw would pop out of the suspicious door behind the counter at any moment.

  "Mob, then? That's it. I shoulda known by the looks of the car. I known they was headed South. New York done squeezed 'em out."

  "No, none of those. He's not coming back, so stop guessing," I said thickly. I think I'd finally snapped, mentally tapping out of the extremely messy situation that I had gotten myself into. "Just one room. Just for me," I continued, immediately wishing I hadn't.

  Great. I had just willingly signed myself up to play victim in the perfect murder. I was an idiot - a newly jobless one - who just couldn't get it right. And by it, I meant life. "I mean, I don’t think he's coming back. He didn't say. Sometimes he does a-and sometimes he doesn't," I backpedalled.

  He tilted his head to the side, thinking, possibly plotting. His hand slid dangerously slow across the countertop, dirt encrusted fingernails clawing around the plastic and pulling it back. He flipped over the card and made a show of reading my name aloud, chuckled and then flashed me a devilish smile through a set of teeth that weren't exactly a full set.

  "You eeny kin ta' that purty tennis player that was on the news recently?" He paused to think something through. I gritted my teeth, trying to remain calm. This was quickly proving to be another one of my bad ideas. In the comfort of Mick's car, I had allowed the awkwardness of the moment to get the best of me, instructing him to pull over well before our intended city limits destination. "Kole, that's her name," he said, his eyes lighting up over the fact that he'd remembered. "Can't believe I'd almost forgeet. Coal like my daddy's job, but spelled deferent. With a K or somethin' funny like," he drug on before shrugging. "Anyway, don't make no difference," he said patting the card and throwing in another wink.

  I shot him a forced smile, one that made my eyes set into narrow slits, swallowing another lump that had formed.

  His eyes never left mine as he swiped the card while I tapped nervous fingers across the chipped laminate, praying to the credit card Gods that it would go through. There were a few moments where I heard my heartbeat above the silence, moments that he continued to stare at me hungrily, making me more uncomfortable by the minute. I brought a hand up to cup the back of my neck, messaging a phantom pain. The credit card machine beeped, startling me enough to make me jump.

  Denied. I was sure of it. Receipts were never that short when they weren't.

  Smiley looked down at the card, his eyes narrowing as he read the front of the card then flipped it over and did the same thing to the back. "You ain't tryna use a bad card are ya?"

  "N-no," I stammered, feeling the heat of panic spike internally. This was such a bad idea. "Try it again," I murmured, unable to think of little more than my sudden urge to cry.

  "Hey, don't be upset," he said softly. "If ya ain't got no money, I can thank of 'nother way ta…"

  His eyes went wide at the same time that I felt a tight grip on my shoulder, firm fingers pressing into the muscles on my left side. I let out an awful scream that would've given one of the blondes in a horror film a run for her money, before being corralled into the side of a hard body.

  "I'll take that," I heard from my side as a toned arm reached across the countertop and snatched my card away from Smiley. The plaid was oddly familiar, but I was too busy playing the cowardice to figure out who my savior was. "She's with me and if you think about laying one of your filthy hands on her, I'll crush every bone in each of your fingers. Slowly," he added.

  Griff.

  "Griff," I mumbled softly.

  "Yes, Griff," he grumbled, something strangely possessive in his voice as he pulled me closer to his side. My knees nearly buckled.

  "But I-How did you…?"

  "We'll talk later," he said.

  I wished that I'd missed the gritting of his teeth and the flexing of his jaw, but I hadn't. I had jumped very quickly from one fear to another.

  "Sir, you gonna be needin' a room fur the tennis player's sister or what?"

  I froze, stunned. "I never confirmed that little suspicion of yours," I defended. I tried to deny it, but judging by the look on his face, he wasn't biting.

  Well, Krispy Kreme doughnuts. What am I going to do now?