TRISTAN
I'd come to hate my former friend, but that wasn't why I went after him.
I was angry, furious, so jealous I didn't know what to do with myself, but that wasn't why I rearranged his face.
I did it because it needed to be done, and though what I felt was a red-hot hatred for him, it was actually a cold move, calculated.
You see, I knew Milton. I knew how he was with women, had heard him talk about it, knew his philosophy. He didn't see women as people. He fucked around. Lied to them and bragged about it. Used them and walked away.
Just thinking about the things I'd heard him say about other women and thinking about him saying something like that about Danika.
Not fucking happening. No. Just no.
Over my dead body. Or his.
I broke things just thinking about it. Dishes, furniture, walls.
It should be noted that I did try a friendly warning first.
I was never close with Milton. He was friends with Kenny first and would show up to listen to us record our upcoming album. He was a fan of the band, a fan of me, and we were friendly, but I always thought he was a douche.
And yes, I kept tabs on Danika. I knew he'd started sniffing around, knew he flew to Vegas just to see her.
I cornered him the next time he swung by the studio. "You going out with Danika Markova?" I asked him bluntly.
He looked surprised, then his face split into a smile. "Trying. Been asking her out, think I'm wearing her down."
I shook my head, trying to look concerned. "You should really stay away from her."
He cocked his head. "Why is that? She's fucking hot, dude. I've got plans for that one."
Hated. Him.
I tried to smile, but he would have seen through it if he looked down at my clenched fists.
"She has a crazy ex-husband. He is psycho."
He didn't look fazed. "Good to know. Thanks for the heads up, but I can handle myself."
I stood up straighter, folding my arms across my chest. I was taller than he was, bigger. I wanted him to notice.
"You don't understand. This guy is huge. And he knows how to fight. He wouldn't take kindly to her going out with a player like you."
He shrugged. "He'll get over it. If he doesn't, he's welcome to come take it up with me."
He jumped when I swung my arms out, slapping them down on his shoulders. Hard. I grinned into his face. It was an effort, and it couldn't have been a pleasant sight. It felt unpleasant. "I'm telling you, friend, you don't want to mess with this guy. He'd chew you up and spit you out. He's really not right in the head. He might just do something insane, something homicidal, I don't know, maybe stab you in your sleep, or hell, take a bat to you, if you pushed the wrong button. You getting me here?"
The dense motherfucker didn't get me. Not at all. He just gave me wide eyes, made an excuse, and got the hell away.
Fuck.
Danika heard about that little conversation. The fucker had tattled on me?
She was so pissed about it that she actually came to see me. Sought me out in my dressing room before the show.
I met her at the door. She was livid, so pissed she couldn't contain herself.
So beautiful it made my chest hurt.
She barged into the room. I shut us in.
She whirled on me. "How dare you?" she hissed. She was shaking. She looked like she wanted to attack me.
I wished she would.
"I know why you're here," I said in my most fake calm tone. "I can explain."
"Oh please do. I would love to hear it."
God, I missed her. Even her temper I loved.
I took a step toward her, but she backed away fast. "Don't you dare try to touch me."
I looked down, taking deep breaths, trying to cope with the gaping hole just a few words could leave in my chest. I deserved this, deserved the one I loved most thinking I was scum.
"Of course, Danika," I said, trying not to sound bitter, trying not to sound as gutted as I was. "I know how you feel about that. I take it this is about Milton?"
She curled her lip at me, nodding. Even that I loved. Sharing this air with her, anything she did I would have taken, just to keep sharing it.
I was so fucked.
"Of course it is. Why else would I be here?"
Deep breaths. "Why else indeed? Listen, I told him that because—"
"I can't believe you told him I was divorced!" she burst out.
I looked at her, just looked, jaw clenched. Now that was a tough blow to take without fighting back. "You are divorced," I said softly.
"That marriage was a joke. It didn't even count."
I flinched. I'd been punched in the face, been knocked across the fucking room and not felt it like I felt those two sentences. Jesus, she knew how to rip me apart.
Didn't matter. Didn't change a thing. I couldn't let her go out with that creep.
"I told him that because he is not the guy for you." My voice was shaking. She didn't notice.
"How cute," she said scathingly. "You think you know what's good for me?"
I did not have the heart to fight her. I wanted to spread my arms out, lay myself in front of her, waving a white flag, because my heart was not in it, when it came to this fight. It had surrendered to her, years ago.
But I knew my Danika, knew how she felt about me now. If I'd handed her that flag, she was liable to just light it on fire and throw it back.
"He's a womanizer," I explained to her. If she had a clue about this guy, she wouldn't go near him. I wanted to give her that clue.
She laughed, a bitter laugh that scratched at my insides like nails on a chalkboard. "Look who's talking."
"And a liar."
She started looking around the room, eyes wild.
I watched her steadily, determined to take whatever she was about to dish out.
"That is beside the point," she said, voice low and mean. "None of this is your business. Nothing in my life is your business. Are we clear?"
"Please, Danika," I pleaded. "Stay clear of him. I know you have a right to do as you please, but understand that I wouldn't have interfered if I weren't concerned. This guy is bad news. He'll break your heart, and when he does, I may well break his neck."
She pointed a trembling finger at me. "You stop it. Quit acting like you give a damn, and stay the fuck out of my life. You and I . . . we are nothing to each other. Less than strangers."
I shook my head, trying not to sway on my feet, even though she'd just blown my chest open wide with those shots.
We stared at each other, both of us panting.
I saw things in her eyes that I could not bear, and God only knows what she told herself she saw in mine.
I knew one thing. She didn't see the truth, didn't see the love, the agonized remorse they held.
"Please," I mouthed.
She went out with him. Very publicly. There were pictures of them together. I didn't dare hope she'd done that for my benefit.
I sought him out and warned him again.
This warning involved more contact.
I'd just landed another solid blow to his stomach when he warded me off, gasping. "What the fuck, dude?"
"I told you to stay away from Danika. Fucking warned you."
"What the hell is your problem?"
"You're my fucking problem. You."
I got a little carried away, bruised up his pretty boy face.
And still he kept seeing her.
And then I found out about his girlfriend, how he'd been playing them both, from Kenny.
Needless to say, I didn't handle that well.
I beat him bloody, the worst loss of temper I'd had in many years. So bad I started doubling up on therapy, going through anger management steps again.
I even checked myself back into rehab for a few days. I hadn't slipped, but my sobriety felt just a bit too fragile for a time. It was preemptive, and it helped.
And even with all of that, I wasn't sorry I'd messed up the motherfucker.
BY R.K. LILLEY
THE WILD SIDE SERIES
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THE OTHER MAN - COMING SOON
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THE TRISTAN & DANIKA SERIES
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