The bottle slipped out of my hand and fell on the floor. Cracking one eye open, I looked around the dark room. Voices drifted in from a wall away. It was business as usual at The Phoenix Group, despite the fact that the CEO was holed up in his office on the tail end of a three-day bender.

Snatching the bottle from the floor, I took wobbly steps toward my large mahogany desk and then slid into the oversized chair. I glared at the monitor as I brought the whiskey to my lips.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I read the latest blurb on the Leveraged fan site from yesterday afternoon. I clicked on the link, and a picture of Beckett outside the terminal at LAX bloomed.

“Beckett and Taryn together again! Sources close to the band confirm that Beckett hopped a plane and joined his longtime love in Los Angeles. Hit the link after the jump for a sample of Leveraged’s latest single on their yet untitled album.”

My finger hovered over the mouse button while I tried to decide how much of a masochist I really was. Smiling wryly because the answer to that particular question was obvious, I pressed the back of my head to the soft leather chair and stared at the ceiling when the music began to play.

“I breathe your name; you move with me. My future, my past, you’ll always be. Stay with me, baby. I want you near. Inside you is the only peace. My only love, my sweet release. Stay with me, let me drown in you. Stay, won’t you stay, no one else will do. I need you to stay. Stay …”

Though it may have been Dylan’s voice bleeding from the speakers, they were Beckett’s words. When the credits flashed at the end of the sample, it confirmed what I already knew.

“Stay”

Copyright 2018—Leveraged

Words and music: Beckett Brennin

The fucker might as well have written it in the sky. Or painted it on a billboard. The song was for Taryn.

Sweet Taryn.

My attention shifted to the door. “Chase … are you in there?” my assistant inquired warily.

Her shadow retreated, and I finished the whiskey, throwing the bottle into the trash on my way to the armoire in the corner where I grabbed a clean shirt. Inside the sanctity of the small bathroom, I stood in the utilitarian shower, the water washing away three days’ worth of debauchery.

I dressed quickly and then fumbled with the keys to my truck.

My truck? Shit.

I was worse off than I thought. I must’ve gone to the loft and dropped off my Mercedes. Or I left it somewhere. Contemplating last night’s whereabouts, I strode past my assistant’s desk.

“Chase,” she said as she grabbed a handful of messages. “Cameron’s been calling all day.”

“I’ll call him.”

“There are some checks for you to sign for the Arboretum project,” she called after me. “What should I—”

Since the only thing on my mind was getting something in my system to keep from jumping out of my skin, I couldn’t be bothered to answer her. Sliding behind the wheel of my truck, I found my phone in the center console, vibrating. Unknown number.

It’s going to take more than that, baby brother.

When I reached into the cupholder to turn it off, my fingers grazed the rock I’d picked up at the Guadeloupe during the float trip. I ran my thumb over the jagged edges as the words to Beckett’s song tumbled around in my head.

I need you to stay …

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Maybe Beckett was getting his wish. Slamming the car into gear, I sped out of the lot and then raced down the freeway toward the opposite end of town. Liquor stores and pawn shops flew by as I searched for the street. When I turned down Crack House Row, I slowed to a crawl.

Spotting an old man seated on a folding chair in front of a dilapidated house, I screeched to a stop.

“You holding?” I barked, walking straight up to the guy with a wad of cash in my hand.

“Get your ass out of here, boy.” He snickered, his eyes darting around to take in his surroundings. “I don’t need no trouble from some rich prick looking to have a little party with his country club friends.”

I peeled a couple of hundred dollar bills off the stack. “I asked you a question. That requires a yes or a no. Are. You. Holding?”

“You got some attitude, huh?” He whistled. “Or a really bad jones. You got a monkey on your back, boy?”

Two men emerged from the ramshackle house, walking toward me with matching smiles on their faces.

“What’s the problem, Pops?” Thing One asked as Thing Two stepped to my side. “You need some help out here?”

“Nah. The rich boy was just leaving. Ain’t that right?”

Rubbing his stomach, Pops revealed the butt of his gun in the waistband of his pants.

“You might want to check his pockets, though.” Pops yawned. “He said he wanted to donate a little cash to one of our local charities.”

When Thing Two made a move, I stepped forward, and whatever was hiding behind my eyes gave him pause.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I growled.

He blinked without backing down, but he didn’t advance. Which was encouraging.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” I said, my attention back on Pops. “You got something I need? That’s the only way you’re going to get this from me.” I held up the bills, fingering the corners as I stared at him.

When he failed to respond, I headed for the truck. Thing Two grabbed my arm just as Thing One decided to advance. My fist made contact with Thing Two’s face, and he fell to the ground.

“Stay the fuck down before I really hurt you,” I growled, my arm cocked in preparation for the next assault.

“Get off me,” he mumbled.

I looked up when Pops hooted with laughter. Stunned, Thing Two looked over his shoulder as blood gushed onto his shirt and dripped on the cement.

“Come back over here, boy,” Pops said to me. “You’re all right, you know that?”

Smiling, I stepped over Thing Two to make my way to his daddy. Or his surrogate daddy. Hell, the guy might have only been his employer—but one thing was for sure—he didn’t give two shits about the kid bleeding on the sidewalk. And neither did I.

“Whatcha need?” Pops smiled through rotting teeth when I crouched at his side.

I looked up at Thing One, returning his slow smile as Thing Two hobbled toward the house.

Shoving six one-hundred-dollar bills at Pops, I asked, “What do you got?”