Elle awakened against something warm and hard. She breathed in. Her lips parted as peppermint and spice filled her lungs.

Mal.

She slowly opened her eyes. A soot-colored blanket of stars came into focus. Home.

It felt so wrong and right at the same time.

Their little bubble had popped and part of her wanted to get back on the plane and go right back to New York. The farm or the city, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t possible. She knew it on every level. She wasn’t proud of hiding, but it sure was easier.

She sighed as the stars faded from sight and they got deeper into the city. The car was far too plush to be an Uber or Lyft, so it had to be one of Donovan’s rides.

“Back with us, lazy?”

She smiled against his shoulder and peered up at him. “How long was I out?”

“Since the flight. You and a plane equals narcolepsy.”

He wasn’t wrong. There was something about the hum of a plane engine that knocked her out faster than a blanket fresh out of the dryer. Though that worked too. She sat up and rolled her neck. “Did you put me in the car?”

“More like led you like a cranky baby.”

She vaguely remembered that. Getting between her and sleep wasn’t the best course of action. Especially since sleep was not her friend lately. Originally, her insomnia had been due to guilt and pain, and now it was due to that and a lot of naked-time with a very hungry man.

Mal’s sexual appetites actually matched hers once she finally got him on board with the idea. It had been like moving an iceberg in the dead of winter, but once he’d been unleashed…

Her cheeks and chest flushed.

Mal’s eyes glittered in the dark. “Put those thoughts away, little Ricki.”

She slid her hand between his thighs. When he clamped them shut, she laughed. “What?”

His jaw did that click-muscle-jump thingie and she tried to move higher. Too bad it was her right hand. Considering her muscles were about as strong as overcooked spaghetti, she didn’t get far.

“You know what.” His voice was a rumble.

She took a moment to take in her surroundings. The dark, plush seats and luxe scent of leather and filtered air. Definitely a Donovan setup. He loved those black Cadillacs. No limo for the uber-rich mogul, but he did like to drive in style.

And he had a fleet of them at his disposal—at least it felt like he did. But it wasn’t like Lila was in the backseat with them. They were alone. “I’m sure the driver has seen much worse in the back of this car.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not seeing you.”

The growl should have made her sparring instinct kick in. It was always close to the surface when she was with him, but just then… Well, she shouldn’t enjoy the proprietary edge to his tone, and yet hello.

She so did.

Before she could push the subject, she recognized the dented dumpster hanging off the sidewalk. Her street. Said dumpster had been hauled out of the alleyway by a few neighborhood kids as a prank. Too bad no one actually cared about this end of South Los Angeles. Her place was close enough to the college that rent was cheap, but that was about the only redeeming quality.

Ah, home sweet hell.

She slid her hand away as Mal’s already pronounced brow furrowed deeper.

As the driver slowed, Mal gave her an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

She shrugged and slid across the seat to get out.

“Hold up.”

She ignored him and climbed out of the car onto the cracked sidewalk. She met the driver at the back of the car. “You better head out before you lose a hubcap.”

The driver’s lips twitched a little, but he simply pulled their two bags out of the trunk. “Shall I bring them up?”

Mal took them both. “I got it.”

She patted Mal’s arm. “He means thank you.”

“No, I don’t. In fact, we should get back in the fucking car and go to my place.”

“Nope.” She shoved Mal toward her apartment building.

“Have a great night,” she said and waved at the driver, who was already headed back to the driver’s seat.

She glanced at Mal. He hadn’t spoken or moved any further. Shocker.

“Do you have to be rude twenty-four-seven?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just go.”

He scanned the street and transferred the bags to one hand as he palmed her lower back. He growled something unintelligible as they got to the front door. The crack in the window was now more of a spider web.

Hmm. Jose must have been here again. He was never gentle on the door when coming home after his late shift at the club. Then again, the hydraulic on the door had been busted since she moved in. She swung it open before Mal could step in front of her. She didn’t hold it open for him.

Most of the time, where she lived didn’t bother her. She didn’t spend any real time there. Either they were on tour or she was in the studio. Sometimes she was at Nick’s and then the rest of the time, she usually visited with the girls.

Her apartment was literally a place to hold her crap.

She headed for the elevator, but a large out-of-order sign was taped across the doors. Wonderful. She headed for the stairs with a huff. Mal stomped up behind her, mumbling the whole time.

Okay, so it wasn’t the best apartment building, but it was her place. She was going to upgrade eventually, but it seemed stupid to waste money when she barely stayed there to begin with. Besides, she’d rather spend her money on a guitar or her nieces.

“Fuck, Ricki.”

She folded her arm against her chest as she strode down the hall. “You’re not required to stick around,” she called over her shoulder.

“Dammit.” He caught up with her and gripped her good arm. “Where you go, I go.”

She stopped in the middle of the hall, two doors away from her own. A screaming kid echoed down the hallway and a half-dozen televisions screeched out a series of canned laughter, game show voices, and apartment 323’s endless loop of The Golden Girls episodes.

“Why?”

His eyebrows snapped down. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“A valid one.” She lifted her chin. Pride, dammit. She knew her building was a shitbox, but she didn’t need him judging her about it. And being back in Los Angeles had her all jangly. Her shoulder throbbed from sleeping weird on the plane and he still overwhelmed her sometimes.

What were they to one another?

Did she even want to put a name to it?

He crowded her into the wall. Rose’s voice came in clearer as Betty White started telling one of her stories about St. Olaf. “You’re mine.”

“I’m no one’s.”

He propped his forearm over her head and stared down at her. Only Mal could make her feel small. And most of the time she loved that. Right now, she just wanted to punch him and she wasn’t even entirely sure why.

Emotions swirled up and filled her chest. Lust, hate, fear—more? Dear God. It was so much easier to be numb.

She shut her eyes against the heaviness brimming in his gaze. So many things unsaid. She was okay with that most of the time. All right, sometimes. But right now? She needed some reassurance.

“Look at me.”

She shook her head.

“Richelle Crandall, don’t be a fucking pussy.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Fuck you.”

He lowered his forehead to hers, his lips a few inches away. “You’re mine. For as long as you’ll have me, you’re mine. You have to know that.”

She hooked her good arm around his shoulders and lifted her mouth to his. The kiss was hard. There was no softness here in this dingy hallway. His mouth was possessive and unflinchingly honest even in a kiss. No sweet, soft tastes from this man. No placating, no cajoling.

He took.

And she gave.

She never realized just how much she’d wanted to give. It didn’t make sense that it would be this rough, unromantic, snapping junkyard dog of a man whom she would have feelings for—and yet here she was.

He wrapped his other arm around her waist and dragged her into his body until they lined up from thigh to belly to chest. She winced a little as he jostled her shoulder, but it didn’t matter.

The pain felt good.

It meant she was alive. It meant she was healing. It was so much better than the numbness that had followed her out of the hospital.

Finally, he tore his mouth away from hers. His chest was heaving as if he’d played a ten-minute drum solo. His heart thundered through his skin and echoed into hers. “Can we finish this inside? I can’t fuck you with bickering old ladies as my soundtrack.”

She laughed.

The ridiculousness of everything about today hit her and she thunked her head against his chest until tears filled her eyes. What they were for this time, she wasn’t even certain. Just being home meant so much. “Yes. Let’s go inside.”

He stepped back. “Which one?”

“Down two more.”

He nodded and slid his hand down to link their fingers. She couldn’t even roll her eyes when he dragged her down the hall. Not much anyway.

“Key.”

She sighed and dug it out of her bag. Instead of handing it to him, she nudged him aside. He peered up and down the hall, his brow furrowed again. “What?”

“Not a damn camera anywhere. Not at the front of the building, across the street, or in here.” He shook his head.

“Yeah, no kidding. The only reason my door has a decent lock is because I put it on there.”

He peered over her shoulder. “I could pick that with a freaking pin.”

“Shut up.” She jiggled the key and twisted the knob, thankful that he couldn’t see her face. Even doing this much had her wincing. Inside the door, she reached for the lamp that was usually within reach. She frowned. That was weird. She opened the door wider to let some light in and noticed the floor lamp was now on the other side of the door.

Which didn’t make sense at all. She’d never purposely place it so she had to go behind the door to turn it on. Maybe she’d forgotten to move it back after vacuuming before she left for the last leg of the tour. Didn’t seem right, but then again, things had been a bit of a blur since their show a couple of weeks ago.

Man, weeks. It didn’t seem possible.

It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet just yesterday.

Mal dropped their bags just inside the door and kicked it shut. He crossed to the fridge in her small kitchenette.

“You won’t find much in there.”

“So I see.” He reached in and snagged two bottles of water, cracking the seal before he handed one to her.

“Thanks.” She took a sip and looked around. Things felt…different. Was it because she was different? A lot had happened in the handful of weeks she’d been away from this place. It had always been sparse. Well, except for her guitar trunk.

She frowned and moved to the large unit.

“You keep your gear here? There’s no security.”

“Yes, I know. I think we covered that. But then again, no one would think to come to the third floor to find nearly a dozen guitars.” Except that someone had touched the unit, she was almost sure.

She smoothed her hand over the lock and tapped in the three-digit combination. All the guitars were in there, but…

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something. Either that or you’re tensing up for a whole different reason.”

She sighed. She really didn’t want to hear him bitching about her place one more time, but she knew her shit. And she didn’t mix her Strats with her acoustics. She had a freaking system.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s been in my stuff.” She set the bottle down on her coffee table.

“Stolen? Are you surprised?”

“No. Everything’s here, just wrong.” She pulled out her teal and neon pink guitar she’d bought on her last shopping trip with Jules. Her eyes burned at the memory of her friend’s laugh as they had each picked out the wildest color in the staid little store in Arizona. Jules had a bass in lime green and purple. God, they’d played them all night while the bus had been in for repairs.

Her fingers shook as she slotted it back into her trunk where it belonged—with her Gibsons.

“Maybe Nick brought your stuff back.”

“Maybe.” She couldn’t imagine he’d have the time to do that. Then again, Nick was almost as insane about his equipment as she was. It didn’t stop the uneasy feeling settling in her chest.

Mal came up behind her and settled his big hand on her hip. “Come back to my place with me.” He turned her gently. “I can’t imagine your little one-bedroom has a big enough bed for me.”

“I do have a queen-sized bed.”

“Do I look like I fit in a queen-sized bed?”

“You fit in a full just a few days ago.”

“Not well.”

“We did all right.”

His jaw flexed. “We did.” His thumb made little circles along the little bit of skin showing between her T-shirt and jeans. He pushed the material up, the calluses on his fingertips abrading her skin. He groaned when he got to the lace of her bra. She’d been wearing layers for the cold in New York, and hadn’t bothered with one of her push-up bras. Instead she’d gone for one of the simple bralettes that weren’t created for women with boobs like hers. But it was comfortable.

He cupped her breast before tugging the material up farther to tweak her nipples.

Her head fell back as he used two knuckle joints to pinch the rapidly tightening tips. He lowered his mouth to her neck. “Then maybe you should show me this bed of yours.”

The groan rumbled out of her throat. One second it was with pleasure, the next was full of tension. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back. “Fuck. I didn’t—” He huffed out a breath as he pulled the lace back down over her breast. “It’s been a long fucking day.”

“I just need some ibuprofen.” Just the bare minimum to get her by after the long flight and her brewing tension headache. “I want to pick up right from where your hand was.” She caught his fingers and brought them back to her chest. His huge hand looked like a damn paw compared to the lightweight red shirt she was wearing.

His eyes searched hers before he nodded once. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” She went up on her toes and brushed a kiss over his stubbled jaw. “So very sure.” She turned away to head to the bathroom when he caught her hand. His eyes were serious and so very dark. “I wouldn’t even take ibuprofen if I wasn’t aching so badly. And it’s the only thing you’ll find in my medicine cabinet.” She lifted her chin. “Do you want to check?”

“No.” He dragged his thumb over her lower lip. “No, I trust you.”

She nodded. “Good.” She didn’t realize just how much she needed him to say that until he did. She blinked away the sudden sting of tears and rushed down the hall to her little bathroom. She went right for the medicine cabinet and the small bottle she kept. She didn’t really trust herself to take anything, but she also knew there were some nights that at least Advil would keep her from going completely insane.

She let herself into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. When she flicked the light on, she winced at the dark circles under her eyes. “God, girl. You look like you’ve been on a bender without the fun.” She leaned over the sink and ran hot water to wash the grit off her face, then icy cold to push the fatigue to the back of her mind.

As she patted her skin dry, she cursed the unforgiving overhead light. Hard to believe Mal would be all into her right now when she looked like hammered shit. She opened the medicine cabinet and snagged the white bottle she was used to seeing. She had the smallest bottle available. Travel size. Not like she could do any damage with Advil, but she didn’t like relying on anything at all.

But right beside it was an amber bottle.

A prescription bottle.

The plastic bottle in her hand rattled into the sink as her fingers shook.

Why was it there?

She didn’t have any bottles from the hospital. And even if she did, they would have been in New York. Not here. Not here in her home. She would never.

There was no name on the bottle, but she recognized the pills. Every fucking addict recognized those.

Percs. The holy grail of hospital meds. She’d known people who literally had been stabbed for them.

Hydrocodone. Percocet. Fucking flying high on those fuckers had been one of her very favorite highs. Everything felt floaty and perfect. Nothing ever hurt.

God, just an hour of no pain was so tempting. Even half a pill and she’d feel so much better.

No.

She curled her fingers into her palms and dropped her arms to her sides.

No.

No, there was no half pill.

There was no almost. No hour of bliss.

No one would know.

She slammed her eyes shut.

Elle reached out blindly and everything on that shelf scattered across the floor. She fisted her hand around the bottle and stumbled out of the room. She hit her shoulder on the way out and swore.

“Ricki?”

“Take this. Take this, please.” There were spots in front of her eyes where Mal should have been, but she recognized his voice. He’d help her. He’d make it right before she did something stupid.

“What?” He was just a mountain of shoulders and shadow in the small hallway outside her bathroom. She thrust the bottle into his belly and his hand covered hers.

“Not mine. Not supposed to be there. Not mine. I swear it. I didn’t—I just. You. Please.” She was babbling and none of the words made sense. But he’d know. She knew he’d know.

“Fuck.” His voice was cold and raw. His fingers curled around the back of her neck and he forced her to look up at him. “Ricki. You did good.”

“I swear, I didn’t take one. I don’t know why it was in there.” Her eyes filled. “I swear, I don’t.”

He hauled her in and she cried out because of her shoulder, but she didn’t stop holding on to him. He pressed her face into his chest and shoulder. “All right, babe. Just a second. I’ll be back in a second, all right?”

“No,” she whispered.

“I’m just going to get rid of them for you, all right?”

“Yes. Yes, please. I can’t have them near me. Not yet.” Her mind swirled with panic. “Maybe not ever.”

“It’s all right.” He pushed her hair out of her face and set her away from him. “You did this. All on your own you said no. You’re strong and amazing. I’ll be right back.”

She closed her eyes. No, she wasn’t. She was none of those things. She heard the flush of the toilet and swayed. If she was, she would have been able to flush them herself.

Then he was there again. In front of her, holding her, kissing her.

She leaned into the kiss and took every bit of strength he had. She wasn’t proud—not right now. Right now, she’d take it all. Maybe then she’d shore it up and be okay for another day.

“Take me home,” she said against his mouth. “Your home. Not here. I can’t be here now. I don’t know what’s wrong here, but it’s wrong. And I can’t.”

He hushed her. “Thank fuck,” he muttered. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He grabbed both their bags again and hustled her out the door. She glanced over her shoulder one last time as he closed the door.

How the hell had those pills gotten there?