“I want to be your safe place,” I admit.
“And I just want you safe.”
My phone line goes dead and it takes me a second too long to realize she’s hung up on me.
What the fuck does that mean?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jax
Youcanrun,butyou can’t hide. It’s time to bring you home to me, my love…
She’s gone into hiding and blocked my number. It makes sense since the messages I’ve sent her have been a little on the demented side. Sometimes I can recognize it after I do it, though in this circumstance I’m actually glad things have played out the way that they have.
When the heat of the moment hits, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The obsessive need for control takes over and if you add in my anger over her refusal to let me get closer, and the building hatred I’ve been developing over those filthy rock stars, which seem to have poisoned her head and manipulated her into thinking she needs them more than she needs me, the delirium kicks in and I only live through short bouts of lucidity.
I could get another phone number but that seems too easy. No, I need to think bigger; do something outrageous to make her understand that her and I are meant for each other.
I’ve been playing the long game to make Ainsley mine. She knows me better than anyone else. She’s the quiet peace to the tumultuous storm that rages on in my head day in and day out and I refuse to live this life without her.
When I first called Ainsley all those many nights ago, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure why I’d done it. I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d really just needed to see if there was anyone in the world that could talk me out of the driving need to sate my blood lust. And boy, did the universe deliver.
AJ, whom I now know to be Ainsley James Dylan, or as she’s gone by for the last eight years, AJ Callahan, is absolute perfection personified.
No one was more shocked than me to find out she’s the long lost Princess of rock ‘n’ roll. Granted, she has been dead set on keeping up with the rules through theYou Matterapp, no matter how hard I’ve tried to get her to open up of her own free will. It made it really hard to find her at first, but I have my ways and I’ve learned a lot over our time together.
There’s no one more flawless than Ainsley. She’s beautiful, intelligent, obviously talented, and soon enough she’ll see that there’s no one more well matched for her than me. We are equals above all else.
Putting one of my earbuds in, I set my phone to run a repetitive loop ofI Don’t Want To Set The World On Fireby the Ink Spots to keep my motivations and my spirits high. It’s my feelings for her written into song form, as if they’d written it for us before we were even born. When I found out how much she loved music, I knew it was our song immediately. As if it manifested us into existence and brought us together simply by being sung.
After double checking my wig is in place and straightening the hotel staffing outfit I stole from the laundry room, I make my way to the kitchens. As if the Gods are shining down on me, there’s an order for the presidential suite, and even better, it’s already prepared and ready to go. There are three cloche covered plates and three sodas.
Perfect.
Grabbing the cart and tray with little effort and no questions asked, I make my way out of the kitchen, making one small pitstop to a low security risk area and add in my special ingredient to the drinks, then continue right on up to fulfill my destiny.
Why are people so stupid?
It’s like no one pays any real attention to things these days. I’ve been showing up here every day in this server uniform for the last week to set myself up for success. I walk around aimlessly, occasionally pretending to do some menial task and no one’s batted an eye, let alone bothered to ask who the hell I am. How does one of the most expensive hotels in New York City not know who they’ve employed well enough to know when someone is a total imposter?
Idiots. Every single one of them. Ainsley would have noticed.
I’ve learned where all of the cameras in the hotel are, as well as noted the access ways for the servers. Making sure to use the proper channels I ride the elevator up to those degenerates’ suite and knock loudly.
“Room service!” I call out, emphasizing my most proper customer service voice so as not to rouse suspicion.
If I’ve timed everything right, then only the filthy drummer should be here at the moment. Last I checked, the pretty boy singer and the dirty bassist were just getting to Ainsley’s apartment when I left to come here. The lunkhead guitarist and the wannabe pianist were finishing up a workout in the hotel’s gym when I passed it on my way up with the food. They were looking like they really needed to burn off some steam.
If my timeline is correct—who am I kidding, of course my timeline is correct—then we’re looking at roughly three weeks since Ainsley disappeared. If she’s been a good girl, she’s not contacted them. And if she’d contacted them, they wouldn’t look so pissed off.
Check, assholes. Only a few more moves to checkmate.
The stupid drummer opens the door, looking at me curiously for a minute too long to make me comfortable before letting me push the food cart inside.
He couldn’t possibly recognize me, could he?
Everything inside me wants to rush this guy. If I were in a state, I might have tried. Thankfully, my mind is clear and all of my faculties are remaining controlled by my logical brain. I need to bide my time here. Catching him unaware is my biggest advantage because he’s not small—the others aren’t either. In fact they’re actually bigger than me in stature as well as in relation to our muscle density. But I have patience, intelligence, surprise, and the sheer will to make Ainsley mine on my side. These guys have none of that.
