Pure Wicked (Wicked Lovers #9.5)(3)
Author: Shayla Black

“It would also be pointless. Everyone goes to rehab and no one cares. No.” He glared her way. “If I hole up, this dies down.”

“All right,” she said grudgingly as the limo stopped in front of the executive airport outside the city. “But I don’t want to see a Twitter or Instagram pic of you for at least the next two weeks. Once we’re back in L.A., hide out in your house. That should work. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come out.”

His ultra-contemporary house was decorated with every luxury and technological delight known to man, not to mention blessed with sick city and ocean views. But it had never felt like home. Despite the place being eight thousand square feet, Jesse couldn’t imagine being cooped up there for the next fourteen days. It would only remind him of everything wrong with his life.

“Paparazzi know where I live. If I get on that plane with you and go to L.A., they’ll figure it out. So will fans.” Even now, he imagined that if he looked at his phone he’d find a full voicemail box and hundreds of text messages. He couldn’t deal with anyone else’s expectations right now when he’d done so poorly at meeting his own. “If you really want me to disappear, we’ll have to come up with another plan.”

“You’re well known on every continent but Antarctica. The press would spot you almost anywhere you travel, especially if you take a security detail. They seem to have eyes and ears at every airport. I…” Candia huffed. “I need to think about this.”

“I’ll give it some brain power too, come up with a few ideas.” Though he had no idea what to suggest, Jesse did know that what he’d done in the past—disappearing into the bottom of a bottle with some recreational blow and a woman under each arm—wasn’t going to do a damn thing to clean up his image.

“Ideas?” She sounded as if that horrified her. “You? No.”

“I’m a grown-ass man. And I’ve learned a few things over the years.” He lowered his sunglasses and stared at her over the rims. “Go. You handle the press. I think I might know how to disappear.”

When the driver opened the limo door, Candia grabbed her bag and turned to him. “You sure? Can I really trust you not to fuck this up?”

“Yeah. I know how much is on the line. Call me when the coast is clear.”

* * * *

Jesse wiped his palms down the front of his jeans, then rang the doorbell. Hell, he didn’t even know if Kimber was home. And that scary bastard she’d married—had it really been almost five years ago?—wouldn’t be thrilled to see his wife’s ex-fiancé, especially this late at night. If he was lucky, Deke Trenton would slam the door in his face. More likely, the big operative would try to beat the shit out of him.

After a gut-tightening moment, the porch light flipped on and the door swept open.

Deke towered in the doorway, a beefy forearm braced against the jamb, blue eyes raking him with a scathing glare. Then Kimber’s husband sighed and looked over his shoulder, back into the living room. “Kitten, your personal Bieber has decided to drop in.”

“Jesse?” He heard her familiar voice.

Deke stepped back, and she appeared in the doorway a moment later. Well, her pregnant belly edged into view. The rest of her followed an instant later. He hadn’t talked to her in so long, he hadn’t even known she was pregnant again. Didn’t that make him feel even more like a shit?

Deke wrapped an arm around her—both a reminder and a warning. Jesse was relieved that seeing the man’s hands on her no longer made him twenty kinds of jealous.

“Oh my gosh!” Kimber’s hazel eyes widened as she pulled him into a quick hug. “You really are here.”

Jesse held her in return for something slightly longer than a moment.

“Yeah. Sorry to drop by without calling.” Clearly, he was intruding on their happy domestic scene.

“Not at all. Come in.” She opened the door wider and stepped back.

He could have sworn he heard Deke growl. But the guy let Jesse enter. Now that he’d interrupted their evening, he’d talk fast, thank them, and be gone.

As he cleared the foyer, flashes of light told him the TV was on, but he suspected it had been muted because he didn’t hear a sound coming from the box. Children’s toys filled baskets and shelves around the room—balls, books, trucks, stuffed animals. Kimber had given birth to a son almost four years ago and was obviously about to be a mother again.

“Sit.” She waved him over to the couch. “Can I get you something? Water? Coffee?”

Reluctantly, he sank into a chair, leaving the couch for the two of them. “No thanks. How are you?”