RAPT - The Price of Love: Everhide Rockstar Romance Book 3 (Everhide Rockstar Romance Series)

by Tania Joyce

  The roar from the barman caught Gemma’s attention. She glanced at the TV to see the replay of a touchdown from every angle and got engrossed in the next couple of plays. Football was good in small doses.

  What is Vicki doing?

  The barman had made their drinks. They sat on the countertop. Vicki had paid, so what the hell was she doing, rummaging around in her purse? Gemma tapped and strummed her fingers on the tabletop.

  Shit. I don’t have time for this.

  Just when Gemma was about to call out to her, Vicki grabbed their drinks off the counter, strolled over, and sat in the seat opposite Gemma. “Sorry. That was my brother, Anthony. He’ll be here soon.” Her hands quivered as she slid Gemma her drink. Droplets of perspiration zigzagged down the side of her neck.

  Take your damn hoodie and hat off if you’re that hot.

  Folding her arms and hunching her shoulders, Vicki kept her head down, peering up at Gemma from beneath the brim of her hat.

  Gemma leaned forward and rested her hands on the table. “Vicki, talk to me. Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

  “I’m fine.” Vicki picked up her drink. By the smell hitting Gemma, Vicki had her favorite poison, Bacardi and Coke. She chinked it against Gemma’s whiskey on ice. “Cheers. Drink up, bitch.”

  Gemma took a sip. She winced and licked her lips. Hmm . . . it tasted funny. “Is this JD?”

  Vicki rolled her eyes. “Yes. I wouldn’t dare get you anything else.”

  “Just checking.” Gemma grinned, put the glass to her lips and downed half her drink. Maybe the bartender poured from the wrong bottle. He was rather distracted by the TV. “So, tell me. Why did you get fired?”

  Gemma continued to sip her drink as Vicki rattled on; Vicki felt her dismissal was unjustified just because she turned up late occasionally, lost her cool with the odd customer who was stupid and stole the odd bit of stationery.

  Yeah. All valid reasons for being sacked.

  Vicki put her drink down and a coy grin slid across her lips. “But I don’t care about my job.” Her voice rippled with the calmness of a lake. She placed her palms on the table and smoothed them over the wooden grain. “My future is about to change. I’m going to get everything I want. What I deserve. And no one is going to stop me.”

  Gemma’s mind turned hazy, woozy and dizzy. She knocked back the rest of her drink. Her arm fell, drooping against the table and she nearly dropped her glass. Why did that happen? Vicki wasn’t making any sense. “Stop you from doing what?”

  Vicki’s gaze hardened, steely and cold. “I’m not going to let anyone stand in my way. Not anymore.”

  “Good for you. You go girl.” Gemma swayed, wanting to put oomph in her voice, but failed. What’s wrong with me? Her gut swirled, felt like it was filling with cement. Her bones grew heavier and heavier. Shit! I haven’t felt like this before.

  No, wait.

  Vegas.

  Panic clambered up her throat. She tried to get her brain . . . to talk to her hand . . . to reach for her cell phone. Shit. She forgot to message Dylan. She needed to call Kyle. Chester. Shit. Shit. Shit. Her body wouldn’t work.

  A man walked into the bar, caught sight of Vicki, and charged over. He took a seat beside her. “This is your plan?” He spoke in a rushed, hushed tone. “In broad daylight in SoHo. Are you fucking crazy?”

  “I’m not crazy,” Vicki said through gritted teeth. “Just a few more minutes.” Vicki whipped her head around to Gemma, her eyes squinting “You remember Anthony?”

  Gemma tried to focus. He had beady eyes like a mole. A mop of short blond dreads spiked out from underneath his cap. He had greyish, gaunt skin like a vampire in desperate need of a drink. He was tall and gangling, skinny like Mike Jagger. Oh yeah, she remembered him. He had a reputation for being the biggest drug dealer in high school. Looked like he still sampled the goods too often.

  Wait.

  Oh no.

  Gemma’s head lolled back. Anthony scuttled around to sit beside her and hooked his arm around her shoulder. Every instinct told her to push him away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  “Looks like it’s worked.” Vicki’s face lit with a sinister smile.

  Fear clambered to every extremity of Gemma’s body. As if intoxicated, her arm fell from the table to her side, knocking her garment bag and purse to the floor. Tears stung her eyes. What’s happening?

  She licked her lips, her mouth dry. Her voice failed. What was in that drink?

  “Gemma, it’s okay,” Anthony whispered, stroking her hair back from her eyes. “We’re going to get out of here. I’m gonna help you. Okay?”

  No. She didn’t want to go with him. How come she had no control over her body? Her mind? She needed to get out of there. Needed to get away. Needed to marry Kyle. She couldn’t be late.

  “My car’s outside. I’m double parked.” Anthony said to Vicki. Then, in a low voice, he hovered near her ear. “Let’s go.”

  No. No. No.

  His hand slid over hers. Cold, skinny, bony fingers wrapped around hers. Couldn’t the barman or the guys sitting at the counter see she needed help? No. Their eyes were glued to the TV.

  Oh, fuck.

  She should’ve listened to Kyle. Had someone with her. Waited for Chester. For Dylan. Every muscle in Gemma’s body ached and she slumped against Anthony’s bicep.

  “I need you to stand.” Anthony slid her to the end of the booth, hooked his hand underneath her arm and she drifted to her feet. With Vicki on her other side, they headed out the door.

  No. No. No.

  I don’t want to go with you.

  Kyle.

  Help.

  I’m in trouble.

  Chapter 15

  In the tiny, half-full restaurant not far from Richard’s office, aromas of herbs, garlic, baked bread and mozzarella cheese wafted from the small kitchen. Kyle leaned back in his chair, his belly full after a late lunch of Italian herbed chicken and salad. Hunter and Hayden had demolished two pizzas and a bowl of Bolognese pasta.

  The waiter cleared away their plates and left them to their icy-cold beers. Stretching his legs out, Kyle couldn’t hide his grin. One hour to go. Time to chill, have another beer or two, and calm his nerves before getting married.

  “So, you ready to get hitched?” Hayden straightened and smoothed his hand over his silk tie. “Always knew you’d be the first to tie the knot.”

  “What?” Kyle fidgeted with his gold cuff links; the bass guitar-shaped ones from Leonard’s Gemma had given him for his birthday. “What made you think that?”

  “You’re soft.” Hayden shrugged a shoulder. “A crooner. Girls dig that.”

  A crooner? Maybe he was. Singing songs about love and longing came easily to him; dealing with other emotions, not so much. He’d lost Gemma once over not being honest about his feelings; he’d never do that again.

  His neck pinched; a pain shot into his skull. He hated he’d let his concern for Gemma come across as him controlling her. The idea of turning into his father scared him. He’d sworn never to be like that. Losing Gemma terrified him. He vowed to spend the rest of the days making music with her, making love to her and doing everything to make her happy. His dream was about to become reality.

  A waiter scuttled past carrying large white plates, one loaded with ravioli, one with a mouthwatering steak for another table. It smelled so good, but Kyle couldn’t possibly eat another thing.

  Hayden slapped Hunter on the back. “Hunt will be next down the aisle. Now he’s hooked up with Kara, it’s just a matter of time.”

  Hunter choked on a mouthful of beer. “Dude, I’ve been dating her for a few months. I’m not ready to get married.”

  “You’ve moved in together.” Hayden chuckled. “I mean, what the fuck?”

  “You wait.” Hunter waggled his finger at Hayden, a playful smile curling across his lips. “Your turn will come.”

  “No girl will tie me down.” Hayden held up three fingers to a passing waiter, ordering a
nother round of beers.

  “Yeah. That’s what I said.” Hunter drained the remainder of his beer.

  “You’re just jealous.” Kyle placed his hand over his heart. “I’m lucky I’ve found the one to spend the rest of my life with. I can’t believe I’m marrying her this afternoon.”

  So cool.

  As the waiter placed three fresh beers onto the table and cleared away their empty glasses, Hunter grabbed his phone, took a photo of the drinks, and spoke as he texted. “Beer with the boys.”

  “Do you have to post everything to Instagram?” Kyle grabbed his beer and downed a mouthful.

  “Yep.” He flicked his long hair. “That’s why I have twice as many followers as you.”

  Kyle cracked a smile. Twenty-one million followers on Instagram was nothing to be shy about. But he didn’t feel the need to post something every day.

  His cell phone rang. He grabbed it from his suit pocket, grimaced at the caller ID, and answered it. “S’up Dylan?”

  “Sorry to bother you Mr. McIntyre. Has something changed? I’ve been waiting for Gemma for half an hour past her appointment’s scheduled finish time and she hasn’t called. I’ve tried phoning her, but it keeps going to voicemail.”

  Kyle drew his brows together. “What? Nothing’s changed.” Shit. Did she have her phone on silent? He glanced at his watch. 2:06 p.m. “Where are you?”

  “At the park down the street from the bridal shop,” Dylan said.

  “Is Chester with Gem?” Kyle doubted her final fitting and picking up a dress would take this long. She’d said she didn’t think it would even take an hour, not go for longer than ninety minutes.

  “No. He got delayed by an accident in the tunnel. Last message from him said he would meet Gemma at home.”

  “What? You mean Gem’s by herself? Without security?”

  “Well she’s with Nina at the shop.”

  Kyle closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew fittings could blow out and run over time, but Gemma would’ve called Dylan and let him know if she was running late. “I’ll call Nina’s and see what’s taking her so long. I’ll phone you back.”

  Kyle hung up, his mind spinning. Fuck!

  “Kyle?” Hunter leaned forward; worry filtered through his eyes. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Gemma.” Kyle’s leg jiggled underneath the table. With each passing second, his blood pressure spiked. “She’s late calling Dylan for pickup. He’s worried. She should be at home getting ready to come meet us.”

  He hit the Contacts button on his cell phone and rang Gemma’s number.

  Fuck. It went through to voicemail.

  He sent her a text.

  Call me. URGENT.

  Hunter’s face blanched.

  Hayden gulped on his mouthful of beer and wiped the corners of his mouth with his fingertips. “Shit. I’m sure there’s an explanation. Don’t worry yet.”

  Too late for that.

  The waiter walked over to their table. “Can I interest you in the dessert menu?”

  “No.” Kyle didn’t even look at the waiter as he gave him a flick of his hand. “We’re fine.” The waiter could think he was an arrogant rock star; he didn’t care. Not now. He had to find Gemma.

  “Let me know if you need anything.” The waiter bowed and scuttled away.

  “Hunt, can you call Kara?” Kyle asked. His hands trembled as he googled Nina’s number. “Find out if she’s with Gem and see if they’ve run off to do something without telling anyone.”

  “I can, but she got held up at Tom Ford’s and is meeting us at Richard’s. I told you that.”

  Kyle rubbed at the tension building in his brow. Yes, he did remember Hunter telling him when they were goofing off trying on their suits at Hugo Boss.

  Hunter grabbed his cell phone and called Kara anyway. “Hey babe, are you with Gem? . . . You heard from her?” Hunter shook his head and the blood drain from Kyle’s face. Hunter tapped his fingers against the table, listening to whatever Kara was saying.

  Hunter hadn’t even finished his call before Kyle dialed Nina’s number and put the phone to his ear. He scrunched and crushed his napkin into a ball as he talked to Danielle, Nina’s shop assistant. She didn’t believe it was him at first; it took some convincing for her to put him through to Nina. “Nina, it’s Kyle McIntyre. Is Gemma still with you?”

  Nina hesitated before speaking softly. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. My client base and any information about them is strictly confidential.”

  “NINA.” His desperation bordered on a growl; his politeness veered close to cracking. “I know she went there at twelve-thirty. Her driver’s waiting for her. Just tell me, is she still there or not?”

  Silence.

  For Christ’s sake.

  “Please Nina.” He reefed his necktie from side to side. “She’s not where she’s supposed to be. It’s urgent.”

  “No,” Nina said, soft and meek. “She’s not.”

  Kyle’s heart hammered out a fast tempo. “Did she leave with someone?”

  “As far as I’m aware she didn’t leave with anyone. She said she wanted to go to Leonard’s.”

  Leonard’s? What was she doing there? Picking out jewelry for the wedding?

  She had to be there. Had to be. “Thanks Nina. Appreciated. Bye.”

  He dialed the jeweler. The shop assistant said she never came to the store. Hadn’t seen her.

  He tried her cell phone again. No answer.

  Fuck. Where are you, Gem? Oh God, please be okay.

  His gut rolled like surging waves; his lunch threatened to return. He scrolled through the apps on his phone and opened their tracking app, even though he hated doing it. Hated having to check where she was. The loading icon circled round and round. What felt like minutes, was in reality only a few seconds.

  Gemma’s icon appeared on the screen.

  What the hell? She was at a bar? Down the street from Nina’s?

  What was she doing there?

  Wasn’t she coming?

  At what point did he panic?

  Chapter 16

  “Kyle, let’s get out of here.” Hunter waved urgently at the waiter for the check. “Before we make the headlines on TMZ.”

  “Good call.” Kyle downed the remains of his beer. Hunter must be sensing his escalating state of frenzy. With his mind racing, Kyle charged out of the restaurant and slipped into the waiting stretch limousine with Hayden, Hunter and security. His gut rocked and rolled with so much nausea, it could be mistaken for the biggest wave pool in North America. The guys did their best to keep him calm and convince him that Gemma would still make it to Richard’s on time. But nothing worked. No jokes. No banter. No wit.

  Gemma was cutting it too damn fine.

  He just wanted to hear from her. Make sure she was okay. But something tugged down deep inside the pit of his gut telling him she wasn’t.

  As their driver headed toward Richard’s office, Kyle’s hand shook. He searched his cell phone, found the bar’s number and dialed.

  Some chick with a Reese-Witherspoon-like voice answered. “Hi, this is The Edge Sports Bar.”

  Loud sports commentary, music and people hollering reverberated through the speaker. He could hardly hear her. He covered his other ear with his hand and concentrated over the noise. “Can you see if Gemma Lonsdale is there please?”

  “Are you joking?” The woman shrieked with a disbelieving laugh. “You mean Gemma? From Everhide?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, right. As if she’d come to a bar like this.”

  “Just . . . ” He clutched at his suit pants, dug his fingers into his knee and held onto his cool. “ . . . see if she’s there. Please.”

  “We had sixty people rock up for some guy’s birthday at two o’clock,” she yelled over the din. “It’s super busy. But hold on, I’ll check.” She yelled louder, as if hollering across the room. “Is there a Gemma Lonsdale here? . . . Gemma? . . . Gemma Lonsdale? Nope. Can’t
see her. It’s hard to be sure though. Lotta people watching sport and stuff.”

  “Okay. If you do find her, tell her to call Kyle. It’s super urgent.”

  “Kyle? As in McIntyre? Holy crap. Yes. Yes. Um . . . Sure. Will do.”

  “Thanks.” He hung up. Well, that didn’t help. Totally useless.

  He was about to return Dylan’s call and get him to check the bar when his cell phone lit with Chester’s name. He hit the answer button. “Please tell me Gem’s with you.” He tried to remain calm, but panic had crept into his voice.

  “Um. No.” Chester’s hesitation sent Kyle’s worry up another notch. “I’ve just got to your place after being held up by the tunnel accident. She told me to meet her at home, but she’s not here. I’ve called her, but she’s not answering. Dylan’s waiting for your call. The tracking app says she’s at The Edge sports bar. Do you know about this?”

  “She shouldn’t be at some bar.” Kyle’s voice shook. “I rang them, but they couldn’t find her in the crowd. Something’s not right. She should be home by now, or on her way to meet us.”

  “Kyle.” Hunter grimaced and scratched at the red marks that had broken out on his neck—the telltale sign he was freaking out. “You know Gem. She probably ran into someone she knew, had a drink, lost track of time, took off in a rush and left her phone behind. She’ll make it. Everything will be fine.”

  But it wasn’t. She wasn’t with Dylan. She wasn’t at home. Nothing was fine.

  Chester cleared his throat. “The bar’s not far away. I’ll go and see if she’s there.”

  “That’d be great. I was about to return Dylan’s call and tell him to do the same.”

  “I’ll touch base with him and meet him there.” Chester said. “Give me fifteen minutes. Your doorman can contact us if she turns up.”

  “Excellent.” So much had happened in the span of a few minutes. But still no word from Gemma. “Please hurry.” Kyle hit End. He threaded his fingers into his hair and clutched a handful. Catching Hunter and Hayden’s gloomy gaze, he’d reached the edge of his sanity. “Fuck, I hope she’s all right.”