Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1)

by RB Hilliard

  I hate driving at night. It’s so dark.

  All I could see was the road reflected in the headlights in front of me and nothing else. I flipped on the radio and was happy when Aerosmith’s Dream On spilled from the speakers. After giving Steven Tyler a run for his money, Cat Stevens’ Hard Headed Woman came on. Only, it wasn’t Cat Stevens singing, but someone else. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Two more songs flew by before the host came on and said, “You’ve been listening to Aerosmith’s Dream On and Grant Hardy’s remake of Cat Stevens’ Hard Headed Woman. Speaking of Grant Hardy, the word on the street is that as of last night, he’s officially off the market. You heard it ladies and gentlemen. Grant Hardy and Michelle Harrigan are finally tying the knot. I have to admit, those two are going to make some really pretty babies together.

  Wait, what did she say? I pulled over onto the side of the road and scrambled for my phone. Once I had it in my hand, I scrolled to Grant’s number and hit send.

  “Hello?” a man answered.

  “Is Grant there?”

  “You must have the wrong number. This is Sal.”

  “Sal?” I squeaked.

  “Mallory, is that you?”

  I jerked the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen. It read Grant Hardy. “I don’t understand,” I stammered.

  “Mallory, Mallory, Mallory, I warned you about getting too cocky. I told you time and again to focus on you and not those other bitches, and what’d you do? You went and ruined your career.”

  “What?”

  “It was always about winning with you, wasn’t it?”

  “No, that’s not true.”

  “And when you didn’t win, you ran away. I sure hope you’ve learned your lesson. Running is for pussies.”

  “I didn’t run. I was hurt and you gave up on me!” I shouted.

  “You were never going to ski again. What’d you expect me to do, hire you to carry the bags?”

  Before he could spew anymore of his venom, I ended the call. My fingers shook as I scrolled down to Grant’s number and hit send.

  “Hello?” a woman answered.

  “Yes, this is Mallory Scott. Can I please speak to Grant?”

  “Mallory dear, this is Mrs. Jacobs. You must have dialed the wrong number. I meant to call you when I received your last check in the mail. You have been so kind to cover my rehabilitation all these years. Then again, it’s the least you could do for almost killing me.

  Killing me.

  Killing me.

  Killing me.

  I woke with a jolt and immediately started gagging. Afraid I was going to vomit all over the bed, or heaven forbid the white carpet, I scrambled out of the covers and ran for the bathroom. Right as I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet the burn in my chest eased and I could breathe again. After a few minutes of deep breathing, I felt well enough to stand. Before going back to bed, I splashed my face with cold water and, once I had myself somewhat back together I slowly made my way back to the bed. Grant wasn’t there.

  Where is he?

  Tears stung the backs of my eyes as I glanced around the dark room. If I was at home I would simply turn on the television and drift back to sleep. Grant didn’t appear to have a television in his room. I really loved his house, but right now I felt like a stranger. Not in the least bit comfortable with the idea of walking around naked, I made my way back into the bathroom and pulled on my pajamas. Then I crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. Grant wasn’t there. Nor was he in his office or on the balcony. It wasn’t until I was grabbing a sparkling water from the refrigerator that I heard it…music. After a minute or so of listening, I discovered it coming from a door I mistook for the pantry. While staring at the musical door and gulping down water, I wondered what was down there. Finally, not able to stand it any longer, I walked over to the door, slowly turned the knob and pulled it open. A rather steep staircase greeted me. The sound of the guitar floated up the stairs and I was caught between whether to return to bed or follow the music. Finally, I thought, screw it, and headed down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs I turned left and stepped down into a huge room. It took me a few seconds to process what I was looking at.

  “Wow,” I gasped, out loud. I was standing in an actual recording studio.

  “Mallory?” I jerked my head in the direction of Grant’s voice and found him sitting on a large leather sofa with a spiral bound notebook open in front of him. His guitar rested on his very naked thighs. My entire body flushed at the thought of Grant writing songs in the buff. A look of concern appeared on his face as he placed his guitar on the stand and stood up. “Are you okay?” My eyes dropped to his vibrant colored boxer briefs. I seriously needed to get my mind out of the gutter. Closing the distance between us, he brushed the hair back off my face, and said, “Hey, what’s up, pretty lady?”

  “I woke and was thirsty.”

  His eyes roamed over my face and I knew he could see right through me. “Are you sure that’s all?”

  I glanced around the spacious room and said, “This is really amazing.”

  “Mallory.”

  “I’m fine. Now tell me about this place.”

  “It’s my studio,” he shrugged.

  “It’s awesome. In fact, the entire house is fabulous, Grant.”

  He stepped forward and pressed his body flush against mine. “Stop avoiding my question,” he quietly said.

  I tilted my head back and glared up at him. “Fine, I had a dream and when I woke, you weren’t there. Happy now?”

  “Very,” he responded, as he took me by the hand and pulled me over to the sofa. Once there, he paused long enough to close the notebook and toss it on the floor. Then he fell back onto the sofa, pulled me down onto his lap and said, “Tell me about it.” His obvious concern touched me. I contemplated what to say. After a long pause, he said, “You really don’t want to tell me, do you?” I felt bad. If I told him now it would ruin our time together. I wasn’t ready to go home. Selfishly I wanted more.

  His hurt expression was more than I could handle and I dropped my forehead to his and sighed. “I was an addict, Grant. I…did things.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Awful things. Things that haunt my sleep. Things that I will spend forever trying to make up for. I –”

  Pressing his lips to the side of my head, he said, “Shhhh, I get it.”

  My head snapped up and I stared him in the eyes. “No, you don’t.”

  “Maybe not personally, but I understand what you’re saying, and I want you to know something, you’re safe here. What you did in your past is just that, the past. There’s no shame right now in this room, Mallory. There’s only you and me.” God, but he made it sound so easy. Framing my face in his hands, he pulled me forward and gently pressed his lips to mine. He was inviting me to forget and it was so damn tempting. “Just you and me,” he whispered against my lips. I wanted what he was offering more than I’d ever wanted anything in my entire life. Even more so, I needed it. As I opened my mouth and touched my tongue to his, he lifted me up. I spread my legs on either side of his hips and he slowly lowered me back down. A bullet of red hot lust shot up my spine as his cotton clad cock brushed against my silk covered clit. Grant lowered his forehead to mine and whispered, “Tell me you feel this.”

  “I feel it.”

  “Tell me you want it as much as I do.”

  “I do.”

  “Please tell me you’re on the pill.”

  I reared back in shock. “What?” That was the absolute last thing I expected him to say.

  “I want to feel all of you and I want you to have all of me. If you’re worried about me being clean, I –”

  His heartfelt words cut deep. “No, that’s not it. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.” The man kept blowing me away with his words, but more so with his actions.

  “I was dead serious when I told you there was no one else.”

  “I’m on the pill,�
�� I blurted.

  “Look, if you don’t want this, j –”

  I cut him off with a kiss. That was just it. I wanted everything he was willing to give, but the more I gave, the harder it was going to be when I walked away, and there was no doubt about it, I was going to walk away.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dead End

  Grant

  I could tell by her dazed expression that Mallory didn’t know what to make of me or my home. She said she was mine, but I sensed she didn’t mean it. The words were spoken simply to shut me up. Whenever she thought I wasn’t looking, she would watch me. Shadows of uncertainty clouded her beautiful blue eyes. I didn’t know how to convince her that this was real. All we needed was time together and she would see. Time. Why did I feel as if we were suddenly running out of it? My girl was scared of something and I wanted to know what it was so I could fix it. She’d hit the nail on the head when she said we were wading through an emotional minefield. I was afraid if I took the wrong step it would all blow to hell and I couldn’t let that happen. Only, I didn’t know how to stop it, especially when I didn’t even know what it was.

  I meant to text Ava before we hit the road this morning and tell her to take the night off. Once the shit hit the fan at the pharmacy I forgot. Sweet Ava. As usual, she wanted to make my homecoming into a big production. Normally I’d be okay with this, but since Mallory was with me and we had less than three days together, I didn’t want to be bothered by fancy food or schedules. Plus, Ava tended to load it on thick. The last thing I wanted was for Mallory to feel uncomfortable, especially since I planned on her spending a lot more time here with me in the future. I had it all planned. I would put Mallory in the shower and then tell Ava to go home. I should have known it wouldn’t be so simple. Ava was less than thrilled about being dismissed in the middle of making us dinner, however, she perked right up when I told her I was looking forward to her famous pancake breakfast in the morning. I made it back upstairs in just enough time to get the candles lit before the shower turned off. I expected a happy, clean Mallory to emerge. Instead I got a pissed off Mallory who did not appreciate being stood up, even if it was for a good cause. I was tempted to bend her over my knee and give her a well-deserved spanking. I settled for hefting her grumpy ass over my shoulder and tossing her onto my bed. As I watched her gorgeous naked body burrow deep in my bed and her sexy-as-hell voice moan about how she was never leaving, my cock called a truce. It was officially game over.

  Part two of my plan was to lure Mallory downstairs for dinner on the balcony. The sex before dinner was merely an added bonus. Mallory falling asleep directly after the sex, however, was not in the overall plan. I thought about joining her, but had too much shit floating around in my head. There was no way I would be able to sleep. For the first time in what felt like forever I was home. My absolute favorite time of day was when the rest of the world was asleep. It was then that I felt most productive. I had songs in my head, Mallory in my heart and a mystery to solve. This afternoon’s visit to the pharmacy weighed heavily on my mind. Getting Mallory involved was a huge mistake. She wanted to help and I appreciated it, but I could see how worried she was about losing her job. Kirkland hadn’t made a peep since all of this started and I wasn’t sure if he was stupid, cocky or just fucking smarter than all of us put together. Whatever the case, something had to give and I wanted to make sure Mallory wasn’t caught in the crossfire. I trusted Blane about as far as I could throw him to run interference for us. It took most of the ride from Houston to decide I wasn’t taking any more chances. I wasn’t cutting Mallory out, but I wasn’t going to let her put her job on the line any longer. The sooner Hank and I figured out who Sarah Harmon was, the better off we’d all be. I quietly slid on a pair of boxers. On my way out the door I glanced over my shoulder at the woman lying in my bed and wondered if she knew that she held my heart in the palm of her hand. If I told her she probably wouldn’t believe me.

  As I hit the top of the stairs I mentally switched gears. New York was going to be interesting. Nash was driving up to the house tomorrow to plan the set list and do a quick run through with me. I invited both Chaz and Luke, but they already had family plans. This meant we were going to have to cram a few sessions in before the first show; something we all hated doing. I was nervous. We’d only played New York once before and it was a logistical nightmare. The Park was a huge venue and my parents were going to be there. When Mom called earlier, I decided to give her the heads up about Mallory. For fear of her prying into Mallory’s business, which she would do if given the opportunity, I didn’t use Mallory’s name. I simply told her I’d met someone and I would be introducing her to them in New York. Mom practically pissed her pants with joy. Then she fired a million questions at me. For as long as I could remember my mother had been trying to hook me up with her friend’s daughters. If it was up to her I’d be married with twelve kids and a steady, non-musical job. Dad didn’t mind what I did for a living as long as it made me happy. Mom hated it and had no problem telling me so. I loved my parents, but they were super conservative. They were older when they got married and my mother struggled to get pregnant with me. They tried for years after to have more kids and eventually gave up. My parents were God fearing people who both worked nine to five jobs to provide a good life for us. Consequently, I was shuffled around to after school programs and babysitters. I didn’t really mind where I was as long as my guitar was with me. At the end of the day I knew I would return to my house with two parents who loved each other and loved me. They could never find out what happened to me that night in Houston. They wouldn’t understand. Hell, I didn’t even understand. It would be a pain in the ass to maneuver, but everything had to be placed on hold until after New York. Tomorrow, when Nash was here we would do a conference call with the guys and lay down the rules for the show. Snagging a bottle of water from the fridge, I headed to my office to call Hank.

  As it turned out, Hank was already on it. According to his research, there were approximately forty-five women named Sarah Harmon residing in the Houston, Texas area, fifteen of which lived in The Woodlands. He enlisted Marcy to help find the possible link between Sarah and either Blane or Kirkland. Before we hung up I asked him also to check into The Meadows and make sure there wasn’t a connection between Sarah and Whitfield or Nancy. If we didn’t find a connection soon, I was fucked.

  The noise in my head took a back seat the minute I stepped into my studio. I reached inside my bag, pulled out my notebook and flipped to the song I’d been working on for the past week. It was a song for Mallory called Unravel and the tempo was a bitch to nail down. I was in the middle of writing down lyrics when I felt the air in the room change. I glanced up and there she stood.

  Mallory.

  She had that haunted look in her eyes, the same one she had when I found her cowering on the floor after the horrible nightmare. I called out her name and her eyes stared through me as she muttered something about liking the studio. Clearly she was spooked. After several attempts to get answers from her, which she tried to evade, I coaxed her finally into confessing she’d had another dream. Here I was dicking around in my studio while she was upstairs battling the demons in her dreams. She looked so lost. Not able to stand the distance, I pulled her over to the sofa and onto my lap. I wanted everything from her, including her secrets, but I knew I wasn’t going to get them easily. It stung that she wouldn’t confide in me. I’m not sure what made me push. Maybe it was having her in the place I loved most in the world, or maybe it was that I’d finally found the person I wanted to give the world to, and she didn’t even know it. One thing was clear, I wanted all of her and wasn’t about to settle for less. I could see it in her eyes – she felt the pull. I could feel it in her touch – she was as crazy for me as I was for her.

  Dropping my forehead to hers, I whispered, “Tell me you feel this.”

  “I feel it,” she quietly responded.

  “Tell me you want it as much as I do.”


  “I do.”

  “Please tell me you’re on the pill.”

  She jerked back and asked, “What?”

  “I want to feel all of you and I want you to have all of me. If you’re worried about me being clean, I –”

  She cut me off before I could finish my sentence. “No, that’s not it. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

  “I was dead serious when I told you there was no one else.”

  “I’m on the pill,” she said.

  I’m not sure what I expected, but her less than enthusiastic response burned. “Look, if you don’t want this, j –” She shut me up by pressing her lips to mine. That was all the confirmation I needed. Before she could change her mind, I reached down between us, grabbed the side of her panties and ripped them off.

  “I love it when you go all cave man on me,” she murmured against my lips. If she thought that was cave man, she hadn’t seen anything, yet.

  “Hold onto my neck,” I instructed. She wrapped her arms around my neck and giggled when I lifted her up just high enough to shuck off my boxers. I maneuvered it so that when I sat back down she was in position for me to slide right in. Her giggle turned to a gasp as I slowly lowered her down the length of me. Once she was fully seated, I paused to pull off her tank. As I sucked her taut little nipple into my mouth, I lightly pumped my hips. Tingles of electricity shot from the base of my spine to the top of my neck. One by one I was going to tear down her defenses. This was just the first.