Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1)

by RB Hilliard

  “That was way too easy,” he announced. A million thoughts swirled through my head. Every last one of them was superseded by panic. Grant was standing in my house and I looked like something dead the cat dragged home.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  He slowly took in my wet hair, my old t-shirt and ragtag shorts before scanning the room. I knew what he saw. He saw a mess because I was a mess, a total and complete mess. When his eyes came back to me they softened and he said, “Babe.”

  “What are you doing here?” I squeaked, as if it wasn’t obvious.

  He got this look in his eyes that I knew all too well. It was the I’m-more-stubborn-than-you are look. Little did he know, I’d invented that look and was well versed in its multitude of meanings. “Have you watched the news today?” he asked. I glared defiantly at him and he smiled. The nerve of him. “If so, then I assume you’ve seen the latest interview with Irene Jacobs?”

  “What?” I gasped. Irene Jacobs was the woman I almost killed five years ago – my punisher and my savior – the reason I ran.

  As I stood there gawking, Grant nonchalantly strolled over to my coffee table and snagged the changer. After turning on the television, he took a seat and patted the cushion next to him. “Sit,” he said. Completely shocked by the fact that he was in my house, I didn’t even think to argue. I sat while he hunted for the correct channel. When Irene’s face popped onto the screen, I closed my eyes. It had been three years since I’d seen her. “Watch,” he commanded. I opened my eyes and watched the woman I’d almost killed tell the world what an amazing person I’d become. She told how I’d paid for her and both of her daughter’s hospital bills. She then explained how I’d gone to rehab to get my life back together, and how I’d paid for her physical therapy and doctor bills for the past five years. She even went so far as to tell how I sent the family Christmas and birthday presents each year. She said she was proud I’d turned my life around. Watching it was both awful and wonderful at the same time, awful because it brought that horrible time in my life back to the surface and wonderful because she’d clearly forgiven me. When the interview was over Grant flipped off the T.V. and settled his amber eyes on me.

  All I could think was how much I’d missed him this past week. I nodded at the television. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “No, babe, that was all you,” he replied. Tears welled in my eyes. I’d barely held myself together this past week. I hadn’t slept more than two hours at a time and was both emotionally and physically exhausted. Grant, suddenly here in my home, sitting next to me – it was too much. Clearly I was losing this fight. I dropped my eyes to my lap and blinked back the tears. “Look at me,” he said. Tilting my head up, I gave him my eyes. Kindness, compassion and love stared back at me and I didn’t deserve any of it. Not one damn bit.

  It took a lot for me to tell him what I was thinking, but somehow managed to get it out. “I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was so scared.”

  “You shouldn’t have run,” he scolded.

  “I didn’t know what else to do. So much was happening and –”

  “I’m crazy in love with you. If anything this only makes me love you more, Mallory Scott,” he spoke over me.

  “What?” I gasped. Surely he didn’t say what I thought he just said.

  He took my hand and slowly entwined our fingers together. Then he looked me straight in the eyes and repeated, “I’m crazy in love with you. What happened to you was truly awful, but it’s over now.” Wiping my tears with his free hand, he whispered, “She forgave you a long time ago. It’s time you forgive yourself, and for fuck’s sake, stop running.”

  “I don’t know how,” I confessed. Then I burst into a sobbing mess of tears.

  The next thing I knew I was on Grant’s lap and his arms were around me. As he kissed the side of my head and whispered how much he loved me and how brave I was, I cried. I cried for the girl who’d lost everything. I cried for the people I’d hurt along the way. Most of all I cried for the love I’d almost let pass me by. The entire time I cried Grant held me.

  Once I was through the worst of it, he asked, “Feel better?” After a moment’s pause I realized I did feel better. As a matter of fact, I felt better than better, I felt…relieved. All of the skeletons were officially out of the closet. I knew we still had unfinished business to tend to, but the worst was over. As I stared into the eyes of the man I loved, I realized I hadn’t told him how I felt yet.

  “I love you,” I blurted. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to mine and I felt bad for not having told him sooner. “I’m sorry. I should have said it earlier. I wanted to tell you at your house, but I was too chicken.” While doing a pitiful job of explaining, I gently ran my fingers back and forth across his scruffy beard. He grabbed my hand and kissed my fingers. Then he tilted his head and captured my mouth with his. The kiss was soft and slow and I couldn’t believe I had him back. When he dropped his lips to my neck and kissed his way down to my collar bone, I raked my nails through his hair and whispered, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

  “Put your hands around my neck,” he commanded. The second my hands were around his neck he lifted me up and asked, “Bedroom?” I thought about Grant seeing my messy as hell bedroom and then thought about this past week and how I never thought I’d see him again.

  “Up the stairs and straight back,” I answered. He carried me up the stairs and into my bedroom.

  When he reached the foot of my bed, he lay me down, crawled on top of me and cupped my face with his hands. Staring deep into my eyes, he said, “I can’t do this if you’re going to run. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but this past week was sheer hell without you. I want you in my life and will fight every day to keep you there, but not if you’re going to run. Do you understand?”

  His words scored through me and I felt every last one to the depths of my soul. My selfishness burned him. I would make it up to him. If it took me the rest of my life, so be it. “I promise I won’t run again. I can’t promise not to get freaked out every now and then, but I won’t run,” I told him.

  His face split into a huge smile that I felt right smack between my legs. “Arms up,” he said. I lifted my arms and he pulled off my t-shirt. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in my bare chest. “God I missed you,” he muttered.

  “Me or them?” I glanced down at my breasts.

  “Both,” he said with a sexy grin.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I repeated.

  His expression turned serious. “I’m not going anywhere, Mallory, and neither are you.” Slowly, he slid down my body. When he reached the foot of the bed, he pulled off my shorts and panties. As he placed both of my legs over his shoulders, the entire lower half of my body spasmed. He lowered his mouth for a taste and I tensed in anticipation. Without warning he dove in. After a week without him, a week where I thought I’d never have him like this again, my orgasm hit fast and hard. While I lay there reveling in the fact that Grant Hardy loved me as much as I loved him, he slid off the bed and began taking off his clothes. One look at his beautiful, hard body and I instantly rallied for round two. This man was mine and I was never letting him go.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, as he crawled his way back up my body.

  “That you’re never getting rid of me,” I answered honestly.

  A look of surprise followed by one of possession crossed his face as he lined himself up and slowly slid inside. I arched my back to take him deeper and we both groaned at how good it felt. His eyes never left my face as he pulled out and slowly pushed back in “Promise?” he asked.

  “Promise what?”

  “That you’ll stay.”

  “I swear it,” I answered. I knew he didn’t believe me, but that was okay. I planned on telling him every day for as long as we were together.

  Grant made love to me that morning and it was both heartbreaking and beautiful. On the one hand he was showing me
he loved me, but at the same time I could see how much I’d hurt him.

  Later, while lying in his arms, he told me what happened with Blane the morning I left. I was shocked to say the least.

  “So it’s over? Kirkland’s out?”

  “Once we get verification from LASH that the files are legit, he’s gone,” Grant confirmed.

  “Do the guys know?”

  “Only Nash and Hank. We didn’t want to get everyone’s hopes up. There’s still a chance Blane could be playing us.”

  The thought of Blane hurting him made me tense. “Do you think he’s playing you?”

  “No, but after everything that’s happened I no longer trust him.”

  I was confused. “So why let him work for you?”

  “Because he’s good at handling the shit no one else wants to deal with. He’s good with PR and dealing with the day to day stuff.” He placed a kiss on my lips and said, “Trust me when I say he’s getting nowhere near the finances.” Somewhat mollified by his answer, I placed my head back on his chest and he rubbed the back of my neck. “Babe, I have to get back soon.”

  I jerked my head up in surprise. “So soon?”

  “It’s already two. Hank is outside waiting and I told the guys I’d be back in time to play tonight.”

  My eyes bugged in surprise. Surely he was kidding. “Hank is outside my house… right now?”

  “Yes, and as much as I want to stay, I can’t.”

  “Oh my God, poor Hank!” I screamed, as I shot from the bed and began searching for clothes to pull on.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I whipped my shirt over my head and glared at him. What does it look like I’m doing? You left Hank in the car for the past two hours while we’ve been up here…having sex,” I whispered the last part. “I can’t believe you!” His lips twitched with humor. “This is not funny,” I warned.

  “It sure as hell is,” he replied.

  As I pulled up my shorts, I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Then I went down to the driveway to get Hank.

  An hour later I was dressed, packed and headed to the airport with Grant and Hank. By takeoff, the truth had come out.

  Grant bet Hank he would get me back.

  Hank bet he wouldn’t.

  Grant won, Hank was a sore loser, I was happy and nothing was going to ruin it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Game On

  Grant

  Within minutes of boarding the plane Mallory was nuzzled against my shoulder and fast asleep. As I sat there watching my girl sleep I realized that I was breathing easy again. The moment I walked through her door and saw her sitting there on the sofa with her blanket wrapped around her like a protective shield and staring up at me with those dark circles under her eyes, all the anger, hurt and frustration I’d been carrying around all week was gone and I could finally breathe again. Not wanting to wake her, but needing to touch her, I gently ran my hand back and forth over her leg. Slowly I felt myself begin to relax.

  The morning Mallory took off, Hank and I rushed to the airport only to find her already gone. I just about lost it when I discovered we’d missed her. Had we arrived ten minutes earlier, she would have been in my arms instead of on a plane bound for Dallas. Ten fucking minutes. At first I wanted to go after her. I made it halfway to the ticket counter before Hank stopped me and started lecturing me about obligations. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I had promises to fulfill. Not only that, but if I went in full force, Mallory would most likely dig her heels in and I would lose her for good. While I wanted her with me, Mallory required a little time and some subtle coercion. On the way back to the hotel, we came up with a plan. As a show of good faith I enlisted Blane’s help.

  “Did you tell her about CiCilia?” Hank quietly asked.

  I tore my eyes from Mallory long enough to answer, “Nope.”

  “Do you plan on telling her?”

  Mallory swore not to run, but I wasn’t sure if I believed her or not. The last thing I wanted to give her was an excuse to bail on me again. “Nope,” I answered, and scowled at his surprised expression.

  The first step in our plan was for Blane to convince Kirkland that Mallory had a family emergency in Dallas. This would keep Kirkland off of Mallory’s back and buy us some much needed time. Next, he needed to convince CiCilia that either Mallory would rejoin the tour or Happenstance would take legal action against their practice for breach of contract. This would never in a million years happen, but we needed both CiCilia and Mallory to believe it was a definite possibility. Blane would give her a deadline of one week. With or without CiCilia’s help, in one week’s time, I was going for Mallory. Everything after that was up to me. I was pissed at Mallory for running, but I understood why she did it. My girl had gone above and beyond the call of duty to make it right for the family she’d wronged. I had a strong suspicion they had no clue as to the depths of her suffering. In the end, all it took was one phone conversation. During that conversation Mrs. Jacobs recounted everything that happened. According to her, the accident took place on a two lane winding road at night. Mallory was speeding and missed a curve. She swerved head on into their lane and clipped their front left bumper as she tried to right the car. The Jacobs’ car spun off the road and into a ditch. Mrs. Jacobs wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and the impact of hitting the ditch propelled her out the front windshield. The girls both needed stitches, one on her hand and the other on the side of her face. Mrs. Jacobs, however, didn’t fare so well. After the doctors managed to get the swelling on her brain to subside, she needed extensive therapy in order to learn how to speak again. Five years later, she’d made a full recovery and felt she owed it all to Mallory’s generosity. Yes, Mallory was at fault, but she could have walked away, let the insurance company’s lawyers handle it and never looked back. Mrs. Jacobs’ take on the whole experience was that they both made mistakes, but they learned from them. It would have been a very different story had she been wearing her seatbelt. She felt bad for what the press was doing to Mallory and when I asked for her help, she eagerly agreed. In the end, it was Nash who suggested the interview and Blane who helped to make it happen.

  “Have you spoken with your parents?” Hank asked.

  “I spoke with Dad this morning.”

  “Melba sure can hold a mean grudge,” he muttered.

  Boy, he wasn’t kidding. When I was fifteen, I took Mom’s car for a joyride and accidentally ran into a stop sign. After screaming at me and grounding me for a month, she didn’t speak to me for two whole weeks. When she called the morning Mallory left and I hung up on her she went ballistic. According to Dad, she was calling to hear my side of what happened in Houston. As she hadn’t seen the news yet, she had no idea what was going on with Mallory. Apparently hanging up on her was icing on the giant turd cake that Kirkland Fucking Hamilton had baked for us. In typical Mom fashion, she blew her lid, packed her bags and demanded they leave immediately. So, while Hank and I were on our way back from the airport, my parents were in route to catch the next flight back to Texas. It was a good thing they weren’t going to Dallas or there’s a chance they would have come face to face with Mallory. Mom would have come unhinged. The moment we hit the hotel and Marcel told us they were gone I tried to call, but only got her voicemail. I asked her to call me back so I could explain. She didn’t call me back and we hadn’t spoken since. She’d eventually get over it, but would I? After how she’d treated Mallory, I wasn’t so sure. Dad said to give her time. As far as I was concerned she could take as much time as she needed. I had much bigger shit to deal with, such as hearing back from LASH and finally taking Kirkland down.

  “Have you heard back from Garrett?” I asked.

  Garrett Lanier was the founder and head honcho at LASH. He was on a case and had to miss the show the night we visited Dragonfly in Charlotte. According to Bobby, the minute Garrett caught wind of my situation he wanted in on it. We would pull in the lawyers as soon as the guys at LASH ga
ve the go ahead. Then it would be showdown time.

  “Not yet,” Hank replied.

  “What the fuck is taking them so long?” I was done with waiting. All I did anymore was wait on shit to happen.

  We still had two more nights in New York after Mallory left. One was at the same venue as the night before and the other was a two hour bus ride north. Kirkland attended both shows and each time he flashed his smug smile I wanted to kick his geriatric ass from one end of the arena to the other. Even though it wasn’t said, we both knew he was the reason Mallory was gone. If it was the last thing I did, I would make him pay. As if Kirkland gracing us with his presence wasn’t torture enough, I also had to deal with Chelle, Leah and Kaci as well. Whenever Chelle and I were in the same room, which I tried to avoid at all costs, I felt her eyes on me. Unlike the previous night, she kept her distance. I was pretty sure it was because Blane was present. Being that Blane was the one who’d banned her from Meltdown, she was smart to keep a low profile while he was around. Leah and Kaci were in their usual high spirits. Thankfully they also stayed away. By this point everyone had seen the news. It was obvious why Mallory wasn’t there. Whereas Blane helped run interference with the press, Kirkland fed the flames. I spent the whole night fielding questions. I didn’t blame the guys for being pissed at me. The focus should have been on the band, not my love life. In all, New York was a fucking shit show and a media nightmare.

  Mallory stirred under my hand and I rubbed her leg. Once she settled, I quietly said, “The minute we land, call and find out what’s taking the guys at LASH so long. This should have been settled by now.”

  “You need to focus on your girl and tonight’s show. Leave the rest to me,” Hank chided. He was right. I had a lot riding on this show, but I also had a lot riding on Kirkland’s exit from Happenstance.