by Anne Malcom
Her blonde hair flew and the heels of those fuckin’ boots echoed down the concrete hallway teaming with people. People staring at Lexie then at Killian.
He jogged after her, not bothering to give a fuck that people would stare, that all eyes on Lexie meant all eyes on him.
His only focus was getting to her. She was fast and it fucked with him that she was so desperate to get away from him that she was running through the bowels of a stadium, even with the knowledge she had a crazy person after her. The sound of her heels on the concrete silenced as he reached the door to the underground parking lot. The silence scared the shit out of him.
“Fuck!” he all but roared as he saw the taillights of the SUV exit the lot. The one he was almost certain Lexie was in. He couldn’t even fuckin’ follow them because Lexie’s Jeep was parked on another level. His bike was in fuckin’ Malibu.
He had a strong urge to put his fist through the concrete wall at his side. Instead, he took a deep breath, swallowed the dragon climbing up his throat and reentered the building.
Once he found his way back into the hallway that was busy with people, he zeroed in on Mark, who had a phone to his ear.
He didn’t hesitate. He walked up to him, ripping the phone from his ear and hanging it up.
The man’s face went stormy. “Were you born in a barn?”
“Lexie’s gone,” Killian clipped, cutting him off.
The fury on his face flickered. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she fuckin’ ran off and I need to know where she’d go.”
Mark’s jaw went hard. “Isn’t the entire reason you’re here to make sure she doesn’t go running off alone while a psycho is after her?” he said, his voice not raising, but the fury was there.
“She left in an SUV parked downstairs. Someone was driving it,” Killian replied, ignoring the accusation. He was already giving himself enough shit.
Mark’s form relaxed slightly. “She’s with Clyde. She’s good.” He scowled at Killian’s hand. “My phone.”
Killian glared at him. “She’s not good. Like you fuckin’ said, she’s got a psycho after her.”
“And Clyde is a highly trained ex-special forces member. She’s safe with him.”
“She’s not safe with anyone but me.”
Mark raised a brow. “She doesn’t seem to think so, which I’m guessing is why she left with Clyde. Phone,” he demanded.
Killian thrust the thing back in his hands. “I don’t give a shit what you think about me. But I know you care about Lexie and you know she almost fuckin’ died with a highly trained professional lookin’ out for her. What do you think her risk level is with a retired special forces officer turned chauffer?”
Mark glared at him. His phone went to his ear. “Clyde, this is Mark. We need to know where Lexie is. Get in touch as soon as you get this message.” He hung up.
“That’s it?” Killian gritted out.
“What, would you like me to swear like some uncouth animal and reach down the phone to grab Lexie?” he asked flatly.
“Okay, so we’ve been bogged down with interview requests and press after that last song,” Jenna informed them, her face focused at her phone. “I’ve already okayed most of them, and we’ll have them waiting at the after party—” she looked up. “Jeez. Whose cat died?”
“Cancel the press,” Mark ordered.
Her arched brow rose. “Cancel the press,” she repeated. “Are you insane? This was one of the best shows the band’s ever played. They need—”
“Cancel the press,” Mark said, his eyes hard.
Jenna pursed her lips. “Fine. What do I know? I’m only a publicist.” She turned on her heel and stormed off, the sounds of her heels on the concrete lessening as she left.
“We need to find Clyde,” Killian clipped.
Mark scowled at him. “No shit.”
Without another word, Mark turned on his heel and Killian had no choice but to follow him.
“Yes, I know. We were brilliant. Transcendent. The word godlike has already been mentioned to label my performance,” Sam said as they entered a dressing room much more chaotic than Lexie’s had been.
Hers had a rack of clothes, a sofa, a table with all sorts of girlie shit on it, and an assortment of healthy shit and teas. Sam’s had the same rack of clothes, with different clothes of course, and a lot more people. And a lot more booze. He had two scantily clad women on his knee and was sipping clear liquid from a crystal tumbler.
Wyatt had his arm slung around the woman who had sidled up to Killian before the show, a beer in his hand and a scowl on his face once his eyes met Killian’s.
Noah leaned forward, a blonde trailing a hand through his hair. He shrugged her off.
“Need to talk to you three,” Mark said. His eyes flickered around the crowded room. “Alone,” he added.
“Can we save the shop talk for when I’ve had about ten more of these?” Sam held up his tumbler. “Or better yet, when I’ve had these.” He squeezed the women in his arms and they giggled.
Mark didn’t respond.
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. He slapped the bare thighs exposed in a dress that left little to the imagination. “Daddy’s got to scold us for not cleaning our rooms, ladies. I’ll be just a moment. Don’t forget me.”
The room started to empty, but not as quickly as Killian would have liked. He clenched his fists at his sides.
“There better be a good reason for that.” Sam nodded his head at the door that had closed with the last of stragglers leaving. “They were twins. Twins, Basil,” he added, using an Austin Powers reference seriously, like only Sam could.
“Lexie’s gone,” Mark said.
All easiness left Sam’s face and the air turned wired.
“What?” Noah bit out, standing.
“She’s with Clyde,” Mark said. “But we need to know where she’d go.”
Sam clenched his fists. “Isn’t this the reason we put up with that douche’s presence? To keep her fuckin’ safe?”
Killian stiffened.
“We’re not focusing on that right now. We’re focusing on finding Lexie,” Wyatt cut in.
Killian glanced at him, surprised. Wyatt didn’t look at him.
Mark nodded, putting his phone down from his ear. “She’s not answering her cell.”
Sam’s fury-drenched eyes focused on Killian. “What did you do? She ran because of you. If she’s hurt, I swear to God…” he trailed off and stepped forward. Wyatt grabbed his shoulder.
Killian didn’t flinch. “If she’s hurt, you’ve got free rein. For now, rein your shit in,” he commanded.
“Anyone know where she’d go?” Mark asked.
Sam shrugged. “Mexico?”
“Helpful suggestions, Sam,” Mark told him.
“She’d want quiet,” Killian cut in.
They all looked to him.
Noah nodded. “Yeah. Peace. Somewhere where no one knew her.”
“I’ll work on finding out. Get Keltan’s guys out looking,” Mark said, tapping his phone. “You all need to go to the after party.”
Noah stiffened. “You’re fuckin’ kidding, right?” he bit out. “We need to find Lexie.”
Mark regarded him. “No, you need to do your job. She’s not in any immediate danger with Clyde, and we don’t actually know where she is. There’s nothing you can do for now. We don’t need more shit with the band going MIA.”
Noah clenched his jaw.
Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder. “As much as I hate to admit it, Mark’s right. We can’t do anything here.”
Sam downed his drink. “Fuck, I need twelve more of these,” he muttered. “You’ll tell us the moment you’ve got her?”
Mark nodded once.
The men all scowled at Killian as they left the room. He could taste their blame.
He didn’t need it. He already blamed himself enough.
*****
“Okay, great. Thanks, Clyde.” Mark hung up the phone and Killian had to stop himself from clutching the sides of his shirt.
“Where is she?” he barked.
Mark regarded him. “Bar in Silver Lake, called Artie’s. I’ll go and get her. You’ve done enough.”
Killian stepped forward. “I’m goin’ to her. You want to try and stop me, go ahead. Though only a bullet will do the job.”
Mark’s face was blank. He didn’t blink at the threat in Killian’s tone. “You love her,” he surmised. “Still.”
Killian didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
“You love her, really love her, do her a favor and leave. Get out of her life. Let her live it.”
Killian gritted his teeth. “Already did that once. Won’t do it again. I’m here for good. I’ll let her live. Only kind of life she’s gonna have is one with me in it. You better get used to that.”
He didn’t wait for a response, he turned on his heel and went to his girl.
He was pretty sure he broke every speed limit known to man on the drive and he still didn’t get there quickly enough. A million things could have happened between the time Clyde called Mark and the time he pulled up to a nondescript bar on a sleepy street.
Killian had tortured himself with what he’d find when he walked in that door, but nothing would have prepared him for what he was presented with. With the song that Lexie had just started singing. Her eyes were closed so she didn’t see his entrance. But nonetheless, she was singing to him. Every word of that song hit him like a lead bullet. Shot him through the heart with the helplessness and the emotion that Lexie gave willingly to the open air.
I sang the last words of the song that spoke to my soul. They seemed heavy coming out of my mouth, the weight of my emotions turning them to lead. My fingers moved deftly over the foreign guitar, the sounds of my strumming the only thing remaining after all the words were left at my feet. I didn’t open my eyes. Not the whole time. I had sung the song from my soul. I didn’t need to open my eyes, because I wasn’t playing for the room around me.
I was playing for me.
And, unable to lie to myself when I was stripped so raw and residing in my now quiet mind, I was playing for Killian.
The last of my strums ended and I blinked my eyes open, a single tear running down my cheek.
Smithy was right. I was humble. I never liked to talk about my music, or how “good” it was. Music was like art. Good was relative. But I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that performance, spoken from my soul to a handful of drunks at a dive bar, was the best one I’d ever given.
And no one was there to see it.
Though, that wasn’t entirely true. The truth was revealed when I opened my eyes and the dull roar of reality came back in. I didn’t listen to the muffled applause, nor glance anywhere around the room. A stare drew my gaze like a magnet, settling on the dark figure in the doorway. On those ice blue eyes that seemed to glow with the sheer amount of intensity contained within them.
He had heard the entire song. I could tell. Even from across the dimly lit room, I could see the words’ impact. It had frozen him on the spot, at least for the duration. Now, like a person jerking out of a trance, he moved. This was without hesitation and with purpose.
Toward me.
I stood on shaky feet with a dim goal of running once more. But that was squashed because he was there, right there, up on stage within seconds.
This was probably a good time to shout, to scream, to try and run, I thought. But instead of those things, I stayed rooted in the spot. I could lie and say it was because of those four drinks on a nearly empty stomach coupled with adrenaline from the show and exhaustion from the past few days. But honestly, it wasn’t any of that.
It was Killian. Plain and simple. And to run from him or even say anything when the look in his eyes showed me the depth of his pain, presenting me with a mirror of my own fractured soul, would be cruel. Maybe the kind of cruelness he deserved, but not something I could bring myself to do to the man I still loved, despite everything.
His hands were at my neck and his mouth was on mine as soon as he got within reaching distance. The song had battered away every single one of my defenses, and I sank into his arms and his kiss, finding sanctuary. Maybe it lasted for a few seconds, or a chunk of forever. I couldn’t know, because that void, that tear in reality opened, and I was sucked in while all unimportant facets of reality dissipated.
By the time he lifted his lips from mine, I was firmly in a universe where only Killian and Lexie existed. Where the past didn’t matter and the future ramifications were inconsequential. Because I was in this state, I didn’t protest and let Killian gently pull the guitar off me and set it down on the stool. He took my hand in his, gripping it firmly. Ice blue eyes drank me in. His face was a mask of pleasure and pain. Leaning forward, he captured my lips once more, though more chastely and it was over far too soon.
Then he gently pulled me off the stage and purposefully directed us toward the exit. As if I was floating on a dream, I let him. Killian nodded his head to the bar. I looked to see Clyde’s expressionless face return the nod though his eyes were smiling. Smithy had his arms crossed and was grinning from ear to ear. I gave them a lame little wave. Then I was out in the night air, the change from the bar palpable. It was open. Real. Traffic whizzed by and lights twinkled all around. The reality that seemed like it didn’t matter was once more important.
Killian seemed to sense the change in my state of mind because he yanked my body flush with his. He stroked my hair. “Got a lot of things to say to you right now, freckles,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Not gonna say them outside a bar in the street. Not gonna pollute what just happened with words. Do me a favor? Do the same. Let’s just bathe in this silence until we get back to your place. Then the words will need to be said. But for now, we don’t need that shit. We just need us.”
I gazed at him long and hard. He seemed content to wait. I forgot about that, about the fact he understood my mind worked differently than most people, the cogs sometimes moved slower when my mind was bursting. And that he was content to let me come to whatever conclusion, like he was quite happy to wait forever if that’s what it took.
Very slowly, I nodded.
He squeezed me tighter. Then his lips went to my hair. “Let’s get you home.”
He directed me to my Jeep, opening the door for me and closing it once I’d gotten in. I waited for him to round the Jeep, and at the same time, I waited for them to come back. The thoughts. The doubts. The anger. The emotions that had almost become separate entities inside my mind, they had that much control over me. But Killian climbed in, slammed the door, started the Jeep and pulled onto the road without them returning. He reached over to grasp my hand, lifting it to his lips before settling our intertwined hands on his thigh.
They still didn’t return, not until we finished our long and blissful drive back to Malibu.
Then, like a switch had been flipped, they came.
I had been dreading pulling into our garage. I wished that drive could take forever. That we could just live in that blessed silence, away from the complications that came with the noise. That it could be just me and Killian in that car without the demons of the past between us.
But wishes were for fairy tales and dreamers.
I had been a dreamer once. Not anymore.
Hence me pulling my hand out of Killian’s grasp the moment he turned the Jeep off. The loss of his warmth was a blow to every inch of me. But it was necessary, like pulling off a Band-Aid. Better one big block of sharp pain than the long draining one that might just kill me.
He turned to me, eyes so full the emotion in them took up the car. “Lexie—”
My phone rang from the depths of my bag, saving me from having to face reality, from having to deal with his emotions and my own.
“I’ve got to get this,” I said, my voice flat.
I didn’t wait for his answer, didn’t look at him at all. Instead, I focused my attention on unearthing my phone while climbing out of the Jeep.
“Mark,” I greeted, my voice full of relief at him yanking me away from that emotion-drenched Jeep.
“Jesus Christ, Lexie,” he said back.
“I’m sorry,” I began.
“Sorry?” he repeated. “Sorry for playing the best concert you’ve played in your life? Or sorry for disappearing after that concert, leaving the three idiots to do interviews while the press were all over the fact you weren’t there.” He paused. “Not to mention the fact you disappeared while you’ve got a murderous stalker after you.”
I flinched slightly, walking into the house, ignoring Killian’s gaze. “Um… all of the above?”
My stomach dropped at the mention of the stalker. Not that I forgot, exactly. You couldn’t forget a person who had tried to kill your friend and took photos of you while you were sleeping. I was freaked out. Freaked the fuck out, in fact. But Killian was here. And no matter what his presence meant for my heart, physically I was safe.
There was a long sigh at the end of the phone. I could tell he was exasperated. “Are you okay?” he asked finally.
I sank into my sofa, my gaze focusing on the ocean beyond the French doors. Not that I could see it, but I knew it was there. I needed something else to look at, other than the man who was standing beside my sofa, his muscled arms crossed. His eyes were on me.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I lied. “I just needed to get away for a second. I was fine. I was with Clyde. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“You sure as shit will. Interviews and press tomorrow. First thing. I’ll be at your place at seven. Then we’re recording all afternoon.”
I massaged my temple where a tension headache was blooming. “Okay, sure.”
“And you’ll most likely be dealing with three very pissed-off band members. They weren’t pleased at your exit, especially since they had to do press without you, despite the fact Jenna tried to cancel it all. This was another level, after you playing Skeletons,” Mark added.