Plowed

by Kristen Luciani

  Sean led the way down the corridor, away from the roadies breaking down sets, away from the shrieking fans and flying bras and panties…and Sara. No party for him. Maybe he really did need some therapy.

  “Excuse me, Daxton Cole?”

  Jolted from his reverie, Daxton turned slightly in the direction of the voice. It was a man, about forty, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a little shorter than he.

  Sean turned around, lowering his voice. “You know this guy, Dax?”

  “No, keep moving.”

  As requested, they directed him toward the buses, faster now that they had a new and unwelcome audience.

  “Please wait. I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

  “You heard him. He doesn’t know you. Leave now.” Alex, the other guard, palmed his gun. “Trust me, this isn’t a toy.”

  “I don’t want any trouble. I just…if I could just get a second…”

  The hairs on the back of Daxton’s neck stood at attention. He paused to look back at the man wringing his hands. What kind of sick fuck was tailing him now? Of course, there had been others. There always were. But somehow this one had gotten in close.

  Sean positioned himself behind Dax, his size enough to block anyone from breaching the perimeter. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him. You need anything else, Dax?”

  Daxton’s eyes flickered back toward Alex and where he’d backed the guy against the side of the arena, using his massive weight to muscle him. There was something so familiar about the guy, creepy as he was.

  He started up the steps, but the man’s next words uttered in what sounded like pure desperation, paralyzed any future movement.

  “I knew your mother.”

  NO ANSWER. OF COURSE NOT, it was Saturday night. Sara let out a deep sigh. What was she thinking? The mayor of Grand Falls and his socialite wife would no doubt be pouring themselves into bed around dawn after schmoozing at some fundraising event. Why should they be bothered with their only daughter, the one they’d exiled?

  It wasn’t like they could really do anything to help her, beyond pulling strings to get her into this PR firm. She was on her own now, and yeah, it still scared the crap out of her, especially since receiving those texts. Someone knew. Someone was angry. And someone was freaking her the heck out.

  The crowds surrounding Finn, Cooper, and Liam eventually dispersed, and the guys made their way back to the tour bus with some parting gifts and their respective owners. Jeez, it was like a big orgy.

  She swallowed a gasp. Holy cow.

  One glaring fact was that Daxton was nowhere in sight. After the show ended, he’d bee lined for the exit – no hassles, no groupies, no time wasted. Was he waiting on the bus already? Was he the orchestrator of this whole sex fest? It would be really helpful to know what tabloid headlines she might wake up to in the morning, and what kind of damage control would be required to hang on to her job. Freaking horny rock stars and their obscene lifestyles. Freaking Daxton Cole and his ability to turn her inside out with the flash of those delicious brown eyes.

  A chill zipped through her. Stupid denim jacket had more strategically placed holes than a slice of Swiss cheese. Stylish and trendy? Yes. Practical? Heck, no. She gripped it tightly around her, teeth chattering. Except it wasn’t the temperature that had her stomach in knots and her mind projecting very X-rated films starring her and Daxton.

  This obsession, inane as it was, had to end. But that wasn’t the only thing.

  A quick text to Eli yielded no response after a few minutes. Everyone should be accounted for by now. The itinerary said they’d soon be heading to the next venue. And this couldn’t wait a second longer. Chest tight, she found herself standing at the entrance of the bus carrying the Smeared Lipstick crew members. Darn it, she’d always hated this part.

  She stepped on board, scanning the interior. Lots of faces, none were Eli’s. Where the heck could he be?

  “Need something, sweetheart?” A tall, lanky guy with glasses leered at her.

  “Um, yes. I’m looking for Eli Maclane.”

  The guy nodded past her. “Room’s at the back of the bus.”

  “Thanks.” She took a deep breath. Nobody paid attention as she squeezed past. Loud music blared from the speakers, while multiple plasma screens were displaying some kind of video game. Violent ones, from the looks of them. Lots of guns and blood. Bullets popped and grenades exploded. It was hard to think amidst the noise. Maybe that was a good thing, considering she was about to pull the rug out from under the poor guy. But it wasn’t fair to lead him on anymore. Not when she couldn’t stop thinking about another. She wasn’t in it, and he needed to know.

  After a few knocks with no response, most likely due to an inability to hear, she grasped the door handle and pushed it open.

  And God, did she ever wish she could unsee what was in her direct line of sight.

  She’d recognize that hair anywhere. Full, blonde curls bounced over the shoulders of one Laney Taylor, as her tanned, naked body rode Eli like a paperboy on a bike trying to escape a vicious dog attack.

  A sharp intake of breath sliced into Sara’s lungs. Her limbs were frozen, immobile. The sight was like a runaway train heading toward a tree at two hundred miles per hour. Her eyes refused to move, and her mouth was temporarily on strike. Not the best time to be rendered mute. Argh! Say something, damnit!

  All at once, she’d regained the ability to speak. Well, yell, actually.

  “You scumbag!”

  Eli’s eyes popped open wide. “Sara!”

  Laney shrieked, jumping off Eli and wrapping herself in a sheet. “What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you knock?”

  “Don’t you make sure the guys you’re going to screw don’t already have girlfriends? Or is this supposed to be a case of ‘well, sweetie, she was on my list, so it really doesn’t count’?” Sara glared at Eli. “Because it does, you asshole!”

  “You have a girlfriend?” Laney grabbed her sweatshirt and pulled it over her now-mussed hair. “And she’s part of the tour?”

  “Yes, but I—I—”

  “You what, Eli? You are just a total waste of space!” Sara glanced at Laney, who was hopping on one foot to pull on her leggings. “Keep him. I’m done.”

  Laney’s high-pitched voice, endlessly spewing expletives, pierced her brain as she pushed past the open-mouthed spectators gathered outside of Eli’s door. What a lying, cheating bastard! That was an unanticipated twist, albeit a welcome one. Good riddance. She wasn’t some shrinking violet, ready to bend over at a moment’s notice to satisfy anyone. This was the beginning of a new chapter; the one where she called the shots and was ready to kick ass…if there were asses needing to be kicked.

  “DAX, WHERE THE HELL ARE you going?” Finn’s question was followed by a yawn so loud, it could have woken the inhabitants of the neighboring buses. “We have sound check in an hour.”

  Daxton ran a hand through his tousled, gel-crunched hair and pulled on a Houston Astros baseball cap. “I’m going for a run.”

  “Sorry, I don’t speak that language. Come again?”

  “I need to clear my head, okay? Buy me some time. I’ll be back.”

  “Since when do you run? Don’t you want to get breakfast instead? Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, home fries, coffee?”

  “Look, it was a shitty night. I need to get out for a while. Alone.”

  “Dude, Merrick is gonna—”

  “He’ll deal. I’ll see you later.”

  Daxton slid open the tour bus door, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. Nobody in sight. Great, he finally had a chance to escape the questions he couldn’t answer, questions he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

  The sun peeked over the clouds as he sank into a hamstring stretch. His muscles were so tight, just like the knot that had taken up residence at the base of his skull. Ironic. Excessive booze normally had the opposite effect. And he’d pretty much drank himself sober after last night’s debacle. How the hell had that
guy gotten so close?

  He rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to relieve the knot. “Dammit!”

  “Rough night?”

  That raspy voice made him jump about twenty feet into the air. Christ, did she know how sexy her voice sounded in the morning? He’d love to hear it waking him up after a very sleepless night infused with lots of carnal pleasures. Oh, fuck yeah.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Sara twirled her ponytail around her index finger, a sleepy smile on her face. The soft morning light danced atop her head, half-hooded green eyes making his cock twitch. Shit, even at this ungodly hour of the morning?

  “I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake.”

  “Thought you’d escape unnoticed, huh?” Sara smirked. “I’m going for a run. Figured it was my only chance for some peace and quiet before Merrick assigns me his list of errands for the day.”

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes raked over the curves poured into hot pink spandex, mind unable to formulate a thought beyond peeling her out of those constricting clothes. Immediately, if not sooner.

  “Okay, then.”

  “Okay, what?”

  She grabbed her ankles one at a time, pulling each toward to her perfect ass, stretching her quads. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be by yourself, anyway.”

  “So you’re gonna protect me?”

  Her pink lips curled into a sly smile. “It’s my job. Now stop procrastinating and move.”

  “You’re kind of pushy. Why can’t we ease into it? Nice and slow to start?”

  “Nice and slow, huh? Kind of shocking. You don’t seem the type.”

  He stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I was talking about running.“

  “Sure you were.” She tightened her ponytail. “Trust me, you’ll feel better once you sweat out all the alcohol.”

  A slow trot increased in intensity much too quickly, and soon, they were circling the arena parking lot at full speed. Focus, focus, focus! His primary objective was not to collapse. A sidelong glance confirmed Sara had barely broken a sweat since they’d started. No words were exchanged, which was a good thing, since he couldn’t catch a single breath. A burning sensation erupted in the pit of his belly, spreading through his lungs, singeing his insides. His legs, now feeling more like Jell-O than actual limbs, were on the brink of revolution. Why didn’t he grab a bottle of water? Panting only made his mouth drier, as if it wasn’t already more arid than the Sahara at midday. Sweat drizzled into his eyes, blurring his vision. How many more times were they going to make this death loop?

  Sara pivoted to face him, tiny beads of perspiration glistening along her hairline, the only sign she was exerting herself at all. Jogging backwards. Not even changing her gait. He was a step above pathetic – a very short step.

  “How is it that you can’t even make it a mile without looking like you’re about to pass out?”

  Great, he needed to speak now?

  “It’s not like…I’m…Britney Spears…shaking my ass…all over the stage.” His calf muscles ached as his sneakers pounded the pavement. Bacon, egg, and cheese had been a very delicious alternative, and he opted out for this self-inflicted torture? “I play guitar…and sing…doesn’t require…cardio.” He mopped his face with the edge of the t-shirt. “How the hell…are you…able to do this? I don’t think…your boy…friend is…keeping you…up late…enough.”

  Croaking out those last words nearly killed him, for multiple reasons.

  “You should really consider traveling with an oxygen mask.” She flipped around, giving him a glimpse of her shapely backside, just about the only thing keeping him going. “And, just so you know, he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

  “Not your…boy—” A sharp pain shot through his foot, stopping him mid-stride. “Ahh!” His body rocketed forward, arms flailing, sending him to the pebbly concrete lot with nothing to cushion the blow except his pride.

  Thump!

  “Holy crap, are you okay?” Sara fell to the ground where he was writhing in agony, bits of pebble mashed into his skin. “Where does it hurt?”

  He let out a loud groan and fell backward. “Fuck. Everywhere!”

  “Do you think anything’s broken?” Her hand squeezed his and for the briefest of seconds, the presence of his very intense pain faded, replaced by Sara’s compassion, worry, and genuine concern. Somebody actually cared. That hadn’t happened in…shit, long enough that he couldn’t pinpoint an amount of time. It felt nice. Until the agony crashed over him again like a tsunami.

  Sitting up was a struggle, but dammit, he was already hovering on the brink of being a complete and total pansy ass. Ignore the pain. Find out what happened with the boyfriend. Even a fall like that couldn’t quell his curiosity. He had to know, even if he was going to be in traction and unable to do anything about it for the foreseeable future.

  “Am I allowed to ask what happened?”

  A look of shock flitted across Sara’s face, quickly followed by a snicker. “Wow. Your focus is impressive, even with four potentially broken limbs.” Her playful tone couldn’t mask her nerves, though. She toyed with her ponytail again, normally bright green eyes darkening. “I walked in to find Laney riding him like she was competing for the Triple Crown.”

  “Horse racing fan?”

  “Yeah, we have a horse farm back home. Raised several thoroughbreds. I always loved to ride.” She averted her eyes, but not before he caught a glimpse of what she’d been trying to shield.

  “Where’s home?”

  “Minnesota.” She sat back on her heels, eyes still guarded. Conversation over. “So, what do you think? Are you able to hoof it back to the buses?”

  “Eli is a fucking idiot.”

  A slow smile brightened her flushed face. “Agreed.” She held out a hand. “Come on, let’s see if those legs still work.”

  “Are you gonna carry me if they don’t?”

  “You don’t pay me enough.”

  Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet. “Christ, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train.”

  Sara snaked an arm around his waist, hoisting him against her. “Take it slow, okay? You said you liked that.”

  The scent of citrus wafted into the air between them. So delicious, like a fruit salad. How could she still smell so good after that run? “Yeah…I figured you’d use that against me soon enough.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Looks like we have lots of time to kill before we make it back to camp. Shoot.”

  “What happened last night? Who was the guy?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ How the hell did she even know?

  ”I’m sure your little groupies love the coy act, but I’ll pass.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Daxton, I’m part of your PR team. It’s my job to know everything that goes on during this tour. Sean from security told me someone approached you. I can’t do damage control without all the facts. Who was he, and what did he want? Or, maybe a better question might be what does he know?”

  His face twisted into a grimace with each step. The buses weren’t even in sight. With any luck, they’d make it back by lunchtime. “You ever feel like you’re suffocating? That there’s air all around, but you just can’t breathe it in? Like your body resists what it needs to survive, and you feel like you’re constantly drowning? That’s how I feel most of the time. The air, everything around me – what people see, what they want to believe, judgments they make based on half-truths – it’s all toxic. Better not to inhale. The lesser of two evils, but either way, I’m fucked.”

  She nodded, her hair tickling his shoulder. “I do know what you mean.” Her voice was soft, sad. There was something beneath that snarky exterior, something he was desperate to uncover, but her demeanor begged him not to press.

  They walked for a few silent minutes that seemed to stretch into hours. He clenched and unclenched his fists as waves of pain assaulted his ankle. “Shit, that hurts.�
�

  “I don’t think you should push it. Let me call Merrick.“

  “No.” He stopped, teetering on one leg. “Please. Not yet. Can we just sit down for a minute?”

  “Of course.” She eased him to the ground and sank onto the pavement. “Is there anything I can—?”

  “The guy from last night said he knew my mother.” Daxton held his head, expelling a deep breath. “She disappeared after my brother died last year, without a trace. Without a warning. One day, she was there; the next, gone. With her clothes, car, jewelry. Everything…gone. My dad made a half-hearted attempt to find her, but I was too angry to try. I’d just lost my best friend, and my mother picked that time to bail. We should have been there for each other, but she didn’t care enough to even say goodbye.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Sara grasped his hand. Her skin was so soft against his calloused fingers. It was an occupational hazard for a guitarist.

  “I don’t want to have anything to do with her. She abandoned her family. Things between her and my dad were never great, but what the hell did I ever do to her?”

  “So you had security get rid of him.”

  “People always have an angle, Sara.” He raised his eyes to see the empathy reflected in her gaze. “I can’t trust anyone because everyone has an agenda. They want to know what I can do for them, how much I’ll pay to keep something from happening, what they can hold over my head in exchange for things they want. Even if this guy is telling the truth, I’m not willing to listen because nothing comes without a high price tag. Toxic. But the problem is, even though my body tries to protect me by resisting the urge to inhale the poison around me, I want to live, to be whole again, free from all this useless anger and resentment. I need to breathe.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I just can’t remember how.”

  CAMERA FLASHES WERE BLINDING AS shutters clicked and whirred, the medic wheeling a very bruised and bloodied Daxton into the back entrance of the arena. It was near impossible to stand down and watch Sara fawning over him when being wrapped in Daxton’s muscular arms was the only place—