He wanted to ignore her plea, but didn’t. Obediently, he withdrew his touch but kept his fingers splayed near the action as they moved together. “This is so not fair,” he whispered into her ear. “I wanted to pour champagne over your entire body and lick it off. I wanted to suck it from your pussy―” And with no warning, she came, clenching around him, and clutching at his shoulders. This was all it took for him. Before he could curve a smile of satisfaction because his words had finished her off, his own world was rocking with the force of his climax.
Chapter 42
“Are your legs going to sleep?” Scarlette didn’t want to move. She could remain in this chair, lying against Gage indefinitely.
And he must have felt that way too. “No. Don’t move.” His fingers massaged her scalp and she relaxed more fully against him. “You feel too good.”
“This whole night feels good.” She agreed. “Well, except whatever is going on with Colt, Caroline, and Ivy.”
“What’s going on? Can you say?”
“Ivy and Colt have been going out. Caroline found out.” Knowing she was only saying what he’d surely already pieced together, she added quietly, “Ivy didn’t know Colt and Caroline were on again off again. Now that she knows, she doesn’t want to be in their way. She and Colt have had their thing going for like a year now. She’s been on tour with him a lot.” For some reason, a laugh bubbled up, “I understand now why she never seemed to be around.”
“Scar, listen. I… Shit, I got mad at you sometimes. I thought you were telling Colt our shit. Sometimes Colt knew stuff about us right after it happened. And I was pissed. I thought you and him were keeping in touch.”
“No!” She realized what was going on. “I was telling Ivy.”
“I know.” He blew out a miserable breath. “Fuck. That’s why I didn’t call you that night. When we had the fight in Utah. I knew I’d fucked up with the things I said and accused you of, letting you go like that. But then Colt called that night, and I thought you’d called him.”
“We’re way past this. Right? Wa-ay past. I don’t want to think about it anymore. Especially not tonight.”
“You were amazing tonight. Hot. You melted their faces off.”
“Thanks.” The praise coming from Gage meant even more than the thousands of shrieks and whistles swirling the stage earlier. “I liked it. So much.”
“You were meant for music. It’s your true calling.”
“Yeah. I can feel it. Everything felt right up there, you know? Of course you know…” She searched the shadowy, gray-dawn planes of his face. “When did you know music was your true calling?”
The tips of his callused fingers tickled her chest, caressing this way and that, and his smile seemed far away. “In a dive bar with all of fifty people rocking out while I played a solo.”
Curving her fingers around his wrist, she lifted his hand to her lips, kissing the fingers that could create magical melodies or cause her toes curl when working their magic on her body. Sure, his fame had come at a young age because of his connections. But he’d also put in the grueling years on Sunset and in bars up and down the coast, same as many other bands who either rose or fell.
“I cheated didn’t I?” Hell, she’d never even been in a school play or talent show. Until hours ago, she’d never sung in front of anyone except the few in Colt’s home studio during the documentary filming and again in the Jewelstone studio during her session. “No wonder one of those guys called me a bitch.”
“Called you a bitch? Who?” he demanded, and she told him what had happened while she was waiting to go onstage. When he didn’t say anything more and sat in stony silence, she scraped a nail down the scruffy roughness of his jaw. “Don’t do anything. This time tonight, we’ll be home. We’ll both be done with Rattler if we want to be.”
“Are you going to tell Jax Landon was using?”
“I don’t know.” The realization of Landon using cocaine stayed fresh in her mind despite her best efforts to banish that scene. She hated the dilemma and was furious with Landon for causing it for her. Landon (and Gage too) had signed a no drug agreement with Jewelstone—the one exception being medicinal marijuana. If she reported his drug use, Landon could be thrown out of the band. What she hadn’t told Gage was the drummer had even had the balls to ask her if she could mix up something to purge his system in case of a drug test directly after tour. “I’ve been thinking. And I think it comes down to what my main role on this tour actually was. Babysitter and spy to tattle back to Jax? Or nutritionist and dietitian, which is what I gave my best to being? I was so afraid Jax was going to ask tonight. But thank goodness, he dropped the champagne off and left.”
“Because tonight was about you.” Gage’s arms tightened in one of those snake-like squeezes that robbed her breath.
Chapter 43
As he said it, he knew with a certainty that it was true. Scar was inexperienced in the industry. But he’d learned the little nuances. And without a doubt, Jax had flown halfway around the world to view Scarlette Rose’s stage charisma—not to deliver a congratulatory bottle of Champagne Rose. And Scarlette had melted not only her audience’s face off, but also that of her label exec.
He predicted Jax would give her a month to wind down, and then he’d hit Scarlette up with plans for a ‘Scarlette Rose’ album.
He was losing her.
She’d spend long hours in sessions. Then would come photo shoots and videos. All the while, plans for the first tour leg would be orchestrating behind the scenes. And then she’d be thousands of miles away for months at a time.
He was losing her.
And maybe it was a good thing it was happening before they even found their way back to that sweet love that had barely bloomed before he’d burned it with his jealousy and suspicions.
Scar was meant for greatness. And he wouldn’t hold her back from her calling, intentionally or unintentionally.
Still, in the meantime, he wanted to soak up what time he could get.
“We leaving at nine?” He maneuvered enough to slip his phone from his jeans pocket, noting the blinking battery. One percent as he hadn’t let it charge more than a few minutes earlier.
“The flight is at nine. We leave at seven.” She moved with reluctance, sliding from his lap.
“Just over an hour from now.” Gage groaned. “I don’t even have my room key. I’ve gotta go downstairs.” He had to shower and change into clean clothing, and make sure his luggage was loaded up.
It was midflight when he noticed Scarlette texting on her phone. So he sent her one.
Want to share a ride?
Sent 4:32 PM
He watched as she read and typed out a text.
Scar
I just called a car.
4:33 PM
Cancel it.
Sent 4:33 PM
We can order Pace.
Sent 4:34 PM
She hesitated, her head remaining bent, perhaps studying the screen while she made up her mind.
Bleep. His phone vibrated.
Scar
Sure.
4:37 PM
LAX rapidly became a nightmare. The resident paparazzi who routinely staked out the arrival terminal descended on Scar. This drew the attention of everyone around, many who recognized her, and several who moved in with phone cameras, hoping to steal a piece of her soul for themselves.
Drawing on his past experience, he watched for openings and tried to herd her through. Their tour manager, bless him, rose to the occasion, doing his best to deflect. A perverse part of him hoped that in their wake, Rattler was having a much easier time—and hating it.
Airport security was fast, emerging from all corners. Gage maneuvered enough to step in front of her, guarding her as best he could from any clear photos, as they burst through the doors to the pick-up area. A scan of the waiting vehicles sent a jolt of panic through him when he didn’t see one of his. The day quickly got worse when Allison moved into his peripheral vision and pulle
d at his arm. “This way.”
A look at Scar found her mortified as she realized it was Allison, and he knew his face reflected that very emotion. Feeling the camera clicks, he stopped himself from reaching for Scar’s hand in the same way he’d seen Allison stay herself from body slamming him with an enthusiastic hug. Instead, he cocked his head to Scar. “This way.”
“No. I…” Her trembling hand emerged from the pocket of her slinky, body-molding cardigan with her cell phone. “I can call the car back.”
“No. You can’t. Look around you. You need to get the hell outta here.” He kept his voice low, ever aware of mics that could detect the slightest sound. “Now. Seriously. C’mon.”
The part of Allison he’d actually in some small way fallen for, rose to the severity of the circumstance. “Girlfriend! How was the trip?” Stretching her arm out, she grabbed at Scarlette’s rolling bag. “Let me get this for you.”
Scarlette was possibly too surprised by the ‘girlfriend’ act to hold on to her bag, and was forced to hustle along behind it or make a scene in front of the many camera eyes in trying to get it back.
Allison circled to the driver’s side of her Lexus and the locks released with a click. He opened the back door, and Scarlett, resigned to her fate, actually bolted in. Resolutely, he closed her away from any more pictures and tossed his carryon onto the front floorboard. Since Scarlette was directly behind his seat, he didn’t ease it back and awkwardly straddled the bag between his feet. Allison stowed Scarlette’s luggage in the backseat with Scarlette from the other side, and less than a minute later, they were pulling away from the circus.
“Where’s Logan?” He voiced the question, but was already pulling out his phone and considering firing his longtime assistant over this lapse.
“What? No ‘thank you, Allison?’” Her retort was automatic, but she glanced from the road to him, and he saw understanding in her eyes. Seeing Scarlette had her realizing she’d overstepped the boundaries of their previous relationship.
“Thank you, Allison.” He wasn’t a total dick. “Now where’s the guy I pay to do the crappy stuff like come to LAX?”
“I missed you. Thought we could talk. When I texted Logan to see when you were getting in, well, it just turned into this. Me instead of him.” There was a hint of apology in her voice. “So, where to? To your house?”
Scarlette piped up from the back. “My exit is fifty-two. If you don’t mind.”
He wanted to overrule her, but he stayed quiet, wondering if Logan had picked them up, where they would have ended up. Her house. Or his?
When the car slowed to a stop in front of Scarlette’s duplex, he jumped out with the intention of assisting with her luggage and walking her to the door. Hell, the asshole part of him wanted to wave to Allison and say ‘thanks for the ride’ and then follow Scarlette in and bang her until they were both comatose.
“Thanks for the ride.” Scarlette broke into this fantasy when she yanked the handle of her bag from his hand and waved to Allison.
“Wait up, Scar. I’ll walk you up.”
“No! Stop. Please.”
“Scar…” He felt the desperation beneath the dangerous growl of her name in his throat when she turned away. “I’m going to see you safely inside.”
That caught her attention and she paused.
In spite of proving herself time and time again as one of the strongest persons, he knew, through scandal, the craziness of Tyler Conterra’s second decade death anniversary, the experiences she’d lived with because of her crazy mother, the out-of-her-element places she’d visited when tracking Ivy down, her first ever stage appearance being before thousands, when it came to Ketchum, she was extremely uneasy.
Right in keeping with his shitty luck, her live-in bodyguard chose that moment to make himself known. Bursting from the house, he descended from the porch. With a quick introduction to Scarlette, he explained he was the new assignee to her and offered his hand for her luggage.
“Nice to meet you, and thank you but I’ve got it.” In a rare breach of etiquette, Scarlette ignored the large man’s outstretched hand and held on to her bag.
Swinging back around, she eyed Gage while walking backward. “I know this,” her gaze narrowed when it landed on Allison several yards away in the car, “isn’t how we saw the tour ending. But we both know it’s how it should.”
“That’s really what you feel?” He could barely speak around his guts being ripped out by her—again. When she nodded, he returned the nod. “Then me too. Bye, Sis.”
Chapter 44
Fuck your Sis shit. She screamed it in her head, but steeled the words from tumbling out. She couldn’t believe Allison had been presumptuous enough to show up to collect Gage at the airport. It brought to mind too many suppositions. Like possibly, he had continued to phone and text the other woman while on tour. Look at how Colt had strung along both Caroline and Ivy. Damned fucking rock stars! Turning away and climbing her porch steps was among a few of the hardest things she’d ever done. In fact, all of the hardest things she’d ever done had pertained to Gage.
The bodyguard held open the door for her and then after locking it, disappeared into his apartment. Mike had assured Gage her live-in bodyguard had been brought up to date on the newest developments in the Ketchum situation, but that didn’t stop the twinge of unease she felt.
Her luggage bumped up the stairs and her carryon scraped against the wall. Doubts pelted, lightly at first, like the tiny flying insects drawn to the lights and hitting her skin while onstage the previous night. By the time she stood before her door, she had her keys in her hand, but she lingered a moment with a stupefied realization.
She’d just done to Gage what he’d done to her that day in the barn. Guilty by reason of suspicion, fears, and jealousy.
With a jab, she shoved the key into the lock and twisted. When it stuck, she cursed. Some things couldn’t wait on an old house that creaked, groaned, and swanked antique locks that stuck from non-use. Leaving the key hanging, she fished her phone from the pocket of her cardigan.
Wait
Sent 6:21 PM
I’m sorry
…The second message was never sent.
The door swung open. At first, she thought she’d tripped and had fallen against it, pushing it open. The loss of control feeling was similar, but the pressure on her neck, mashing at her windpipe, and cutting the airflow in half was not in any way relatable. On the ceiling, the old chandelier blurred in and out of focus and she’d never noticed that water spot near the corner. Her neck felt on the verge of snapping with the pressure, and her feet scrambled for leverage. Behind, her shoulders dug into the solid body of her unseen assailant, and she heard the slam of the door.
Her lips parted to scream and anticipating this, another hand closed over both her nose and mouth, completely cutting her breath off. Instinctively, she thrashed and her captor’s grip tightened. Black specks swam in her vision just below the crown molding and she jabbed with her elbows, hitting at the flesh behind her.
Don’t panic.
Self-defense classes.
Remember?
She wasn’t helpless.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, she put herself on the practice mat of the class instead of the Oriental rug behind her couch.
Use your weight to your advantage.
Ceasing the struggle, she counted almost to three and went limp. It worked just as it had in class. The grip on her slipped. When she hit the floor, she rolled and kicked at the faded blue-jean shins in her vision. A howl of pain sounded and his—yes she knew it was a ‘he’ now from his voice—hairy arms came into view as he hunched and caught himself from a fall. Using her heels, she dug into the carpet, scrambling back until her back hit the fireplace screen. Yanking from the brass tools, she found herself brandishing the miniature broom and dustpan. Worn and scuffed leather shoes advanced toward her, and she hurled the broom and grabbed again, breathing easier when the poker was in her grip.
Ketchum.
“Get the fuck outta my house!” Until now, her throat had throbbed, or maybe it had been afraid to scream. But with those words, she yelled loud enough to be heard through the walls and into the apartment below, she hoped. “Get out, asshole!” Carefully, she straightened to her full height, keeping the shovel extended and the poker ready to swing.
“You may as well put that down. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want my money.”
“Get out!” Why wasn’t her bodyguard up here by now guarding?
Why didn’t she have a panic button straight to his phone like on tour?
“Scarlette. Just calm―”
“Don’t ever, ever say my name!” The shovel flew from her hand, and he ducked to miss it.
Her phone beeped with an incoming text, and she scanned the floor, but was afraid to take her eyes from Ketchum long enough to spot the device among the debris their struggle had scattered.
“Look. I’m prepared to negotiate―”
The phone began to ring, and it was then she remembered the text to Gage. Would he come back if she didn’t answer? Was calling to say he was on his way back? The rings stopped and began again.
This seemed unnerving to Ketchum, and he located the phone. It had skidded, its resting place several feet from the door. When he bent to pick it up, some force propelled her forward. She lifted, swinging, and brought the poker down. It struck him on the neck, and he yowled with pain. For good measure, she hit him again and didn’t wait to see where the blow landed.
Still carrying the rod, she wrenched open the door, managed to leap instead of fall over her suitcase, which was just outside, and flew downstairs. As she pounded on the door to the downstairs apartment, her peripheral vision picked up the movement upstairs—Ketchum. The stairs jarred as he lumbered down them, and she screamed, hitting at the door again.
Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance Page 54