Lost Lyric (Found in Oblivion Book 4)

by Cari Quinn

  Lost Lyric

  Found In Oblivion book 4

  Cari Quinn

  Taryn Elliott

  Contents

  Acknowledgment

  Join our Newsletters

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Perfect Pitch

  LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD

  Also by Cari & Taryn

  Lost in Oblivion Series

  About the Authors

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Lost Lyric

  © 2017 Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott

  Rainbow Rage Publishing

  Cover by LateNite Designs

  Photograph by Sara Eirew

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Rainbow Rage Publishing e-book edition: May 2017

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  ISBN: 978-1-940346-42-7

  To all the bad-asses who save themselves and their families every day by getting up and trying one more time.

  Oh, and to Gerry Rafferty for his amazing song, “Baker Street.” It’s a classic for a reason.

  Acknowledgment

  Sometimes we make up fictional places that end up having the same names as actual places. These are our fictional interpretations only. Please grant us leeway if our creative vision isn't true to reality.

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  Rocker Reads – For all your Rockstar needs.

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  Taryn Quinn – Our short and dirty reads. Anything goes with this penname—sexy, erotic, sweet, romcom, dark, or paranormal. We like them all!

  Chapter One

  “I’m going to string him up by his balls and then I’m going to leave his ass.” Denver Casey knew it was an empty threat, but it made her feel better to say it out loud. Freaking back-alley waste dump of a street and she was searching out the bane of her existence.

  Oh, and he was also her best friend.

  Couldn’t forget that part. Stupid asshole had quickly become the best part of her job with Warning Sign. Being the babysitter-slash-driver of one of the fastest-rising stars of the rock scene had its perks. She actually got paid to figure out every damn road in the country—her personal passion.

  She was weird, and maybe a little obsessive about it, but it hadn’t steered her wrong yet. At least not in five years, twenty-four days.

  Her nose wrinkled at the stench of stagnant dog piss and a Dumpster that had been forgotten since before time began. Sweet fuck, it was foul. She panned her palm-sized flashlight over the muck. A shudder raced up her spine as things with far too many legs scattered and eyes glowed out of the dark.

  She glanced over her shoulder at a sound at the opposite end of the alley.

  “Ryan Waters, where the fuck are you?” Denver glanced down at her phone to verify the GPS locater app she’d installed on Ryan’s phone. It said he was right here.

  Jerk actually thought he was being slick. She’d been tracking him for the last week. Not maliciously—no, she’d never go there on anyone. Ever.

  But this was her job. Deposit all artists from point A to point B. Period, end of job description. At least on the official documentation. In reality, she was herding cats and dogs with a side of squirrel. Ryan definitely fell into the last category lately.

  He’d always been her steady one, and now…well, not so much.

  At first, she’d just monitored him on the app. No one else needed the same intense babysitting. In fact, she wished a certain caveman would stop holing up so much. Malachi Shawcross, who’d seemed like the ultimate flight-risk addition to the band, actually had to be ejected from the bus these days. He’d sort of taken over the whole thing. She’d secretly renamed it the Boink Bus thanks to his extracurriculars.

  Not so much with her best friend. Lately he’d been gone more than he was around.

  Each day that passed, she had to worry about Ryan more and more. In all the time she’d known him, but he’d always been the steadiest one of the group. The most professional one out of all the crazies. He held her loyalty more than any of them. And now he was officially the most scattered. He’d been cutting it closer with each departure time for the last ten days. And today, a complete no-show.

  He would not mess with her schedule, or her job. She’d finally found something she loved, and that actually fell into the parameters of her skill set. Her skill set nowadays, anyway. She’d tried the truck-driver thing, but it hadn’t suited her at all. Too much time alone with her thoughts.

  Not a good idea.

  Driving for Warning Sign was the perfect blend of solitude and action. The band was never boring, and they always kept her on her toes. But Ryan’s behavior was getting ridiculous.

  Didn’t he realize he was actually the dispensable one in this circus act? He played harmony and rhythm on all his instruments. He was amazing, but he didn’t have an actual slot in the roster of the band. Jack-of-all-trades, master of none.

  Actually, that wasn’t quite right either. He’d mastered every instrument he’d ever picked up. And that was the problem. Once he knew how something worked, he got bored. He could play circles around Michael and Elle, their lead guitarists, when he actually gave a shit.

  It seemed like he’d been floundering lately. He was so scattered now that he never settled on one instrument in a song. It made for some amazing performances onstage. He had this steamer trunk full of toys that he opened as if he were Carrot Top in Vegas. She didn’t even know the names for half of them, but he could play every single one.

  She’d watched their shows at nearly every stop on the tour. The band was tightening up more and more, but then there was this little pinball named Ryan.

  He bounced in between each of his bandmates like a bee drunk on pollen. A fiddle, a flute, a ukulele, a slide guitar, a banjo, an accordion—no hand-held instrument was off limits to him.

  It made him amazing, but it also left everyone scratching their heads as to what his place was in the band. Was this a stopgap for him? Was it the perfect foil for his boredom? Was he simply going to disappear one day?

  She blasted the flashlight beam onto a higher setting. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. He was the best thing to happen to her in too many years to count. The only guy she’d trusted in forever. She’d do everything and anything to make sure he kept his head screwed on straight.

  “Ryan!”

  Her phone beeped like a homing p
igeon on meth and the little red dot that should be Ryan was right where she was standing. She panned her flashlight across the area. Something reflected from the corner that she didn’t want to think about. It was shiny and dark. She squinted. Liquid—no, that was a phone.

  “Shit.”

  Denver kicked at the pile of wet boxes next to a crooked Dumpster. Third one in this freaking alley, and this one smelled like death.

  “Please, oh please.” Her teeth chattered and her stomach roiled. Memories, swift and scorching, burned behind her eyeballs. Another dark alley. A body more blood than skin. Thick-soled boots slamming—

  No.

  She shook her head.

  Not like that night.

  This alley was miles and years away from that day.

  “Ryan is fine,” she said aloud to remind herself. She blinked away the fear and then swiped at the slick sweat on her brow.

  She tossed away boxes and tried to ignore the skittering of roaches and the thud of another animal—cat, maybe? She hoped it was a cat.

  A booted foot came into view, aimed at the sky. A very long leg was turned at a scary angle.

  “Don’t be dead, don’t be dead.” She heaved a vegetable box full of rotting lettuce to the side and tried not to gag. Two more black trash bags were on top of the body—no, not body, Denver. The person. The very-much-alive person.

  The alive Ryan.

  She scooped up the familiar phone with the sugar skull phone case she’d given him. All the guys had the same phones and kept taking the wrong ones when they weren’t paying attention. So she’d bought them cases. Obnoxious ones. She’d picked dancing sugar skulls for Ryan. He had loved them because he was her best friend and had the same sense of humor.

  The only other person who’d kept his cover had been Mal. She’d found a skeleton playing drums. He’d deemed it cool enough to keep.

  And now she was babbling even more in her own mind.

  Fuck.

  “Don’t be dead.” She hurled three more bags away and found him slumped against the brick wall. She swallowed a sob and crouched down. His huge hand was draped over his long torso. His shirt was stained and ripped at the shoulder, his knuckles were bloody and dirty.

  Then a snore ripped out of him and she blew out a hysterical laugh before she stood up and kicked his boot. “You fuck.” She shined her flashlight over his face and he winced and held up his hand.

  “Ma?”

  Relief left her lightheaded. “You’re going to wish I was your damn mother. Because she’s probably the only person on this earth who isn’t ready to kill you.”

  “Den?”

  She kicked him harder. “Who else would be looking for your stupid ass?”

  He groaned. “Did you get the license plate of the truck that hit me?”

  “No, because there was no truck. Just hands, if I had to make a guess.” She panned her light over his bruised knuckles and face. She had to stop herself from crouching over him and touching his face. It helped that he smelled like a cat had used him for a litter box. “Who beat the hell out of you?”

  He struggled to get up and fell onto his ass. “A little help here?”

  “Not until you tell me what the hell happened.”

  “I got mugged?”

  For a moment, her heart blipped and her knee-jerk reaction to help him kicked in, but then she heard the question mark at the end of his statement. Was he actually guessing?

  His lip curled up at the corner. “I think there were two of them.”

  She put one of her hands on her hip, leaving the light on his face. “Oh yeah, why is your phone still here?”

  “Because iPhones are a dime a dozen?”

  “Still worth money, jackass. Try again.”

  He rolled onto his side and groaned as he got to his knees. “Still no help.”

  She sighed and hooked her arm through his and hauled him up. He stumbled against her and she groaned. “You smell like death and trash had a kegger.”

  He hooked his arm around her neck. “Close.” That damn smoky voice had started infiltrating her dreams lately. She so didn’t have time for that crap, man.

  She shoved him upright, but when he listed to the left and started to crumple, she shoved her shoulder back under his armpit. So gross. “You stink. Literally.”

  “My nose is too swollen for me to tell.”

  “Idiot.”

  “Aww, c’mon, Den. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  She slipped his phone into his jeans pocket.

  “Hey there.” He jerked his hips and turned toward her. “All you had to do was ask.”

  “You wish.” Her belly filled with a flight of hornets. Not butterflies, nope, that was too pretty and sweet for how she was feeling. She was angry and buzzy in the worst way. Fear had been ramping up for the last hour, and now with no place left to go, her body was looking for something else. Something she’d been trying to ignore for weeks now, but the hornets were getting louder and angrier.

  She jammed her flashlight into her jacket pocket, then hooked her fingers into his belt loops to hold him against her before she hauled him away from the wall. He was about as graceful as a marionette with his strings cut. She dragged him down the alley to the brightly lit street and shoved him against a graffiti-clad brick wall under a streetlight.

  She finally got a good look at him and wondered if he really had gotten mugged. “What the hell did you do to yourself?”

  “It’s not a big deal.” He stepped away from the wall and instantly his knees buckled. She lurched forward to catch him. “Let’s just get back to the bus.”

  “Like this?” She peered up at him. “Do you know how far away from the bus we are?”

  He shrugged. “A few blocks.”

  “Idiot. More like miles. I’ve been chasing you around the city for an hour.”

  “On foot?” He frowned down at her. “Are you nuts? You could have gotten hurt. Where the hell are we, anyway?”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  “Stop swearing at me. I know you love me.”

  She snarled. “You’re usually my best friend, but lately you’ve been a freaking pain in my ass. Who knows what could have happened to you if I didn’t tag your phone.”

  “Tagged my what? You bugged me?” His voice spiked up in outrage.

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” She peered up at the street sign and then down the block. “I just used a parental app on your phone.” She calculated the streets and figured they were in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. Awesome. Welcome to New York City. She blew out a breath and stared at him. “You know, GPS.”

  He frowned and pushed his curls out of his face. “When did you do that?”

  She shrugged. “While I was playing Angry Birds on it.”

  “Huh.” He pulled his phone out and tried to turn it on, but gave up when his fingers fumbled over the thumbprint scanner. He shoved it back into his pocket. “Sneaky. I’d be mad, except I’m kind of impressed.”

  “If you didn’t keep disappearing, then I wouldn’t have had to.”

  “My question is how did I not notice this app?”

  “If I tell you, then you’ll find it.”

  “I’m going to find it anyway.”

  “Maybe. Then again you shouldn’t have a zillion apps on your phone.”

  “I know what each of them does, thank you very much.” He shook his head and squinted.

  Maybe he’d been more rattled than she thought. “Yeah, about that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I have a mother, you know.”

  “And I’m sure she’d be thrilled with this course of events.” When he only frowned, she beat back a pang of remorse. He was being an idiot. Not to mention this was her job. She was responsible for getting them all to the venue on time.

  Yep. That totally requires you hijacking his phone.

  She huffed out a breath. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not your mother, nor do I want to be.”

  “That would be creepy. Esp
ecially where your hand was about three minutes ago.”

  “Would you be serious?”

  “Do I have to?”

  Damn that grin. She didn’t want to be charmed by him. Not now. Right now she was pissed off at him and was probably going to have nightmares about tonight for weeks. She really didn’t need any more in her repertoire.

  He dug out his wallet, opened it, then flashed it at her before tipping his head back. “About that mugging.”

  The thing had been practically cleaned out, minus his license. The credit card slots were empty.

  She narrowed her eyes as he pocketed the wallet. “Were you really mugged?”

  His gaze lowered to the ground. “Let’s just say I was taught a lesson about best practices at a gaming table.”

  She rubbed her arm to ward against the chill that raced through her. And the muggy July evening had nothing to do with it. “Dammit, Ryan.”

  “I mean, yeah, take the cash, but the cards? Fuck.”

  “One of the reasons why I use banks as little as possible.”

  He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “Wait, what? Did I know this?” He shook his head. “I’m a little fuzzy.”

  She ignored his question. No way was she delving into that explanation. “You smell like bourbon and bad decisions. Were you drinking?” He didn’t drink.

  “Just enough to blend in.”

  “Blend in where?”

  “I was at...” He blew out a breath. “I was playing cards.”

  “You what?” Not Ryan. She shook her head. She had to have heard him wrong.

  “I wasn’t losing or anything. Quite the opposite.”

  She swept her bangs out of her face. “Then why…” She couldn’t even get the words out.

  He shrugged. “The people who own the Rooster sort of frown on counting cards.”

  “You did not.” She whirled away from him and paced the sidewalk. “Are you out of your mind?”