Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8)

by Christie Ridgway

  The traffic heading back was killer. When she finally reached the Hollywood Hills area, she dug through her purse for her list of errands, her grocery list on the other side of the sheet of paper.

  Two hours into her various tasks, her cell rang as she climbed into the car. Jewel didn’t recognize the number, but as the older women were out of town, she quickly answered.

  A weird, almost alien voice came over the line. “I have the old ladies and the baby.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The old ladies and the baby. I have them.”

  “Is this security at the station? On the train? Is someone ill?” She tried tamping down her sudden panic. The trio should be in Capistrano by now, happily looking for the exact right place to stop for lunch.

  “I have them, and if you want them back you must do exactly as I say.”

  A cold uneasiness gripped the back of her neck. “I’m going to hang up and—”

  “You’d better not.” Suddenly in the background came the sound of a child crying.

  Soul? There was a weird tinny quality to the voice and the cry, but maybe that was due to the loudness of her heartbeats in her ears.

  “You’ll do exactly as I say, or else something will happen to the old ladies and the kid.”

  Fear cramped Jewel’s belly. Nothing could happen to Grandma, Doris, and Soul!

  “W-what is this about?” A chill shrouded her body, and she stared through the windshield as other shoppers came and went, their days not having suddenly turned into a strange and terrifying nightmare.

  “You have something I—we—want. That jewelry. The set.”

  “The Nicky Aston jewelry?” She glanced at her glove box where she’d locked the pieces. She hadn’t stopped at home after the train station drop-off.

  “Exactly. You’re going to put it in a brown paper bag, wrap it in packing tape, then use more tape to secure it to the bottom of a bench at Higgins Park.”

  Higgins Park. Jewel’s hand crept to her throat. It was a place she brought Soul to play at least three times a week. Had someone been watching her and her baby? She thought of the sound of the child crying over the phone. “I want to talk to Grandma.”

  “No.” Refusal was swift. “We’ll be watching you at all times. We’re watching you now, so don’t even think about contacting anyone, up to and including the police.”

  Black dots were swimming in Jewel’s vision. Then she remembered to breathe. “How will I get them back?” Was that her? Sounding reedy and weak? She cleared her throat. “I won’t do anything unless I know more details.”

  In the background came that child’s cry again. Full-blown panic swept through her. Was Soul hungry or cold? Was someone hurting her baby?

  “Please,” she said into the phone. “Please don’t.”

  “If you do what you’re told, then the ladies and the baby will be on the train, just as expected. You only need to follow directions. Brown bag, packing tape, the bench at Higgins Park that’s by the baby swings. Understand?”

  She swallowed. “I understand.”

  He gave her an hour to complete the assignment and reminded her again that someone was watching her every move.

  “You’ll keep this line open,” he said. “You’re not to call anybody, remember? No one. No police. Now go and take care of things.”

  Like it was a poisonous snake, Jewel set the phone on the passenger seat, careful not to touch the Power button. Brown bag. Duct tape. Higgins Park.

  Her hands were shaking so hard it took her three tries to get the car started. Then she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to do.

  After a second, it rushed back. Brown bag. Duct tape. Higgins Park.

  She headed in the direction of a big box hardware store, but then her eye caught on a small mailing annex in a little strip mall. Steering her car in that direction, she remembered there were eyes on her, but it was a busy mid-week early afternoon, and there were cars and people everywhere. She couldn’t pick out a watcher.

  Though she tried to keep her composure, her mind raced—through the directions, to worry about her loved ones, to the thought that the kidnapping was all her fault.

  I’m a bad parent. Like mother, like daughter.

  That’s why this happened.

  Blinking back hot tears, she hastily parked her car and then bustled into the small store, the velvet package under her arm. She hurried through the aisles, collecting brown paper and packing tape. A clerk manned the front desk, inspecting her nails and looking bored. Jewel glanced around. There was no one else in the store.

  Her phone lay in her purse, the line still open.

  She set it to mute.

  Shaking all over, Jewel approached the clerk. At the counter, she paused to glance over her shoulder. Still no other customers. She doubted a person in the parking lot could see inside.

  Her gaze took in the multi-line business phone by the clerk’s elbow, and her heart began pounding. “I have a couple of questions,” she told the woman, trying to look serene and harmless. “Does your store have a back door, and could I possibly use your phone to make a quick call?”

  Doubts instantly barraged her. I’m a bad parent. Too much like my mother.

  He’ll blame me for this.

  Then she shushed that damn voice and called the father of her daughter.

  Beck careened, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride-style, toward the destination that Jewel had given him. Her voice had sounded strangled during the brief call, but it was the very fact that she’d phoned him that fed his anxiety.

  Earlier that day they’d all but said goodbye.

  He whipped into the alley behind the strip mall as directed, and sure enough, Jewel stepped out from behind a scarred and rusted Dumpster. He leaped from behind the wheel and grabbed her by the shoulders. The strained expression on her face made his gut twist.

  “What the hell is it?” She’d only told him to meet her here.

  The hurried details she shared with him did not clear up his confusion.

  “What? The person said they’d been kidnapped?” He whipped out his cell phone. “What’s your grandmother’s number?”

  “They don’t have cell phones. Not Grandma, not Doris, not their friend Maisey.” She bit her bottom lip. “I need to get the package to the park.”

  “It still doesn’t make sense to me,” Beck said. “How would anyone know you have the jewelry set…or even about the jewelry set?”

  “They’ve put it all over social media.” Her hand trembled as she brushed the hair out of her face. “There’s even a page for the Nicky Aston exhibit, and I helped Doris post the picture she has of it there myself.”

  She closed her eyes. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have let them take Soul to Capistrano. I’m a terrible mother—”

  “Stop that,” Beck said. He took her cold fingers in his, trying to warm them. “You’re a wonderful mother. The best one I can imagine for my daughter. Now let’s think. Did the ladies put their plans for the day on the internet?”

  “Of course they did,” Jewel said. “I suppose so, anyway. How else would the kidnappers know where to find them?”

  “How else indeed,” he murmured.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said now, clearly getting more agitated by the second. She tugged her hands free. “I shouldn’t have chanced it and called you, but I…”

  Had she been about to say I love you?

  But he couldn’t think about that now, nor about how the idea of it filled him with a sweet satisfaction instead of a searing regret. There was time to unpack all that later.

  “You did the right thing,” he said now, sounding brisk. Then he cupped her face in his hands. “Give the package to me. I’ll take care of it. I know Higgins Park.” It was a small plot of land tucked into a cul-de-sac off Laurel Canyon Boulevard.

  “No!” She crossed her arms over her waist as if her stomach hurt. “They’re watching. It’s supposed to be me.”

 
“Okay.” Beck thought it possible she was being tailed—and he thought he knew who was behind this scheme. “You’ll put the package under the bench at the park. I’ll have my eyes on it, and I’ll see who comes to retrieve it.”

  “You can’t spook them,” she said urgently. “Once they get the jewelry they probably have to call whoever has Soul and Grandma and Doris to let them go.”

  “I’m not going to spook anybody.” He was going to scare the living shit out of the person who came for that package. “I won’t compromise anyone’s safety. I promise.”

  She hesitated.

  “Sweetheart.” He took her by the shoulders again. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then know I’ll do the right thing.”

  “Okay.” She nodded.

  “Deliver the package, then go home. I’m going to call a few of the tribe to come by and wait with you.”

  “No.” Her eyes flared wide. “Remember? I’m not supposed to talk to anybody. They’ll see.”

  Beck figured the bad guy or guys would be busy at the park, but he reassured her anyway. “They’ll drop by, all casual. Don’t worry. And I’ll be back in time to drive with you to the train station for the afternoon pick-up.”

  She was shaking again and it tore at him, but he kept his cool. “Go, sweetheart. Take it slow, okay? I need a little time to get myself situated, and I also want you in one piece.”

  “Slow.” She sucked in a breath, let it out, then nodded.

  His lips brushed her forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Because he didn’t take it slow, he was in place when Jewel made it to the park. He’d sped back to the compound and traded his vehicle for one of the motorcycles in Hop’s oversized garage. A helmet and visor covered his head and face. He sat sideways on the Harley’s leather seat and pretended he was doing nothing more than enjoying the day.

  As Jewel walked into the midweek-quiet park, he hated the tension in her shoulders. She clutched her large purse with both hands, and when she lowered herself to a bench, he thought she might break in half.

  But it was a matter of moments for her to secure the brown-wrapped package beneath the bench. Then she scooped up her purse again and hurried back to her car.

  Cilla and Walsh and Honey would be reaching her house at about the same time she did. They’d been the first he’d called, and when he said it was complicated to explain, they’d assured him they’d be there and explanations could come later.

  Walsh said, “I have your back. Now and always.”

  Beck was so damn grateful.

  And impatient. But he didn’t have long to wait before he spied another familiar figure entering the park and glancing around—his gaze moving past Beck disguised by the helmet. He bet the man sauntering up to the bench had probably been watching Jewel or her home and waited until she made it back to her grandmother’s before coming for the jewelry.

  After a quick look around, the man leaned over and snatched the brown-wrapped package. Then he tucked it under his arm and headed back to his car.

  Beck was there first, leaning against the driver’s door.

  As Gavin’s loafer-shod feet slowed, Beck pulled off his helmet.

  “Hey,” he said, enjoying the shock on the other man’s face, “fancy meeting you here.”

  “The whining and excuses instantly ensued,” Beck told Jewel later as he drove them toward the train station in the late afternoon. “Gambling debts, his Granny’s things were all going to be his someday anyhow, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Weasel,” she said, but without any spirit behind it.

  He sent her a sharp glance. “Sweetheart. He swore up and down that the grandmothers and Soul are fine. This was a one-man, desperate scam.” The asshole had been trying to get his mitts on the set for weeks, hoping to sell it and use the cash to get him out of the deep hole his bad luck with the ponies had dug. “He tried stealing them from Doris a while back and when he almost got caught, stashed them in a box of his grandmother’s junk.”

  “Which ended up with me.”

  “And then at your storage unit. He managed to get from you the location, and that’s when he tried breaking in.”

  “But then to come up with this scheme…”

  “It’s what’s called a virtual kidnapping. He read about it in the newspaper.”

  “Weasel,” she said again, this time with even less verve.

  Beck ran a hand along the back of her hair. “I think you’re having an adrenaline crash.”

  “Maybe.” She rested her head against the back of the seat. “I keep thinking that a better mother would—”

  “Would what? Guess at the dirty dealings of an old friend?” When she didn’t answer he looked over at her again. “Let me say it one more time. You’re a fantastic mother. As well as a loving and caring granddaughter.”

  “I just need to see all three of them. Soon.” Then she reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you so much for helping out today. For responding to my SOS and for being behind the wheel now. I’m still rocky.”

  “Of course,” Beck said, and placed his hand over hers. “Now sit back and let me be the one taking care of you for a change, all right?”

  As they entered the train station, prepared for a twenty-minute wait, Jewel’s tension ratcheted up and he began to feel it too. Even as he told himself Gavin’s quickly concocted scheme had been smoke and mirrors—or in this case, a burner phone, voice synthesizer, and an app that generated the sound of a baby’s cries—he felt a strange new anxiety.

  It was Soul, he realized. The idea of that vulnerable, precious child at risk. He remembered the feel of her in his arms and the insane urge he’d had to build her an army for protection. It now seemed like an even better idea.

  Soul.

  What could she weigh? Fifteen, sixteen pounds? But it might as well be a two-ton pick-up on his chest. In his chest.

  Heart full of Soul.

  “There they are,” Jewel suddenly said, clutching his arm.

  They both leaped to their feet. If the grandmothers found anything odd in the way that Jewel hugged her daughter close, they didn’t say anything. And Jewel didn’t make a comment when he put his arms around the both of them and felt the worry in his mind finally ease.

  But the weight in his chest went nowhere.

  Heart full of Soul.

  And in one swift moment, Beck realized that the wanderer he’d been for the last fifteen years now had an anchor.

  His life had changed—for good. He wasn’t going to be leaving LA. No way would he abandon his daughter.

  On the trip back to their part of town, he tried wrapping his mind around that truth as Jewel gently broke the story about Gavin to Doris. She became both indignant and angry at her grandson as she figured out he’d likely stolen her late husband’s coin collection as well as the cash she had stashed in various places around the house.

  When they dropped her off at her home, she was already talking about the immediate call she was going to make to the young man’s father—her son.

  “He’s a retired Marine, you know,” she said. “Such nonsense will be stopped.”

  In Laurel Canyon once again, it was Beck who plucked Soul from her car seat. He carried his daughter toward the house, knowing Cilla, Walsh, and Honey remained inside. After hearing the story, they’d wanted to see that everyone was safe and sound for themselves.

  The baby roused from a drowsy half-sleep as he carried her over the threshold. “Dah,” she said, in that declarative way of hers.

  “Yes, Dah,” he murmured to her. “Your Dah. Your Dah who is sticking around, buddy. That’s a promise.”

  Jewel heard. She whipped her head toward him, but before he could say anything about it, his gaze caught on Cilla’s devastated expression as she came to greet them.

  Oh, shit. Her fiancé was on a business trip to San Francisco. “Has something happened to Ren?” he asked.

  She shook her head, her l
ips pressed so tight together they were nearly bloodless.

  Beck glanced at his brother, following on Cilla’s heels. “Walsh, what’s wrong?”

  The other man inhaled a breath. “The Lemons have canceled some stops on their tour. They’re coming home for Cilla and Ren’s wedding.”

  “Oh, fu—” Thinking of the baby, he swallowed his curse. “How the heck did they find out about the date?”

  “I don’t know,” Cilla said. “But they’re going to ruin it. They’re going to ruin everything.”

  “No, they’re not,” Jewel said, putting an arm around her friend. “We won’t let them do that.”

  “I suppose we could cancel the wedding. Run off to Vegas or something.” The idea of it clearly didn’t set well with Cilla as tears filled her eyes. “The ceremony doesn’t really matter.”

  But it mattered a lot, obviously. To Cilla, to Ren, to the other members of the Rock Royalty who had been waiting for this one wedding as the kick-off to their own happy-ever-afters.

  No. The Lemons were not going to wreak havoc on their children once again. Beck wouldn’t have it. He squeezed shut his eyes.

  So that meant he was going to have to find a way to give Cilla and Ren their special day. Yeah, him. The one of the tribe known to be unreachable, unapproachable, and generally unreliable when it came to family. This time he was going to prove to them—to himself—that he’d changed.

  He owed it to them.

  He owed it to Soul.

  He owed it to himself.

  His eyes opened and he squared his shoulders. “How about having it this Saturday instead of the one after?” he suggested, thinking fast. “Among all of us we can make calls to the guests and exact promises they won’t tell anyone of the change. The band could never make it back in time, anyway.”

  Cilla rubbed her forehead. “That’s three days from now. The caterers are set for the original date. A cake is ordered.”

  “This is LA,” Beck said. “Can’t we find someone else if we need to?”

  Honey stepped up. “I can. I’m sure I can arrange food, bartenders, whatever it is that’s needed.”

  Walsh grinned and slung an arm around her neck. “She can do anything.”