9781488051265

by Reverb (epub)

  Even though it was expected, she didn’t say anything about her heritage. Half of it she didn’t know, since deadbeat wasn’t a nationality. She suspected some Irish because of her hair and her mom’s surname, but who knew? Her mom had been beautiful, blonde, and tall. Dutch, she’d said once.

  She handed David his water and set her bourbon on a coaster. “So what do you have for me?”

  He grabbed one of the other coasters and set his water down. “There’s been a disturbing pattern of emails and comments. Not from the same IP or email addresses, but those can be spoofed easy. The content, though, is similar.” He played around with his phone, then handed it to her. “Start at the bottom and read up.”

  She did. At first, she rolled her eyes, because the comments were merely about what the dude liked and disliked about her clothes. Over time, though, the tone changed and a cold chill rose up Mish’s spine. They—he—became more demanding. Included photos of her, and not ones she’d seen in the press, either. He deemed her dress wrong. She was too loose and free. When she was finally with him, things would change, he said. He knew the kind of girl she was, knew what she needed. Nothing overtly sexual, like the one-offs she used to get from guys wanting her to suck them off or whatever.

  Whoever this dude was, he’d homed in on her, and yeah, was following her.

  Then came a photo of the lock of hair that had been cut from her head.

  “Fuck!” She jerked away. The phone tumbled out of her hand, bounced off the coffee table and clattered to the floor. Shit. Great, just what she needed. Breaking his phone.

  She bent to retrieve it, and so did David. Both their heads and hands touched—and that moment, when she jerked her head up and looked into David’s eyes, left her breathless. His fingertips on the back of her hand were pleasantly rough.

  He was also fucking handsome from this close up, the bastard.

  “Sorry,” she said. Since she’d gotten to the phone first, she sat up and handed it back to David. Looked like the case had saved it from damage. “It was the fucking hair.”

  Because those scissors had been sharp, and the phantom sting of her pulled hair and the sheer primal instant of fear before she’d lashed out at her attacker in the heaving crowd flooded right back into her.

  “Fucking damn it.” She reached for the bourbon, glad now that she’d poured it. Her hands were shaking and goddamn it, she didn’t need David to see that.

  “I understand. It’s hard.” There wasn’t pity in his voice, only the sadness of understanding.

  “You’ve been attacked?”

  His huff was mirthless. “Yeah. Also, I was in the army. Deployed.”

  Oh shit. Mish let out a long breath. “It’s been a couple of weeks.” She should’ve been over it by now, though.

  “I know. I should have warned you about those.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. She took another sip of her drink, letting the alcohol warm her throat. “My therapist says it’ll linger. And who knows what’ll set the memory off?” She hated that.

  He met her gaze and nodded, far too knowingly.

  “Please don’t tell the boys.” It came out unbidden. The guys would flip if they knew she was carrying around that moment, especially Ray, who had enough moments of his own strapped to his back.

  “I’ll keep your secrets, rock queen.” Lovely eyes. Understanding spirit. “But I think they’d understand, and not think less of you.”

  “It’s not that.” She leaned back and changed the subject. “I have absolutely no clue who that dude could be.”

  “No former lovers taking an issue with your life?”

  She laughed at that. “No. I don’t put up with that controlling shit, and my lovers all knew that from the get-go.”

  She’d watched her mom put up with men who expected to be obeyed without so much as lifting a finger. All the money, all the love.

  Another sip of bourbon eased the memory away. That had been a lifetime ago, and Mish Sullivan didn’t even have the same name as the girl who’d witnessed all that.

  “It’s not anyone I ever dated. Positive.”

  David seemed to chew on that. “I’ll trust your instincts.”

  “I suspect you’ve already looked into a few of my exes?”

  He laughed, and it was another honest one, as if she’d shocked him. “No, I haven’t.” He sobered. “I might, unless you object.”

  She waved the question away. “I don’t have an issue with it. They might.”

  “It’ll be on the up and up.”

  She expected nothing less. “It’s the thought of someone picking around other people’s lives, even if the stuff is public.”

  A flicker of awareness there, and a hint of sadness. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be respectful, Mish. But I do want to cover all the bases.”

  Not princess, or rock queen, or darling. Mish. Hearing it in his bell-like voice made her shiver. She didn’t try to hide it this time. Yeah, she liked David, and that was a big fucking problem on the eve of a tour with him guarding her from a creepy-ass stalker.

  She downed the rest of her bourbon in one gulp. “Thank you for showing me those. And for saying what you said to the guys, that I should know.”

  “They care about you.”

  She snorted. “Don’t I know it. And it’s mutual. They’re my fucking family, all I have.” That was the bourbon was talking. “Shit. I should eat.” And sleep, and de-stress.

  “I should stop taking up your personal time.” There was regret in David’s voice. At being here or at leaving? Hard to say. But he rose and dusted his hands on his jeans. “Thanks for the hospitality. I concur with Ray...this is a lovely place. Very you, and secure, too.”

  She climbed to her feet and saw David to the elevator. Felt like she should hug him, would’ve if he’d been one of the guys. He was new, even if he felt comfortable and fit in as a part of this group. Hugging would mean touching. There was danger there, lurking in her body’s reaction and in the looks David sometimes gave her.

  The whole attraction thing went both ways, but she wasn’t about to start shacking up with her bodyguard. She’d watched the damn musical. She knew how that ended.

  Thankfully, the elevator came and whisked David Altet away, at least for the night.

  Chapter Four

  Knowledge was dangerous, Mish realized, and sometimes ignorance was bliss. In the days that followed learning about those emails, she found the calm that usually engulfed her on the commutes to and from practice—even with the photog following her—had been shattered. Because he could be there. The stalker, and she wouldn’t fucking know, despite her general awareness of danger.

  She’d yet to spot the fucker. Spent a lot of time looking, too.

  At practice, the tension slipped away when they started playing. The music was a haven for them all—always had been. Dom danced, strutted, and played, Ray sang his heart out, and Zavier lost himself in the intricate rhythms he beat out. Hell, Mish found herself singing along on most of the songs, sometimes harmonizing with Ray, other times just singing along like a fan might.

  She fucking loved all their songs.

  Halfway through “Finding Light,” Ray broke off. “Wait, wait...”

  They all came to a halt, and Dom and Zavier looked as surprised as Mish. “What’s up, kiddo? That sounded great!”

  “I know, I know.” Ray danced around, hopping from one foot to the other. “I loved it. But I wanna try something different.”

  Zavier tapped on his kit. “We’re all ears.”

  Ray spun in place, his grin wide and eyes full of energy. He came to a stop when his gaze landed on Mish. “How about you singing on this one? ’Cause I really liked the sound. It looked—it felt great!”

  Her pulse quickened a bit. “You mean backup vocals?”

  Ray shook his head and that smile became toothy. Littl
e shocks of hope fizzed down Mish’s limbs. Fuck yes. Finally.

  “A duet. You and me. We trade off verses or lines or whatever seems to work the best. You guys up for that?”

  “God, Ray...” she breathed. “You know I am.”

  Before she’d joined Twisted Wishes, she used to sing her own sets. Sometimes she lent her voice to Ray’s on tour, but it wasn’t the same as singing in her own right. She’d never pushed it with Ray, ’cause his voice was so damn unique, like his vision.

  But if he were offering her the chance? Hell yes.

  Dom nodded, and Zavier’s “Of course” put a stamp of approval on the idea.

  Ray worked to set up a mic for her—they could’ve had techs at practice, but they were used to doing this shit alone, so they only used them for recording and live shows. The only other people in the studio were Adrian and David.

  “Hey, Adrian?” she called over to him.

  “Hmm?” He looked up from whatever book he’d been reading, a half smile on his lips. David had been browsing on his phone, and he too looked up.

  “Don’t tweet about me singing.”

  “Oh shit, yeah.” Ray fixed a mic to the stand. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. I’m sure it’s gonna work, and it can be a surprise on tour.”

  Singing on stage, on tour, in her own right. She caught Ray’s gaze. He was vibrating, or maybe she was. “You sure, kiddo?” She didn’t want to steal his thunder, even though she was dying to belt out their songs.

  “Yeah. Should have done this sooner. I get a little wrapped up in myself.”

  Zavier chuckled, and only because Mish was so close could she see the spots of red on Ray’s cheeks.

  “He’s good for you,” she murmured to Ray, not for the first time.

  The blush grew, and he looked down. “You’re all good for me.” When he met her gaze again, there was such energy there. “I’m better than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  The new songs said that. The music. Everything. She tousled his hair.

  He grinned. “Okay. Why don’t you start, and we’ll do verses first and see how that feels?”

  They did just that, with her belting out the first verse of “Finding Light” in her own way, and Ray picking up on the second. They sang the chorus together, her harmonizing with him, and fuck, did it feel good and right and wonderful. She danced through the bridge and they both ended up singing the final verse before bringing the song to a close.

  The silence that followed was interrupted by a soft exclamation of “Oh my god” from Adrian. He had the expression of someone who’d been whacked upside the head.

  Ray had a shit-eating grin. “Good?”

  Adrian nodded. It was David who answered in a voice that rumbled and purred. “That was fucking amazing.” His phone lay dark and forgotten in his hands, and there was rapture on his face. He met Mish’s gaze and the admiration there—desire, too—sparked lust in her. She was already heated from singing and playing, so she didn’t flush any harder.

  She slid her gaze from his to the instrument in her hands. God, she loved this band, this song. Everything.

  Including the way David looked at her.

  “I think maybe we should do it that way in concert,” Ray said, snapping her back to the band.

  She shook her hair from her face. “Want to try it with alternating lines, too.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He bounced in place, his excitement infectious as always. “And maybe some of the other songs?”

  “Kiddo, I’ll sing whatever you want me to.”

  Ray grinned, and Zavier beat out the rhythm, and they launched into “Finding Light” again.

  In the end, they went with their first rendition, and played around with her singing on three other songs before they called it quits for the day. Ray was still a bundle of energy, even after everything was packed up for the night. “Damn, that felt good.”

  Zavier looped an arm around Ray’s shoulder and drew him into his body. “Less caffeine for you tomorrow,” he said.

  Ray stilled when he leaned back against Zavier. “Wasn’t the caffeine, you know that.”

  “Mmm. The music, the songs.” Zavier met Mish’s eyes. “Seeing something different in the sounds.”

  Ray’s synesthesia. He’d explained more and more about how he saw their music over the past year. She didn’t have that, but she understood the rightness of a song. There were so many variants of right...and yes, they left her buzzed, too.

  “We’ll just have to work off that energy later,” Zavier murmured.

  Dom put his hands over his ears. “La la la, I’m not listening.”

  Adrian laughed at that. “Babe, come here. We’ll go get dinner, then have some dessert.” That smile of Adrian’s was wicked, and Mish couldn’t help a laugh of her own.

  The boys were so predictable.

  Dom’s subtle melt and blush were par for the course, and he crossed the room to take Adrian’s hand. “See you guys later.” They slipped out the door together.

  Mish dusted her hands and noted that David was still sitting on the far side of the room. He hadn’t walked her home since the day he’d shown her the stalker’s emails and comments. Sometimes she wanted to ask him to, but most of the time, she was damn glad he hadn’t insisted. She might be more paranoid, but this was her fucking home, and damned if she was going to let some slimy bastard ruin that for her.

  Still, at the end of every practice, she asked the same question of him. “Anything new?”

  Since that day, the answer had been “nope” but given the sad look in David’s eyes, that streak must have been over. “There was another email.”

  Stones in her stomach. She took a breath and another, then walked over and held out her hand. David, with resignation written all over his handsome face, passed his phone over. The email was already queued up.

  I’m sure you think the way you behave is acceptable, but it’s not. A woman should listen to her man. Obey him. You were brought up wrong. When you choose me, you’ll see.

  Fucking hell. Those rocks in her stomach tumbled over and over, and every bit of joy she had from practice bled out through her feet. She handed the phone back. “Thanks.”

  “Mish—” He had that look, the same one the guys got when they wanted to protect her.

  She waved any further words away. “I’m fine. I’m gonna get dinner, then go home.” She met David’s stare. “Alone.”

  “Are you—” Then he caught himself and shook his head, something like a smile gracing those lips for a moment. “Of course you’re sure.”

  “Damn straight I am.” She peered over at Ray and Zavier, staring them down, too. “Same shit, different day. I’ll be fine.”

  Ray seemed at a loss for words, and did that same head-shake thing David had done. “Practice was perfect today, Mish. You’re fucking awesome.”

  A little of the lost warmth came back. “Thanks, hon.”

  He smiled at that, and Zavier spoke something into his ear. “Yeah, I guess we should go.”

  They said their goodbyes and headed out the door, leaving her and David in the room.

  “Hey,” David said, his voice quiet and strangely tentative. “You sounded amazing. Your singing I mean. You always sound fantastic on the bass.”

  Even more of the warmth—and some of the joy returned. “Thanks. I’ve sung backup on tour, and I’m always singing, even when I’m not micced up.”

  A wry grin. “I’ve noticed.”

  “David Altet, are you watching me during our practices?” She couldn’t help the teasing lilt to her voice.

  He stood and rolled his shoulders back. “Technically, I’m watching the whole band.”

  “Technically?”

  His lips quirked, but he didn’t reply.

  Oh yes, David was into her. But then again, she was into him, mor
e than she wanted to admit. Not that she thought about him or wondered what that beard would feel like on her skin. Or his hands. Or how soft his lips might be.

  She glanced away from that smile, heat blazing through her, and sought her bag. “I should really get going.”

  “Yeah, same.” His voice had gravel in it, and he sounded so damn fine. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

  She whipped back to stare at him.

  “Rock queen,” he amended.

  She laughed. “Fuck you, David.” No heat in her words.

  He blew her a kiss before heading out the door.

  Yeah, a week or so in, and he’d already made himself at home with the band. And damn it all to hell, she liked him. What was going to happen when they were with each other 24/7 on tour?

  Holy hell, that was gonna be a nightmare. Or a really good wet dream. She hadn’t decided which yet.

  * * *

  Mish was going to have David’s head if she realized he was following her, but after that last email, he wanted to make sure no one other than DSLR Dude was trailing Mish, and that meant shadowing her as well.

  After her usual ritual of greeting fans, she headed toward the subway. But rather than take the steps down, she continued above ground, in the direction of Midtown.

  David huffed in frustration. He didn’t mind walking—that would help him spot whether there was anyone following Mish—but damn it, she’d read the email. Why wouldn’t she head straight home?

  The answer hit him sharp and hard, and the echo of it was in his past, too.

  She wasn’t going home because that’s what society told her to do. Run. Be safe. Don’t enjoy life. Be afraid.

  David’s gut twisted. In her place, he’d have done the same thing to prove that he wasn’t afraid. Hell, he had been in those shoes and done the same back when he wasn’t read as masculine. He understood, and it hurt that he understood. Fucking stung that he’d wanted to push Mish to be safer, though that was his job.

  At least by trailing her, he could do that part, and she could be herself, even if that meant walking blocks and blocks in the process.