BorntobeWild

by Lynne Connolly

  She’d brought a basic makeup kit with her but left it downstairs, so all she had to do was brush her wet hair, apply some smoother and get dressed.

  How would she manage if she lived this way? Would she get used to this luxury or learn to take it for granted? Just as well she’d never have the chance to find out. She might as well enjoy it while she was here though.

  By the time she’d applied blusher, shadow and eyeliner, leaving her lipstick until after she’d eaten, she had oriented herself in this place. Found the areas she needed. It had taken her longest to discover the microwave, tucked behind a door near the refrigerator but it was a modern, high-tech thing, totally unlike her own basic model. She’d never bothered to install all but the bare necessities in her little apartment but she’d never missed anything fancier until now. This apartment would ruin her for plain living. She’d have to get somewhere better. In any case it was time she had somewhere she could bring clients, if she was to attract more people like the man who visited the store today. Her business was moving on and so should she.

  She went into the great room and called out, her voice echoing around the huge space. “Come and eat!”

  Although she didn’t stagger back when she saw him it was a close-run thing. Riku wore a suit that seemed to be fashioned from newspapers. The print on it was so crisp she could read the articles. He raised a brow. “Like it?”

  “It’s a bit extreme.”

  He laughed. “It’s stage wear. Fucking uncomfortable too.” He gestured to the tall man following him, who took no notice of her but concentrated on watching the way Riku moved. The fabric seemed stiff, like paper. “I can still work and that’s what matters.”

  He nodded at the other man. “This is Ray and I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s a fucking genius.”

  She shook Ray’s hand. Tall, bald, powerful, as unlike a typical dresser as she could imagine in his comfortable jeans and loose T-shirt. The short sleeves of the shirt exposed roped muscles. He had a tattooed sleeve on one arm and a series of ink designs on the other. That gave him away because they were carefully chosen and positioned rather than haphazard. This was someone who cared about his appearance. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Ray grinned. “Likewise. I’d like to dress you to match.”

  “I don’t do that. I design jewelry.”

  “About that. It’s exquisite. Wasted onstage but I have some clients who’d love to see some.”

  “Really?” This was turning into a real red-letter day. Great sex, a new contract and a new contact. She fished her small metal case from her side pocket and handed him a business card. She might look hippie but she never went anywhere without her cardcase. She’d learned that early. Ray had too, because he gave her his.

  “Call me and we’ll set something up.”

  “I do cheap and cheerful or expensive and exclusive so I can cater for most occasions.”

  Ray nodded. “Cool. Good idea. This I take it is the expensive side? Too carefully made for cheap and cheerful.”

  She glanced at the piece currently adorning Riku’s neck, clearly visible hanging over the black shirt he wore under the newspaper suit. “I thought it wouldn’t get noticed but it looks like you showcased it.”

  “Too fucking right. We had a different shirt in mind but this goes well and it’s better with the jewelry.”

  She’d get photos too and afterward, in the press conference. Her heart warmed. He’d done this on purpose, decided to wear it tonight and she believed him when he’d said he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t liked the piece. Riku considered his career professionally. He always had.

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this.”

  “Then don’t tell me.” Riku waggled his brows. “I might let you show me later.”

  Oh, yes, she’d do that for sure.

  Chapter Eight

  By the time they’d eaten, Riku had reapplied his face paint and the car had arrived. A black limo with plenty of room inside, she was glad to see, because Riku needed the space. His suit had wide-legged pants and she didn’t want to crease it. He took her hand in the car, as if he wanted the contact. She sensed the tension in him and the withdrawal but she understood the reason for that only too well.

  He was preparing himself, perhaps going through the running order, getting his mind set and concentrated. A singer would do the same thing, as she went through her vocal warm-ups, thinking the part through, getting in the atmosphere of the piece. The days when an operatic performer relied on her voice alone were long gone. These days acting was involved.

  Obviously that worked for this gig too.

  They arrived with an hour to spare before the band was due onstage. They tended to keep to time these days, since so many gigs had curfews, so she refused to go backstage with him. But she promised, hand on heart, to go backstage afterward, to keep him company in the press conference. “You’re part of this now,” he reminded her, squeezing her hand.

  “I know.” She was in, whatever happened next.

  He gripped her fingers a tiny bit tighter. “My parents are coming tonight. Some of my family too.”

  She swallowed. The atmosphere grew tense enough to snap knicker elastic. “I’m here and I’ll stay with you.” It was a promise.

  “Thanks.” Finally she’d get to meet the people who expected so much from him and then discarded him when he’d disappointed them after dropping out of his studies in Paris. She’d met his mother briefly and still carried an impression of a small, beautifully coiffed and dressed woman, poise personified.

  The limo drove slowly past the fans crowding around the barriers. “It’s the Oscars,” she said. “Except for the red carpet and the evening dress.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Riku said. “It was never this nuts before and I’m not sure I like it. But we’ve opened the box and we can’t close it again easily.”

  “Do you want to?”

  He tilted his head to one side, regarded her thoughtfully. He was still there, the man she’d known before, Riku. Too perceptive, getting so close to her inner self he might know it better than she did. “No.”

  Still honest.

  The limo stopped and first Ray got out, disappearing with an efficiency that told her he’d done this many times before, then Riku. He waited, hand held out, ignoring the camera flashes and the yells from the people gathered at the barrier.

  She placed her hand in his, feeling she was putting more than her faith in him. It seemed symbolic, as if she was committing herself to more. Perhaps because of the expression in his dark eyes, blacker, even though she knew they were really the darkest of browns.

  Or just the way he waited, motionless and patient. The costume and the spiked hair faded into insignificance. Nothing mattered more than this, that they were facing this together.

  She let him guide her from the car and into the brightly lit area outside the arena. He took her hand to his lips, touched it with his breath. They couldn’t kiss because of his face paint. They’d kiss later, his eyes said. A lot. She promised that too.

  He turned to Ray, who stood in the shadow of the door. Not disappeared after all. “Take care of her, will you? She’s going out front.”

  “Sure.” Ray grinned. “We get more fun that way. Riku gets to work to make us happy.”

  That forced her to laugh.

  Something hit Riku from behind.

  Cyn only had a brief sight of the astonishment on his features before he fell forward onto her. They tumbled down and hit the ground, her on her back, Riku knocking the wind out of her.

  A buzzing sound echoed in her ears—no, it was Riku growling. He spun, the long jacket of his suit swirling like the tassels on samurai armor. Facing whatever had hit him, forcing him to collide with her and take her down. Cyn could do nothing except gasp for breath, unable to do anything. Had someone shot him, or stabbed him?

  Belying his outlandish appearance, Riku grabbed his attacker, his hands biting into the shirt-clad sh
oulders of someone who obviously didn’t belong there. Holding the guy at arms’ length. Ray snaked around the man from behind, pinning his upper arms to his sides in a grip the youth couldn’t break. Then the muscle arrived. As Cyn took her first deep breath and the world swam, she saw something flash in the light as Ray removed it from the man.

  A knife.

  Riku turned his back and came to her. Turned his back on his attacker while security took the youth from Ray and hustled him away.

  Riku touched her with gentle hands, running his palms down her sides.

  “I’m okay, just winded.” Probably bruised as well. The cement was none too soft. “Honestly.”

  He lifted her to a sitting position, his arm around her back. “Are you sure?”

  Pain shot through her and the world spun. She leaned against him, glad of his presence. She felt safe with him. “What—who was it?”

  “Like I said. It’s nuts. Not usually this nuts though. And I bet people have taken pictures.”

  “Talk to me.”

  She hadn’t seen Chick arrive but here he was, kneeling on her other side.

  “A man with a knife. A shiny knife, so not a professional.”

  Chick gave Riku a look of sheer amazement. “How the fuck do you know that?”

  “Seen the films, read the books.” Riku didn’t take his attention from her. “Do you mind if I lift you?”

  “Sure.”

  Riku hoisted her into his arms and carried her inside. By the time they’d reached his dressing room she was breathing again, albeit shallowly. The pain in her side shocked her with its intensity but she didn’t want to tell him. He might stop her watching the performance. At worst she’d broken a rib. He laid her on a small couch at one side of the room and knelt next to her.

  Chick was shooting orders all the way. Until they got in the room and they closed the door, then he lowered his voice and leaned against the panels, watching her closely. “We’re saying it was a fan,” Chick said. “For all we know it’s the truth but we don’t want to give people ideas.”

  The notion chilled her. A blood sport, to attack Murder City Ravens. Stranger things had happened and if the attack went viral—she felt sick now.

  Riku gave a terse nod but didn’t take his attention from her. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Do you need anything?”

  “Water would be nice,” she said, more to see if she could move relatively freely out of his sight than need for a drink.

  She managed, although she did wince a couple of times. At least Chick had found her a bottle. She might have found drinking neatly from a glass more difficult. She didn’t want to admit how shaken she felt. Not all her years in New York had given her an experience like that. A sudden knife assault, completely out of the blue, despite the security guards on duty.

  Chick glanced at Ray, who had entered and stood quietly by the door. “Good work, man.”

  Ray gave a curt nod. “Dressers don’t usually get that kind of excitement. I’ll look after her.”

  Riku waved him away, the heavy rings on his hand flashing in the light, reminding Cyn sickeningly of the last thing she’d seen shining like that. “I’ll do it.”

  “No.” She couldn’t let him do anything to jeopardize his performance. “I’m fine, truly. Go to the band, they’ll be wanting you.”

  “They can wait.”

  “No, they can’t.” Forcing a smile, she swung her legs off the sofa and sat up, bracing herself for the inevitable pain. “It was you he was after. You winded me when you fell, that’s all. I should be asking you if you’re okay.” She handed him the water bottle and he took a deep draught without taking his attention from her.

  “Thanks.” He watched her closely. “Are you sure?”

  “She can sit with security,” Chick said, “Ray’ll bring her back after the show. Now go.”

  With a doubtful look Riku got to his feet, brushed down his pants and left, after one quick kiss and a thorough scan of her body. His outfit was a bit smudged now but with the design, it only looked natural. “Call me, you hear? I’m taking my cell onstage and fuck the technicians.”

  “Put it on Vibrate,” Chick said. “You’ll screw with the sound guys if you don’t. Show her what you can do.”

  “I did that last night.” With one last, doubtful glance, Riku left.

  Cyn closed her eyes until she heard the door close quietly. “Okay, he’s gone,” Chick said. “Tell us the truth.”

  “I think I’ve broken a rib.” She gasped, breathing shallowly now she didn’t have to pretend anymore.

  Ray barked an order. “Get your top off. Let me see.”

  “What?”

  “Girl, I’ve seen more naked bodies than I can count. But what’s more important to you now, I’ve had training in advanced first aid. Army training. Let me look.”

  Recalling that she had bikini tops more revealing than the bra she wore tonight, Cyn unbuttoned her shirt, glad she hadn’t decided on a tee. She wasn’t sure she could have lifted it over her head.

  Chick stood by the door as Ray examined her, probing gently. “You’re gonna bruise and, yes, there it is.” Although he touched her gently, a shard of pain stabbed through her and she yelped. “You’ve fractured or cracked a rib. You’ll have to woman up and get over this on your own. Watch for coughing or shortness of breath. You should get to a hospital, have an X-ray just to be sure, but they won’t do much. They tend to leave broken ribs to heal naturally.”

  She didn’t need him to tell her. She longed to attend the gig and needed to support her lover. Tonight Murder City Ravens finished the tour. She’d never have that chance again. “You know his family is coming tonight?”

  “Yes,” said Chick from the door. “I’ll ensure they’re brought back after the show.”

  “He doesn’t get along with them.”

  “I know that. They’ve never come to see him before. Waited until he came to them.” The Shiraishis were based in New York, or nearby, so Chick’s assessment was right on the ball.

  “I don’t want to go to hospital tonight.” She managed her words only in a series of small gasps and fixed her gaze on Chick, knowing he was the key to her staying.

  “I’m ex-army,” said Ray. “While I wasn’t a medic I got advanced training. A broken rib is pretty much routine.”

  She scoffed but gasped in shock when pain lanced through her. “It’s like a red-hot needle.”

  Ray’s lips firmed. “Tell me about it. Hold still and I’ll get what I need. I’m sure this place has some heavy-duty bandages.” He got to his feet and soon returned with a roll of supportive tape. “This is just to get you through tonight, you hear? When you get home take it off and let the injury heal on its own. Don’t breathe like you’re doing now. Do it properly or you’ll risk pneumonia.” She was still trying to breathe shallowly but at his words she braced herself to take a few deep breaths. Agony.

  He deftly wrapped the bandage around her middle, taped it and then slapped an ice pack on the area that had already begun to grow purple. “Breathing will hurt at first but in a day or two you won’t notice it so much. If we can get the swelling down it will feel a whole lot better.” He sat back on his haunches. “You can get dressed.” He grinned. “I don’t get to say that to a woman often these days.”

  She buttoned her shirt, trying to concentrate on breathing and finding a position that didn’t hurt. He removed the ice pack until she’d fastened up, then put it back. “Hold it there for another ten. Then take it away for five, then put it back for another ten. I’ll be with you, so I’ll take care of the timing.”

  “I’ll get you an insulated bag and a bunch of ice packs,” Chick said. “Take it out front with you.”

  “Some beer to fill up the spaces wouldn’t go amiss.”

  Chick laughed. “You got it.” He glanced at her. “Are you sure you want to do this? He’ll cope without you.”

  “Believe me, I’m no martyr.” She gave a crooked smile, relieved her injuries were no
worse than this. Riku had slammed his full length on her and it could have been much worse. “But with his family arriving he wants me here.” She met his cool blue gaze. “I’ve met his mother only once, the rest not at all, which in itself says something. We dated through our time at the institute, nearly three years and they never came to see any of the performances and he didn’t visit them. Even my parents flew over from Britain to see a couple of mine.”

  “That matches what I know,” said Chick. “We’ll provide a united front.”

  “Army talk,” Ray commented. He nodded when he watched her take a deep breath. “Keep doing that. You’ll be fine. No heavy lifting and try to get some time off work. It’ll be six weeks before it heals and longer to knit securely.”

  “Six weeks like this?” Horrified, she stared at him.

  “You’ll cope and the pain will ease off.” He flashed a grin. “I’ve taken gun positions down while I’ve sustained broken ribs before now. C’mon, let’s find our seats and get settled before the crowd starts shoving their way back from the bar.”

  Chick opened the door and they found two burly security men outside. They more or less surrounded her as Chick handed them the wristbands to get her backstage after the show. Then the guards walked with her through the narrow door nearest to their seats. Bottom tier, near the stage.

  Once she’d settled she had a cool drink of beer and took the painkillers Ray gave her, ignoring Ray’s grimace of disapproval. She shrugged. Yeah, right, beer and painkillers, but it wasn’t as if she made a habit of it.

  The Garden was full, a sellout, and people were happily jostling each other in the mosh pit. Electronic screens broadcast texts people were sending to the central office. Extra income for the promoters, amusement for the crowd.

  They’d set up the stage at one end of the auditorium. A huge curtain of lights hung behind the area where the instruments were stored, and screens floated high above, in reality suspended by heavy-duty cables. “Very high-tech,” she murmured.