“You’re sure no one on staff had any issues with you or with the business?”
“Yes.” The single word was barked out louder than she intended. It felt good to let her impotence leak out in the shout, and she didn’t try and reel herself back in. “I already told this to the last guy. And the lady before him. I’m sick of fucking telling you people this. I just want you to finish and get the hell out of here, so I can clean up. So I can get back to work. So I know I’m not in any danger—” Her voice cracked on the last sentence, and she clenched her hand to keep the anger from becoming a sob.
She sank back into her chair and drew in a shaky breath. “I just… Are we done yet?”
The man wouldn’t meet her eyes. He pocketed the tablet he’d been using to record the conversation, and stood. “Almost. You can stay here, if you’d prefer. We’ll let you know when we clear out.
She buried her face in her hands, even before he left the room. The insurance would pay for the damage. She wasn’t worried about that. They’d have an appraiser over, as soon as the police left. The news studio that had had to cancel two days in a row was furious, but at this point, she didn’t care if they never rescheduled.
But the violation. The doubt. This studio was her baby. Every inch of her ached with the thought someone she knew might have done this. It was almost worse than if they’d just broken into her home. That was just where she slept. This was what she’d built. Her frame shook, as she swallowed back a sob, and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep from breaking while the place was still buzzing.
“Oh God, Zee.” Quinn’s voice wormed its way through the bedlam in her head. He covered her hands with his calloused palms, his touch warm and comforting. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry.”
Another impulse to fall against him filled her. To drop from her chair, land in his lap, and just disappear in the comfort for a few minutes. He’d always been incredible at that while they dated. Chasing away her stress. Reminding her it was all going to be okay.
But that wasn’t what they were to each other anymore, and now would be about the worst time possible to convince herself otherwise. She rubbed her face, grateful no tears had fallen yet, and fixed her gaze on him. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I saw the walls in the lobby.”
She rolled her chair back enough to take herself away from his reach. Something inside snapped, when she broke the contact between them. She obliterated another rush of frustration, before it could consume her. “Just some asshole, right? We’ll take care of it.”
His jaw clenched, and he stood. “I suppose.”
She forced herself to her feet as well, and nodded toward the exit. “Are they done talking to you?”
“They said they might call me for more, but they have all they need for now.” He reached for her.
She stayed out of his grasp. “Glad to hear it.” A new thought entered her mind, and she hated her brain for dragging this up now. Why couldn’t she just let him leave, and pretend she’d been too frazzled to question his original motives? But now the doubt was in her head, she had to know. “Do you want to schedule some time to come back with the entire band? To film?”
He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked away. “We’ll see how the tour schedule goes. Let me know when things are back up to par here, and we’ll work it out.”
Damn it. A new flavor of angry hurt surfaced. At least it was a distraction from the mess around her. “Did you even plan on booking time here? Or was that just bullshit?”
He finally locked his gaze on hers again, a storm raging in his eyes. “We really do want the studio. I’m here alone because I wanted to make things right with you.”
She wouldn’t let the words affect her. Couldn’t. “You could have just said so.”
“Would you have made time?”
The question dug deep. She knew he was twisting the conversation. This was just like back then. Turning the blame back on her for overreacting. Refusing to say what was actually on his mind. What he was feeling.
She couldn’t do this right now.
She didn’t have much composure left, but grabbing it from deep inside and pulling it to the surface was comforting. It numbed the doubt and blanketed the helplessness. “I’m sorry we couldn’t work something out, Mr. Blaydes. Maybe next time.” Her voice was cool, even to her own ears, and she let herself believe she meant it.
“Lover, please.”
“Don’t call me that.” Ice coated her words. She nudged him toward the exit. More turmoil boiled inside when she saw the fans starting to gather beyond the police lines again. Had one of them done this? Was one of her staff wishing they were out there with the girls? “Enjoy your flight out.”
He fixed another hard gaze on her, eyes searching her face. She stared back blankly, keeping her expression impassive.
“I will. Thanks.” His frigid tone shifted to match hers. Seconds later, he was strolling out the front door, toward a waiting car. He nodded at two women—girls?—in the growing crowd.
Their squeals pierced Roz’s eardrums, as they fell into step beside him, one hanging off each of his arms.
Truth crashed in around her. She had just done everything she hated him for. Swallowed her feelings. Bit back the one chance to be honest with him and herself. Destroyed maybe her only chance to tell Quinn she still loved him, for fear of rejection. She sank onto the arm of a nearby sofa, clinging like mad to any composure she had left. She failed to stop the tears from leaking from her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.
Chapter Eight
“I’m not going with you.”
Quinn stared back at Roz. The words had reached his ears clearly, but he had to have heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”
“On tour.” Her every syllable was clear and measured. “I’m not going with you.”
Panic clawed his brain, and he smothered it with confidence. He had this under control. “Long distance is going to be tough. We’ll have to go months without seeing each other.” His mouth kept talking, even though part of him knew he should have stopped there. “There will be a lot of other girls on the road.”
A scowl set in. “I’m sure there will be.” The uncertainty was gone from her voice, replaced with a sharp edge. “And I’m sure now you’re single, you’ll have lots of fun getting to know each and every one of them.”
Single? “Zee… Rosalie, we’re not breaking up.”
She gave a short, cold laugh. “Yeah, lover, we are. Goodbye.”
Quinn lay on his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. Every time he tried to grasp a thought, it flitted away. He’d led the girls from Roz’s studio as far as the hotel lobby, signed photos on their phones, and sent them on their way. That had been almost twelve hours ago.
What was wrong with him? He couldn’t get her face out of his mind. Memories of her head on pillow, long, black locks spilling out around her laughing face. The sound of her gasps from lunch the other day—short, desperate, intense.
Was it even possible to love someone so much?
Love? What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t fall in love. Sure, they’d fit perfectly together three years ago, but even if she’d gone on tour with him back then, it wouldn’t have lasted. He cared about her, but love?
Except, every time the word repeated in his head, it felt more and more right, and at the same time completely terrifying. Love meant commitment, and surrendering part of himself. Of his life. Of freedom.
So why did it sound so appealing?
His phone hadn’t been at the studio. Given the circumstances, it was possible it had been stolen, according to the police, and he wouldn’t have a new one until tomorrow. They’d also asked him if he could stay in town another day or two, in case they needed him to ID someone or answer more questions. He’d originally planned on it anyway, so he agreed.
But that meant he was stuck alone with his thoughts, no real access to funds until his replacement phone came in tomorrow, and no desire to stare at
the walls any longer.
He snarled at the empty room, and left it behind him. It was late enough, the elevator and hotel lobby were almost empty. He stepped through the revolving doors, and a wash of rain slammed into him, drenching him almost immediately. He didn’t care. Being soaked didn’t register on his scale of thoughts worth clinging to at the moment. Besides, it was another thing he loved about Emerald City—frequent summer showers.
He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to walk. He listened to the patter of drops as it mingled with the sounds of night time traffic and the stomping of his feet hitting the sidewalk. Every time he tried to redirect his thoughts—to their upcoming tour, to new songs they’d been working on, to anything—his mind rebelled and drifted back to Roz.
He passed a Mag-Bus stop, sign proclaiming all rides within city limits were free. Might as well. It had nothing to do with the fact the line ran past Roz’s studio. Going back to the hotel wasn’t appealing, and his jeans couldn’t hold any more water. Fortunately, the car he hopped onto was almost empty. A couple of teenage boys huddled in back, laughing and pointing at something on their phones. An older woman sat at the other end, head bowed and glasses in place, so he couldn’t tell if she was reading or sleeping.
The scenery passed, buildings becoming less commercial and more industrial. Every muscle in his body tensed, as they drew closer to the point of his fixation. He pushed the button to get off at the next stop, and moments later stepped back into the pouring rain. He should have been surprised or upset, or something, that he’d dragged himself to Roz’s studio again.
But the only emotion he could find was disappointment. It wasn’t like she was going to be around so late at night. The front door was boarded with security grade plexi-board, the blacked-out temporary fix blocking all light and not allowing a glimpse of inside.
He turned away. Damn it.
“Quinn?” Her soft question pushed back all his meandering thoughts, until it was the only thing left in his head.
“Zee.” He whirled. She stood a few feet back, just outside the door, rain drenching and suctioning her clothes to her. Dark circles lined her pinched face, but she was the most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen. He held himself back when she crossed her arms. “Why are you working so late?” he asked.
“Apparently the world didn’t stop just because the office got trashed. I lost half a workday dealing with the cops this morning.” Her voice was strained. She licked her lips. “What’s your excuse?”
Instinct pushed a vague, arrogance-filled answer to the tip of his tongue, and he let it slide out before he could consider it. “I just wanted to walk in the rain, you know?”
She took a step back. “Right.”
He couldn’t do this. It was time to stop being a coward about his feelings for her. “No, it’s not right. It’s not even true. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Her expression didn’t soften, and her mouth stayed snapped shut. Hard eyes stared back at him.
“I’m sorry. For not being honest about why I’m here. For every time I lied to myself about how I felt. About hurting you.” But this wasn’t all. He’d come to her to show her what she’d been missing out on, yet he’d come to realize he was the one at a loss. Nothing mattered without her. Not the fame. Not the money. “I love you, Zee.” The words were easier to push out than he thought.
“Fuck you.” Her words echoed in the rain. “You can’t do that.” Was that a tremor in her voice? “Over and over again, you’ve given up your right to tell me what you feel. It’s too late.”
He wanted to argue. Plead. Cajole. Seduce. None of those was the answer, though. “It’s true I don’t deserve to weigh you down like that. Do you want me to take it back? I’ll still mean it either way.”
“This isn’t fair, Quinn.” She unfolded her arms and stepped closer, the clouds in her expression darker than the ones blocking out the moon. “Why couldn’t you give me this when I asked for it? It’s too late now. Our lives don’t intersect anymore, and I’m grateful. I’m glad you left. My life is better this way. I never would’ve become anything, if I’d stayed by your side.”
Every one of her words dug deeper, and for one of the only times he could remember, he didn’t have an argument for her.
“So take it back or don’t.” Her chin quivered. “I don’t care. We lost our chance.” Her head dropped, and seconds later, her body started to shake. She wrapped her arms around herself, and quiet sobs filtered to his ears.
His chest clenched at the sight, until he thought his ribs might crack. Something flashed in his mind to walk away; she’d given him her answer. He ground out the thought, and finally let his instinct take control of his actions. In a few short strides, he closed the distance between them, and wrapped his arms around her. He expected her to push him away, but she sank into his grip, tears shaking her body.
“I’m so sorry.” His lips moved against her hair. The pouring rain drowned out the rest of the world, and if he dove into the moment, he could pretend they were the only two people who existed. She was so warm, pressed against him. So fragile. “I was terrified of what it meant. You have every right to be mad, but I still love you.”
Her response was another sob. Her fists clenched bits of his T-shirt, and she leaned into him more. He held her, running his fingers through her hair, until her cries became short hiccups for breath.
She didn’t look up when she spoke. Though his shirt muffled the words, he heard them as loud and clear as anything. “I love you, too.”
He tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him. Even with red-rimmed eyes, storm mingling with her grief, she was still gorgeous. He brushed his lips over hers, memorizing the taste of salt and rain and her.
Her hands slid to the back of his neck, and she held his head in place, and crushed against him with a hungry kiss. Every inch of him flared to life, and he held her captive. He pushed his tongue hungrily into her mouth. Every time she whimpered and slid against him, his cock got harder. It had been good in the past, but it had never been like this.
The whir of a laser pistol winding up filled the parking lot, and something hard pressed into his temple.
Chuck’s low growl reached Quinn’s ears. “Get the fuck away from her.”
Chapter Nine
Roz’s stomach plummeted into her shoes, and her head swam, dizzy with the ups and downs of the day. “What are you doing, Chuck?” She tried to keep her tone light, hoping this was all a joke.
“Don’t worry. He won’t hurt you again.” Chuck glanced in her direction for less than a second, before turning back to Quinn, who had stepped away, hands held at head-height.
One of Quinn’s hands twitched, and Chuck gave him his full attention. “Don’t move.”
Roz swayed on her feet, trying to process the moment on top of everything else. It didn’t make sense. Stepping into a world with flying monkeys and munchkins would have been less disorienting. “He wasn’t hurting me.”
Chuck’s laugh was hollow. “Have you ever listened to yourself? For real? I have, since I started working here. Every time his name comes up. Worst case of Stockholm syndrome ever.”
The term rolled over Roz, pushing her further into the surreal. “What the hell are you talking about? Do you even know what that means?”
“Think about it.” Chuck never looked at her, gun hand steady and gaze on Quinn. “Even if he never hit you, you’ve never gotten over his manipulative, psychological abuse. He’s been holding you captive even though you thought you’d left him. I’ve tried to talk you out of it. Show you what you’re missing. You still didn’t listen. Even after I threatened his life, tried to distract you to keep you apart. You still went back to him.”
She was going to be sick. Betrayal throbbed behind her eyes. Chuck had done this. The vandalism, the destroyed machinery… Death threats against Quinn? She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, but couldn’t get rid of the burn on the back of her tongue.
“I’m tired
of hinting. It’s time to be direct.” He waved the gun at Quinn. “Don’t touch her again. Ever. Or I’ll kill you.”
Quinn roared and lunged, and Chuck fired at the pavement. Chunks of plas-crete fractured through the air, and the burning plastic smell mingled with the downpour. “Don’t,” Chuck said. “If your life doesn’t matter, I know what does.”
He pulled the trigger again, and Quinn’s howl split the night. Roz’s scream caught in her throat, choking her when he dropped to the ground, clutching his right hand. Her heart started beating again, pulse racing through her veins at full speed when she saw Quinn was still alive.
“You fucking asshole.” Quinn’s voice was ragged. “I’ll show you pain.”
God, she couldn’t let this happen. What was she supposed to do? “Chuck.” She forced her voice to stay steady, defying her rampant terror. “Chuck,” she said again.
“What?”
“You’re right.” She didn’t care that it was a lie. How badly was Quinn hurt? She needed to get him help. She had to do something to distract Chuck. “I was confused. You’ve always been there for me.”
“Nice.” Chuck kept the pistol trained on Quinn, but gave her half his attention. “Really pathetic, but cute. I don’t want you to fall into my arms and profess your love. I just want you to stay away from this bozo.”
She couldn’t say more—she didn’t trust herself to speak. She stepped closer, encouraged when he didn’t back away. Forcing the last of her hesitation aside, she rose on her toes, and kissed Chuck. The action repulsed her, but he was distracted, even if it was by hesitation. It was what she needed. She grabbed his bottom lip between her teeth and bit hard and fast.
“Fucking bitch.” He jerked away, and backhanded her with his pistol hand. The impact cracked into the night, and she staggered back, falling to her ass. Her vision swam in front of her. How much of the damp on her face was his blood? Hers? Just rain?
His Rock & Roll Girl (Emerald City #2) Page 4