Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1) (26 page)

“Did you have any clue what was happening that night?”

“Let me put it this way, by the time I got to Grant, he was already on his way to rehab.”

I could tell by his angry tone it still bothered him. I could also tell he was being careful with his answers. I didn’t blame him one bit. We could both lose our jobs if we weren’t careful. “You think it was planned?”

“Most definitely,” he nodded. “When Grant went down I was in the front of the building dealing with a group of people who’d conveniently lost their tickets and wanted to speak with management.” His eyes met mine before slicing back to the road. “It was well planned.” I fished the pills out of my bag and stared at the label. Dr. A. Reece from a pharmacy called Marlin’s in The Woodlands, Texas prescribed the pills. “Are those the pills?” he asked.

“Can I ask how you got them?”

“Marcel took Blane and the boys over to the hotel that night. He was there when they found the pills. He called me and I showed up right as they were leaving. They were on the way to the medical center to see Grant. Blane was in a hurry, so he shoved them at me and told me to hold on to them.”

“What did Marcel think?”

“He thought it was bullshit. He said as much to Blane, but Blane wouldn’t listen.”

“What are your plans for those?” he asked, nodding at the pills in my hand.

“At first I thought it made sense to go straight to the doctor who prescribed the pills. But then I thought about how I was as an addict, and how I would have done anything for a high. I’m talking anything. The lies I told and the people I bribed just to get my hands on another bottle are too many to count. Trust me when I say the doctor is a dead end. Kirkland has both money and power. I’ll bet my next meal that either he or Blane bribed someone to forge the script.” Flipping the bottle upside down, I shook the pills back and forth and thought about how damned lucky I was to be alive. “They think they can’t get caught, but everyone makes mistakes.” I could tell from his confused expression he wasn’t following, so I broke it down for him. “Oxycodone is a controlled substance, right?” He nodded in understanding as I continued, “Pharmacies have to monitor all controlled substances. They do this in various ways, but no matter what the protocol is, a schedule II narcotic has to be signed for by the person picking up the prescription. Are you still with me?” I waited for his nod before continuing, “Now, we both know that Grant didn’t pick up this prescription, which means that even if it’s Grant’s signature on that page, it’s really not.” His eyes lit up when the lightbulb went on. “Our best case scenario is that we get a name. Hopefully it’s either Blane or Kirkland, but if not, we want it to be a name that leads us straight to them. What we don’t want to see is Grant Hardy’s signature on that page.

“What happens if they signed his name?” Hank asked.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I bet it will require the law to figure it out.”

“You think Kirkland was stupid enough to sign his own name?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“Why make copies of Grant’s medical records?”

“One thing my boss beat into my head is that one is never enough,” I sagely answered. After a second or so waffling around I finally asked the question I really wanted answered, “Why no police? I mean, someone tried to kill him. I don’t know about you, but if someone tried to kill me I would want the police involved.”

“Kirkland put the kibosh on it. He said the label couldn’t handle any bad press right now.”

Of course he did,
I thought. “Do you agree with him?” I was really hoping he’d say no.

His eyes shifted to mine and he scowled. “Hell no. I think Kirkland is covering his ass.”

“Grant said Marcel is working the rehab angle. Do you want me to have another go at Nancy? I’m pretty sure I scared her during our last conversation. I don’t think it will take much for her to break,” I offered.

Hank shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We need to let Marcel handle Nancy.”

“I bet if I told Yolanda – she’s Whitfield’s secretary – that Nancy was stonewalling, she’d be willing to help.”

“Not a good idea,” he sternly repeated. I sensed I was missing something.

“Why don’t you want me helping with the rehab?”

Letting out an exasperated huff, he said, “Grant wasn’t kidding. You don’t let shit go, do you?”

He was trying to evade and I didn’t understand why. Did he question my loyalty? “Seriously, Hank, I can help. Nancy was scared. I bet with the tiniest push she’ll spill the beans. I’ll call her. Or better yet, I could pay her a visit.”

“If you as much as look in Nancy’s direction, Grant will have my job, Mallory.” Realizing he’d said too much, he slammed his hands on the steering wheel and exclaimed, Fuck!”

He’d already tipped his hand, so I went in for the kill. “Why?”

“Drop it,” he warned.

“Not until you tell me why Grant doesn’t want me talking to Nancy.” His lack of response irritated me, and then it hit me. “Oh my God,” I whispered.

He whipped his head around and the Jeep swerved. When his eyes were back on the road, he said, “What?”

“He slept with her, didn’t he?”

“What? No, he just wants to protect you,” he stammered.

“You’re a horrible liar,” I accused.

He scowled. I decided to let it go, but I knew by the look in his eyes that I’d hit the nail on the head. Grant slept with the therapist at the rehab facility. All of the sudden I felt dirty. Thank goodness Hank’s phone rang, because I was pretty sure I was about to break down in tears. For the remainder of the drive I listened to my head phones while he dealt with business. I had myself marginally back together by the time we arrived in Raleigh.

*     *     *

Five hours later,
after a visit to the copy store, an hour or so in the pharmacy, a call from my mother and a call from CiCi, we were back at the hotel and I was in a rotten mood. Our one minor accomplishment of the day was making copies of Grant’s records. The pharmacy was a bust. According to the pharmacist, each state has its own laws regarding prescription drug management. Being that we were in North Carolina and the script was written, filled and picked up in Texas, her hands were tied. She told us the pharmacy in Texas would have a record of who picked up the prescription, but would most likely require that Grant Hardy be there in person to obtain that information. Hank didn’t think a trip to Texas was in the cards for Grant in the foreseeable future, which meant we were stalled, again. I pretended to be busy checking emails while Hank called Grant to tell him about our strike out with the pharmacy. Luckily it went to voicemail and he hung up instead of leaving a message. My mind was working ninety to nothing. No matter how I spun it, I kept returning to the same thought.
Grant slept with Chelle. Grant slept with Nancy. Grant slept with me.
Grant obviously didn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. I was an idiot.

When Marcel stopped by to give me the fifteen minute warning, I told him I had a migraine and wouldn’t be attending the concert. Up to that point I’d been sitting on the sofa in a bath robe with wet hair eating a bowl of banana pudding, which I’d ordered using Grant’s name. I should have made it a steak dinner and a bottle of one of their finest wines. Luckily, Grant was already at the venue. According to Marcel, there was a problem with one of his guitars that needed tending to. I told myself I wasn’t disappointed, but I was. This morning things were good between us. Now, I didn’t know where we stood. Before Grant Hardy I was a secure, stable woman with an amazing job. Now I was a lying floozy who’d do anything for a buck, including sleep with her client.

While blow drying my hair I missed a text from Grant.

Where are you? I’m worried. Please call me.

By the time I saw it, the band was already on stage and I was deep into a show about the psychology behind hoarding.

Sometime in the middle of the night I felt the bed dip and Grant’s warmth envelope me. Instead of kicking him out, like I should have, I selfishly snuggled in and told myself I’d deal with it tomorrow.

I woke to the feel of lips pressed to the back of my neck. Chill bumps sprang up as he moved his way over to my ear and whispered, “Is your headache gone?” Like a splash of cold water, the spell was broken. I stiffened in his arms and he paused and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath and said, “I know about Nancy.” The second I spoke her name his lips and arms were gone. Tears beat at the back of my eyes. I knew if I blinked they would spill down my face and give me away.

“Just what is it you think you know about Nancy?” he quietly asked.

“I know you slept with her.”

“Okaaaay, and this upsets you because?”

Tilting my head so I could see his face, I said, “You’re kidding, right?” His hair was standing on end and he had that sexy five-o’clock shadow that all men got, but few looked good with.

“What do you want me to say? Nancy was a means to an end and nothing more.” He stated this like it was a business transaction.

“And Chelle?” I bit out.

“Chelle was…Chelle,” he shrugged. His flippant answer infuriated me.

Leaning forward, I hissed, “And what am I, Grant? Am I, too, just a means to an end?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes and in a whisper soft voice, he said, “You are special.” The sincerity of his words gripped my heart. “You see me, Mallory Scott, but you don’t realize that I also see you. I see a beautiful, wickedly smart woman who makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. I also see that you are scared, of what I’m not quite sure, but I plan to find out.” I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off, “Look, I’m not a saint and I’m not going to pretend I don’t have a past. We all have pasts. Nancy was a bad idea. I thought I could coax her into telling me things about Whitfield and I was wrong. As for Chelle, she knew the score. She chose to ignore it. That’s on her, not me.” Sliding his hands under my legs, he pulled me closer and touched his mouth to mine. “Now, as for you –”

I didn’t want to hear it. On the coattails of two exceptionally crappy explanations whatever he had to say about us would sound trite. I felt many things for Grant Erwin Hardy but none of them were trite, so before he could get the words out, I placed my hands on his lips and said, “Don’t. You don’t need to define it. In fact, please don’t. Just…let it go, okay?” He studied my face for a minute before relenting and, boy-oh-boy, did he relent, as did I.

An hour later we were in the shower. Grant had me pinned against the wall and I was watching him slowly slide in and out of my body. It was one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced. I wasn’t sure how he had the strength to hold me up and still do the things he was doing and I really didn’t care. With each stroke I could feel my orgasm building. It was going to be bigger and better than the one he’d just given me on the bed.

“Grant,” I gasped.

“You close?” he growled.

“Yes,” I frantically nodded. I could feel the tingles at the base of my spine, so I knew I was seconds away from exploding.

Instead of bringing it home, he slowed down his pace and said, “Good, now tell me you’re mine.”

“What?”

“Tell-me-you’re-mine,” he ground out between painfully slow thrusts. I kicked my heels against his ass in a bucking bronco like fashion and he laughed.

“I was so close,” I whined against his neck.

“Tell me you’re mine and I promise to finish you off.” What he was asking was a big deal. Once the words left my mouth I wouldn’t be able to take them back.

I pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes, and asked, “And are you mine?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“What if I do?” I challenged.

“Then the answer is yes. Now it’s your turn.” Throughout the discussion he’d maintained a steady rhythmic momentum. I was impressed, not to mention incredibly aroused.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath. Then I opened them back up and took the biggest leap of my life. “If you’re mine, then I’m yours.” As promised, he delivered the most amazing orgasm ever.

Later, I told him about my day over burgers. That’s when he let slip about the three day break they had coming between the Pennsylvania and New York shows.

“We can fly to Houston, first. I’ll have someone drop us a car there and we can drive to Austin.”

“Grant, I’d love to but you know I can’t. Take Hank with you. He’ll know how to navigate things with the pharmacist.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m already in enough trouble with Blane. You’re asking me to rub salt in a wound and to expect it not to burn.”

He wrapped his arms around me and said, “Let’s think logically about this. Luke already outed you to Chelle and her friends as my girlfriend. After the Charlotte show we had photographers shooting pictures of us together, remember?” I’d completely forgotten about the photographers. “It’s only a matter of time before the world links us together. I say we use it to our advantage.”

“Your advantage is going to get me fired.”

“Let’s say it does. You were hired to rehabilitate me, right?”

Not sure where he was going, I hesitantly answered, “Yes.”

“Does it matter who you work for as long as you’re successful and your practice gets paid?”

Excitement started to build. “I’m not sure. I’d have to check with CiCi, but I don’t think so.” I flipped around in his arms and stared at him. “You would do that for me?”

“I would.”

“What if you change your mind? What if you meet someone? What if I make you really angry?”

He laughed. “My mind is made up, I only want you and you already make me angry on a regular basis.”

“Why me?”

“Don’t do that,” he angrily replied. “You are the least insecure woman I know, so don’t do…that.”

“There are things you don’t know about me.” I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell him, but I was certainly going to warn him.

“And there are things you don’t know about me. That’s what a relationship is. It’s learning both the good and bad shit about each other, right?” After thinking it over, I realized he was right. If I wanted it, which I did, I was going to have to be okay with it. He was offering me a safety net. I’d be crazy not to jump. I was many things, but crazy wasn’t one of them.