Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1) (31 page)

After Hank gave us the address, we hung up and stared at each other.

“This could be it,” I stated.

“If it’s not, we’ll keep going until we find her, okay?”

“What about Rowan?”

Nash shrugged. “We could drop her by her house on the way back down.”

“No, leave her here. She can help entertain Ava and Mallory.”

Nash quirked a brow at me. “We’re not bringing Mallory along for the ride?”

“That’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” As we made our way back to the kitchen, I explained how I wanted Mallory to take a back seat and why. Nash agreed with me. The less we involved Mallory, the better off she’d be when the shit hit the fan.

After Nash made proper introductions, we explained how we had a lead on a particular guitar we’d been eyeing and were going to go check it out. Rowan agreed to keep Ava company while we were gone. Ava and Rowan could fill Mallory in on our whereabouts when she woke up.

We arrived at Sarah’s house around noon. Hank pulled up right after us. My heart dropped when I got a good look at the house. My first thought was
crack house.
My second wasn’t much better. The house was the size of a shoe box, the paint was peeling off, the windows were cracked and the steps and porch were rotted out. I had no idea what we were going to find, but I was pretty damn sure I wasn’t going to like whatever it was.

“Let me,” Hank said. Nash and I watched him slide his gun from his belt and slowly make his way up the dilapidated stairs and onto the front porch. He knocked on the door. When a minute passed with no answer, he motioned us forward. As Nash and I traversed the front porch and managed to find safe spots to stand, Hank tested the front door to see if it was locked. The door swung open and we all stepped inside. The place smelled like mold and tobacco mixed with something I couldn’t quite identify and didn’t want to think about.

“What the hell is that smell?” Nash whispered behind me. Hank turned and placed his finger over his mouth telling us to be quiet. After searching the front of the house, which took all of two seconds, we found a woman in a bedroom lying face up on a bed. Bottles and loose pills were strung all over the room and it looked as if there’d been a struggle.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

“Is she dead?” Nash asked.

The woman’s hand twitched as we neared the bed and Hank said, “Fuck.” For Hank to curse, I knew it had to be bad. When I saw the needle sticking out of her neck and the reality of the situation smacked me square in the face. As Hank pulled the needle from her neck, her eyes drifted to me. She opened her mouth and Hank turned her on her side. Vomit shot everywhere. When he flipped her back over, she zeroed in on us and softly said, “You came back.”

“Sarah,” Hank called out. Her eyes floated to him and he asked, “Who did this to you?” I jerked my eyes to him. What did he mean who did this to her. Wasn’t it obvious? She was a junkie. She did it to herself.

Her eyes drifted back to Nash and me and she drawled, “Mellllllllltdowwwwwwn.” Then she said something that sounded like, “Happy to help,” but I wasn’t sure. She said Meltdown one more time before passing out.

Hank reached out and placed two fingers on her neck. “I can’t find a pulse. I’m going to administer CPR, while one of you calls 9-1-1.”

“What the hell?” I asked. Hank and Nash both stared at me. “How do we explain this? Nash and I can’t be here, Hank.”

Nash nodded his head in agreement. “Grant’s right. We can’t do this.”

“What? So we let her die?” Hank growled.

“I don’t like this anymore than you do, but talk about a fucking scandal,” I said.

“You’re right,” he finally agreed. As I stared down at what was left of what was probably a once pretty woman, I thought about Mallory and how this could have been her. “Cas, this is Hank, again,” Hank spoke into the phone. “Yeah, we found her, but she’s on her way out unless we get her some immediate medical attention.” He paused for a moment before saying, “And how does that look when two members of Meltdown are connected with a junkie death in the middle of BFE Texas?” After another long pause, he said, “Thanks man, I owe you.” Then he disconnected the call and said, “Let’s go.”

“We’re just leaving her?” Nash asked.

“An ambulance is on its way. If we’re here when it arrives then you’ve got your scandal whether you want it or not,” Hank answered.

On that note, we all filed out the door and hopped in our respective vehicles. Thirty minutes later Hank called to tell us that Cas had called. Sarah Harmon was dead. Once again, we’d hit a dead end. I was fucked.

Run Melba Run

Mallory

I
jerked awake
to the sound of the front door slamming. For a split second I had no idea where I was. Then I remembered last night’s dream – followed by my freak out, which resulted in my hunt through the house for Grant and ended in the best sex of my life. Words were spoken and promises extracted…all under sexual duress.

“Ugh,” I said out loud. Then I flopped back onto the bed and burst into laughter. I felt good, happy, alive – and all because of the man whose bed I was wallowing in. As a tiny kernel of hope sprouted from my once dormant heart, I realized it was no longer accompanied by fear. I didn’t want to over analyze what happened last night or what effect it could have on me twelve years from now. Dwelling on the past had gotten me nowhere. I was ready to face the future – a future with Grant Hardy in it. Speaking of Grant, where was he? I sprang from the bed and floated on cloud nine to the bathroom. Once I was reasonably presentable, I floated downstairs, where I was greeted by Ava and a woman I’d never seen before.

“Good morning,” I called out.

“Mallory, dear, come meet Nash’s friend Rowan,” Ava responded. Grant mentioned Nash stopping by to practice today, but he didn’t say anything about him bringing a friend along. Rowan was sitting on one of the kitchen stools with a cup of coffee in her hands. She had a mane of dark curly hair that I envied on sight. As I closed the distance between us I noticed she also had the most amazing green eyes.
She has to be Irish.

“Hi, Mallory, nice to meet you,” Rowan said as I approached, and I detected a slight accent.
Yep, totally Irish.

“Nice to meet you,” I said as I glanced around the room. “Where are the guys?”

Ava let out a huff and Rowan laughed. “They went into the city to check out a guitar,” Rowan responded.

“Would you like some pancakes?” Ava asked.

Rowan and I helped Ava make the pancakes and we chatted over breakfast like old friends. Rowan was indeed from Ireland, but she and Nash weren’t a couple. She was his mother’s private oncology nurse. Because she was always around, a friendship had developed with Nash.

“I think you’d be good for Nash,” Ava announced.

After Rowan recovered from choking on her coffee, she said, “Nash is a great guy, but he’s a commitment-phobe. That’s the last thing I need in my life right now. Plus, he pays my bills. Dating my boss would be awkward.” The thought of dating Blane, or even worse, Kirkland, gave me the squeegees.

After breakfast, Ava suggested we grab some drinks and head to the pool. As luck would have it Rowan brought along her suit. Ava was kind enough to provide us with fresh towels and drinks.

While Soundgarden’s
Rusty Cage
played in the background, Rowan and I floated aimlessly on our rafts and discussed the differences between living in Ireland and America. A loud banging noise startled us and we turned to see three extremely hot men in their swim trunks as they erupted from a downstairs door. The second they saw us they started running for the pool. Whoops and shouts were followed by a series of cannonballs and the next thing I knew I was under my raft instead of on top. When I came up for air, Grant had confiscated my raft, Nash was wrestling Rowan for hers and Hank was standing on the sidelines laughing like a goof. With an evil grin on my face, I splashed water all over him, which resulted in him exacting payback in the form of a serious game of splash and dunk.

The five of us spent the next few hours horsing around. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun. When Nash and Grant went in to practice, Hank, Rowan and I floated on floats while Hank regaled us with funny Meltdown stories.

That night Ava made spaghetti. After dinner, we said our goodbyes to Rowan, and Nash drove her home. I made a mental note to grill Nash about her later. Ava took off shortly after Nash and Hank conveniently disappeared into one of the downstairs bedrooms.

As Grant and I settled back on the sofa, I watched him take a sip of his beer and contemplated how to approach what had been on my mind all day. Finally, I just went for it. “This morning’s trip with Nash and Hank wasn’t about a guitar, was it?” I felt his body tense right before he launched into a coughing fit.

After giving him a few hearty back slaps, he said, “What are you, a fucking mind reader?”

“No, but I can tell when you’re lying.” With a scowl and a huff, he told me about the trip to Brenham and what they found when they got there.

Shock followed by hurt and then anger seared through me. “Why didn’t you wake me? I thought we were in this together.”

“We didn’t know what we were going to find. Not only that, but you’ve already risked so much,” he answered. I could tell by his expression that he was uncomfortable. Good, I hope he was. He should have included me.

“We’re in this together,” I repeated.

“We are, and I promise to keep you updated on everything that happens, but I’m not going to let you compromise your job any longer.”

I heard what he was saying and even understood why he was saying it, but I disagreed. “It’s my job to compromise, not yours,” I argued.

“Yes, and it’s a job you’ve worked your ass off for and would like to keep, right?”

He had a point. “Well, yes, but –”

“Then let me help you keep it.” He ran his hands through my hair and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’m not cutting you out. I’m simply protecting you from any backlash, okay?” God, but he was sweet. I let out a loud sigh and he knew he had me.

“So, she’s dead,” I stated.

He dropped his head back onto the sofa and sighed. “It was awful.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Grant lifted his head and, as I stared into his eyes, I could tell we were thinking the same thing. “Was it a suicide?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He then told me they’d spoken with Chaz and Luke on the way back from Brenham and all four agreed to table all talk of what happened in Houston until after New York. I agreed whole heartedly with their decision.

We sat there for a long time staring out into the night. Not able to stand the silence any longer, I whispered, “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Grant said. He wrapped his arms around me and the reality of the situation sank in. Sarah was our link to the person who tried to hurt Grant and now she was dead. Where did we go from here?

*     *     *

New York

The flight to
New York was a quiet one. The disappointment of Sarah’s death was weighing heavily on us all, but especially on Grant. Hank told us he’d spoken with Cas and, as of this moment, the police were calling Sarah’s death an accidental overdose. At least one positive came from her death. Grant finally decided to hire Cas’s firm, LASH, to conduct a covert investigation in order to see if they could be more successful than we’d been in finding out who drugged Grant and why. I wasn’t sure what they would do, but it wouldn’t be hard to have more luck than we’d had and at least now there was finally someone professional looking into it on a consistent basis.

Grant warned me that New York was going to be crazy, but I had no idea what he was talking about. That is, until we pulled onto the street where our hotel was located and I saw a giant crowd of people milling about. Whistles blew as policemen attempted to corral the fans.

As Hank rolled down his window to speak with a policeman, someone spotted Grant in the back seat.

“Grant! I see Grant!” they shouted, and the crowd went ballistic.

“Who else is with him?” another person called out.

The car was suddenly surrounded by shrieking fans. Faces pressed against the windows and all I could think was,
thank goodness the windows are tinted.
While the police tried to regain control of the crowd, we slowly moved down the crowded street toward the front of our hotel. Hands slapped the side of the car as people cheered us on.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Welcome to New York,” Grant said.

Nash, who was sitting in the front seat, let out a hoot of excitement. He jerked his head around to look at Grant. “Do you see this? It’s fucking amazing. This is what we’ve been waiting for, bro. This is our moment.” Nash raised his fist. Grant’s face broke into an earsplitting grin and he responded by slamming his fist into Nash’s. They seemed thrilled. I was not. I was scared out of my mind.

Screams, camera flashes and police whistles were accompanied by Hank’s explicit instructions. “In three minutes our team will be in place. Nash, I want you to crawl into the back seat. When I give the go ahead, Grant’s door will open and everyone will slide out. Our team, as well as a police escort, will usher you into the hotel. The lobby has been cleared for the next fifteen minutes. You have approximately half an hour to get settled in your suites before you’re due in the downstairs conference room for an all hands meeting.” My eyes shot to Grant, but he was busy staring at the crowd. I wondered if Kirkland would be there.