Her Forbidden Hero (5 page)

“Oh, no, my fault,” Alyssa said. “Here.” She held the door open for him, noticing for the first time how tall he was.

He smiled as he passed by. “Someone got some sun.”

“Beautiful day. I couldn’t spend it all inside, now, could I?”

“Nope,” he called as he heaved the bags into the Dumpster. He dusted off his hands and brushed his brown hair back off his face. “You here early?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to Pete for a minute before things get busy.” They headed inside, the air-conditioning soothing Alyssa’s warmed skin as the door closed behind them.

“I think he’s in his office.” Eric paused at the door to the kitchen. “But, hey, if you have time, stop back by in half an hour or so. Pete asked me to show you how we set up the spread in the green room. We need to get done in there before the band arrives.”

Alyssa nodded, excited to see that space. Yesterday, the band had arrived early, so Pete had skipped it during her tour. “Would love to. Thanks, Eric.”

He winked. “You bet, Scotty.”

Alyssa groaned. “Oh, no. Tell me you’re not a Trekky. The ‘beam me up’ jokes aren’t coming next, right?”

His expression froze, amusement mixed with uncertainty. Truth be told, Eric was a cute guy. Not breathtaking like Marco, but he wore a smile and a pair of jeans nicely enough. And even though he seemed a little shy, he was funny.

Alyssa burst out laughing at his deer-in-the-headlights imitation and started down the hall. “What is it with boys and
Star Trek
anyway?”

“James T. Kirk was a god among men,” he called after her.

“Oh my God. Your inner geek is safe with me.” She threw him a smile as she turned down the next hall.

And crashed right into Marco. She squeaked as her body collided with his from hips to nose. His arms came around her back, steadying her while she regained her footing. Her apology died in her throat as his scent and heat and touch overwhelmed her.

He nearly jumped away from her. “You’re here early.”

Was she having déjà vu? It was running into Eric all over again, although Eric had sounded way happier about seeing her than Marco did. She shrugged, finding it hard to focus on words when the black button-down he wore emphasized the broad expanse of his chest and the bulk of his arm muscle underneath the rolled cuff. “Just wanted to be prepared,” she finally managed.

He pressed his lips into a line and shifted his feet. His gaze made a quick scan from her toes back to her eyes, and her body came alive, stomach flipping, heart tripping over itself.

Damn, if a simple glance—and a scowl, at that—could elicit such a strong reaction, imagine what it would feel like if he ever looked at her with lust, or love. She shivered. “Well, uh…” She stepped past Marco. “I’m gonna go drop off my stuff.”

“You do that,” he said in a low voice.

What the hell? She’d let yesterday’s gruffness go unexplained, but no way she was accepting this—whatever it was—as their new normal. She turned back to him. His blue eyes went wide, and it drew her attention to the dark circles under them. Something was wrong.
Really
wrong. The memory of the enormous sadness that had swamped her as they stood in this same hallway last night returned. She stepped up to him and had to tilt her head back to meet his wary gaze—it was the only way she could describe how he was looking at her—but she couldn’t help herself.

Slowly, she reached up and cupped his cheek, her fingers extending into the soft edge of his dark hair. She brushed her thumb once, twice over those worrisome dark shadows. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

His gaze bored into hers, so pained, so intense, she struggled to resist averting her eyes.

Marco grabbed her hand and pulled it away. For a long moment, he gripped her fist between their chests. Expressions she couldn’t read played across his face, which was as troubled as it was gorgeous.

“You could tell me,” she said.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting.

Alyssa nodded.

“And why would you understand?”

Alyssa’s stomach dropped. For all the world, she didn’t know why this suddenly felt like a test, but it did. “Because I’m your friend.”
And because I love you
. It took everything she had to hold in those words. Only the feeling it would be a monumental mistake to say them now gave her restraint.

Van rounded the corner. “Hey, guys.” His expression darkened, then turned into an outright grimace as he glared at Marco’s grip on her hand. “You all right, Alyssa?”

Marco released her and she said, “Yes, of course.”

Then Marco was gone, disappeared around the corner from where she’d come moments before. From down the hall, there was a
thump
against the back door as if it had been punched open. A moment later, the
click
of it shutting echoed just loudly enough for her to hear.

What just happened?

All at once, she became aware of Van staring at her. She attempted a small smile and continued down the hall to the locker room.

He followed and entered right behind her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked as he worked at his combination.

She opened a locker and dropped in her purse. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Van slipped into his chef’s jacket but left it unbuttoned over a white T-shirt, then ran a hand over his spiky blond hair. “Look, Alyssa, you mind a little unsolicited advice?”

Her belly squeezed with dread. She secured her lock and turned to face him. “I suppose not.”

He crossed his arms. “You might want to stay away from Marco Vieri.”

“What?”

“Guy’s got a quick temper and a loner complex a mile wide.”

Alyssa shook her head, unable to find words. She’d never heard a less likely description of Marco in her life, despite how uneasy their conversations had been. Frowning, she opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

“Look, it’s your life. And no doubt he’s a hero ten times over.” Van’s face softened, like he regretted his next words. “But I’m telling you, not everybody comes back from war…right.”

Her throat went tight, her gut dropping to the floor and the room doing a little spin around her. “You’re wrong,” she managed to say, but was he really?

Van frowned. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped.” He looked at her for a long moment, then left.

Alyssa shuffled over to the world’s ugliest blue couch—clearly a used piece donated to the cause—and sat heavily, her hands falling loosely into her lap.
What’s going on, Marco?
The uncomfortable, forced conversations, the dark circles under his eyes, the anger she felt roiling under the surface… Her first urge was to call Brady. Not that she could, or would. But after all Marco had done for them, the idea he was in trouble or in any way hurting made her insides vibrate with the need to help him, comfort him, just be there in case she could do the littlest thing for him.

“Hey, there you are,” came a voice from the doorway.She looked up and found Eric leaning in around the jamb, a bright smile on his face. “You ready to help me?”

Had it been a half hour already? Crap. She’d never managed to make her way to Pete, but she supposed she could do that later. Maybe helping with this would clear her mind and allow her to figure out what to do. “Uh, sure.” She pushed off the couch.

“Did you remember to punch in?”

“Oh. No.” She looked to the table beside the door, where an ancient beast of a time machine sat below a rack of cards. “Pete didn’t have a card for me yesterday.” But it was there today. Alyssa pulled it from its slot and held it above the machine. She’d never used one of the old punch machines before. “Like this?”

“Here,” Eric said, grasping the card. His fingers brushed hers and Alyssa tensed. Eric was attractive. Nice. Uncomplicated. Yet her body didn’t warm to his touch even a little. She couldn’t help but compare that with the head-spinning adrenaline rush touching Marco elicited. “Turn it this way. Then slide it in and the machine stamps it.”

She did as he instructed. The machine made a loud
clack
ing noise, and then she returned the card to the slot. “Thanks.”

“No worries. Come on.”

Eric went down the hall to the right with a three-tiered metal cart, but Alyssa’s gaze strayed to the left. Was Van right? She’d just assumed Marco would always be Marco, no matter what. Guilt washed over her and she shuddered. How had she not at least considered what he’d gone through?

Hustling to catch up with Eric, Alyssa resolved to keep an eye on Marco. She swore he’d been about to say more before Van interrupted. Maybe she could pull him aside later and finish their conversation.

Two facing doors flanked the next hallway, and at the end was a set of black double doors with big signs reading
Quiet—Stage
on each. Pete had shown Alyssa the equipment room on the right yesterday. Eric pushed into the room on the left, the green room, and she followed. The lights automatically came on overhead.

“Hey, this is pretty nice,” she said. It was twice the size of the lounge and had much nicer furniture—two plush couches sitting perpendicular with a large square coffee table in front of them, a double-wide set of dressing tables with lighted mirrors, and a long table with chairs. A little nook featured a small bar with a full-size refrigerator.

“Yeah, not bad.” Eric lit the Sterno pots under the chafing dishes.

“What’s back there?” she asked, pointing down a tiled corridor.

“Couple of dressing rooms and bathrooms. Have a look if you want.”

Like in the main room, the lights turned on as she explored first the hallway, then two full bathrooms and two dressing rooms with lighted vanity tables and couches like the ones out front. Wow, this was way nicer than the hotel she’d stayed at, though hopefully not better than whatever apartment she’d ultimately rent. Alyssa smiled to herself at the thought and returned to the main room.

Eric was loading water bottles and soda into the fridge. He smiled as he passed her, hands full. “You could almost live in here, huh?”

She did another scan around the room. “Pretty much. So, what can I do to help?”

“Let’s get the food started first.”

Once the water in the pans heated, Eric dropped in large trays of appetizers, pasta, barbecued ribs, and chicken. Meanwhile, she set out several cold salads, the plates, and silverware.

When they were done, Eric picked up a pile of papers. “Pete said you hoped to eventually work on the event side of the house, so let me show you this.”

Alyssa came around the table and peered down at the sheet in his hands. Checkmarks preceded each entry on a long list.

“Pete places a lot of emphasis on keeping the bands happy,” Eric continued. “All the special requests they make are on this spec sheet. It’s very important to double-check it before they arrive. You need to go down line by line and make sure nothing got skipped. Sometimes they ask for some weird shit.”

Alyssa chuckled.

He cast her an embarrassed glance. “Oh, man, sorry about that.”

“No need. My brother’s in the army. I’ve heard worse. Trust me.”

“Oh, yeah? Over in Iraq?”

“More Afghanistan, I think. He’s Special Forces, so I never really know.”

Eric paused in the middle of his checklist. “Hey, I think Vieri was Special Forces, too.”

“Yeah. He was. He and my brother were on the same A-team.”

His gaze narrowed. “Did you know him before you worked here?”

“Marco? Yeah. Most of my life.”

Eric made a noise low in his throat as he busied himself with gathering lids and trash. “I think we’re all set. Band will be here in twenty minutes, so we should clear out. Any questions?”

Oookay.
First Van’s warning, now Eric’s weirdness. Her heart felt heavy that these men had such a jaded view of Marco. Maybe she really
didn’t
know him anymore. The thought created a sharp emptiness in Alyssa’s chest. She followed Eric and the cart out the door. “Who cleans that up at the end of the night?”

He grimaced. “Whoever draws the short straw.”

“Seriously?”

“Not exactly, but that room’s often trashed by the time the acts clear out, so it’s no one’s favorite job. Pete gives whoever does it a bonus, though, so that helps.”

“Could I do it sometime?”

Eric frowned. “Why would you want to?”

“I’m trying to save up for an apartment. I’m not above cleaning up after a party to make a little extra money.”