Love Rock'ollection: The Brutal Strength Rock Star Trilogy, books 1-3 (48 page)

“I swear, Daughter. If you’re lying to me,” he threatened, pressing the cold barrel of the pistol to her temple.

“She’s not. I promise you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “She’s back in Texas.”

He let out a vulgar obscenity, his breath hot against her cheek. “Then I’ll just have to give her a reason to come to me.”

Those were the final words Sam heard before the world dissolved in exploding pain.

“YOU SELFISH PRICK!” Marcus shouted. “I can’t believe you. You are a total embarrassment.”

“Marcus,” Avery said, putting her hand on his arm. “Calm down. It’ll be ok.”

“Sorry, Ace.” Marcus looked down at Avery’s hand and back into her beautiful emerald eyes. He took a deep breath and pulled fistfuls of hair through his hands before he glanced at JR. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve pulled some ridiculous shit before, but this beats it all. We’ll be lucky if Sam doesn’t sue your ass and the band for slander.”

Danny had heard enough. He slinked away from the door where he’d been eavesdropping, a satisfied smile creeping across his face. Determinedly making his way through the convoluted corridors on the conference level of the hotel, he squeezed into the packed elevator. “Lobby, please,” he told the man standing closest to the control panel. After exiting, a quick stroll across the opulent marble foyer brought him to a deserted lounge. A half wall partition separated it from the rest of the lobby. This was a good place. He ducked inside while hitting redial on his cell.

“Hey, Honey. I just gotta thank you for helping me out with the shower thing the other day…Yeah, it worked like a charm. Better than I could have imagined. JR was so convinced that Sam and I did the nasty that he called her out on it at the press conference. The bastard’s totally being raked across the coals now. JR’s finally getting his arrogant ass taken down a notch or two. It’s beyond priceless.”

A flash of long blond hair out in the lobby caught his attention. The supermodel.
Hell, yeah
. “I gotta go,” he said abruptly. “Something just came up.”

Fred popped up from behind the bar like a jack in the box, the phonebook he’d been searching for completely forgotten. Watching Danny’s retreating form, his expression was grim.
Holy smokes
.
What a soap opera.
He needed to find a representative of Brutal Strength in a hurry. Straightening his tie, he took the elevator back upstairs. As the doors opened, he spotted Beth walking down the hall. “Ms. Tate,” he called out.

Beth turned around. “Yes,” she said curtly.

“Fred Baron,” he said, sticking out his hand. “President of the Official, Official Brutal Strength Fan Club.”

“Yes, yes.” Beth nodded. “I know who you are. But I can’t talk right now. I’ve got a bit of a situation on my hands…”

“I know.” Fred cut her off. “It’s about that. I think I have some news you might want to hear.” He dutifully relayed the details of the conversation he’d just overheard.

“Fred, thank you so much,” Beth said, grabbing his arm, impulsively pulling him in for a hug. “You’ve just confirmed what we suspected. You are a true fan and a real gentleman. BS owes you big time.”

“Don’t mention it,” Fred said with a shrug. “I love those guys. I’m just glad I could help. I would do anything for them.”

“I’m gonna take you up on that. Follow me.” She led him at a jog to the smaller room where the band had gathered after the press conference had broken up. As they burst in, all eyes turned toward them.

“I just came down from Sam’s room.” Beth’s tone was terse. “JR how could you? The girl is devastated… utterly devastated by the way you treated her. I can’t believe you would say something like that to any woman, especially her, let alone at a press conference for the whole world to hear.”

JR opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it as Beth held up her hand. “You really screwed up. And there’s something you need to hear before this goes any further.” She glanced over her shoulder, and nodded for Fred to come forward. “It’s going to take a lot of groveling for you to walk this one back.”

As Fred filled everyone in on what he’d heard, JR groaned. He immediately dropped into a chair with his head in his hands. Avery went and knelt beside him, glancing up at Marcus with a helpless expression.

“Can I talk to you for a minute,” Mary asked Beth in a low voice. “In private?”

“Sure.” Beth nodded, and they exited the meeting room together. Outside the door, Mary turned to Beth with a look of concern. “I realize this is a colossal cluster, but I know you can fix it.”

“Sure, Mary. I’ll just wave my magic wand. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Mary raised a manicured brow at the atypical sarcasm from her second in command.

“Sorry.” Beth sighed. “As you know, it’s been a day.” She pulled down on the hem of her suit jacket and straightened her shoulders. “I’ll take care of it. Business as usual at Black Cat, right?”

“Not quite,” Mary said, putting her hand on her friend’s arm. “But I have a tremendous amount of faith in you. Well placed, I may add.” She glanced down at her watch. “I need to talk to Sam. I’ll leave you down here to work out the details with the band.”

“STOP DISTRACTING ME, woman!” Chris laughed as Sara made a face and stuck her chest out at him and wiggled her boobs. He glanced back at the road just in time to keep from crashing into the median. “I shouldn’t have told you how good you look in those tight western shirts,” he muttered.

She giggled like a school girl. It was such a novel sound he could hardly believe he’d just heard it. His lips curved up into a smile.

She arched a brow.

“Sara Daniels, you’ve already got your hooks into me and good. Stop being so damn cute. I’m trying to drive here.”

She apparently thought that sounded like a challenge that was too tempting to resist. She leaned over the console, placed her lips on his neck, and left a long lingering tongue tracing kiss below his ear.

“Ughh, woman.” He gave her a heated look before jerking the steering wheel to bring the car back into the correct lane.

She smiled.

“You’ll be the death of me… of both of us if you keep doing stuff like that. You told me you’re already gonna be late for your sound check. Let me drive. You can do your concert thing, which I’m looking forward to seeing by the way. Then it’s just you and me babe, and we’ll see who’s best at distracting whom.”

“Ok. I’ll behave.” She winked. “For now.” She settled back in her seat, grinned, and sat on her hands.

When they arrived at Billy Bob’s, Chris was a little underwhelmed at first. The building was rather generic with adobe beige walls and a low roof. Knowing its larger than life reputation as a make or break venue for everyone from Willie Nelson to Jason Aldean, he’d expected it to be more impressive.

Several interconnecting parking lots surrounded the place. He parked the rental car in the lot closest to the building. Entering through the nondescript side door, the first thing he noticed was the smell of cow manure and hay. His lip twitched as he followed Sara past an indoor arena. Only in Texas would they have competitive bull riding in a bar.

It took a couple of minutes for his eyes to fully adjust to the dim lighting inside the world famous honky tonk. He was surprised by how much room there was inside. Parquet wood floors stretched out at least a hundred yards in each direction. Long wooden bars lined the outer walls and smaller rectangular ones held positions of prominence toward the center. He counted at least ten. There were a couple of dance areas and two stages, a smaller one up front and a larger raised stage in the very back surrounded by banquet style tables and folding chairs. All in all the seating area probably held a thousand. Neon signs glowed colorfully, advertising everything from the Dallas Cowboys to Shiner Bock, the local beer. Framed hand imprints of famous past performers, western style lanterns, and wagon wheel chandeliers provided additional decorative touches, but the centerpiece of the building had to be a rhinestone encrusted saddle chandelier that spun and reflected light in place of a traditional disco ball.

“Sara, darling, I’m so glad you could make it.” Chris turned toward the masculine voice, frowning as Sara was lifted and spun around in the muscular arms of an extremely good looking guy about his own age. He wore a Quiet Mon baseball cap turned around backwards and flashed a dimpled smile at Sara. “This your new bodyguard?” the man asked in a deep southern drawl.

Ok
, Chris thought, recognizing him now. The baseball cap had thrown him off for a minute. He was usually pictured with his trademark battered straw cowboy hat. Cash Beaumont. This guy had a reputation with the ladies almost as infamous as his. He gave Cash the proprietary stare down while simultaneously throwing his arm around Sara’s shoulder and pulling her to his side. And just so he was absolutely certain Cash knew the score, Chris extended his hand and said, “Hey, Cash. Chris Alex. Sara’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

Cash glanced back at Sara his face cracking into a wide smile. “Nice, Sara,” he drew out, shaking Chris’ hand. “He’s a bit possessive, but that’s understandable. About time you settled down, though. The boys are ready to go whenever you are,” he told her, extracting his hand from Chris’ firm grip.

“You bet. I’ll be there in just a second.”

Cash walked away with a swagger and a wave.

“Territorial much,” Sara said with a bemused smile on her face.

“Just keeping it real, Sara. Its guy stuff,” he said, pulling her into his arms, and deciding to silence her with a searing kiss…lest she forget where they stood. After several long moments of exploration, he almost forgot what his original intent had been. When he eventually ended the kiss, Sara clung to his shirt. Oh, yeah, he still had it. Mission accomplished. “Mine.” He tapped her on the nose. “Go knock ‘em dead, babe.”

Chris got a beer and took a chair near the front. Bareheaded, he was alone in a sea of Resistols and Stetsons that began to bob in time to the introductory bass beat. Sara came out onto center stage, and Chris almost choked. Drenched in light, the woman looked hotter than hell in a black backless halter top, a frayed jean miniskirt and matching black boots and hat. He leaned forward in his chair while surreptitiously glancing at his watch. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

After the first song, Chris was sure that anyone who wasn’t already a fan had become one. Sara was mesmerizing. She played her redwood McPherson acoustic expertly. Her voice was sultry and seductive as she strutted around on stage. Chris was pleased to see that Cash kept things between the two of them professional, meaning even during the ballads he kept his hands to himself.

By the time she and Cash took a break from their first set, the place was packed wall to wall, standing room only.

Ears ringing, waiting for her to come back out, Chris was making his way through his second beer when his cell phone lit up with an incoming call. Seeing Mary’s picture on the display, he knew better than to ignore it. “Hello?”

“Chris. It’s Mary Timmons.”

By the tone of her voice, he knew immediately something was wrong. “What is it, Mary. What’s going on?”

“I need to talk to Sara. She’s not answering her cell. I was hoping you might know where she is?”

“Yeah, I do. We’re at Billy Bob’s together. Hold on a sec. I’ll go find her.” Chris headed backstage and spotted Sara in the far corner, talking to some of the band members. He made eye contact with her and pointed to his phone, waving her over.

Noticing the concerned look on his face, Sara was frowning when she reached him. “What is it Chris?”

“Mary Timmons is on the phone.”

“What…”

“I don’t know,” he interrupted. “She didn’t say.” He handed her his phone.

“Hello,” Sara said, brows knitting together.

In the span of one short moment, Chris watched her relaxed body tense. He put his arm around her, listening to the one sided conversation with a growing sense of dread.

“What? That son of a bitch. No, I haven’t heard from her. That worries me, too. Yes, call me back.” She blinked and handed Chris back his cell.