Rock Kiss 03 Rock Redemption (31 page)

“I’ll go get it,” he said, not moving.

She hooked her legs over his hips. “Okay.”

“
Kit
.” He was trying to be a good guy here, but she wasn’t exactly helping. “Move another inch and I’ll be inside you.”

Lashes lifting, she sank her teeth into her lower lip… and moved that inch.

The air left his lungs, his hips slamming forward almost of their own accord to bury his cock to the hilt inside her. She was so goddamn hot, so fucking wet. “Oh, Jesus.”

Not about to question her trust when he’d never felt so good in his life, he began to move again. He’d intended to go slow, intended to make it last, but his body had other ideas. No way would this be slow, not with Kit holding him so possessively inside her while her kiss was pure heat and tenderness.

“Noah, do that again,” she moaned after he pulled out almost all the way, only to thrust back in.

His cock pulsing at the sign of her pleasure—yeah, his dick was a teacher’s pet, wanted all the gold stars—he gave her what she wanted. Again and again and again.

A
n hour later, they
somehow stumbled to the outdoor bed and fell asleep, sticky with sweat and sex.

K
it was still floating
in a dream world midmorning the next day. She’d always known she’d enjoy getting physical with Noah, but she’d never imagined
that
. It hadn’t just been the orgasms. Those were incredible, her body yet buzzed from them. No, what she’d loved the most had been all the unexpected “romantic bullshit” afterward.

Just lying tangled up with Noah while they kissed and laughed and talked.

They’d done that after the second time too, and she’d fallen asleep to the feel of his kiss against her shoulder as he spooned her.

The fact he’d slept the night through was the cherry on top of the entire thing. “Careful, Kit,” she murmured to herself. “One night doesn’t fix everything.” What had happened to Noah couldn’t be so easily overcome. It was a scar on his soul, and the two of them would have to learn to deal with it day by day. But—she smiled—it looked like there were going to be a lot of good days mixed in with the bad.

Buzz.

Startled from her happy thoughts by the sound of the intercom, she answered it to find Butch on the other end. “What is it, Butch?” If she had a visitor other than a friend, she’d have to change quickly out of the old cutoffs she was wearing with a sleeveless amber-colored top.

“Your friend, the makeup artist with the blue hair, is here. I figured you’d want her sent up, right?”

“Yes, thanks.” Hanging up, she finished putting her hair in a ponytail and went to the front door to open it. She waved to Becca when the other woman stepped out of a red sports car of the same model as Kit’s black one.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Kit said, happy for the company. Noah had gone out to pick up a purchase, and she wasn’t meeting Harper and Thea till this afternoon. “Aren’t you at a shoot today?”

“I’m on break. I had to bring you something!” Becca ran over on high-heeled black boots. She’d paired the boots with a short and tight black skirt, her top a fitted white tee over which she’d thrown a fake fur vest in black with sparkles. On her head was a jaunty hat also in black.

Reaching Kit, she opened her hand.

Gold glinted in the sunlight.

“My necklace!” Kit picked it up. “Oh my God, where did you find it?” A rare, thoughtful gift from her father, Kit had cherished the fine necklace with its diamond pendant in the shape of the comedy and tragedy masks that symbolized the dramatic arts. She’d lost it after forgetting to leave it at home one day, had believed it stolen.

It was the necklace for which her stalker had sent her a “replacement.”

“It was in a corner of the makeup trailer I’m in for this movie—same trailer as with the superhero flick,” Becca said. “I realized that’s where I always put my makeup kit after I worked on you in your trailer between takes. My best guess is that the necklace fell into it and then fell out when I opened the kit.”

“I’m just glad you found it.” Hugging the other woman, she invited her in.

“You alone?”

Kit smiled. Clearly the Noah-Becca relationship would require more work. “Yes. Noah’s gone to pick up a guitar he just bought.” He had an ever-expanding collection—a large part of which was now housed in one of her formerly spare rooms, and the thing was, he used them all.

“These were made to create music,” he’d said to her once. “Not to be hung up in a museum or a rich man’s showroom.”

“Let me grab my purse and phone.” Becca zipped back to the car before coming into the house.

Leading her to the kitchen, Kit set the coffee to brewing, then used the shining brushed steel of the fridge as a mirror to put on the necklace. As she did, she thought back to the day it had gone missing and remembered that she’d been extra careful. Not wanting to lose it, she’d put it in a little toiletries bag, which she’d then placed in a cupboard built into the wall.

It didn’t have a lock, but since the cupboard otherwise held light snacks, she hadn’t thought anyone would bother to search there, even if they got into the trailer.

“Hmm,” she said to Becca. “I don’t think this fell into your makeup kit.”

Her friend froze in the act of eating a cookie she’d grabbed out of the jar on the counter. “You don’t think I took it?”

“No, oh my God. Of course not!” Kit was horrified Becca would believe that even for a second. “I was thinking that whoever stole it might have stashed it in the makeup trailer since there’s always so much traffic there and, for some reason, couldn’t come back.”

“Yeah, could be. We did have a lot of new people on that movie.” Becca smiled. “So how’s the whole stalker deal? Still creepy?”

“It sounds so old-fashioned, but having Noah here really helps.” Kit felt her heart just grow big and hot inside her chest at the touch of his name on her lips. “He makes me feel safe. I know the stalker won’t try anything while Noah’s around.”

“Wow, lot of faith in a guitar player.”

“He’s far more than that,” Kit said, walking over to check on the coffee. “Just give him a chance.”

A shrug. “Sorry. I’m always going to think you deserve better.”

Kit didn’t want to have this conversation again, and this time she decided to be honest with her friend. “Don’t do that, Becca. Don’t put him down.” She knew Noah would never allow anyone to bad-mouth her in front of him, and she hated hearing Becca do that to him. “I love him, and he’s going to be a part of my life.”

“So I should get with the program or get out?” The other woman put down the cookie and got off the breakfast stool. “I expected better from you than that you’d be one of those women who ditches her friends once she has a new cock.”

“
Becca
.” Shocked by the vitriol, Kit came around the counter. “Why would you even say that? We’ve been hanging out just as much as always. You know I cherish my friends.”

The other woman folded her arms. “I know you used to talk to me about the stalker and your contracts and how much this house was sucking your income and all that real stuff.
I
was the one who helped you when the stalker first appeared.
I
was the one who held your hand when you made the first police report.” Becca’s cheeks were red, her breath quick and harsh. “Now you tell Noah everything and treat me like nothing.”

“That’s not fair.” Kit waved her hand in a wide gesture, accidentally hitting the small glass bowl in which she kept her keys. It went to the floor, shattered, her keys falling out. She didn’t stop to pick them up. “We spoke so much because we were together on set every day.” First on
Primrose Avenue
, then later on
Last Flight
and the superhero movie. “Of course we see less of each other now that we’re working on different projects. That doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

Becca shrugged off her hand when Kit would’ve put it on her shoulder. “He’s a whore, Kit and you’re a whore for sleeping with him.”

Flinching, Kit stepped back. “That’s enough.” It was far beyond anything a friend should ever say. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I think you should go before you destroy our friendship.”

“Don’t call me the next time the stalker leaves a gift in your car. Personally, I think he’s wasting elegant Florentina Chastain chocolates on a woman who thinks Noah St. John is a good catch.”

Furious, Kit was about to physically throw Becca out when her blood ran cold.
No one
but Kit, Noah, Butch, and the police detective handling her stalking case knew about the chocolates.

Even if she was misremembering, she knew she wouldn’t have said the name of the chocolatier to anyone—she hadn’t even opened the package at the time. It was only forty-eight hours ago that the detective had mentioned the name in a call to her. He’d been checking if maybe she’d had any contact with that particular store, or if any of the employees were familiar to her.

“How do you know about the chocolates?” she asked Becca, a sick, heavy feeling in her gut.

When Becca’s expression went white, her lips not moving, Kit lifted a hand to her mouth. “Why would you do that?” It came out a shaken whisper. “Why would you help some creep terrorize me?” The two of them had been friends forever, had trusted one another with so many of their secrets and dreams. “Why, Becca?”

Becca didn’t answer, just reached into her purse and pulled out a small, sleek gun. Kit stared at it. Of course the security guards wouldn’t have thought to search her. She was Kit’s good friend, had often come to the house… when she could’ve left a door ajar or a window open for later access. Not here, not with the alarms, but back at the town house, where the stalking had first begun.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Becca said in a voice that held anger and panic both. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you bring the gun?” Kit felt as if she were looking at the world through a freeze-frame, everything hanging in time. “Why are you pointing it at me?”

“The gun’s for
him
, for that fucking whore who made you so cheap.” Becca’s pitch was high and sharp, but her hands didn’t tremble. “You’re
my
friend.
Mine.
He’s got no right to you.”

Kit suddenly remembered how someone had wrecked Schoolboy Choir’s dressing room a couple of years ago when they’d done a set as part of a charity concert. The guys had figured it was a drunk fellow musician, but Becca had been backstage at that concert, acting as makeup artist for a soloist.

 Kit put that incident together with Cody’s slashed tires the night of the wrap party, the dog feces that had been thrown at the house of a female director with whom Kit had begun a friendship before the director moved to work on a project in Europe, as well as the way Becca was always busy when Kit invited her to join Kit, Molly, and Thea for coffee or lunch, and knew the police, everyone, they’d been wrong.

The stalking had nothing to do with sex or physical attraction. It had to do with a pathological kind of friendship on Becca’s part. If Kit was right, Becca hadn’t been helping a male partner—this was too personal. That meant the sexual part of the stalking had been window dressing meant to hide Becca’s gender and true aim: to be Kit’s one and only friend.

“Where did you get the semen to smear on my bedspread?” It had been done literally a minute before Kit walked into the house, on dark blue sheets that would’ve made the stain obvious, even if the stalker hadn’t left a card next to it.

Becca had been in the town house the day before, seen the sheets, could’ve easily broken the lock on the window through which the stalker was found to have entered. As for the timing, Becca had been texting with Kit as Kit walked home from the party she’d been at that night—a party which Becca had left earlier on some excuse Kit couldn’t now remember. Kit had told her she’d be home in five minutes if Becca wanted to drop by.

Now the smaller woman shrugged. “Saved the condom from a wannabe actor I fucked who has a thing for you.” A small smile. “He did me because he thought it would get him close to you. I figured he’d make a good fall guy if the DNA was ever traced—the dipshit even has a poster of you on his wall. Smoking gun, right?”

That was when Kit realized just how deep this went, how much planning had been involved. “You must really care about me,” she said, playing to Becca’s pathology though terror threatened to freeze her to the spot. “Not many people care in this industry.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Becca dashed away a tear. “I’m the one who’s always looked after you. I made you beautiful on
Primrose Avenue
, then made you perfect for
Last Flight
. You would’ve never gotten that Oscar nod without me, but did I ever crow? No. I was happy for my friend. I wanted the best for you.”

“I know. I understand.” In truth, Kit was the one who’d recommended Becca to the
Last Flight
crew, and from that credit had flowed other work offers for the makeup artist.

Becca smiled shakily. “Good. I don’t want to lose our friendship over this. Once I get rid of Noah, we can go back to how it was.”

She waved the gun as Kit’s entire soul screamed. “Let’s go sit in the living room and wait for him. We’ll drive out and bury the body in the desert and you can say he got drugged to the eyeballs and ran off with a groupie.” A sudden frown. “Don’t scream or I’ll shoot you. Your bodyguards are too far away anyway.”

Kit decided she
would
scream, but she’d wait until Noah was back. She would not let Becca hurt the man she loved more than anything.

N
oah was talking to
the older guy from whom he’d bought the mint-condition blond Gibson when his eye caught on the magazines on the man’s coffee table. “You into makeup as well as guitars?”

The bearded and tattooed biker and musician stroked his white beard. “Yeah, right. Those are my granddaughter’s—girl wants to work in the movies creating aliens or something.” He threw up his hands. “I tell her she should do beautiful women, but she just says
Grandpa
, then starts talking about brow ridges and facial prosthetics and…”

The other man was still talking, but Noah had tuned him out. Something about the topmost magazine was bugging him. Picking it up, he scanned the cover. Nothing he was interested in; it looked like a small trade magazine for those in the makeup industry. It didn’t even feature anyone he knew, so why was he—

The letters. The fucking letters.

The magazine used a distinctive font on the cover, the same as in several of the letters used in the card the stalker had attached to the box of chocolates left in the backseat of Noah’s Mustang.

Becca

He shook his head to dislodge the thought. Just because he didn’t get along with Kit’s friend was no reason to suspect her—and anyway, the stalker was a man. Still, it might point them in the right direction.

“…so I said, sure honey, whatever you want.”

Tuning back into the other man’s monologue, Noah grinned and nodded. “Women, huh?”

“Can’t live without ’em.” Winking, the bearded male held out a hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Same.”

Getting into his car for the drive back home, Noah decided to call Kit, tell her his idea about her stalker’s likely connection to Becca’s side of the industry. Maybe it was a guy who’d worked on Kit at some point. When she didn’t answer her home line or the cell, he figured she must be out in the garden. Speaking of which, he’d intended to pick her up a plant… but he had a sudden compulsion to get home, that damn magazine nagging at him.

He’d surprise her with the plant later, he decided and drove on, going as fast as he dared.

Arriving at the gates, he rolled through after activating them using the remote Kit had given him. He saw Butch keeping an eye on things, stopped to say hello. “Any problems?”

“Nah. Kit’s got her colorful friend with her though, so you might want to make yourself scarce. I don’t think that one likes you too much.”

“Becca?” Noah’s muscles tensed. “How long’s she been here?”

“Couple of hours.” Butch frowned. “What’s wrong? Did I screw up?”

“We might all have screwed up.” Noah thrust a hand through his hair. “Kit wasn’t answering her phone when I called a half hour ago.” The garden theory still applied; they could be out there talking, but Noah didn’t want to take the chance.

Getting out of the car, he said, “Let’s go up quietly. If they’re in the garden chatting, no harm, no foul and Becca never has to know I suspected her.”

Butch nodded. “I’ll radio Casey, tell him to keep an eye on the gate while we go in.”

It felt as if it took them forever to reach the house. Splitting up, they went around on either side, careful to avoid the windows, though Noah made sure to take a quick glimpse inside as he crouched by each. He wanted to think he was being an idiot, but his heart was thumping, adrenaline flowing, and then he looked through the living room window and rage roared through his blood.

Kit was sitting stiffly in a chair while Becca sat across from her in an identical chair. Nothing wrong with that except for the fear on Kit’s face. Becca had to have a weapon.

Continuing around the house, he met Butch on the patio, told him what he’d seen. “It has to be a gun or Kit would’ve tried to overpower her.” Kit was taller, had more muscle.

Face grim, Butch said, “Our one advantage is that we know the situation and there are two of us, three if I pull Casey in—or we can alert the cops, have them bring in an extraction team.”

“No, we do it quickly. She’s clearly unstable, might decide to shoot Kit while we set things up.” He would not leave Kit in danger and afraid. “Wait,” he said, a sudden thought blazing in his head. “Why is she still here?” If Becca’s intent had been to hurt Kit, she could’ve done that as soon as she arrived, then taken off.

“Probably waiting for you.”

Their eyes met on the heels of Butch’s flippant mutter.

The bodyguard swore softly.

“So,” Noah said, “she wants to shoot me.” They could use that. “Is your marksmanship good enough to get her through a window?”

“Were any of the windows open?”

“Shit. No.”

“Can’t take the risk the glass will slow down or skew the bullet enough to give her a warning—even a split second could change everything.” Butch slid out his weapon. “You go through the front door and I’ll go through the back,” the bodyguard said. “I can get behind her and disarm her while she’s distracted by you.”

That sounded fine except for one thing. “Kit won’t just sit there and do nothing.” Because Kit fucking
loved
Noah. “She’s going to get in the way when Becca tries to shoot me, could get hurt.” An unacceptable risk.

“Find a way to alert her that you know what’s happening.”

Noah rubbed his forehead, trying to think clearly. The next few minutes were going to be the most important of his entire life. Because if anything happened to Kit…

K
it jerked as her
cell phone rang again. “You should check that. If it’s one of the guards and I don’t answer this time, they’ll get suspicious.”

Grabbing the phone, Becca swiped to answer. “Hi, Butch,” she said, her voice bubbly and cheerful. “Kit’s in the ladies’ room, but she told me to answer if you or Casey called. Is someone at the gate?”

A short pause.

“Oh, okay, I’ll tell her. Do you want her to call you back?” Another pause. “All right. Bye.” Hanging up with a smug smile, Becca said, “I could’ve been an actress, you know. A really good one. But I make other people pretty instead. I made you the prettiest of all.”

“You did.” Kit had managed to keep Becca calm over the past two hours by reminiscing over their friendship, though all the memories were now forever tainted. “What did Butch want?”

“Oh.” Becca waved her gun. “He said the exterminator you called to take care of the sparrow’s nest in your rain gutter came by to say he’d forgotten his ladder extension thingie or something like that, so he’d be back in three hours after another job.” Becca made a face. “You gonna kill the birds? That’s kinda cold, Kit.”

Kit’s heart thumped, her face threatening to flush. Because no sparrow had made a nest in the rain gutter of the house, and if one had, Kit certainly wouldn’t exterminate it. She did, however, have a lover who’d written what was her favorite song of all time, despite its haunting sadness.

A car engine sounded on the drive not long afterward, drawing steadily closer. It stopped, a door was shut. The front door opened within seconds. “Kit!”

“Answer him.” Becca pointed the gun at Kit’s face on that low-voiced command. “Or I’ll mess you up until you won’t need makeup to play a horror villain.”

Kit didn’t care about her face. She cared about Noah’s life. Hoping that she’d read things right, that Noah wasn’t about to walk into an ambush, she said, “In here!”

“I’m going around the back!” Noah called out. “I got you some plants. I’ll off-load them in the garden.”

Kit rubbed her hands on her thighs, realizing Noah was trying to get her out of this room with its limited access routes. “I should go back there to meet him.”

“You’re with your friend. No reason for him to get suspicious.”

Kit thought fast. “I never sit in here with anyone who visits. I’m always either in the kitchen or in the garden.”

“You could be showing me stuff from your closet, or I could be doing your makeup.”

Shrugging, Kit went for another Oscar nomination. “Sure, I guess. Only, the bedroom’s before this room, so when he doesn’t see us in there and he sees the broken bowl in the kitchen…”

That seemed to decide Becca. “Get up.” She nudged at Kit with her gun. “Stay in front. Do or say anything stupid and I’ll blow your brains out.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but you need to prove your loyalty to me by not warning that piece of shit who thought he could take you from me.”

Kit’s hands fisted, the urge to plant one in Becca’s face increasingly strong. “I won’t. We’ve talked. You know you mean too much to me, my career means too much to me, for me to throw it all away.”

“Good. Now we just have to finish—”

Kit dropped to the floor the instant she was outside the doorway. She heard a scream, heard the thunder of the gun going off, smelled gunpowder in the air as something slammed to the ground.

Terrified Becca had made good on her threats and shot Noah, she turned to find Noah and Butch had pinned the other woman to the floor. They must’ve both been in the corridor, on opposite sides of the door.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, looking from one to the other. “Noah, Butch!”

Taking a zip tie from his inner coat pocket, Butch put it around a screaming Becca’s wrists while Noah held her down.

“We’re good,” Noah said at the same time. “Your ceiling will need a little repair work though.”

She looked up, saw the hole. Relief was a cool river crashing over her. “Hope the sparrow is safe.”

Noah grinned. “Tough things, sparrows. They can survive just about anything.” Releasing Becca once she was contained, he came over and tugged Kit up and into his arms.

“You were fucking amazing.” He squeezed her tight. “The plan was for me to haul you out of the way so Butch could take her down, but then you did that drop and we could both focus on her.”

Holding on to him with all her strength, she said, “My character’s best friend in
Primrose Avenue
was taken hostage by a deranged ex once. I got to save her and she had to fall to the floor to give me the chance to shoot him.”

Noah’s chest rumbled against her as he laughed. “And they say you can’t learn anything from soap operas.”

Crying and laughing, Kit didn’t look as a screaming, ranting Becca was taken outside by Butch to wait for the cops. She knew the other woman was disturbed, needed help, but she couldn’t be generous right now—she was too angry and chilled by the remnants of the fear Becca had created in her. She just needed to hold on to Noah, and he clearly needed to hold on to her.

That’s how they stayed until the cops came.

T
he rest of the
band, as well as Molly and Thea—Sarah having returned to her home now that the locks had been changed—descended on the house in the next hour. Thea was already handling the media calls so Kit didn’t have to, while Molly and David made a late lunch for everyone as the rest of them sat at the kitchen table talking over the shocking turn of events.

“That’s serious premeditation,” a grim-faced Abe said when Kit explained the disgusting incident with the semen on her bed.

“Scary fucking premeditation.” Noah’s voice was without mercy. “I hope they lock her up for a long time.”

“Not much doubt of that,” Fox said, his eyes glittering with barely withheld fury. “She had Kit at gunpoint.”

“And she’s got a record.” Thea, who’d been in the garden, talking on the phone, came back inside. “That last call was from one of my police contacts—Becca stalked someone before, back in high school.”

The publicist went to David, leaning into him as he slid his arm around her. “No charges filed, so it didn’t come up in a background check, but the victim called in once news of Becca’s arrest hit the media. Becca went at her with a broken bottle.”

Kit put both hands over her face for a second to get her breathing in order. “No charges?”

“The victim and Becca used to be best friends, and Becca had lost her dad not long before the incident.” Thea’s phone buzzed again. “Since Becca didn’t actually manage to hurt her and was leaving town anyway, the friend decided not to pile on the hurt.” Pressing a kiss to David’s cheek before she put the phone to her ear, Thea walked back out into the garden.

Noah held Kit close to him, as he had since it happened. “Thank God she’s off the streets and out of your life.”

Feeling sad for her friend but also angry and relieved it was all over, Kit just soaked in Noah’s warmth and listened to the others talk. Thea’s phone was going nonstop, the publicist popping in and out to keep them updated as comforting food smells filled the kitchen. One of Noah’s guitars inevitably ended up in his arms while David made do with a couple of utensils against various surfaces, and Abe clapped a rhythm as Fox sang one of their older hits.

It was just what she needed. Blissful normality.