Authors: Lynne Connolly
Swallowing her chagrin, she let Jace take her to a room
halfway down the hallway, where sounds of chatter grew louder as they
approached. It paused as Jace came into view, and casual greetings followed.
Jace introduced her. “This is Riku, Zazz and our latest recruit, V. Guys, this
is Beverley Christmas.”
A short silence was followed by, “You’re shitting me. That
is the best name I’ve heard in my whole fucking life.”
“This from a guy with lavender hair?” she shot back. Riku
was unmistakably Japanese, but he had a shock of lavender-colored hair sticking
up from his head, probably gelled to hell and back, and even here, in the
privacy of their suite, he wore elaborate makeup. She loved the look, but
wondered how long it took him to achieve it.
Sitting on the same wide sofa, Zazz had gone for shocking
pink, but his hair was cropped brutally short and his eyes weren’t black like
Riku’s, they were brown. V, in contrast, seemed almost normal. Beautiful, long,
blonde hair flowed past her waist, and she wore jeans and a T-shirt. She gave
Beverley a friendly smile and a nod. Together, this group of people projected a
confidence she’d rarely come across before.
She went with the flow, speaking across Riku’s raucous
laughter. “Number one, eh? Congratulations.”
“British too,” Zazz said, in a British accent slightly
marked by Northern flatness, making her long for a place where most people
talked like that—the pub she used to go to or the chatter in the staff room at
her parents’ flagship restaurant.
Zazz seemed to feel the same way. He gave her a
conspiratorial grin. “Great to meet somebody who knows what decent tea is.
Beverley, I have a kettle as a rider. Everywhere I go there’s a kettle and
teabags. British teabags, so you can make a pot, not just a cup. Feel free to
help yourself to both, if tea is your thing.”
She stared at him, taken aback for a moment. By her side,
Jace chuckled. “I think she expected an orgy of drugs and drink. She’s probably
disappointed.”
But she wasn’t. In ten minutes they’d dealt her in to the
friendly poker game they were playing. In another ten, she’d forgotten their
celebrity and chatted with them without restraint, answering their questions
honestly and talking with Zazz about the shocking state of the Elephant and
Castle, and how ugly she though the London Eye was.
By sitting around like this, they were gathering themselves
for the upcoming concert. Now she’d settled, she could sense other emotions in
the air. Excitement, nervousness, especially from V who, before she’d joined
the band had previously played only in small Chicago clubs.
Beverley had prepared herself not to like V, jealousy at the
gorgeous blonde’s looks firing her up, but she couldn’t dislike the
saxophonist. She was honest enough to admit, if only to herself, that the
reason for her initial dislike was her own insecurity, nothing to do with V. V,
she learned, was missing her lover, the band’s producer Matt, who was working
on another project but planned to fly in for the concert. Jace greeted her with
restraint until they got to talking about the track she was working on, and
then both forgot everything else.
Just like discussing the latest recipe or the new truffle
everyone was fighting over because it was so big. Enthusiasm, excitement and
sheer expertise. It exhilarated Beverley, made her happy in a way she’d rarely
experienced outside a kitchen.
Chick spoke from the door. “I ordered lunch. It’ll be here
in twenty. A bunch of stuff, salads, quiches, ham, that kind of thing.”
“And tea,” Zazz said without looking up from the notes he
was scrawling in a book. “Did you tell them how to brew it?” He glanced at
Beverley then, a sly smile on his fine-cut lips. “The further south you get,
the more they surprise you with cold tea. Ever tried it?”
“Yes. I like it, when it’s done properly.”
Zazz grimaced and made a disgusted sound. “Yuk. Evil stuff.
Drains your fucking soul.”
Beverley laughed.
They played another hand of cards, and Beverley was crowing over
her win when the sound of carts rattled down the hallway. “Thank Christ for
that. I thought my stomach was going to stick to my backbone.” Zazz got to his
feet. “Coming?”
Jace gripped her hand. “Hey, she came with me. Hungry?”
Beverley realized she was. Still holding hands, they
followed the others to the dining room, part of the main suite on this floor.
Where chaos greeted them. Girls, teens by the look of them,
plus a few of their male counterparts headed straight for them.
Beverley took one look and yelled, “Run!”
Chapter Nine
The others didn’t need telling twice and they only just made
it in time. Thundering feet pursued them, and if it weren’t for the narrow
hallway they would have been caught.
Zazz, Riku, Jace, Chick and Beverley found themselves in a
bedroom with people pounding on the door, and Beverley recognized her wheeled
case sitting in one corner.
Her first reaction was sheer irritation. “What, you’ve paid
a fortune for a floor here and nobody’s bothered to unpack for us?” A good
thing, as it turned out, because it made for a cleaner getaway.
Chick stood with his back against the door and winced as
someone pounded on it.
Beverley made a swift decision. “Okay, everybody except Jace
turn your back. Chick, close your eyes and don’t cheat.” She raced across the
room and dropped her case on the floor, unzipping it quickly and finding the
items she wanted with a sigh of relief. Stripping out of her ordinary jeans,
she jammed her legs into the tight pair, and grabbed the T-shirt, the one with
all the cute pink and black rock slogans on it. “Help.”
Jace didn’t ask questions, for which she loved him. He
tugged on the jeans for her until they reached her hips, which was as high as
they were going to get. She lay on the floor and fastened the zipper. “Laugh
and I’ll kill you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey. What exactly are you doing
here?”
“Distraction.” She grabbed an elastic hair band and swiftly
bound her hair into a high ponytail before applying the quickest, dirtiest
makeup she’d ever done. She’d applied a light eye shadow and liner that morning
before they’d got on the plane, and now she thickened the liner and darkened
the eye shadow, smudging it with a none-too careful finger. “Black and smoky,”
she said.
“Awful,” Jace said. “Something wrong.”
“It’s not straight and there’s too much of it.” She found a
baby-pink lip-gloss and smeared it on. The thumping at the door hadn’t gone
away. If anything it was getting louder and Chick’s big body quivered with each
pounding. “Jace, give me something from your luggage. Jeans, T-shirt, a
souvenir to slow them down. Put it on the bed. Get me the belt from one of the
robes in the bathroom.”
When they’d done that, it was time to go on the offensive.
“Okay, guys, go. That door over there, not the ensuite. It’s either a closet,
or if we’re lucky, a different exit. Take the luggage with you. I don’t want it
torn to shreds. Lock the door behind you.”
“It leads to a staff elevator,” Chick said. “If we’re quick,
we can make it. Come on.”
“Jesus, if they get my guitar I’m going to kill somebody,”
Jace muttered.
“We’ll sue,” Chick said. “But most of the instruments are at
the venue. We were doing a sound check later today.”
She glanced at Jace. “I’m not going with you.” She spread
her legs and put her hands on her hips. “I’m going outside and I may be some
time.”
To her delight, Jace got the reference to Captain Oates, the
man who’d sacrificed himself for the good of his companions. He planted a
smacking kiss on her lips. “Baby,
you
are coming back.”
“Too fucking right I am. They don’t know me, unless they saw
the pictures from the airport this morning, and I doubt that. Or if that girl
in the lift recognizes me, but in this getup, I doubt she will.” She checked
her watch. She’d changed and thrown on the extra makeup in three minutes flat.
Fuck, there should be an Olympic sport for that. She could go for gold.
The others bolted like rabbits with the hounds of hell after
them, but Beverley didn’t have time to laugh. She wished she had a camera phone
handy, but she’d jammed it in the pocket of those excruciatingly tight jeans
and she couldn’t stop to fish it out. Grabbing one of the two T-shirts Jace had
left as sacrifices, she prepared to face the hordes.
Before the lock to the outer door could go completely, she
flipped it and opened the door. And squealed.
The high pitch momentarily stopped the crowd outside.
Teenage girls rushed in, some wearing T-shirts with the band’s name. “Do you
think Jace slept here?” she said, stepping out, brandishing the T-shirt. “This
smells of him and there’s things with Jace’s name on. Check the bathroom, there
is so much stuff in there!” She forced an American accent, glad Jace couldn’t
hear it because he’d have teased her unmercifully.
One of the girls snatched the T-shirt from her and ran inside,
followed by a stream of others. There had to be a dozen, maybe a couple more,
but she didn’t count. She slammed the door behind them and made a quick
slipknot in the robe’s belt, thanking heaven that the hotel used handles and
not knobs.
Then she did the same with the handle of the room next door,
pulling the belt tight and taking all the elasticity she could out of it. An
old trick, and one she’d used as a prank in her childhood. Worked just as well
now. A shame hotel rooms were made to unlock from the inside or she could have
just locked them in, but this would work long enough to get away.
“Okay, guys!” she yelled up the hallway. “Any fugees from
Murder City Ravens this way, but for fuck’s sake, be quick!”
Was it wrong to love this? To enjoy this feeling of
accomplishing something, to be in control of a situation? She didn’t know, but
that was what had drawn her to her new career, and it seemed that part of it
hadn’t died with the loss.
V, her hair mussed and an expression of blind panic on her
face, emerged from one of the rooms, a black instrument case in one hand. “I
couldn’t leave my sax behind. They found me but they didn’t recognize me,” she
panted as she reached Beverley. “Fuck, I almost didn’t recognize you when you
yelled, but that Brit accent is hard to ignore.”
“You’d be surprised.”
A couple of other people joined them, roadies they said, and
leaving the so-called security guard Rube behind to deal with the mess, they
headed on out.
They reconvened in an anonymous bedroom in another part of
the hotel, after Beverley had called Chick. While Chick dealt with the furious
hotel manager, Beverley booted up her laptop.
“This hasn’t happened before.” The manager glared at them.
“How can I expect to run a hotel when this happens? I can’t put up with this.
You’ve got to leave.”
“Don’t worry,” Chick said, breaking off for a bare minute to
address him with an irritated calm that demonstrated his true anger about this
situation. “We’re not staying. But if you try to send us out before we’ve made
plans I promise you we will bring every fucking paparazzi on the East Coast
down on you.”
“You’re geared for businessmen and minor celebs,” Beverley
said to the man, who was clearly set on blaming the rock musicians for the
dilemma and not his inadequate security preparations. “As soon as they hit
number one, you should have stepped up the security.”
A harassed Chick ran his hand through his hair, tousling the
disordered curls even more. “Shit, if I’d thought—but the venue wants to open
more of the seats. We’re playing the Philips.”
Jace whistled low. “How the fuck did you work that one?”
Chick grinned, teeth flashing in the glare of the overhead
light. “Some fixing. I knew someone and then, when Arshavan’s truck crashed on
the way here and they canceled, I knew before anyone else. So we’re in. Our
fans will be bussed from the old venue and more seats have gone on sale.
Arshavan fans will be offered tickets or their money back. I’m hoping they
decide to come. I’m upgrading all the venues for the tour from here on in.” He
frowned.
“But I took my eye away from this part, the accommodation.”
He sighed. “I have great staff back at the office, but I need somebody onsite.
I’ve never needed it before, but you guys are rocketing up every chart you’re
eligible for and this tour is getting bigger all the time. I’ll see to it guys,
I swear.”
He watched Beverley, fascinated, as her fingers flew over
the keys. “That’s it,” she said. “Give me a phone.”
“Shit,” Riku said. “Do you know what a turn-on that is, to
see you dressed like a horny teenager and behaving all business efficient?”
Jace growled low in his throat.
The manager stared at them, making the connection Beverley
was surprised he hadn’t made already. Big rock stars at his hotel. Yeah, right.
Less an inconvenience, more like publicity opportunities, and he was letting it
slip through his fingers by getting his mad on. He straightened, cleared his
throat. “I’ll make arrangements for more security. I’m sorry this has happened,
but I can see it was not your fault.” He spoke stiffly.
“Big of you,” Beverley muttered. She grabbed the phone and
dialed the number on the screen. “Hi. This is Beverley Christmas, speaking on
behalf of Murder City Ravens. I understand you have rooms booked for Arshavan?”
“How did you know that?” a startled voice exclaimed. A
muffled curse from behind him resulted in a different voice at the other end of
the line. “I think you must be mistaken.”
“No I’m not,” she said. “They stayed with you on the last
tour, and I took a chance they were doing it again.”
Now a curse, not at all muffled, came from Chick and he
dragged his mobile phone from its holster at his waist, hitting a number. “Hey,
Gavin? How are you, pal? Listen, shame about the gig. Yeah, well, you’d do the
same for me. Are you rescheduling?”
So while Beverley dealt with the hotel, Chick spoke to
Arshavan’s manager and in ten minutes, between them they’d sorted out the mess.
Arshavan’s manager provided the necessary permission to the new hotel to
release their rooms to Murder City Ravens, and they were set. Now all they had
to do was get out of this hotel.
Jace was seething, boiling with the need to push Beverley
against the nearest wall and fuck her rigid. Who’d have thought that a cheesy
outfit and a take-no-prisoners attitude would make him so hot so fast?
They got to the new hotel much slower than he wanted, but
they had to take precautions, getting out of one place and into another. He
wouldn’t travel without her, so they went with V through the kitchens and into
an ordinary taxi.
They met up with the others at the new hotel, and the
difference was immediately screamingly obvious. Arshavan was a big stadium
band, and the hotel had prepared accordingly. More security, more entrances,
more restrictions on the floor they were given.
He liked the rooms better, and the hotel was much better
geared to celebrities. They came in separately, ushered in through the kitchen
or other side entrances. Security staff met them and took them upstairs in
service elevators. They were all given keys to the VIP elevators. And the rooms
weren’t brown, as they’d been in the last place, but shades of black, white and
blue-gray, much more stylish.
Again, they had a whole floor and the manager told them that
food waited for them on carts in the main living area. This floor had a main
suite with three bedrooms and two two-bedroomed suites on either side of it, as
well as more around the corner.
No more waiting.
Jace dragged Beverley into the first room they came to and
slammed the door on a startled Chick. “He can sort out the rest,” he said
before he fastened his mouth to hers and took her in a frantic kiss. He pulled
away, staring down at her face, cupping her head in his hands. “Christ, baby,
you scared me, going out like that. They could have killed you.”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling. Her plan had worked and he
was so proud of her, but he’d been so fucking scared when he realized what she
meant to do. “Take a look at me, Jace. I’m a girl. If you don’t examine me too
closely you’d think I was one of them. They were around eighteen, some a bit
younger, and excited. They wanted you.”
He kissed her again, making it luscious, tasting her,
feeling her caress his tongue with hers. “Fuck, that lip gloss tastes good. Or
maybe it’s just you.” He took another taste. “Nope, it’s you for sure.” He
didn’t give her another chance to speak, but kissed her again, hard, fast and
long.
The T-shirt went next. He didn’t bother trying to take it
off. He ripped it off her, and she moaned in delight. Her bra came next, then
he got the jeans off her much quicker than she’d put them on. No way was
anything getting in the way between him and her sweet pussy. He left the jeans
around her ankles and ripped off her panties.
He’d torn the T-shirt because it just came apart in his
hands, but he deliberately went for the panties, never intending to pull them
down because of her response. She whispered his name and he loved it.
She couldn’t open her legs too wide because of the
jean-shackles around her ankles, but he urged her thighs apart and went in. He
could smell her, and then he could taste her. Her juices spread over his mouth,
his chin. He wanted to bathe in her, immerse himself in her, but this would do
fine.
Before he took her clit, he murmured to her, his mouth
against her pussy lips. “Ah, you taste so fucking good, Beverley. Lean against
that door. You’re gonna need the support.”
“Jace, it’s the outer door, someone could come in—”
Then he dived in, sucking the sweet morsel deep and curving
his tongue around it. He gripped her thighs, felt the muscles tense and moved
his hands up to her ass, cupping the gorgeous curves, kneading them as he
licked and sucked.
He didn’t know who was more turned-on but the wonderful
noise she was making told him she’d get there first. He slipped his hands
farther up, between her cleft, enjoying her heat, and then down to tease her
tiny rosebud. Her noises increased, but she was so tight there he might hurt
her if he tried to push even a finger in unlubricated. But he wanted to go
there. He wanted to go everywhere, make her his everywhere, obliterate the
traces of any other man.
What was with the fucking possessive streak? He never felt
that way, had shared women in the past, notably with Matt. But he recalled that
when he’d suggested he might like to share the gorgeous V, they’d come the
closest to a full-on fight since Matt had sobered up.