Hillbilly Rockstar (2 page)

L
iberty Masterson had just finished her daily requirement of PT—thirty minutes of cardio, followed by thirty minutes of kickboxing and fifteen minutes of takedown drills. Right after she hit the showers, she'd check in at the onsite gun range.

This was the best job ever.

The only way it could be any better was if she got to blow shit up.

You used to do that in the army and it wasn't all that fun, remember?

Yeah, but people were shooting back at her. This was different. She was paid very well as a member of GSC Security—no more living hand to mouth in the world's sandboxes. She absentmindedly rubbed the jagged scar below her collarbone, the literal parting shot that had ended her military career.

She blotted the sweat from her face and scanned the empty training area. Most of the guys she worked with were on assignment. She missed the camaraderie of her coworkers and she hadn't sparred with anyone in a week, so she was antsy.

Joe, the boss's second lieutenant, poked his head in the door. “Liberty, got a minute? Garrett needs you to do something for him.”

“Do I have time to shower?”

“A quick one. Then meet me out front.”

“Be right there.” After rinsing off her body, she scraped her wet hair into
a bun. Then she slipped on her uniform—black dress pants, gray blouse, black blazer and black boots. Lastly, she strapped on her gun.

Ready to rock and roll.

She took the stairs at a run and cut through the parking garage to the front of the building

A luxury motor coach idled at the curb, Devin McClain's face and his name plastered down the entire length of the bus. She'd never been a big country music fan, but she recognized the cowboy singer. His rugged good looks and heart-stopping smile were even more impressive billboard sized.

Joe trotted over with a clipboard.

“What's going on? You bring in live entertainment for the annual employee barbecue?”

“You wish. This is a potential client. He's inside with Garrett right now, but the boss wants you to catalog all the possible security breaches for this bus. Then head up to the second-floor conference room and we'll go from there.” He passed over the clipboard.

“Will do. Is the bus locked?”

Joe scowled. “No. The door wasn't even completely latched when I got down here.”

“Anyone on board?”

“Nope. It's all yours.”

She nodded and got to work.

Fifteen minutes later, Liberty entered the conference room. Joe pulled out a chair next to him, but the four guys on the opposite side of the table didn't miss a beat in their conversation.

Devin McClain was stretched out in his chair, arms folded over his chest with obvious belligerence. He wore a ball cap pulled low so half his face was obscured.

The man in the three-piece suit next to Devin ended with “What we're asking for is a minimum of two, and we want them 24/7.”

“No,” Devin said with an emphatic shake of his head. “That ain't happening.”

Three-piece-suit man sighed. “That is not your decision to make anymore.”

“The hell it isn't. This affects me the most, so it should be solely my decision.”

Garrett scrawled across his notebook. “How long is this ‘Heroes and Heartbreakers' tour?”

“Four months,” the bearded man sitting on the other side of Devin said. “The shows take place at a mix of smaller venues, like county fairs and casinos, and at bigger event centers, like stadiums. This leg of the tour bounces all around the Southwest for three months. Then there's a ten-day break before finishing the final three weeks of the tour on the West Coast.”

“We'll need a copy of the full schedule,” Joe said. “So we can see the security setups at the performance sites.”

“We don't normally contract out for that long with one person, let alone two,” Garrett pointed out.

Devin scowled. “I don't need two full-time security guards. I'm still not convinced I need even one. I'm leaning toward callin' this whole thing a gigantic waste of everyone's time—especially mine.”

Liberty kept her face schooled, but she was thinking,
Wow. Diva much?

Garrett must've been thinking along the same lines because his gaze hooked hers. “Why don't you tell Mr. McClain and his . . . advisers what you found on your security check of the tour bus?”

Liberty addressed the bearded guy, who appeared to be in charge. Holding up the clipboard, she pointed to all the red check marks. “These are considered security weak spots. I found more than a dozen. The first one? Door to the bus wasn't shut, let alone locked. And upon examination, the lock is nonfunctioning.”

“Maybe the person who beat the shit out of JT busted it when he broke in,” Devin said tightly. “We haven't had time to get it fixed, and it worked fine before that.”

She had no idea who the JT person was. “Or maybe the fact it was broken beforehand and no one had checked it made access easier?” she said coolly.

“What are you insinuating?”

“Nothing. I'm stating facts.” She waggled the clipboard at him. “Your current security measures are downright laughable, Mr. McClain, since you don't seem to have any.”

Silence.

Liberty shot Garrett a look. He wasn't wearing a frown that indicated she'd stepped out of line.

“Who exactly are you?” Devin said to Liberty with a slight sneer in his tone.

Garrett leaned forward, locking his gaze to Devin's. “Liberty works for me as a security specialist. And before you further insult her, I'll point out that she spent years in the army, working for various security task forces. She knows what she's talkin' about. Questioning her qualifications is not only an insult to her but to me, so tread lightly.”

Devin held up his hands in mock surrender. “I apologize to both of you.” He directed his next question to Liberty. “Please summarize what you see as the biggest security risks.”

“First, it sounds like you have zero personal protection right now.”

“I wouldn't say zero. I have security escorts at the larger event centers.”

“That's your biggest mistake right there, especially if you've been dealing with any kind of personal threats. You need daily personal protection. Did you have security guards in Kansas City?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Inside the arena.”

“Did they escort you from the bus inside the building?”

He shook his head.

“Whose decision was that?”

“Mine. I usually walk with the band.”

“That would be the first thing I'd change. More than safety in numbers, you need professional security. I doubt your drummer would know what to do if you were attacked.”

The bearded guy laughed and covered the noise with a cough.

“What else?”

“Take your face and your name off the side of the bus. That's just
inviting trouble. If having your face billboard sized is a vanity thing, get over it. A nondescript vehicle cuts your security risks in half since no one knows you're on board.”

Devin's mouth tightened, but he didn't respond.

So she continued. “There are four bunk spaces, but it looks to me as though they're being used to store random sh—stuff. It's an easy place for someone to hide or to hide something. The band doesn't travel on your bus?”

“The band travels in a separate bus, as do the roadies who handle the equipment.”

“How many buses are in the Devin McClain traveling show?”

“There are three tour buses and two semis.”

“We're getting sidetracked here,” three-piece-suit guy interjected. “I need to know if GSC can handle Devin's security needs.”

Garrett tapped his pen on the table. “I'm getting mixed signals. Who makes the final decision on this?”

“I do,” Devin said, keeping his focus on Garrett. “So let's cut to the chase. Here are my revised security requirements. One security specialist who will blend in with my crew. While security is your main concern, privacy is mine. I require time alone to work. I understand this person will need to be close by at all times, but you all need to understand that if I have to choose between my safety and my ability to make music, the music will win every time.”

For the first time, Liberty understood Devin's underlying frustration with the situation.

“Give me time to confer with my team. Any last questions before we duck out for a few?”

Liberty's stomach pitched when Devin aimed those intense blue eyes at her. “Anything else you want to add?”

The cool tone wasn't only a challenge, but his clear displeasure that she'd voiced an opinion. Because she was a woman? Or because she'd dissed his operation? She let her gaze flit across the men on his side of the table, three-piece-suit guy, bearded guy and a guy wearing a cowboy hat who hadn't said a word. “Brutal honesty, Mr. McClain? You've reached a high
level of success in the music world. You deserve a nicer bus than that piece of shit parked out front, especially if your safety truly is their number-one concern.”

The man didn't even crack a smile.

Just as they were walking out the door, the guy in the cowboy hat said,
“Hold up.” He meandered over and handed Garrett a sheaf of paper. “Here are the rates we're prepared to offer for this contract. So you know we're serious.” Then he murmured something to Garrett.

Interesting. Liberty wondered if Devin McClain knew what his safety was worth.

After the cowboy hat guy trotted off, Garrett and Joe conferred in low tones. She wanted to eavesdrop, but something in their stiff postures worried her, so she hustled into Garrett's office.

A few minutes later, Joe plopped next to her in the chair opposite Garrett's desk.

Garrett refilled his cup of coffee before he took his seat. He unfolded the paper and raised both his eyebrows before passing it to Joe.

“That good, huh?” Liberty prompted.

“Holy fucking shit would be appropriate here.” Joe squinted at the paper. “This is one of the highest pay rates I've ever seen.”

Liberty snorted. “It'd have to be since Mr. McClain is a dickhead and no sane person would ever take on the assignment.”

“Liberty.”

Although she'd been chastised, she pushed her point. “Why are you even considering taking this job? It's not like GSC needs the work.”

Garrett sighed. “It's a personal favor. My sister, Tanna, went through a rough patch, and Devin was always there for her in ways I couldn't be. So I owe him. And he's more messed up about this latest incident than he's letting on.” He summarized the past trouble in Devin's world. She was shocked someone in Devin's position just kept going about business as usual—as if none of the threats mattered or had affected him at all.

“Liberty?”

Her gaze snapped to Garrett's. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you've ever met Devin before.”

“No. Why?”

“You know the connection between your sister and mine is what brought you to my attention in the first place. Tanna and Harper are both married to men who grew up in the Muddy Gap/Rawlins area. That's where Devin is originally from.”

“I've heard Harper and Bran talk about him, and I guess he goes back there sometimes, but I've never met him.”

“I'm hopin' that'll work in our favor,” Garrett drawled.

“I don't follow.”

Garrett and Joe exchanged an oddly wary look.

“Should I shoot myself in the foot now?”

Joe laughed. “And everyone says you don't have a sense of humor.”

She scowled at him and then said to Garrett, “Go on.”

“The best—hell, the only solution—is to send you out on tour with Devin McClain. And hear me out before you pull your gun on me. You've been begging us to send you on assignment. You are an excellent trainer, but this is a better training opportunity for
you
. Not only because of the money for us.”

Liberty fought the urge to laugh. It was always about the money. “With the big swinging dick that Devin McClain wields, there's no way he'll agree to having a woman as his personal security. No way in hell.”

“It'll be his only choice if he wants to hire us.” Garrett fiddled with his pen. “The rest of the guys won't agree to be away from their families for that long. Not only that. You've asked for a job like this for the past four months. Here's your chance to jump to the next level and prove you're qualified for fieldwork.”

“Slathering on compliments?”

Garrett smiled. “And you're deflecting them. I don't say it unless it's true—you know that about me.”

“Yes, but I'm still on probation.” Garrett required a year of probation for all his new hires. While it sucked that the slightest infraction could get her shit-canned, it ensured the ones who hit the twelve-month mark were worthy of carrying out the sometimes dangerous work the job demanded.