Hillbilly Rockstar (24 page)

When her arms finally got tired, she took a break and sucked down several mouthfuls of cold water at the drinking fountain.

The door lock clicked and she whirled around, half expecting to see that Devin had tracked her down.

But Paxton Wright paused just inside the door, looking as startled to see her as she was to see him.

Liberty recovered first. “Hey.” She dropped to the bench, next to her duffel bag.

“Hey, yourself. Didn't expect to find anyone here at four in the morning.”

“Couldn't sleep.”

“Me either.” Paxton sat on the bench, keeping the duffel bag between them. “Were you haunted by a melody that kept you up?”

She shook her head.

“Freaky stuff that happened tonight, huh?”

“You were here. Did you see anything? Random people hanging around the buses?”

“No. Flynn and I were arguing about some dumb shit, and we argue loudly, so we didn't hear the gunshots.”

“Makes me wonder if the shots were silenced.”

“Like a sniper or something?” He frowned. “I thought the cops said it looked like scattershot.”

“Or someone wanted it to look random.” She felt Paxton's probing gaze and knew she'd said too much. “But what do I know?”

“More than you're letting on, that's for damn sure.”

Don't look at him.

“Is Devin freaked out? In addition to all the protestor shit, I heard rumblings that he's dealt with some stalker-type things.”

She shrugged. “He's not too freaked out. He's sound asleep in the room.”

“And you're not. You're in the fitness room, and judging by the sweat and exhaustion, you've been here at least an hour.” He paused. “Interesting.”

Liberty faced him. “Why's that interesting?”

Paxton tipped up his water bottle and drank, keeping those assessing
eyes on hers. “Because if I ask for the truth, you'll lie. And if I hazard a guess on why there's a stun gun in your duffel bag, you'll hedge. So I won't
insult my intelligence or yours by saying anything other than I find it . . . interesting.”

“I knew you were smarter than you looked.”

He smirked. “I'll sidestep that. Anything I can do?”

She eyed his workout clothes—a long-sleeved T-shirt and baggy cotton pants—martial arts pants if she wasn't mistaken. “I don't suppose you grapple?”

“Mostly I concentrate on tai chi these days and not the combat side of martial arts.”

“Pity. I'm in the mood for some ground and pound.”

“You any good?”

“Only one way to find out.” Then, because she'd obviously lost her mind, she taunted him with “Unless you're scared to fight a girl?”

Paxton set his water bottle aside. “Them's fightin' words. Bring it on. But I've got a couple of rules. Grappling only, no kicks or strikes. And no choke holds. I can't take the chance on fucking up my voice.”

“Deal.” She rooted around in her bag until she found a long-sleeved shirt and slipped it on.

As they faced each other on the mat, Paxton casually asked, “What discipline do you study?”

“Mostly Muay Thai. You?”

“Formerly aikido.”

Liberty rushed him.

Obviously, he wasn't expecting it. He hit the ground hard but bounced back. “Why aren't I surprised you're the strike-first type?” he complained.

“Gotta take my openings when I see them.” Then she faked a grab, and when he went to counter the move, she dodged, knocking him to the ground. Her takedown netted her zero gain when he rolled out of it.

She'd missed this physical test of her skills against an opponent's. Chances were slim she'd score a victory; Paxton Wright was lumberjack sized. Six foot five with biceps the size of her head and massive shoulders
and thighs. Plus he had a keen eye for detail, so chances were he'd already cataloged her few moves and come up with countermoves.

“You sure we can't kick and strike?”

“No need to.” He swept her legs out from under her; then she found herself in guard with no way to escape.

Shit. She tapped.

They went another round, with her managing to get the jump on him just one time. She figured he was just about to flip her on her back again when the door slammed open.

Devin demanded, “What the fuck is goin' on?”

Paxton released her and offered a hand to help her up.

She was flushed and breathing hard when Devin approached her. “We were grappling.”

“Why are you even in here?”

“Paxton has experience with a different martial arts discipline, so we wanted to test our skill against each other.”

“Awesome. Not only do I wake up at four thirty in the fuckin' morning and find your side of the bed empty—no note, no nothin'—then I find you rolling around on the floor with another guy who's damn near twice your size.”

Liberty studied him, matching his icy stance and tone. “What are you insinuating?”

“Nothin'. I'm asking why're you're here.”

“And I answered.” She looked at Paxton. “Maybe he'll believe you. Tell him this wasn't foreplay.”

“Liberty—”

“Tell him.”

“She was working out when I got here. We decided to grapple. Probably not the best idea at four in the morning. But I'd never disrespect you by making a move on her.”

Devin inhaled. Exhaled. Rubbed the furrow between his brows. “I know that.” He looked at Liberty. “Just because we're”—he gestured distractedly—“whatever. Your life is your own. But after what happened tonight,
when I woke up alone, I was worried about you. But now that I know where you are, I'll leave you to your grappling.” He walked out the door.

Paxton said, “So you just going to stand there, or are you going after him?”

“Shit.” Liberty followed Devin and caught him just as he turned the corner to the elevator.

The elevator? What the fuck?

“Where do you think you're going?”

The security guard discreetly walked down the hall, away from the impending explosion.

Devin jammed his hands through his thick, unruly curls. Even sleep deprived and pissed off he looked like a damn rockstar. “Downstairs for a drink.”

“There's a minibar in the room.”

“Doesn't have what I want.”

“Fine. Hang tight for a sec while I get my bag out of the fitness room and I'll come with you.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. The reason I'm goin' to the bar is to be alone. So go back to grappling or to the room, but you're not comin' with me.”

Liberty got right in his face. “Wrong. Where you go, I go. Remember?”

“Don't push me on this. I need some time to sort some shit out.” His gaze zoomed over her. “Apparently, you needed time alone too. At least I'm givin' you the courtesy of telling you, unlike you just leavin' me in the middle of the goddamn night.”

“Totally different situations, Devin.”

“Oh yeah? So if you'd awoken to find me gone?”

She would've gone out of her fucking mind. “It's not the same,” she said stubbornly.

Devin's eyes searched hers, and whatever he saw—or didn't see—caused him to take another step back. “You're right. But that doesn't change anything. I'm still goin'.”

She shook her head.

“Here's how this plays out. I head downstairs for a drink. You leave me be and know I'm safe in the hotel. Or I head downstairs for a drink, you follow me and I'll get in a taxi. I'll be out of touch completely until sound check tomorrow afternoon. Your choice.”

He was threatening her? “You're bluffing.”

“I don't bluff.” His voice dropped. “Ever. So go ahead and push me on this, Liberty. I'll show you how uncooperative I can be when I set my mind to it.”

“Why are you doing this?”

The elevator dinged and the door slid open.

Devin stepped inside and immediately slumped against the wall, focusing on the digital panel rather than looking at her. Or answering her.

Then the doors closed in her face.

Immediately, she had a deep sense of loss.

This had gone beyond Devin being upset with her. But what had tipped him over the edge from concern to fury? Her retreat into professional mode once she'd learned of the bus being shot up? Her refusal to take solace for herself or offer it to him by having sex with him? Waking to find her gone? Walking in on her grappling with Paxton Wright?

Paxton. Dammit, she'd just run off and left him with her stun gun.

When she stood in front of the glass door, she wondered how long Devin had watched her and Paxton before he'd barged in. She realized she'd forgotten her room key in her duffel bag, and she'd have to interrupt Paxton's tai chi workout to get back in.

Right after he'd opened the door, she said, “Sorry. I've gotta go . . .”
Where? Chase after Devin and watch him seize the opportunity to elude you?

“Maybe you oughta take a breather before you race off.”

“God. This is so fucked up. I never meant . . .”

“I don't know what's going on, but I do recognize when a guy has been pushed past his limits. I saw that in Devin just now.”

“When you've reached that point, what do you do?”

“Tell everyone to fuck off and find a bar.”

She sighed. “So that response is a gender thing?”

Paxton's eyes turned shrewd. “Devin went looking for a bar?”

“I don't think he'll go out of the hotel. Unless he sees me, and then all bets are off.” She released a frustrated burst of air instead of yelling,
Fuck!
“Even if the bar is closed, he's Devin McClain. They'll open it up for him.”

“True. So are you headed down there?”

Liberty shook her head and reached for her duffel bag. “I'll hole up in the room and hope like hell he comes back.”

“He will. Might be a few hours. He might be drunker than hell, but he won't be able to stay away from you.”

She paused before she opened the door, wanting to ask him how he could be so sure of that, but she said, “Night,” instead and fled back to the room.

D
evin bribed the night concierge to let him sit in a booth in the corner of the bar.

Although the bar was closed, the concierge brought Devin five little bottles of Jack Daniel's, two cans of Coke and a large water glass filled with ice.

As soon as he had the booze and the solitude he thought he needed, he didn't want either. He cracked open the Coke and watched the thick brown bubbles forming over the ice before settling into fizzy liquid.

What a totally fucked-up night.

He heard footsteps and looked up. Paxton Wright scooted into the bench seat across from him. Devin sighed. “Hope you didn't pay the dude at the desk more than a hundred bucks, because he's lousy at keeping secrets.”

Paxton cocked his head. “Tickets to tonight's sold-out show are worth more and don't cost me a thing.”

Devin snorted.

Paxton pointed to the minibar-sized bottles. “Having a pity party?”

“Yep. Hitting the hard stuff.” Devin rattled the glass. “Coca-Cola. Straight up. So why'd you track me down? To try to convince me nothin' happened between you and Liberty?”

“You know nothing happened. You trust her. You trust me. Finding her grappling with me wasn't why you were pissed off at her.”

He sipped his soda and waited for Paxton to elaborate.

“Liberty isn't just your personal assistant.”

“What makes you say that?”

Paxton rested his arms on the table. “Besides the fact I haven't seen her do anything that most PAs do—like fetch food and drinks for you, or coordinate your wardrobe, or deal with media demands—yet she's constantly by your side. I could chalk that up to infatuation on both your parts, but that's not all of it. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly. Knowing you for a few years and that your taste in women runs to the trashy side, I figured maybe you'd hired her because you weren't attracted to her.”

Devin's cheeks grew warm. He'd always feel like a tool for what he'd said—and thought—about Liberty the first time they'd met.

“But after watching you with her, the attraction between you two is mutual. It's been mentioned in passing that you work out with her almost every day. So when I showed up at the fitness room because I couldn't sleep and saw her working out, I watched her through the door before I entered the room.” He paused. “She doesn't train like a girl. She doesn't fight like a girl. Hell, most women outside of the martial arts community wouldn't know what grappling was. She not only knows her way around submissions and takedowns, she would've forced my submission if I hadn't defined the parameters ahead of time. She carries a stun gun in her duffel bag, and I suspect I never see her in the skimpy clothes most PAs prefer because she's always carrying a gun. I won't put you on the spot and ask you to define her real job title—I can guess well enough.”

“So why are you here?”

“I figured you might need to talk to someone that ain't her or Crash. I know how damn isolated this job can make you feel.”

He traced the rim of his glass. “Is Crash sitting in the lobby by the doors?”

“Yep. He warned me not to try to sneak you outta the building. Why would he say that?”

“I told Liberty if she followed me down here, I'd leave. But she knows Crash can keep me in line.”

“Always good to have one person like that. Sucks when I'm that person for all three of my brothers. You have siblings?”

He thought of how he'd opened up tonight about Michelle. Why had he been able to do that with Liberty and not Renee? “An older sister.”

“She whip your ass when you were kids to keep you in line?”

Devin tried to remember. Renee had been more the mother-hen type than the cracking-skulls type. “Not really.”

“Huh. That's my favorite part about being the oldest in my family—knocking heads together when my brothers need it, which is more often than you might think.” Paxton opened the closest bottle of Jack. “What put you and Liberty at odds tonight?”

Grateful for the subject change, he said, “Her reaction to my bus bein' shot up.”

“Come on. Give me more than that.”

It wasn't as hard to tell Paxton about the frustrating situation as Devin had imagined.

When he finished, Paxton said, “It'll get harder to keep that line between personal and professional the harder you fall for her.”

“Yeah. I know.” And it was already too fucking late. If he wasn't so crazy about her, he wouldn't give a shit about her feelings, or her job, or how it affected them.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I oughta tie her to the goddamn bed until she listens to reason,” he muttered.

Paxton raised his hands. “Dude, I don't wanna know about your kinky sex shit.”

Devin fought a smile. “If I thought kinky sex shit would work on her, I'd try it. But I'll have to go with the old standby.”

“Which is what?”

“Avoiding her.”

“Not cool, man.”

“Yeah, well, I'm new to this relationship crap. At least if I'm avoiding her, I can buy some time to come up with a way to deal with this.”

Paxton stretched his arm across the back of the booth.

Devin's gaze automatically moved to the sleeve of tats. “Every time I see you, Pax, you've got more ink.”

“Chicks dig it.”

“That's the reason you do it?”

Paxton shook his head. “I don't get off on the pain either. Every one of these images means something. It chronicles my life. Even the shit I wanna forget. Maybe especially that.”

Interesting philosophy. But that wasn't a surprise. Paxton was one of the most complex men he'd ever met. Devin doubted anyone ever said that about him. He stood. “Thanks for listening to me bitch and whine. Too bad you don't live in Nashville. We could do this all the time.”

“All part of my job as your friend. And thanks, but I'll stick to livin' in Austin, where the real music scene is. But seriously, Dev, you need anything else, call me.”

“I will.” He pointed to the remaining mini bottles of whiskey. “Keep 'em. See you at sound check.”

In the lobby, Devin stopped in front of Crash.

He glanced up from his cell phone. “Better?”

“Some. You got one or two beds in your room?”

“Two. Why?”

“I need to figure some shit out. Can I stay with you?”

“I guess.”

They started toward the elevators.

Crash swiped his key and pressed the button for the presidential level.

“Gotta grab my stuff. What room are you in?”

“Fifteen oh five. Don't be too long. I'm dead on my feet, and once I'm out, I won't hear you knock.”

Devin nodded to the security guard. He inhaled a deep breath before he unlocked the door to his room and stepped inside.

Liberty stood by the window. Pinkish orange rays of the sunrise teased the edges of the skyline beyond the glass, but her face remained in shadow even as she turned toward him.

He hadn't unpacked much, so it was easy jamming everything into his suitcase.

As he zipped it up, she said, “Where are you going?”

Not an accusatory tone. More sad. That caused him a pang of sadness
too. Only a few hours ago they'd been a normal couple, out on a date, spending a romantic evening on the beach in the moonlight. “It's best if I bunk in Crash's room. I need some sleep so I ain't a damn zombie onstage tonight.” He held up his hand. “Before you start in on your security concerns, I won't leave the room on my own, won't order room service, won't do anything but sleep.”

“And you can't sleep here?”

By the look on her face, he knew she was thinking of his comment that he slept better when she was next to him. “No, Liberty. I can't.”

“Do I get an explanation? Or clarification whether it's me as your bodyguard that you're upset with, or me as your lover?”

“You turned away from me on both fronts. I tried to reason with you about how damn ridiculous you were bein', blaming yourself for something that happened when we weren't even there. But instead of seein' it as a good sign that we were gone, you fixated on how it was some kind of cosmic punishment for you bein' on a date with me. When we got to the room and I needed you to be my lover and not my bodyguard, you shut me out. Then, at your first opportunity, you snuck out.” His eyes searched her face, but the room was so dark he couldn't see her eyes. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing because then she couldn't see the fury in his either. “When I tracked you down, did you apologize for worrying me? No. You barked orders and accused me of accusing
you
of fucking around—which never even crossed my mind. You're so . . . blind to the fact that I'm not the one who has the problem separating our professional relationship from our personal one. You are. So, yeah, I'm pissed off. I need a break from all of this. I'll see you after the show tonight.” He slipped out the door.

Crash didn't ask any questions after he let Devin into his room.

Devin stripped to his boxer briefs and crawled into bed, putting a pillow over his head to block the coming of daybreak.

The show at the Pavilion went better than Devin had hoped. The Wright Brothers had primed the audience, so when Devin and his band took the stage, the energy from the crowd blew him away.

It sucked he had to deal with mundane business shit after such an outstanding show; it tarnished the glow. His security escorted him to the main room, filled with his crew.

“Now that the star is here, I can share the updates.” Crash gave a shrill whistle to get everyone's attention. “Listen up, people, 'cause I'm only doin' this once. Devin's bus is in the repair shop. We have a show in Jacksonville tomorrow night. As soon as teardown is done, the crew will hit the road with the stage equipment since it's a twelve-hour drive. After Jacksonville, we have a ten-day break.”

“Thank God,” Leon said.

“I think we all feel that way. The promotion company has chartered a plane to take the band from Houston to Jacksonville. Since most of you are goin' home to Nashville, you've been booked on a one-way flight from Jacksonville the day after the gig. Rick will drive the band's bus to Portland. Devin's bus will be repaired here, and as soon as it's done, Reg will drive it to Portland. Then you'll all fly commercial from wherever you are to Portland. So get with our Big Sky Promotions rep as soon as possible on where you'll be in ten days, as I know some of us have vacation plans. Any questions?”

Odette raised her hand. “Did the cops find any suspects in the shooting?”

“I haven't heard anything. We've managed to keep this incident from the media, including fans' social networks, by passing it off as a break-in attempt at the event center. So let's drop it like it didn't happen, people.”

“Where are we staying tonight?” Gage asked.

“Same hotel as last night. We've booked the entire presidential floor. Same rules apply tonight. No room service. No one upstairs who's not in the band. You wanna eat or drink, go to the hotel restaurant or bar. We have a car service scheduled to pick us up at ten a.m. Anything
legal
you need off
the bus, get it now. The cars will be here in half an hour to take everyone to the hotel.”

Devin had tried to ignore Liberty, but his gaze kept shifting to her. She stayed on the opposite side of the room. She looked like the Liberty he'd met three months before—not worried about keeping up pretenses in public. She'd slicked her hair back in a ponytail and hadn't applied makeup,
which made the dark circles beneath her eyes more prominent. Even in her severely cut business suit, he had to wonder how he'd ever thought her unattractive. The woman's presence pulled him in like a damn tractor beam.

“All right. That's it,” Crash said. “See you all at the hotel.”

Liberty leaned in, whispering to Crash, and then she was the first one out the door.

Odette sidled in front of Devin. “Way to kill our postshow buzz, huh?”

“Yeah. And we rocked the motherfucking house tonight.”

“I totally agree.” She twisted her fingers—a nervous habit that put him on edge.

“Spit out whatever's on your mind, little O.”

“Think you and Liberty will be holed up in the back on the private plane tomorrow?”

“Why?”

More finger twisting. “Because I wanna join the mile-high club with Steve. And I wanted to ask before Tay and Jase did.”

“Fine. Whatever. Don't blame me if the plane doesn't have a back room. Chartering one this late means we didn't have much to choose from.”

“Never hurts to be prepared,” she trilled. “What's up with you and Liberty? Are you guys fighting? You two are practically conjoined, and I didn't see you together at all today.”

“With all the new changes to the schedule, she's been busy doin' personal assistant stuff,” he lied.