Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) (16 page)

W
e descended into a lull
. Nothing seemed to be going on except what was becoming our normal. Faith was flourishing. I was drowning in rehearsals, her shows, more endless hours spent listening to a cacophony of instruments.

I was gaining an appreciation for the amount of work she did—what her band did. I was even learning to enjoy some of her lessons in genre music. Nights were spent racing to touch every part of her. Desperation seemed to chase us into the morning, and an eerie stasis filled the daytime.

I didn’t watch her every move anymore. I actually started building on the plans for security measures for the band with Gabe. It gave me a purpose, and helped to keep me sharp. She didn’t need me at all.

It was humbling to know that, but it was also one of the reasons she filled my head far more than she should. She didn’t need me, but for some goddamn reason she wanted me.

She lit up when she saw me, and she opened pieces of me I’d thought were long dead. I’d decided years ago that I didn’t need anyone long term. My line of work as a Ranger had initiated it, and working security perpetuated it.

Now, I didn’t know what the hell to think.

And for the first time, I was taking things day by day. It was terrifying, and thrilling. Until the night I couldn’t find her.

My training locked down the outward panic. On the inside, I was

I checked in with Owen first. “Have you seen Faith?”

He was sprawled in one of the battered couches that seemed to always be in the backstage venues. A slightly scary and yet objectively gorgeous brunette was curled under his arm. “Nah, mate. She was on the phone with Foxy Murphy last I knew.”

I frowned. She usually spoke to Devon during the day. I heard many a confusing conversations between them when they had one of their video chats. They spoke in a completely different language sometimes. “Thanks.”

He sat up. “Do you want me to help look for her?”

The girl next to him had laser beams for eyes. And they were aimed at me, set on destroy. “I’m good.”

I made my way through the party. I checked the side rooms, and then finally went to find Indie.

“Aww, crap.”

My chest tightened at the look on her face. “Tell me you know something.”

Indie sighed. “I knew things had been too damn quiet. These freaking kids are going to give me an ulcer and a heart attack in the same week.”

“Why, what else happened?”

She pointed to the corner. “Everyone’s favorite princess arrived ten minutes ago.”

I gazed over my shoulder. Victoria Sheer was holding court. She’d crashed a few of their shows over the last few weeks. And each time it was more of a spectacle than the last. If I hadn’t been on a Faith seeking mission, I would have noticed.

As usual, I had tunnel vision when it came to her.

“Everything good there?”

She shrugged. “I’ll probably have to sit on Wyatt so he doesn’t do something stupid like toss her out the window.”

I tried to push down the panic. I didn’t want to infect anyone else, but I couldn’t really concentrate on Indie’s problem. “Is there somewhere she’d escape to?”

There’d been no indication that she was overly restless, but when it came to Faith, it was usually something impulsive that pulled her away. And it was the impulsive part that I couldn’t pinpoint.

The one thing about us that was fundamentally different.

Indie tipped her hat back. “Well, we’re in the city. That’s always a danger.”

I frowned. “How so?”

“Has she been playing any new music at the hotel?”

“All her music is new to me.”

Indie snorted. “Truth. But has she been playing something incessantly?”

I cracked my knuckles. “There is one song that’s been playing so much that even I’m getting to know the lyrics.”

She snapped her fingers. “What is it?”

My molars clicked together. “I don’t sing.”

Indie pulled out her phone and typed then started flicking through screens. “A show on the west end. Probably too far. I don’t think she’d go out of the way for that one. Maybe for Griffin House, but not this derivative douche.”

“English, Indie.”

She started tapping again. “Okay, these three places are my best guess.”

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out and looked at her text. “The Gull, Sin City Mage, and Maggie’s? Are these bars?”

“With live music.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

She flashed a tight smile. “Welcome to my life. Keys used to sneak out after shows all the time to go see live music in the area.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?” There was suddenly a dull throb in my temple. It had been awhile since that particular reaction was attributed to Faith. “What the fuck was she thinking?”

“She’s not. She’s a junkie, and she’s been missing her fix.”

And now she was out there unprotected. Exactly the time someone that was watching her would wait for.

Goddammit.

“Patrick,” I shouted on my way out of the room.

“Yeah?” He jogged to meet me. “Problem?”

“Notice someone gone?”

He frowned, then his brows shot up. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, she gave us all the slip.” I pulled out my phone. “I’m forwarding you three places. You go for The Gull. See if she’s there. Check in with me if you find her, or if you don’t.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

We split up, and I headed for the back where the trucks were. They were packing up to go to Michigan on the overnight. I just had to hope they hadn’t put my BMW on the tow hitch yet.

Gabe met me in the parking lot. “I had your car pulled around.”

I fisted my hand around my phone. “I didn’t want you to leave the band unattended.”

He shrugged. “They’re fine. I’ve been talking to Indie and I checked out the three places Keys usually goes to. Maggie’s is closed down for a violation. I’d go to Sin City Mage.”

“Thanks.” I nodded to one of the drivers as he pulled up and hopped out. “I’ll check in when I find her.”

“Good luck.”

I slid into the car. The Beemer was outfitted for stealth, speed, and bullets. Right now, I needed the speed. I didn’t give two fucks if she was pissed at me. I was going to freaking kill her.

I slammed it into gear, gravel spitting out the back of my tires. I used the dash to find the address for the bar. It was in the heart of Chicago, on a street that had as many drug dealers as pimps. I’d lived here for a few years after I’d gotten out of the service.

“Jesus, woman.” I activated my traffic app and looked for the back way into the area. Would she take a cab in? A car? I prayed that she’d be smart enough to use one our drivers, but if she was trying to sneak off, I doubted it.

I held down my call button. “Call Lucy.”

“Calling Lucy.”

“Yo. What’s up, sexy?”

“I need you to pull Faith’s credit cards. Her PayPal, find out if she’s got an Uber.”

“Uh oh. Did you lose your charge, Q?”

“Just do it, Lu.”

“Touchy.” I heard her fingers flying over her keys. I just hoped that crazy keyboard of hers actually pulled up info I could use.

“She has an Uber. She called for one, but turned the dude away.”

“Destination?”

“Maggie’s. Downtown.”

I sighed. “Yeah. Place shut down unexpectedly.”

“I just got a card hit though. Looks like she used it for a cab. Please hold.” Her fingers clacked again, then she whistled. “Your girl has expensive taste.”

“What did she do?”

“Bottle of wine. Three of them actually.”

“Great. Sin City—”

Lucy interrupted. “Mage? Yep. Looks like a cool place. Oh, man. Halsey’s there tonight. I’m officially jealous.”

“Dammit,” I muttered. That was definitely the name of one of the bands I saw on her iPod. I punched it and swung past the underpass and skipped over two streets. “Thanks Lucy. I owe you.”

“That was an easy one. You saved me a call anyway. I got an SOS call from Devon on those packages Keys gets monthly. They squicked her roommate out a bit. Enough that when I press her from some details she painted a much different picture than what you mentioned in your report.”

“Dammit.”

“Q instincts on point again.”

My gut clenched. “I prefer not to be right.”

“According to Dev Keys always downplays them. On a hunch, I made a call to Ripper Records HQ and had them pull her fan mail. Those little boxes plain boxes with no return address? Yeah, way too many are littered in her archives, and all from different post offices in New York City.”

“They keep them?” I was surprised.

“Yeah, they crate them up for the fan club crew to go through. But there’s been a backlog yada yada—so it’s just been stockpiling. I’m having them sent to me.”

“Aidan doesn’t pay you enough.”

“Tell him that.”

“I will.” Lucy was more than just a hacker. She was our best defense when it came to research and finding needles in stacks of needles. “Let me know what you find.”

“Oh, there’s more.”

I downshifted and swallowed a curse.

“She got one today.”

That explained the call with Devon tonight. Why the hell hadn’t she talked to him about it? And why would she go out on her own with that kind of knowledge?

“Is she sure it’s the same sender? Faith usually gets one at the end of the month.”

“I scanned in the labels from both boxes. Generic as hell, but I’d put my money on the same printer. Nothing we could go to the cops with of course, but enough to put my Spidey sense on alert.”

Mine too.

“But the box was a little bigger this time. Devon took pictures. I gotta say, I’m creeped out. I’m sending them to your phone.”

“Give me the high points and I’ll look at them when I lock Faith down.”

“That sounds like a fun night.”

“Lu.”

“All right, all right. Don’t get your cargos in a bunch.” Her fingers clacked on the keys some more. “So, they have a setlist every night, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, this box has one from every show. There’s notes scribbled on them critiquing the show.”

“Like a tour diary?”

“Creepier.”

Not only did this person read the tiniest interview, but now he or she thought they could make notes? “Can’t they get that on the internet or fan boards?”

“Yeah, but the thing is these aren’t just pictures printed out from someone’s Instagram account. These are the actual ones from each show. They have rips on them and footprints from being taped on the floor.”

My blood chilled. “How many?”

“Every one this tour.”

My fingers ached from the force of my grip on the wheel. “Since I’ve been with her?”

“No. Since the new album. Even the small shows.”

“Son of a bitch.” I took an alley pass through and ended up a block away from the bar. “I’m almost at the club. Send me everything you have. Faith and I are going to have a conversation.”

“Will do. Don’t be too hard on her, Q. You can get used to a lot of strange when you’re a rock star. Fans can equal crazy, but for the most part they’re harmless.”

“Doesn’t sound very harmless.”

“No.” She sighed. “I’ll send you what I have, and check back in when I get through the rest of her mail.”

“Thanks, Lucy.”

“Lucy out.”

I downshifted as the building with a neon purple sign came into view. I curbed it up onto the sidewalk and threw it in park. I got out and locked the car.

There was a bouncer at the door. He pointed at the car. “Not happenin’ man.”

I flashed him and a fifty. “Think we could possibly do this the easy way tonight?”

He glanced at my holster and stood up taller. “Cop?”

I shook my head. “Security.”

He flashed me a .45 in his belt holster. “We’re not going to have a problem are we?”

“Nope. Just need to pick up my client.”

“Taking a troublemaker out of my club?”

I sighed as I heard laughter pumping out the door. “Probably your favorite customer.”

He pulled at his bottom lip. “Aww, you not takin’ Blondie are you?”

My heart sank. I held my hand to my shoulder. “Yay high, light eyes, head to toe purple?”

“Yeah, yeah.” His white teeth flashed from wide lips. “She hired out one of the bouncers to sit with her. Said she probably would have some company. You company?”

“I’m the company.”

He took the fifty. “Welcome.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”

The bar was small and unique. The walls were papered with comics and overlapping graffiti, the stage was intimate and smoky. Moody blue lights strobed in time to the watery, oriental flavor of the music. A petite girl with blue and pale blonde hair hung off a microphone stand, swaying to the music.

Beside her was the woman I knew better than anyone past or present. She’d tied her T-shirt up under her breasts and a light sheen of sweat beaded up on her midriff. A flash of gold glittered at her waist and her fingers. She leaned into the other girl, their shoulders touching, as she gripped a microphone stand as well.

She knew all the lyrics to the song. The same song I’d heard running on a loop for the last three days. The sultry voice of Halsey mixed with Faith’s surprisingly husky voice.

It was a dreamy, dark song full of pain and echoes of a manic episode. Her eyes were closed as she wailed with the young girl beside her. The younger artist had stars in her eyes.

For Faith.

Because this woman drew people in like she was their own private reserve of candy. The girl wound her arms around Faith’s waist and they sung into the same mic.

When the song ended, Faith hugged her back and they both hopped around in a circle. “Thanks for letting me sing.”

“Anytime. Faith Keystone, people!”

The small room clapped and called for more, but Faith shook her head and jumped off the stage. She shook hands and hugged strangers.

My blood heated with every exchange. I moved to make sure I would be in her line of sight. When she got to the edge of the crowd she finally saw me.

“Hello, Warden.”

“Dammit, Faith.”

She pressed her finger against my lips and shoved me into the crush of people dancing beyond the tables around the stage.