Hillbilly Rockstar

  “Cool. Thanks.” Devin set his guitar aside and scooted to the edge of the bed. From a bottom drawer, he pulled out a pair of running shoes. His gaze met hers after giving her a thorough toe-to-head inspection. “You workin’ out with me?”

  “Depends on the security of the facility.” She retreated. “I’ll get ready in case. Don’t leave the bus.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Five minutes later, Liberty was trying to figure out where to put her stun gun—damn yoga workout pants were skintight—when she felt Devin’s breath on the back of her neck. A tingle traveled down her spine.

  “You’re seriously takin’ a stun gun into a workout room at a truck stop in the middle of bumfuck Arizona?”

  She snagged a nylon jacket and slipped a stun gun in the pocket before she spun around. “That’s my job. I’ll sit outside while you’re working out.”

  “I see how it is. You just don’t want to hop your cute buns on a treadmill.”

  Liberty snorted, ignoring the cute buns comment. “You wish. On the treadmill or on the track, I’d wipe the floor with you, guitar slinger.”

  “Bring it.”

  “As much as it pains me to decline . . . I’ll have to.” She punched in the code to unlock the door and exited the bus first. As she waited for Devin to alight, she noticed a small crowd had gathered.

  Devin had slipped on a brown and gold University of Wyoming ball cap and a pair of sunglasses. A white wire for his earbuds was draped around his neck and he held an iPod. He stopped in front of Liberty and spoke loudly. “I don’t think he’s getting off the bus. Said something about takin’ a nap.”

  Clever man. Making the people think the real “star” wasn’t showing his face. Liberty closed the door and armed the alarm. Then she put herself between him and the crowd as they walked to the closest door.

  Crash waited inside for them. “Fitness room is yours for one hour,” he said to Devin. Then he looked at Liberty. “No offense, but it’ll look weird—not only to bystanders, but to the band—if you’re manning the outside door. Better for me to hang out here and you to stay with him inside.”

  Devin grinned again. “Appears we can have us a treadmill race after all.”

  They turned the corner, and Crash led them to a wide, heavy door with a square glass window inset. Liberty peeked inside. The room had two treadmills, an elliptical machine, a rowing machine and a weight station. Unlike other fitness rooms, this one had no windows. No mirrors either.

  Devin ditched his shades, but kept on his cap. She hung her jacket over the back of a chair after she removed the stun gun. She shoved it into the cup holder and climbed on the machine.

  He whipped off his shirt.

  The man definitely kept in shape. The thick slab of his chest was sculpted from his pectorals down to his rippled abs. His broad shoulders, biceps, triceps and forearms were well defined.

  She managed to tear her gaze away and focused on poking buttons to warm up the ancient machine. But she felt him staring and glanced over at him again. “What?”

  “Ain’t you gonna take off your T-shirt?”

  “No.”

  “It’s hot in here.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’ll bet you’re wearin’ a sports bra under that shirt.”

  No, she was wearing a compression bra. Her large breasts were the bane of her existence. She downplayed them with the help of athletic clothing. “I’ll pass.”

  “Well, sweetheart, when you’re feelin’ like passing out from heat exhaustion in this tiny airless room, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to level the playing field.”

  “You’re such a gentleman. But I’ll remind you I spent years in the desert. I ran in full combat gear when it was one hundred and ten degrees out. So, sweetheart, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” She laughed again at Devin’s look of alarm. “What?”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Only one way to prove it.”

  “Fine. I’m in. How about . . . whoever gets the most miles in thirty minutes wins?”

  “What’s the prize?”

  “Loser has to cook supper for the winner after the show tonight.”

  “Deal.”

  Devin slipped in his earbuds. “Ready, set, go.”

  Liberty watched the display as she started to run. Keeping her mind on her progress and not letting her gaze wander to Devin proved harder than she’d imagined. She adjusted her breathing at the five-minute mark and again at ten minutes. By the time she’d hit the halfway point, she’d found her rhythm.

  She wished she would’ve grabbed a towel; sweat ran down her face. She swiped it away with the back of her arm and saw five minutes left. Time to sprint. Liberty bit back a laugh when Devin’s footsteps hit the rubber harder and faster.

  By the time the machine shut off, she was very winded. And she wondered how smart it was to be exhausted; she was supposed to be protecting Devin, not competing with him.

  He gasped, “How far did you get?”

  “Four point five miles,” she wheezed. “How about you?”

  “Three point nine.” He hopped off the machine and tossed her a towel.

  “Throwing in the towel?” she taunted as she mopped her face.

  “Yes.” He bent forward, bracing his hands above his knees. “I might puke. That’s my fastest fuckin’ time ever and I still didn’t beat you.”

  She chugged a cup of water from the dispenser. “How often do you do cardio?”

  “Three times a week. Usually forty-five minutes at a whack.”

  Liberty said nothing. She just took another long drink.

  “What’s your cardio workout?” he asked.

  “Thirty minutes. Six days a week. Sometimes seven. Plus an hour of other physical workouts that vary.”

  “How do you stand it? I fuckin’ hate this shit.”

  She handed him a cup of water. “First, it’s my job to be in top physical condition. Second, if you’d ever been injured to the point you worried you’d ever be able to do what you used to . . . staying fit becomes a priority.”

  Devin’s gaze snapped to hers. “Shit. I’m sorry. I said that without thinking again.”

  She shrugged.

  He glanced at the clock. “I’m ready for a shower.”

  Liberty peered through the window but didn’t see Crash. She slipped on her jacket, pocketed her stun gun and said, “Come on.”

  But Devin reached the door first. He looked over his shoulder. “Can’t a guy catch his breath? Not everyone is a supersoldier like you.” He opened the door.

  She started to follow him out. “Suck it up. I used to smoke a pack of cigarettes a day before I got fit.”

  “I was fucked before I hit that first mile, wasn’t I?”

  Her laughter died as a guy charged at Devin from out of nowhere.

  Just as she moved to intercept, Devin pushed her back into the room. Then he was slammed against the door.

  “I knew I recognized you, you son of a bitch,” the guy yelled. “It’s your fault that she left me!”

  Seething about Devin shoving her out of the way, she pushed against the door, trying to move the psycho’s fat ass.

  Before Devin responded, Crash was there, pulling the guy free and knocking him to the ground. His eyes met Liberty’s, and he shoved Devin the opposite way so she could get out.

  “Get him to the bus.” When Crash hesitated a half a second, she bit off, “Now!”

  They disappeared, but she didn’t look away from the assailant still on the floor. He could’ve been twenty or forty; hard to tell beneath his ginger-colored beard. “How long have you been following him?”

  The guy looked confused. “Just from the parking lot. Saw them buses and knew someone who thought they were hot shit had to be on them. Then I heard the name Devin McClain and figured I could get a little payback.”

  “Payback for what?”

  “He ruined my fuckin’ life. My wife left me because of him.”

&nbs
p; “Let me get this straight. Your wife was sleeping with him?”

  “Are you stupid? She left me after she heard that song he wrote ‘Good for Nothing.’ She said it was a wake-up call for her and I ain’t seen her since.”

  “Looks like maybe she wised up.” Liberty leaned closer. “You oughta wise up too. I’d better never see you anywhere around him again or he’ll press assault charges. Understand?”

  He nodded, and she noticed he had sunflower seeds stuck in his beard. Gross. After she pushed to her feet and backed away, she looked around. Thankfully, the incident hadn’t drawn an audience.

  Liberty took her time returning to the bus, attempting to keep her temper in check.

  Devin figured Liberty would barrel into the bus, loaded for bear, hissing and spitting and yelling. He half feared she’d zap him with her damn stun gun to show her displeasure with him for reacting . . . like a man. He’d acted instinctively. She couldn’t fault him for that.

  Yes, she could. Because he was entirely at fault.

  Even Crash hadn’t stuck around after chewing Devin’s ass; he’d hightailed it to the other bus to leave Devin to deal with his bodyguard on his own.

  So, reeking with sweat, he waited in the main living area to have this out with her.

  The door opened. And closed. He heard the beep of the alarm being engaged. Then she appeared from the deep stairwell and stopped in front of him. She leveled that scary-ass stare for about thirty seconds before she closed her eyes.

  Devin couldn’t stand the silence. “Liberty—”

  “Don’t. Say. Anything.”

  That shut him up.

  She locked those steely eyes to his. “Don’t ever do that again. Let me remind you: I protect you. That’s what I am paid to do. You shoving me aside impedes my ability to do my job. I am not the one who’s had death threats leveled at me. I am not the one whose bus and home has been broken into. But because of those things, I am your personal security 24/7.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Liberty released a slow breath. “I am too. You need to know that I have to report this incident to GSC, who will pass it on to the promotion company.”

  “Jesus. Why?”

  “Because like it or not, they are paying me to protect you, and you didn’t allow me to do my job today. This is my livelihood, not a fantasy where I’m spending months getting wild on the tour bus with a country rockstar. If I don’t report it, won’t it appear that I have something to hide? Who gets the blowback from it? You?” She shook her head. “Me. If you don’t trust me to protect you, then I’ll have to find a replacement you can trust.”

  Was she . . . threatening him?

  Her face held frustration and determination but no malice. “I won’t put you or myself in jeopardy. We’ve been on the road three days, Devin, and we’ve already had a major problem.”

  “It won’t happen again. I swear.”

  The look on her face said she didn’t believe him. “Excuse me. I need to talk to Reg before we take off.”

  He’d be pissed off by her dismissal if he didn’t feel like such a fool. And things had been going so well between them.

  You’re surprised you fucked up something else in your life? Isn’t that the way it goes? One step forward and two steps back?

  Devin grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed to his room. In the shower, he let the hot water pound on his back while he chugged the icy cold beer. Reality hit him. What if that guy’d had a gun? Or a knife? Those fifteen seconds could’ve turned out completely different.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  He fucking hated this. How the hell wasn’t he supposed to react instinctively when a threat surfaced? It wouldn’t have mattered if Crash or Gage or Odette had been behind him. He would’ve done the same damn thing. He also hated that a couple of unknown, unseen crazy motherfuckers could upend his life. Force him to change how he lived and who he was.

  Bitching, moaning, whining wouldn’t change a damn thing. Being proactive only got him into trouble. So for the time being, he had to trust in someone besides himself. Not his choice and completely out of his control, but in order for this bullshit to end, he had to let Liberty do her job.

  He toweled off, slipped on a pair of boxer briefs and dropped into a push-up position. Four sets of twenty-five got his blood pumping. He switched and did three hundred ab exercises. Then he finished with a series of plank poses.

  As Devin dabbed the sweat from his face and neck, he figured he probably should’ve waited to shower, but pushing his body had delivered the desired effect; he’d calmed down. He’d centered himself and was ready to offer Liberty the apology she deserved. But first he needed to work on his music.

  Because at the end of the day, no matter where he was, that driving need never abated. He could prop his feet up anywhere, strap on his guitar and slip into the skin of what—who—he was meant to be. A singer. A songwriter. A modern-day wandering minstrel plying his trade in hopes to earn a few coins and a little respect.

  And it stung that in trying to earn Liberty’s respect, he’d lost it.

  Chapter Nine

  Three weeks had passed since the truck-stop altercation.

  After the incident, Liberty kept all interactions between them strictly professional. No sharing a meal or a beer or even a laugh on the bus. On the outside, it looked like nothing had changed. They worked out together. Liberty escorted him on his visits to children’s hospitals. She remained stationed outside the door of his ready room even though he hadn’t “entertained” any fans since Salt Lake City. Something had shifted, and he hadn’t been in the mood for that type of female companionship. Instead he’d used the time to fulfill his media requirements so afterward he could concentrate on songwriting.

  Whether it was Liberty’s vigilance or just plain luck, there’d been limited security issues in the last three weeks. That’s not to say a few situations hadn’t arisen where his ability to give her the reins was tested, but he’d done it. Happily. Without even a single pat on the back from her.

  Yet, in the last week, he’d sensed a thawing in her cold attitude. She’d actually initiated a couple of conversations that didn’t revolve around his security. And he’d lapped up that little bit of attention like a starving dog.

  Things were tense all around with his bandmates and his crew. Tay and Jase were back at it. Odette and Steve complained about having to trade off the bus’s one bedroom with them. Sarge had issues between the roadies and ended up with a fist to the jaw when he broke up a fight.

  Crash was tired of playing referee between all factions.

  Since they had two days off and not a long distance to travel between gigs, Devin decided they needed to blow off some steam. Over the years, when this tension arose—because it always happened at some point during the tour—they’d organize a softball game. Or team up for laser tag. Or race go-carts. But this time, they needed a more extreme activity.

  He was finishing a conversation with his agent when the buses turned off the highway and crossed to a county road. Naturally, that brought Liberty out of seclusion. Devin hadn’t seen her today, and he took in her bare feet, faded jeans and the flowing floral blouse that fell to midthigh. While he understood her clothing had to conceal her gun, her long, baggy shirts also covered up her ass—which was a damn crying shame.

  She peeked out the window above the kitchen sink. “Why aren’t we on the highway?”

  “Change in plans. We’re gonna have a little fun today. And before you ask, yes, we weighed the risk factors, and Crash already contacted the promotion company. They rented the place out for the entire day. And night.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “What fun thing do you have planned?”

  Devin grinned. “A paintball fight. There’s also a campground on the property, so we’ll circle the buses, have a campfire, drink some beer, throw some horseshoes and give everyone, including the drivers, a night to just chill out.”

  “Paintball,” she repeat
ed. “You do realize paintball guns are actual guns?”

  “There’s where the fun part comes in.”

  “And you’re telling me that you just decided to put yourself in danger—”

  He held up his hand to stop her impending tirade. “The Big Sky HR department personally signed off on all of the crew. I’m not in any danger from any of the people on these buses. Big Sky also approved this outing and paid for it. I’m assuming they didn’t announce that Devin McClain was reserving the place for his touring entourage.”