Rock Redemption

  "Sleeping pills." She pointed to the bottle on the counter of the kitchenette. "Nothing strong. I checked. It's just meant to make him drowsy so he'd drift off." She stroked back Noah's sweat-damp hair. "Noah, please wake up."

  Fox didn't say anything. Hauling Noah up, he hit him across the face hard enough that it had Kit jerking back. About to shove the lead singer away from Noah, she suddenly realized Noah had stopped making that trapped, painful sound. "Noah?"

  He shook his head slightly, but his eyes remained heavy. Settling behind him, she tugged so that he leaned against her. "Noah, it's Kit."

  "Kit."

  Wrapping her arms around him from the back at the mumble, she just held him. "It's me, I have you." Her eyes met the smoky green of Fox's. "You've done this before." He hadn't even hesitated in hitting Noah--he'd known it was the only thing that would work. "Will he be all right?"

  Fox, his face grim, grabbed Noah's chin. "Noah. You there?"

  A faint nod.

  Getting up, Fox said, "I'm going to put on some coffee. Pour it down his throat when it's ready. Don't let him fall back asleep."

  "I won't." Wiping the heel of one hand over her eyes, she said, "Noah, did you tell Fox about 'Sparrow' yet?"

  A slow scowl on Noah's face. "Shuddup."

  Wet laughter shook her body. "Make me."

  "Kit." He raised a hand, closed it over her forearm. "Pretty Kit."

  The scent of coffee filled the air. Going to the door, Fox said, "He'll stay a little dopey for a while, so don't take advantage. I'm going to leave so he can focus on you--it should help." With that, the lead singer was gone.

  Kit tugged hard on Noah's hair when his eyes began to close. "Stay awake."

  "Mean Hallucination Kit."

  "Going from pretty to hallucination?" Easing him down, she went to quickly grab some coffee.

  It only took her a few seconds, but his eyes were closed by the time she came back. "Hey!" She couldn't bring herself to hit him, so she pulled his hair again. "I'm going to tell Fox about 'Sparrow.'"

  His eyes flicked open. "Hallucination Kit's not nice."

  "No, I'm not." Putting down the cup, she pushed and tugged until he was upright enough that she could get behind him again, cradling his back against her chest. "Noah!"

  He muttered grumpily at her, but she didn't care. Not so long as he was awake and not locked in whatever hell it was that had held him captive.

  God, she loved him.

  There, she'd said it, even if it was only in her head. She loved him. Damaged and beautiful and talented, he was the only man she'd ever loved, no matter if he'd stomped on her heart.

  "Drink this coffee," she ordered after blowing on it to cool it down.

  "Coffee from Mean Hallucination Kit," he mumbled, letting her put the cup to his lips.

  She got half a cup down him. He spoke in disjointed pieces between sips. Sometimes he made her laugh, but mostly she was so worried about him that she focused every ounce of her attention on keeping him awake. "I am never letting you take sleeping pills again," she said at one point, rubbing her cheek against the bristled roughness of his.

  "Hate sleeping pills," he muttered, able to hold his own coffee cup now. "Make me scream."

  Kit froze, caught in a moment when she knew she could have the answer to every question she'd ever had about Noah.

  Don't take advantage.

  Fox's light comment suddenly held a deeper, darker meaning. Kit opened her mouth, about to give in to temptation... and couldn't. Because whatever she discovered this way would be tainted and would always taint anything they built, whether it was a continuing friendship or something deeper.

  Swallowing the questions, she kissed the side of his temple. "Finish drinking your coffee."

  "Enough." He put down the nearly empty cup. "I'm jumpy." A yawn cracked his mouth, but he kept his eyes open. "Pretty Hallucination Kit."

  Not lucid, she realized, just a touch more coherent. "Pretty Drunk Noah."

  He started laughing as if that was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard. "Not drunk," he said at last, a heavy scowl on his face. "Sleeping pills. Hate sleeping pills."

  "I know. I'm sorry I made you take them." She hadn't understood, hadn't realized the terrors that haunted him. "I won't do it again."

  He patted her forearm. "'S okay." Another yawn. "I want to sleep."

  Kit went to tell him to stay awake, but a glance at the phone she'd dropped nearby told her it was nearly dawn. Maybe he could sleep now? "Will the bad dreams come?" she asked, hoping she wasn't inadvertently crossing a line.

  He shrugged. "Maybe. But need sleep."

  Kit eased him down. "Okay, but I'm going to dump ice water on you if you won't wake up when I shake you."

  "'Kay." A frown, lines between his eyes. "Alone."

  It took her a second. "Okay." She picked up the sleeping bag and put it over him, then went into the bedroom. If Noah needed to be alone to get rest, then she'd give him solitude--but she'd still keep a careful eye on him.

  Noah woke with cotton wool in his mouth and a bladder that was about to burst. Stumbling to the toilet, he shut the door and did what needed to be done, then turned to the sink and threw water on his face. The shock of cold brought a few of his senses back to him.

  That was when he noted the bruise on his left cheekbone.

  Opening the door, he said, "Kit?"

  She poked her head out of the bedroom. "You're awake." A brilliant smile, her gorgeous hair tumbling over the vivid blue of her robe.

  "Did I fall flat on my face?" He indicated the bruise.

  "No." She winced. "You kind of ran into Fox's hand."

  Fuck. He'd taken the fucking pills. "How bad?"

  "You wouldn't wake up, but once you did, you were quite funny." A crooked smile. "You called me Mean Hallucination Kit."

  He felt his gut turn to lead. "What else did I say?"

  "Nothing, except for telling me what you thought of certain bands and how you hated sleeping pills." Her eyes, bleak and dark, went to the bruise on his face. "I'm sorry, Noah. I didn't know the pills would lock you into a nightmare."

  The lead grew heavier. "You saw my nightmare?"

  She nodded.

  "What did I say?"

  "Nothing." She held his eyes. "I didn't ask you and you didn't say."

  He finally took a breath. "Thank you."

  Kit shook her head. "Don't thank me. I pushed you into this." Wrapping her arms around herself, she rocked slightly on her feet. "You can't go on like this, not for three more weeks or however long it takes."

  "We've had this argument." He grabbed her wrist. "I can do it." He couldn't have her give up on him.

  "I know you can." Tugging at her wrist, she tried to extricate it, but when he refused to let go, she stopped attempting to pull away. "I want you to move in with me."

  He stared at her. "What?" Having his own space, his own bolt-hole, had always been critical.

  "You've slept over before," she pointed out. "You might've been blind drunk the last time, but the other times you were sober."

  He'd snuck out and run for hours each of those nights, fallen asleep out of exhaustion. It had only been for a fitful few hours, but he had slept. "Why do you want me to move in with you?" He had to know what she expected, because there were things he simply couldn't give her.

  She touched his bruised cheek, her fingers featherlight. "You asked me to be with you."

  His entire world trembled.

  He knew he should call back that request. It was beyond selfish. But his throat, it wouldn't work.

  "If we're going to make a relationship work in any way," she said, "we have to figure this out."

  "I'm almost twenty-eight years old, Kit. If I could figure it out, I would have by now." He turned into the tender warmth of her hand.

  "I bet you've always tried to do it alone, haven't you?" She didn't wait for an answer. "We do it together this time."

  Noah wanted to say she was wrong, tha
t it wouldn't work, but he hadn't ever tried to figure this out with someone else. Even with Fox, they'd only discussed it that one time when he'd been a scared seven-year-old boy. Never again.

  And there lay the crux of it. "How can you fix something if you don't even know why it's broken?" Because he wouldn't tell her. The idea of Kit knowing? It savaged him.

  "I know something really bad happened to you," she whispered. "Bad enough that one of the toughest men I know is still haunted by it."

  He flinched. "I'm not tough." If he had been, he would've gotten over this long ago.

  "I'll be the judge of that." Her wrist still in his hand, she said, "Will you come home with me?"

  "Yes," he said, a desolate nothingness inside him.

  This would fail. When it did, so would all the hope inside him that one day he might be normal, might have the right to love Kit.

  Chapter 26

  Late afternoon the next day, Kit smiled and flirted with the cameras as she and Noah drove through the gates of her home in Noah's convertible. He'd be returning to his place later to grab clothes and other things, but given the situation with Abe and Sarah--and since this media circus was inevitable--they'd decided to handle it together.

  The funny thing, Kit thought as Noah laughed at something one of the photographers had yelled out, was that she no longer cared about either the movie or the cosmetics deal. Her career was important to her, but the most important thing in her life was in the driver's seat, and he was badly, badly hurt inside. Kit didn't think she was a magician, didn't believe she could heal him, but she could love him.

  Maybe it would help a little.

  Maybe it might even be enough to stop him from continuing on the self-destructive path he'd been walking to this point.

  "Kathleen! Give us a smile!"

  She gave the photographer what he wanted, wondering why anyone cared what she was doing and who she was doing it with. She knew it was good that they did, that it helped her make a living doing the work she loved, but today she just wanted to be alone with Noah.

  However, it took them another five minutes to get through the gates. Reaching the house not long afterward, the two of them got out in silence. Kit glanced reflexively into the backseat of the convertible. "Noah, did you leave that gift in there?"

  "No." Frowning, he went to pick up the card stuck to the package, which was wrapped in gold paper.

  "Wait." She took off the thin, colorful silk scarf she was wearing and passed it to him. "In case there are fingerprints." She was probably being paranoid, the gift something a fan had managed to drop in during the media fracas outside, but she had to be sure.

  Using the scarf to pick up the card, Noah opened it with care. The dangerous ice in his expression answered her silent question. When she went around to his side, he wrapped his arm around her while holding the card out of reach. "You don't need to see this. It's the same ugly bullshit."

  "I have to see it. I have to know what's in his sick head so I can protect myself."

  A muscle jumped in Noah's jaw, but he brought the card close enough that she could read it. As usual, the message wasn't handwritten but made up of words and letters cut out of magazines and newspapers.

  You slut. I bought these chocolates for you, but now I hope you choke on them. How dare you cheat on me with that asshole rocker? Wait until I get my hands on you.

  A shudder going through her, she closed her eyes. But only for a second. "Come on. Fox made me invest in full security coverage at the gate after that pap tried to get him arrested." At the time, she'd whimpered at the further cost, but now it might give them their first glimpse of her stalker. "Butch is an expert at the system."

  Noah made the call to the bodyguard, who'd remained by the gate.

  After updating Butch once he arrived, Kit led both men to the security room inside the house. First, however, she ducked into the kitchen and found a paper bag into which Noah could drop the card and gift-wrapped package.

  "I'll pass that on to the cops," Butch said.

  Placing the bag beside him in front of the security screens, he quickly brought up the relevant footage. But no matter how carefully they examined it, no one appeared to drop anything into the backseat.

  "It could've been done as you slowed down to turn into the gate, where the cameras don't reach, or anywhere else you stopped--even at the traffic lights," Butch said. "Remember that group of fans that congregated against the car to take photos? Plus you picked up coffee from a drive-through." Butch's expression was dark. "I clearly wasn't watching closely enough."

  "It's not your fault." Kit touched his arm. "You were watching for physical threats, not this kind of cowardice."

  Noah looked at the video again, eyes narrowed. "I am never again driving the Mustang with the top down when I have you in the passenger seat."

  "Yes, you are." Kit scowled at him. "Don't let the creep get to you--that's what he does." Already he'd forced Kit into crushing debt. That, she hadn't been able to avoid, but she wasn't about to allow him to steal such small pleasures from her or Noah's life.

  "I'll go help Casey with the sweep, make sure the bastard didn't get in." Butch picked up the paper bag. "And I'll get this to the cops ASAP."

  Tugging her close after the bodyguard left, Noah held her with one arm, burying the fingers of his other hand in her hair. "That's it. I'm never moving out."

  Kit smiled despite the circumstances. "Wait until I want you to watch Dancing with the Stars with me."

  "Oh Jesus, Dancing with the Stars? Really? I thought you were a football kind of woman."

  "I can like both." Laughing at his expression, she said, "You hungry?"

  "No, you?"

  "No." She tapped a finger on her lower lip. "Why don't you go grab the rest of your stuff? It's not like the paps are going to leave when it gets dark."

  Reaching out to tangle his fingers with her own, Noah said, "Want to come with?"

  Kit's pulse kicked. She had to fight to keep her voice from betraying what his invitation did to her. "Yes."

  Thanks to a traffic jam caused by a Mercedes that had rear-ended an Aston Martin, with both drivers deciding to be assholes about it, it took Noah forty minutes to get to his place. He'd already had stuff on the bus, as well as his instruments, and they'd all been shipped to Kit's, but there were a few other things he needed.

  "Sorry about the mess," he said to the one woman who mattered. He still didn't understand why it was so hard for him to have Kit here, but it was. Even now, after he'd specifically invited her to accompany him, his muscles were tight, his chest aching.

  "It's not as bad as I expected." She stepped around a bunch of autobiographies he'd left stacked on the carpet beside the sofa, which faced the entertainment area. "I do think the mold in that takeout box is probably growing legs by now though."

  Picking up the box, he threw it at her. She caught it reflexively. "Ew!" But then she looked down, eyes going wide. "Hey! This is fake."

  "Abe gave it to me for my birthday. Since I live on takeout, he figured I should have an appropriate piece of art."

  "This is art?" Appearing dubious, she looked at it carefully from every angle before placing it on the coffee table. "I didn't know Abe hated you."

  Grinning, he headed to the other end of the house to grab what he needed. His place was spread out all on one level, but it wasn't open plan. He liked doors and walls, which was fucked-up, because he didn't like being locked in. But if he had to be inside, he wanted it to be in small spaces where he could see everything at a glance.

  His room in his parents' home had been huge, a suite far too big for a small boy. Unlike Kit's toy store of a room, his had been filled with educational items, charts, and books. He'd had his own desk and computer and a rotation of tutors who were on twenty-four-hour call should he have a question about the homework they'd assigned.

  His father had him studying toward the SATs before he was five years old--and since study questions were the one time his father
had all the time in the world for him, Noah had liked it. If things hadn't gone to hell just over a year later, he'd probably have turned into a suit-and-tie-wearing robot like his old man. Christ.

  As he chucked things into a duffel, he was aware of Kit moving around in the living area--and also aware that she hadn't gone any deeper into the house. Respecting the boundaries he'd set... and that just felt weird. He'd never brought her here, but now that he had, he wanted her to feel at home. "Hey, Kit!"

  "What?"

  "Go left, then out through the first door on your right, before the wall of glass. You'll like it."

  Following Noah's instructions, Kit finally ventured out of the living area. She hadn't wanted to intrude, conscious Noah wasn't sure about having her here. That hurt, but it was a small enough thing and one she couldn't cling to if she wanted to give them a real second chance. Instead, she concentrated on the fact he'd invited her to come with him today, went through a narrow door... and into someone's attempt at a Japanese garden.

  She laughed, so delighted she couldn't hold it inside. "This is terrible!" The plants were all wrong, the placements having none of the peaceful elegance of a garden meant to promote serenity.

  "Hey!"

  Following the insulted sound of Noah's voice, she found he'd stepped out onto a balcony farther down the house. "I did my best!"

  Kit grinned and leaned down to tug up a few weeds. He kept confusing her. He didn't want her here, but this garden? It was an attempt at creating a piece of her inside his home--because his garden was walled in by wings of the house. As if he was holding her heart inside his protection.

  Her chest filled with emotion.

  "Who looks after this while you're on tour?" she asked him when he came over. "They haven't been doing a good job." Nothing had been trimmed, the weeds rampant.

  "No one. It's set up with sprinklers, but after a tour, it tends to be a bit of a jungle." He ran his hand over her hair.

  Startled at the unexpected contact, she looked up into those eyes of darkest gray. "What?"

  "It's nice, seeing you here."

  She was still trying to process the words when he turned on his heel to return to his bedroom. As if he'd shown her too much and needed walls between them.

  Rubbing a fisted hand over her breastbone, she watched him until he disappeared, and she told herself to have patience and hope. If she didn't have both, she might as well give up now.