“Maybe this can be your punishment. Trust me, I’ve thought of plenty over the years, but this, seeing the broken person you created, seeing how you sucked the true joy out of her life, I can’t think of anything better. Other than making you a eunuch.” On that, Sam had walked off.
Killian’s body had prickled with the impact of Sam’s words. The truth of them. Watching Lexie over these few days had been nothing short of excruciating. Sam was right, she was broken. She smiled, laughed even, but true happiness wasn’t lit up behind her eyes. They had a hardness to them that hadn’t been there until Killian put it there. He’d break his back trying to take that out. Trying to fix his colossal fuckup. But he didn’t have a fuckin’ moment to talk to her, to try and gather the bones of them and bring them to life somehow.
Not until this morning, and the pain in her voice when she’d finally cracked had almost brought Killian to his knees.
It scared the shit out of him.
“You have arrived at your destination.”
Killian pulled into the lot of a huge warehouse with multiple cars parked outside it. Mark, Lexie’s manager, was leaning against a Mercedes, sunglasses on his head and a phone to his ear. Hannah, Lexie’s assistant, stood beside him holding a tray of coffees.
Lexie lurched out of the car before Killian had even come to a complete stop.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, quickly parking and doing the same.
She was actually willing to jump out of a moving vehicle to get away from him.
Mark and Hannah both regarded him coldly as he approached behind Lexie. He barely gave them a glance. Everyone connected to Lexie had treated him with barely disguised disdain—Sam, Wyatt, and Noah with flat out hostility—apart from the publicist wearin’ the fancy shit, Jenna. Though she treated everyone with the same brisk detachment, her attention always on her phone.
Killian didn’t give a shit about that. Fuck, he actually liked it. It meant that Lexie had people around her who cared about her enough to hate him.
Plus, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. He was here for Lexie.
“Coffee,” Lexie all but cried, clutching a cup Hannah offered her. “Hello, my love, it’s been too long,” she declared, sipping and letting out a little moan.
Killian watched her eyes flutter as the rosebud mouth closed around the coffee lid. He cock stiffened in his jeans. Fuck, even watching her drink a coffee got him hard. Everything about Lexie did, though.
“How long’s it been? Half an hour?” Hannah joked, obviously knowing Lexie.
Lexie frowned back. “I’ll have you know it’s been almost twelve hours. A record.”
“You’re late,” Mark declared, interrupting Hannah and Lexie.
“Sorry. I was held up,” Lexie said, glaring at Killian.
Mark barely gave him a glance. “We’ve got no time to waste. We’ve got to get this done. Then we’ve got a lunchtime interview. You’ve got an appointment with your trainer. Then straight to sound check.”
Lexie nodded and moved with Mark. Killian followed behind, listening to all the things Mark was telling her about the interview. About all the things she had to do. Killian couldn’t believe it. Every second of her day was planned. She didn’t even get a fuckin’ break. She needed one. He didn’t miss the dark circles under her eyes, or the fact she hadn’t gone to sleep until well past midnight every night and was up at dawn. She hadn’t stopped since that day at the hospital. Killian was scared shitless she’d fall down. She had to. No human could keep going after what she went through.
He would just have to make sure he’d be there to catch her when she did.
And he’d be there to punish the one to make her fall. He’d been punishing himself for years for being that person. It was refreshing to focus revenge outward.
They entered a huge door that opened to a cavernous room full of people and equipment. The room was buzzing. It actually shocked Killian for a second, and he’d been in some fucked-up situations; he was hard to shock.
“Lexie, darling! You’re here,” a sharply dressed man exclaimed, kissing both her cheeks.
She beamed at him. “Sorry I’m late, Jorge.”
He waved his hand. “No problem at all, my beauty. Let’s get you to hair and makeup.”
He hustled her away and Killian followed at a distance, his eyes scanning the room. It was humming with activity, people running around everywhere. It didn’t escape his notice that most all of them stopped what they were doing when Lexie walked in. It jarred him seeing that. He knew she was famous. He’d spent four years watching her on TV, standing in the crowds at every concert he could get himself to. Almost every city in the continental US. It almost killed him going to those shows, watching her from a distance, being so close but knowing he’d never touch her again. But he had to keep his promise. The last one he’d keep when he broke every other one.
“Freckles, I’m never gonna miss a single one of your gigs. Never gonna miss my girl owning the stage, owning my soul.”
He’d seen thousands of people screaming her name at those concerts, worshipping her. But it was quite a different thing watching it up close, people stopping in their tracks at the sight of Lexie. She hadn’t changed. She was still that beautiful girl she had been in high school. That’s what got to him the most. There was hurt behind her eyes, an ocean of it, but she hadn’t been warped by this fame, turned into someone different. Someone ugly. She was humble. Fuckin’ kind. She’d left Duke’s hospital room yesterday, tears in her eyes and inches away from breaking. Killian had been certain she’d fall then. She’d collapse. He was ready to catch her. But before he could move, two shy kids approached her, asking for autographs.
Fury licked at Killian’s throat. Yeah, they were just fuckin’ kids, they didn’t know any better, but could they not see? Could they not see she was hanging on by a thread? She didn’t have anything left. But he’d watched in amazement as the hurt completely disappeared from her face and she smiled warmly at the kids. Fuckin’ joked with them, as if she was leaving a room after she’d gotten the best news of her life. He’d been awed.
The same was happening now. She had that act in place, sitting in a makeup chair, joking with people, like her life was easy, like she wasn’t battling the demons that had blindsided Killian this morning. That’s what worried him the most.
That and the man out to hurt what was his.
“Please tell me the bags under your eyes are Prada?” Mario, my makeup artist, asked me. His perfectly plucked brow was raised as he regarded me sitting in the chair in front of the fluorescent lights. Shayla, my hairstylist was working to tame my locks and she giggled slightly.
“Come on,” she protested, locking eyes with me in the mirror. “Even with bags the size of Texas under her eyes, she looks better than half the models here.” Her southern twang was thick and she winked at me. I winked back.
Shayla and Mario came with me almost everywhere. Whenever I had press, appearances, or tours. At first, I thought having hair and makeup people was ridiculous. Then I realized how much shit I had to fit into every day and welcomed someone else dealing with making me presentable.
They had their work cut out for them today, I knew.
Mario put his hands on his hips. He was as skinny as a rake, with bright pink hair and covered in tattoos. He also wore makeup that rivaled anything I could do myself. Today, his winged liner was so sharp it could cut a bitch.
“Yes, yes, we know Lexie is beautiful and amazing, blah, blah. But we have a photo shoot. Under fluorescent lights. Now, I don’t doubt my ability to turn this”—he waved his hands at my face—“into excellence. But why must we test my skills so?” He bent forward. “Do Uncle Mario a favor and get more sleep,” he ordered. There was concern in his eyes and I knew it was his way of telling me he cared.
“Your wish is my command,” I lied. There was no way I was getting proper sleep until Killian was out of my house and I could tr
y and go back to living without him.
Oh, and the murderous stalker was caught. You’d think that would be the first thing I worried about. My head was a screwed up place to be right now. Shame I couldn’t escape it.
Mario’s eyes narrowed at my forehead, which was now on display with Shayla piling my hair into an updo.
He reached to squeeze my hand. “Now, I’m not gonna pry because there will be enough people doing that today. Just tell me one thing, sugar. You okay?” he asked, nodding to the healing cut.
I nodded quickly. That was one thing I couldn’t do, lie to my friends about what happened. Plus, I couldn’t think too much about that night. I was doing my best to escape so many memories, not just the one of how I got that cut, but the ones that had chased me for four years. I knew I couldn’t outrun them forever and was terrified of what would happen when they caught me.
Mario sensed the fact I couldn’t talk about what happened in my emotional stare. He straightened and looked at Shayla. “No updos today, babe. I’m thinking something sweeping across her face. Let’s get my girl glowing.”
He clapped his hands together and went to work.
*****
“Eddie, I got a bit of feedback on that last one. Can we tweak the sound please?” I spoke into the mic after we’d finished our last song at the rehearsal.
Eddie, our sound tech, gave me a thumbs up. “Sure thing, Lexie.” He smiled and set to work. He was about our age and had been with us for almost a year. Most of our crew had been with us from the start and were considered friends.
I turned to the boys. “What do we think?”
Sam stood from the drum set, stretching so his tee rode up and the tattoos on his lower stomach showed along with his chiseled abs. “I was awesome, obviously.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You guys were okay too, I guess,” he added.
“Why thank you for showering us with praise, douchebrain,” Wyatt said, leaning his bass on the edge of the stage. His eyes were drawn to the corner and he frowned. I knew exactly who he was looking at. The person lurking in the shadows. I had felt the electric current flicker from him the moment I started singing.
Although he hadn’t left my side all day, thankfully, he hadn’t spoken to me. I’d noticed the change in him since the photo shoot. His jaw was clenched harder and his icy gaze was emptier than I’d ever seen it. I didn’t focus on that. Luckily, I didn’t have time to focus on that. Today had been my first day back. Really back. After the photo shoot, I was whisked to a hotel and remade up by Shayla and Mario and outfitted in a white cashmere turtleneck dress with a low-slung fringed belt and heeled slouchy boots. I was still boho. I was like Sam, my style hadn’t changed, just the price tags had. That didn’t mean I didn’t trawl vintage stores when I could, but it was pretty hard going to those stores without being recognized. In reality, it was easier shopping at disgustingly expensive stores where I didn’t get swarmed. Fortunately, I had Hannah, who did the trawling for me and got me great vintage pieces. I also had a stylist, strictly for tours. I was quite capable of dressing myself on a daily basis.
The interview had gone fine, thankfully. Mark had organized it with my favorite reporter. An oxymoron for most in the industry, but me and Raymond Stix actually got on well, and he was human. He didn’t twist my words and reported mostly truth, if a little embellished.
I’d recounted the story of the robbery, as rehearsed, my cut expertly disguised by a sweeping braid in my hair.
“If it was just a robbery, what’s with the new security?” Raymond nodded to a stoic Killian, who had been leaning on the door. He stiffened and looked like he was going to say something. Something that would most likely perk Raymond’s interest and potentially screw up the entire interview.
“We’re just being cautious,” I jumped in before Killian could. “The press have been… intense since Drew’s death. It’s been hard.”
My comment had its intended effect. Raymond perked up at the mention of Drew and spent the rest of the interview asking me how I was coping with his death. I did my best to answer these questions tactfully, not missing the fury that seem to engulf the room at the mention of Drew.
Raymond didn’t notice it, probably because he was too busy trying to get the latest scoop, and because he wasn’t in tune to the man in the corner like I was. I felt the anger at the mention of Drew’s name and it pissed me right off. He was jealous of my dead ex.
Truth was, as terrible as it was, I hadn’t even thought of Drew since I laid eyes on Killian. Since before that. Apart from when cameras were thrust in my face, I didn’t think about it. Horrible, but that was a testament to how little he meant to me. But I couldn’t give Raymond an inkling of that. My indifference to his death was an even bigger story than my grief, so I focused on my answers instead of Killian’s anger.
We had gotten into the car after that, and I could tell Killian was about to explode. He turned to me, but someone was looking out for me because my phone rang. It was my mother checking up on me, as she had been ever since she left. I couldn’t have loved her more in that moment.
Of course I worried about her, but the pregnancy was going better, she said. Though I didn’t believe her, Zane reassured me. Then, after making sure I was okay and there wasn’t more incidents, he demanded to talk to Killian. I had handed him the phone without a word. He’d known it was Zane. So he’d taken it without a word and spoken in clipped phrases. By this point, we’d made it to the gym. Not the gym I went to with Duke. I wasn’t prepared to go there just yet. So instead, I was at the exact place I despised, all shiny and full of people who were there to see and be seen.
Luckily, my sometimes trainer had a private room in which he kicked my ass enough to chase the worst of my thoughts away.
From there, I’d come straight to sound check for the concert we were having in a few days. Killian drove once more and I made sure to keep my headphones in my ears the entire time.
“How long is he going to be following us around?” Wyatt clipped.
“How long’s a piece of string?” I replied.
“The police seriously don’t have any leads?” Noah asked, moving closer. There were many ears around here and we didn’t need anyone getting the scoop of what exactly was going on. I was having a run of shitty luck lately, but the press being in the dark about my stalker was the one thing that had given me a break.
I sighed, running my hands through my curls. “No. Dead ends. No prints on anything. No evidence of any kind. And we’ve got radio silence from this guy. Maybe he realized the heat’s on now,” I said hopefully.
“Not likely,” Sam said, voice tight. “These guys have a one-track mind when it comes to the object of their fasciation. Once they’ve gotten this far, nothing will stop him until he can carry out his delusions.”
We all looked at him.
“What? I read.”
“More like watch too much TV,” Wyatt muttered.
I rubbed my arms as Sam’s words caused a prickle to erupt in them.
Noah moved forward to pull me against his chest. “Hey, don’t let him freak you out. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. We’ll make sure of that. And as much as I hate to admit it”—he looked to the corner—“so will he.”
I nodded, leaning into his arms.
“Who needs a beer?” Sam said loudly. “I know I need ten.”
Wyatt and Noah nodded in agreement.
“I’ll be just a sec. I need to sort out this sound,” I told them. They gave me worried looks. “Seriously, guys, go, get liquor. Maintain the rumor that you’re all high-functioning alcoholics.” I shooed them with my hands.
I turned back to the mic. “How are we looking, Eddie?” I said into the mic.
He gave me a thumbs up. I nodded and began to strum. I didn’t play one of my songs; I couldn’t do that without the boys. Playing it to Killian with the backup of the boys was one thing. Playing it with just me? No. I had an idea then
. A stupid, crazy, reckless idea. Something had to give. All the emotions churning in my stomach were going to do some damage if I didn’t find a way to let them out. If I didn’t find a way to communicate to Killian. I couldn’t talk to him, but couldn’t ignore him no matter how hard I tried. So instead, I played “Snuff” by Slipknot.
I got so lost in the music it made me float away, made time an inconsequential thing, and I was back to being in my garage four years ago when my heart was light and my mind bright and untainted. When music could cure everything and say everything a shy teenage girl couldn’t say.
The impact of hurtling back to reality with the end of the song was jarring. A couple of roadies erupted in applause, but I didn’t note it. All I saw was Killian push off the wall.
“Out, everyone,” he barked. A few people jumped and gave him sideways looks. “Now!” he yelled.
Everyone dispersed pretty quickly at his tone. He wasn’t someone they recognized, but his entire demeanor was dangerous and he leaked authority. And menace. Eddie gave him a long scowl and looked to me with worry. I gave him a weak smile and nodded, trying not to communicate my fury to the poor sound guy who was only looking out for me. His gaze lingered before he left, and then it was just me and Killian in the huge room.
I didn’t waste time in setting my guitar down and storming down to meet Killian at the bottom of the stage.
“What the fuck was that?” I hissed. “You do not talk to them like that. You have no fucking right.”
Killian’s fury flickered in the face of my own, as if he didn’t expect it. Well, he was in for a great surprise if he thought he could push me around like it seemed he had become used to doing with everyone else.