A Killer Duet

by Mary Winter

  The phone went silent.

  Case stared at it for a moment longer then went to check on security. Everyone was in place, and twenty minutes later when Rain walked down the alley to the music from her backup band, all of whom he’d vetted and found no issues with, to the roar of the enthusiastic crowd, he knew he’d done his job. And when she burst into the first song, the crowd going even wider, he couldn’t stop the grin that covered his face.

  Tonight’s concert held more energy, the crowd on the edge of their seats and when the concert ended, the crowd dispersed, and he was accompanying Rain to her bus, the two men in suits standing between the venue and Dale holding the door open stopped him.

  One flashed his badge. “Agent Hodges with the FBI. We’re looking for Scott Bloomfield.”

  Rain stiffened beside him. “I haven’t seen him all day.” She turned to Case. “Have you?”

  “No, I haven’t either. My thought is he left upset. He yelled false accusations at the hotel the other night. Can I ask what this is about? I’m Case Trenton with Treble Security.”

  The agents’ expressions didn’t change so either they hadn’t heard of Johnny’s firm or kept their composure. “An active investigation. That’s all we can say.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. We haven’t seen him.” And that, more than the FBI’s presence, worried him the most.

  Chapter 6

  The FBI wanted her probably sooner-than-she-thought former bodyguard. Rain squeezed Case’s hand, her bus like a haven she couldn’t reach. Dale would be sitting in the driver’s seat, his expression as grim as she’d ever seen it, and they’d been together a long time. She’d consoled him when one of his grandchildren had been struck with, and then overcome, leukemia, and hugged him at his wife’s funeral. If he looked that serious, then something must have happened.

  “We’d like to talk to you,” the agent said as she came back to her dressing room now that the show had ended.

  She registered the words as if in a fog. “Here? But I just got done with a show. I need to clean up. To change. To relax.” She said the last as if making an appeal, one, she knew, would fall on deaf ears.

  Case stepped forward. “Can we talk about this at the hotel? You’re welcome to follow the bus if you like, but I feel as if it will be easier on Ms. Chowden if we do this somewhere private.” He sensed venue security behind him at the doors, the men curious. He hoped they kept their discretion, because no one could have missed the flash of badges.

  Agent Hodges tucked his badge away. “Of course. Thank you.”

  When Case gave the room number and then informed the agents that he had some information they’d be interested in, including some security footage, she realized she’d missed something that’d happened. He helped her into the bus and as soon as she secured her guitar, she turned to him. “What do you mean information? What happened?”

  “Someone tried to break into the hotel room last night using a key they’d obtained. This hotel has very lax security, but I believe I put the fear of god into the manager and I’ve already sent the surveillance tape to Johnny and with the help of his assistant Annie, we know who it was and that they’re tied into a movement that’s called False Music.

  She went pale. “I’ve heard of them.” She bent over, afraid she might be sick as a wave of nausea overtook her. There were rumors, whisper campaigns, things that female artists shared amongst themselves about the group. She’d hoped, prayed she’d never run into them because it was said that they tried to attack their victims. One singer, a rapper, had gotten splashed with acid and most likely would never perform again. Just the threat of such a thing, never mind that she could probably live off her royalties for the rest of her life, scared the crap out of her.

  She went silent for the rest of the trip, not quite sure how to reply or what to say. That he kept this from her, understandable, and yet, disturbing. When the bus stopped, she unfastened her guitar and stood. Case was by her side, his hands on her shoulders.

  “Hey,” he said. “I was going to tell you. I just wanted some more information first. Know that no matter what happens, whatever these men say, I’ve got you. Every cell in my body is on alert to keep you safe and I will. Okay?”

  That was as close to an honest declaration of anything she’d gotten from a man. When she didn’t answer he leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers.

  She gasped and he cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss. She tightened her fingers around the guitar handle, half afraid she was going to drop it from shock. Swaying against him, she cupped his broad shoulder with her other head, yearning to get closer. The first sweep of his tongue sparked something deep inside. A fire of want and need that swept through her like pyrotechnics gone wild and threatened to consume them both in an inferno. She moaned against his lips, wanting, needing so much more than he could give at the moment.

  When the kiss parted both of them had ragged breathing. Only the presence of Dale, the door open and looking all-too-knowing at the moment, had kept them from going any further. Except, she’d completely forgotten her driver was there until she heard the swish of the door. And even then, it’d been Case who had stopped the kiss.

  “I—” She fumbled, realized she had no words. So she did what any star would do. She squared her shoulders, hefted her guitar and exited the tour bus, with her security guard following closely behind.

  The agents must have been watching because they entered the lobby just as the elevator doors were closing on her and Case, and she had never been more thankful for tinted privacy glass on her bus than she was at that moment. The agents could have saw them kissing. With her regular security guard missing, and really, she didn’t care too much about that as long as he didn’t cause trouble. Except, she knew he would. Scott was like that. He’d get his ass twisted over something, go raise hell, maybe drink himself into a three-day bender, and then come back. Why hadn’t she fired him sooner? The question rallied in her mind as the elevator rose to their floor and as Case opened the door. She stepped inside, realized she probably ought to go to her room and decided she’d ask about it once the agents left.

  “Freshen up,” Case said. “I’ll let them in.” He held out his hand and took the guitar from her so she could duck into the bathroom.

  “Put it on my bed,” she said, then closed the door behind her. She stared in the mirror at her kiss swollen lips, the heavier than usual stage makeup, the slightly tousled hair, part art, part Case’s fingers. She grabbed a face cloth and scrubbed her face clean to the sounds of the agents entering the room. She had no time for a shower, to do anything except leave her hair as is, change out of the costume into a t-shirt and pair of jeans. She emerged from the bathroom to find the men sitting with their backs to the window talking with Case.

  “Ms. Chowden,” Agent Holmes said as she entered the room. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to us.”

  “Um, of course,” she said. A glance at Case showed him to be reasonably relaxed, but then again he worked in security. No doubt he talked with law enforcement, FBI even, on a far more regular basis than her, which had been never. Other than the state troopers or local officers who provided security when the venue was large enough to merit additional support, it’d been a speeding ticket at least ten years ago since she’d spoken with an officer in a law enforcement capacity. She swallowed hard and gratefully accepted the water Case offered her. “I’ll tell you what I can, but I don’t know much.”

  Agent Holmes smiled. “You’d be surprised. Sometimes the smallest tip can lead to the biggest break. I can’t divulge much, but your bodyguard is wanted for some pretty serious charges, mostly related to some personal debts.” He glanced at Case. “I don’t know how much Mr. Trenton has told you about a group called False Music.”

  She gasped. “He hasn’t said much, but there are rumors.”

  “Your bodyguard may be working for them as a way to pay back some gambling losses. Were you aware he had a problem?” Agent Holmes said.
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  “I had concerns, yes.” She sighed and glanced at Case. “If he’s behind this, I…” Her words trailed off because really what would she say at this point? She didn’t think he was capable of it? She didn’t believe that Scott would do anything like this? “I don’t know why, though. What would he gain by this?”

  “Payment for his gambling debts,” the agent said. His partner remained quiet and Rain wondered if this were some kind of “good cop bad cop” ploy. “You’re sure you didn’t know anything about this.”

  She glanced at Case, noting his stoic expression. Of course he probably had more experience with this than she had. “Look, he came during shows, supposedly took care of security though I’m now realizing just how loose he was with it, and when I wasn’t on stage then he did his own thing. He often didn’t stay around during rehearsals.”

  Case curled his fingers into a fist, clearly not happy at hearing that news.

  “We talked a little. Early on he tried to make a move, flirt as guys do. I shut him down. That’s it. Roddie James, my manager, knew him better than I did. I can’t say I’m too happy with either of them right now. If I had information or knew anything I’d tell you, because frankly this supposedly easy residency here in Branson is turning into a nightmare and I just want it to be over and go home.” She swallowed hard, hoping her voice wouldn’t break with the truth she just revealed. She’d heard from other performers that Branson was a cake walk. An older family crowd, lots of good food and a supportive city. After being here, frankly she wasn’t sure she wanted to come back and sadly it had nothing to do with the locals.

  “Okay Ms. Chowden. I understand.” The agent talked a bit with Case, mostly about security protocols and when Scott had last been there. She wondered if Roddie knew about all this. Realized she hadn’t heard from her manager, and decided when this was over she’d get her phone and see if he texted or called. Maybe it was time to make some personnel changes in her career.

  She supposed she should listen to the conversation Case was having with the agents. Mostly, she was tired. She wanted her chicken salad, some yoga, and a chance to destress after her performance. Thankfully, the agents didn’t say much longer, and Case was showing them to the door.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked as he turned.

  “Yeah. Let me go to my room and get some costumes for the next couple of nights and some more clothes. I’ve put the do not disturb sign up, and I think I probably should send some laundry down with housekeeping.” Focusing on the mundane chores helped her to think about what she’d do. The idea that this were somehow tied to the False Music group…and yet, she’d seen the notes.

  “I’ll go with you.” He tucked the room key into his pocket and waited for her to get her key out of her purse.

  A moment later they crossed the hall. She unlocked the door, noting the do not disturb sign still hung there, and opened the door. Chaos greeted her. She couldn’t move, not at the sight of her costumes, many shredded to ribbons. The sheer and utter destruction from her cosmetics tossed onto the carpet, packages opened, and powders ground into the carpet. Whoever had done this had been methodical, maniacal, and thorough.

  She turned to Cain. A sob welled in her throat combined with the need to find the bastard who had done this and kick his ass six ways to Sunday. She pressed her head to his chest and the steel bands of his arms came around her. She tried not to cry, didn’t want to cry, but damn it, she hadn’t done anything to deserve this.

  “I’ll have Dale run the costumes to the dry cleaner. I’ll be fine with what I have.” She pressed herself tighter against Case’s chest, “I just want to go.”

  “Of course.” His voice rumbled through her. He stepped backwards and a moment later the door clicked behind them. “We’re going to have to let the agents know and probably local law enforcement.”

  She nodded. “Roddie would hate me, but I just want to cancel the tour and be done with it.” The image of words False Music written in one of her lipsticks on the bathroom mirror haunted her.

  “That is an option. He opened the door and sat down next to her on the bed, his arm still around her. “What would it take to make you feel safe?”

  Chapter 7

  Rain’s eyes widened, and Case realized no one had probably ever asked her that question before. “If I’m going to finish out my residency,” she started with a deep, shuddering breath, “then I think I want you on stage with me. And people we trust working behind. I want to fire Scott and Roddie.”

  He nodded, because in a way, he’d been hoping she’d say that. “You know that firing them may make it more likely that they want to sabotage things. I’ve seen it before. Pissed off managers or ex-staff trying to do stupid shi—things.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, wishing there were some way he could replace the fear in her eyes with some other emotion. “You know I’d do anything within my power to keep you safe.”

  She nodded, eyes wide. “That’s what I want. Tell me, can you sing?”

  Other than “can you make love to me” that was probably the question he’d been longing to hear her ask. “Yes, I can sing. I can even play the guitar.”

  “We’ll have to rework things, make you a part of the band,” she replied with a smile, and now that she wasn’t focusing on the danger to herself, he sensed her becoming more confident. “But I’ll talk to the guys. They pretty much keep to themselves when we practice and if you don’t mind spending some extra hours in rehearsal, then we can do this.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

  He caressed the strands of her hair between his fingers, not wanting to lose this connection with her. “I’d do anything to keep you safe. I want you to know that. Above and beyond what I was hired to do. I’d do anything.” His gaze met hers and for a moment they locked. His fingers slid from her hair to the side of her face, and she turned toward his touch. He brushed his thumb against her lower lip and she opened her mouth ever so slightly and slid her pink tongue across her lips.

  He was lost. His body tightened with the need to cover her, to possess her, and to completely shield her from the outside world. He turned her face toward his and kissed her. The first light touch of his mouth against hers set fire to his blood. The second cemented the fact that whether it was right or wrong, they would make love. Part of his mind wondered if he shouldn’t press his advantage, if by doing so he was some kind of fool. And yet, when she twined her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his, he knew she wanted this as much as he did. Maybe more.

  He walked them backwards to the bed, his, the kiss never deepening, but growing more insistent, hungrier, to the point where it seemed something needed to happen or they both would shatter. When the mattress bumped against the back of her legs, she swayed toward him, then pulled them both down to the bed, the kiss never ending.

  Then, with both of them laying across the mattress, her legs tangled with his, did she open her mouth and invite him inside. He swallowed her moan of need, and she tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged gently. He couldn’t analyze it. Not then. Not in that moment when he burned with the desire to claim her for his. Their tongues touched, stroked, and his blood quickened with the knowledge that soon he’d be inside the hot, wet sheath of her body.

  Rain arched against him. Sliding her leg alongside his, she rocked her hips to his, riding the ridge of his erection through his jeans. She ground against him, pushing him until he lay on his back and she straddled him. Still, they kissed.

  At this angle, he tugged at her shirt, lifting it up to expose the pale skin of her midriff, a hint of pastel cotton fabric for her bra. Driven by the need to see her, he pulled her shirt until it bunched beneath her arms, then she leaned back enough to allow him to pull it over her head. She reached up, removed the last pins and clips from her hair and sent it tumbling in golden waves down over her back and shoulders. Oh the music they could make together—on and off the stage.

  He needed to hear her say th
e words. “Do you want this?” he said as her shirt fluttered to the floor next to the bed. “Do you want to make love to me?”

  He held his breath in anticipation of her answer. Instead of speaking, she reached behind her and unfastened her bra. The straps slid forward, the cups held in place by her breasts. “Does this give you an answer?” She leaned forward and her breasts swayed toward him.

  “Yeah, but it’s sexier to hear you say it.” Not that he doubted her consent, not at all. Still, the man in him wanted to hear her tell him.

  “Yes, Case. I want to make love to you.” She leaned forward and sealed her words with a kiss.

  Rain tamped down her impatience as she spoke, knowing that it was vital she tell him what she wanted, that she was in this as much as she was. Her nipples hardened from a breeze coming from the HVAC system and the caress of cotton against her skin. He reached up, not to cup her breasts or play with them as she’d guessed, but rather to slowly work the straps down her arms. She pulled her hands free, then lifted her chest and pulled the fabric away.

  The first brush of her bare breasts against his shirt, so close and yet separated from his warm skin and whorls of hair, nearly took her breath away. She moaned into his mouth and tangled her fingers into his hair. His long caresses along her spine only drove her hotter, made her want to take things into her own hands. Her panties were wet, the seam of her jeans riding over the most sensitive part of her. Between them, the thick ridge of Case’s erection told her exactly how much he wanted her and how much he was restraining himself.

  Her world narrowed down to the man beneath her. His hands, his lips, his hips, his body, all of it consumed her attention, so when he finally moved his hands between them to caress her breasts, she arched her back and offered herself to him. She needed more. In their position she couldn’t tug at his clothes and maybe that was his plan. She lifted enough to reach his shirt and then pull it up, toward his head. He smiled as he pulled it off, though she regretted the loss of his hands on her breasts.