Songs of the Heart: Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3

by B. Rose, Charli

  ♪ Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding

  Finally, his lips settled where I longed for them to be, fused with mine. Tentatively, his tongue dipped into my mouth, licking, tasting, seeking mine. When the search was over, the caution and shyness dissipated like smoke on a windy day. Our tongues tangled in a dance that was as instinctual as breathing.

  My fingers wound in his too long locks, tugging him closer and making him moan. His hand grabbed my knee and squeezed before traveling up under my dress. I writhed, desperate to feel his touch on me.

  Bang. Bang. “Ten minutes, D,” Joe shouted from the hallway.

  With a groan, he pulled away from my mouth and fixed my dress.

  “Who needs breath anyway?” I asked, panting deeply.

  “I’d gladly give up breathing if it meant I died buried inside you.” Lust and heat simmered in his eyes, making the golden flecks sparkle.

  “Then why’d you stop?” I brushed my fingers along his jaw and down to cup his neck.

  He groaned. “Because ten minutes isn’t nearly long enough for what I want to do to you, what I need to do to you. With you. And I need to shower and change.”

  “OK. Go get smelling good for your fans. We can raincheck for later,” I agreed easily. We had all the time in the world now that we were here together. I dropped my hand to my lap.

  “Promise? It doesn’t have to be tonight. Remember, I’m a patient man. We can take things slowly and figure them out,” he said with a smirk at the flush of heat creeping over my skin.

  ♪ Anything by The Calling

  “OK.” I reached up and cupped his cheek, unable to resist touching him. “I love you, but you’re all sweaty. Go.” I planted my hand on his chest and playfully pushed him back.

  “Just admit it, it turns you on when I come off stage all sweaty and pumped with adrenaline,” he teased, waggling his brows at me.

  “It does. But like you said, we don’t have time. Cold shower for you. Now, mister,” I said sternly.

  As he walked towards the bathroom, he flipped the light switch. I gasped as I looked around the room. “What the hell?”

  Half the surfaces in the room were covered in vases of flowers and underwear. Lots and lots of underwear. Hopefully, all clean.

  “Oh my … Dawson, what is this?”

  “Fans have gotten a little overzealous. Happens in all our dressing rooms. The record label had someone on staff before who would throw out all the underwear and take all the flowers to local rest homes and hospitals. We haven’t added someone to our staff to take care of it now that we’re independent. I’m so sorry you had to see all of this.” He waved his hand around, encompassing the colorful explosion of lacey scraps.

  I wandered around the room, looking at the notes tied to the underwear. It was a literal rainbow of lace and cotton. I was dumbfounded.

  “Say something, flutterby,” Dawson’s pained voice croaked.

  “I had no idea it had gotten like this,” I whispered. Shaking my head, I couldn’t stop myself from stroking the petal on one of the roses.

  “It means nothing, I swear,” his voice yanked me out of the trance.

  “I’m fine.” Maybe. I swallowed hard then gave him a tentative smile. “Go shower.”

  Once he disappeared inside the bathroom, I looked at one of the cards stuck in the flower arrangement.

  Before I could read the message, the vibration of my phone distracted me.

  Frowning, I answered, “Hi, Charles.”

  “Isabelle, I’m sorry to call you so late. But I figured you’d want to know right away. The cleaning crew called to tell me the room where we have your pieces stored was open when they went in. I’m so sorry, but several of your pieces were vandalized,” he said breathlessly.

  “What? How could that happen? Why? I’ll be right there,” I rambled in disbelief.

  I shoved my phone back into my pocket and frantically searched for something to leave Dawson a note on. Once I found a pen and paper, I scribbled:

  Got to go. Emergency at the gallery. TTYL. I love you.

  As I ran down the hallway to the arena’s entrance, I used my phone to summon an uber. My mind raced as my heart broke. Which pieces had been ruined?

  Thankfully, traffic wasn’t bad, so I was dropped off in front of the gallery in a matter of minutes. Charles was pacing the lobby when I leaped from the car.

  “Which pieces, Charles?” I choked out.

  “Two photographs and two paintings.”

  His hand on the small of my back guided me to the room where most of my pieces were stored. The table was clear except for the four damaged works. A knife had been used to reduce one of the enlarged photos of the band and an image of a surfer in the distance to ribbons.

  Tears trickled down my cheeks when I looked at the painting of the fans waiting outside the concert venue. Every fan had been covered in blood red paint, except one at the front of the line with bubble gum colored hair and a motorcycle helmet clasped in her hand. I moved down the line to the last damaged piece. A sob ripped through my chest as I took in the violently shredded painting of a young hand offering a gift of wildflowers.

  “Why would someone do this, Charles?” I straightened the slivers of canvas back into position. In bright red paint, across the top was printed the word MINE.

  “I don’t know, Izzy.” He shook his head sadly. “Of course, the photos can be reprinted. But I’m so sorry about the paintings. I know how much The Gift of Flowers piece meant to you.”

  “Yeah,” I croaked. The painting depicting our childhood love, innocent and pure, was now ravaged by hate. Maybe it was an omen.

  “What do you want me to do about this? The gallery’s insurance will cover the value of the damaged works. Do you want to file a police report?” Charles asked, pacing the floor.

  “I just need some time to think. My mind’s a wreck right now. Can I call you tomorrow?”

  I’d gone from riding the crest of a wave to being crushed beneath its force in a matter of hours.

  “Sure. Take your time.” He squeezed my shoulder

  “I need to go.” I needed Dawson. Only he could settle the chaos that was waging war on my soul.

  Hastily, I fled the building, stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. With tears blurring my vision, I made my way down the sidewalk and pulled up Dawson’s number on my phone. Before I could press send, a roar filled the air behind me. I was knocked to the ground. Pain ricocheted in my skull. Voices came from far away as the world went black around me.

  Chapter 10

  Dawson

  Showering and changing took a little longer than normal since I took the time to shave. I wanted to look my best for Izzy. To be the boy she loved years ago.

  Rubbing my towel over my head one more time, I stepped out of the bathroom. “Sorry that took so long, flutterby.”

  Silence greeted me. I yanked the terrycloth from my head and looked around. My dressing room was empty. Frowning, I turned back to the bathroom and tossed the towel inside. With hurried steps, I moved to the door. Joe was ten feet down the hall, leaning against the wall.

  “Hey, Joe, did Izzy head on into the meet and greet?” I prayed he’d give an affirmative answer.

  Please don’t let her have been frightened off by the dozens of underwear that filled my dressing room.

  “Nah, man. I assumed she was still in there with you,” Joe said, moving towards me.

  “But you’ve been here in the hallway the whole time, right?” I asked, frowning.

  “I had to go take a leak, but I was only gone for like two minutes.” His bulk ate up the distance between us.

  Turning, I stepped back into the dressing room. My gaze flickered over everything, looking for any clue as to where she’d disappeared to. Joe was doing the same thing.

  “What’s with the underwear draped all over everything?” He shook his head as he pushed some out of the way. “I hope they’re all brand new.” His shoulders shuddered.

  “A w
hile back the fans started sending panties to all of our rooms. One of the staff members from the record label took care of disposing of them before we had to use the rooms. I forgot about it until I brought Izzy in here. You don’t think she bailed because of all this, do you?” I waved my hand around the room.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve talked with her. But the Izzy I knew wouldn’t be scared off by something like this.” Joe shifted some things on the table next to the couch.

  I moved a vase of flowers on the surface of the dressing table and noticed a square envelope. Recognizable writing on the outside spelled my name. My blood ran cold as I reached for the familiar looking paper.

  “Hey, I found a note from her. It says: Got to go. Emergency at the gallery. TTYL. I love you,” Joe said.

  His words didn’t register. Only the message I held in my trembling fingers did.

  “D, did you hear me? She had an emergency, so just call her,” Joe’s voice sounded like it was traveling to my ears through a tunnel.

  Black hearts slid from the paper pouch into my hand. Mingled with them were two photo puzzle pieces. My face in profile in one. More of my torso in the other. Drawn on my torso was a black heart and the word MINE printed under it.

  “Dawson, are you OK?” Joe’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, jarring me out of my trance.

  I held my palm out to him, showing him the picture scraps. “What does the letter say?”

  I unfolded the paper to find the magazine clipped words I’d become accustomed to.

  Dear Dawson,

  I'm planning a little trip before I can completely be with you. You know they say heartbreak is inspiring. I bet Izzy will create some beautiful things to share with the world once I tell her you don't want her.

  Love,

  Me.

  “Look,” Joe whispered and pointed to the mirror.

  Written across the reflective surface in red were the words: You’re MINE.

  “She was here,” my voice was stony. “She’s going after Izzy. We have to find her. Now,” I snapped, instantly frantic.

  “Call her. I’ll see if any of the other guys happened to go with her. They all know not to leave her alone,” Joe said authoritatively.

  As Joe spoke into his phone, I thumbed her name on my phone’s screen. Pacing the floor, I waited for the call to go through. “Hi, this is Isabelle. Leave a message.”

  “Straight to voicemail, Joe.”

  My chest heaved in and out, panic rising. Nothing could happen to her. I was only just starting to get her back. I couldn’t suffer through losing her again. I’d sacrifice whatever it took to have her safely in my life.

  “Keep trying. Her note said there was an emergency at the gallery. Do you know the name of it?” Joe asked, still holding his own phone to his ear.

  “No. But how many could there be in Charleston?”

  I redialed her number. “Hi, this is—”

  I ended the call.

  After I opened a web browser on my phone, I searched art galleries in the area. “Damn it, Joe. There are like six galleries.”

  “OK. I’ll get Key to start calling them. It’s a long shot since it’s after hours, but if something’s going on at one of them, maybe someone will answer.” He spoke into the black rectangle in his hand.

  “Joe, did anyone see her leave or go with her?” Hope surged in me for a moment.

  “No. Everyone else was dealing with fans in the meet and greet line or some groupies who tried to sneak backstage. I’m sorry, man. Let me call the local PD, see if anyone can help us out,” Joe stated, the epitome of authority and calm.

  “OK. But hurry. I’ve got a bad feeling.” My insides roiled like a sea being mixed by a storm.

  “Don’t think the worst. Go fill Brooks in, so the guys will know why you aren’t showing up. I’ll call the station. Meet me in the hallway in five minutes,” he ordered and pointed.

  I hit redial again as I pushed through the door and into the hallway. Following the sounds of chaos, I burst into the room where the meet and greet was in full swing.

  “Dawson,” the fans clamored.

  I didn’t even offer a smile at any of them. Hands reached out to touch me, to clutch the fabric of my shirt. I shrugged each one off, zeroing in on Brooks.

  “Thought you might skip out on this one, dude. Not that I’d blame you. You’ve waited a long time to get back with Izzy,” he said, smirking at me from behind the scantily clad woman on his lap.

  “Izzy’s gone,” I choked out.

  “What do you mean she’s gone?” Brooks nudged the woman off him as he stood and approached me.

  “I mean, she left me a note that there was an emergency at the art gallery while I was in the shower. And now she isn’t answering her phone,” my voice was high-pitched and shaky in my ears.

  “She probably just never turned it back on after the show ended.” He gave me a reassuring smile.

  Leaning forward, I spoke in his ear, “My stalker was here too.”

  “What?” He shifted back so he could look at me.

  I nodded. “There was a new note with some photo pieces and a message written on the mirror. Not to mention my dressing room was filled with underwear. I’m worried something bad has happened to Izzy.” “What do you need me to do?” His hands gripped my shoulders, helping to keep me upright.

  “Just cover for me with the fans. I gotta go try to find her.”

  “Say no more. Just go. Call me when you find out anything,” Brooks said.

  He drew me into a one-armed hug, clapping me on the back. When he let go, I turned to the door. The crowd had surged, blocking my path. Just as I was about to start shouldering my way through the pulsing mass, Ty appeared at my side, and Deric flanked my other side. They pushed through the crowd and delivered me to the door.

  Ty turned to me. “I’m so sorry, D. I came to help out down here with the crowd. I didn’t think she’d need watching.”

  As much as I wanted to blame someone, I couldn’t blame him. “It’s not your fault, dude. You’ve been up here watching over her for me all week, and there weren’t any issues. There was no reason to think she’d be in danger here of all places.”

  “As soon as the fans disperse, I’m gonna meet up with you guys and help any way I can,” he offered.

  “Thanks.” I gave him an appreciative smile.

  “Let’s go.” Joe grabbed my shoulder and steered me towards the back exit.

  I had to practically run to keep up with him. “Where are we going? Did you find out anything?” The words fell out of my mouth in a rush.

  “It might be nothing. There were no reports filed from any of the art galleries. But there was an accident reported outside of one of the galleries.” He pressed the lever on the exit. The sound echoed in the empty hallway.

  “An accident?” My throat started closing at the thought. Cool air rushed over my skin.

  “I don’t know much. Just that there was a hit and run. Drunk driver. The victim has been taken to University Medical. Until you can get through to Izzy, I figure we’ll start at the hospital,” he explained, glancing over at me.

  We climbed into the car. Before either of us had fastened our seatbelts, Joe pulled away from the arena.

  Though he wasn’t from the area, he maneuvered the darkened city streets as if he’d lived there his whole life. In record time, he pulled into the parking lot by the emergency room entrance. Without waiting for him to shut off the engine, I leaped from the car.

  “Dawson, wait up. You can’t just barge in there alone. You might be recognized,” Joe huffed as he hurried to catch up with me.

  “I don’t care if someone recognizes me, so long as they give me information.” I yanked open the door.

  Scanning the expanse of white and shine stretched before me, I stalked to the receptionist’s desk. She was on the phone.

  “Excuse me,” I whispered.

  She held up one finger as she continued her call. Time slowed while I waited
. I cast an exasperated look at Joe.

  “Ma’am, we’re really sorry to bother you. I’m a retired police officer, and I was alerted that one of the people my security firm is responsible for may have been brought in a little while ago. If you could just check in your computer to see if Isabelle Clark has been admitted, I’d really appreciate it,” Joe said calmly.

  “Just give me one minute to finish up. You can have a seat over there.” She pointed to the crowded waiting area as she went back to her call.

  Joe leaned forward. “Seems like things are nice and calm over there. They won’t stay that way if you send him—” He gestured at me with his thumb. “—over there. He’s the lead singer of Lyrical Odyssey. So, in order to keep things quiet, we’ll just wait here.”

  She looked up at me critically, studying me. Finally, recognition dawned on her face. She hung up the phone without saying goodbye. “Could I get your autograph for my daughter? She’s a huge fan. Has your posters all over her wall,” she gushed.

  “I’ll sign something for you if you could just check to see if Isabelle has been brought in.” I was willing to agree to just about anything to get the information I needed.

  The click of her fingernails on the keys created a syncopated rhythm. It was a little nerve-wracking.

  “Ahh, here she is. Isabelle Clark. They just moved her from triage up to a room. But visiting hours are going to be over in ten minutes,” the woman said apologetically.

  “What room?” my voice was bordering on hysterical. It had to be serious if they’d admitted her.

  “She’s in room 503.” A paper slid into my field of vision. A pen lay across it. “My daughter’s name is Amy.”

  With the speed of a cheetah, I scrawled my name and a message across the square slip. As I pushed it back to her, she handed over two sticker badges. “Those will buy you a little extra time.”

  “Thank you,” I called over my shoulder as I dashed for the elevator.

  I didn’t wait for Joe to check the metal box when the doors opened. I didn’t care if there was a threat inside. Let anyone try to get between me and room 503. It wouldn’t end well for them.