Heavy Metal Heart: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance

by Fields,Annette

  "I promise we'll talk about this. We'll lay everything out on the table tomorrow. But, my love-,"

  "Stop fucking calling me that! You don't love me, you can just say it!" she cried with painful gasps.

  All the anger and frustration Torsten felt from soundcheck-- compounded with Helena’s stubbornness-- reached its boiling point at that moment. He grabbed her shoulder and forced her to face him. Tears streamed from her eyes and her face contorted with hurt.

  "Yes, I do! I love you, Helena! I love you more than any woman I've ever met. I love you more than Lars ever fucking did and that's why I brought you with me. That's why I come back to you every single night. That's why I'll make you come until my cock falls off. I'm completely in love with you."

  Helena shut her eyes tightly as another sob wracked her body. Torsten pulled her tightly against him and this time, she allowed him. She collapsed into his chest, sighing and shuddering deeply as he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

  "He hurt me... so badly. I was... so broken... until you...," she choked out between sobs.

  "I’ll make it better, my love." Torsten murmured into her hair, stroking it gently away from her face. "I’ll tell you everything about me, what I’ve never told anyone. I fucked up and I won’t do wrong by you again. I’ll do whatever I need to prove that I love you and I'll never leave you."

  "You just did...," she whispered into his shirt.

  "Hmm? What do you mean, love?" When she didn't answer, he shook her gently. "Helena?" He pulled away to see that her eyes were closed and her lips parted slightly. No longer sobbing, she breathed deeply and evenly.

  Torsten sighed, then chuckled.

  Passed out cold.

  He laid her down gently and covered her with blankets.

  Should've listened to me, love. I knew you'd be out cold any minute.

  He took one last long at her angelic, sleeping form before closing the door behind him. As he strode down the hallway, he clenched his fists a few times. Not because he was still angry, but he was still in protective mode over Helena, and had to get his head back in the game.

  She'll be fine. She's safe. We just need to get this show going. Then we can talk, and get everything out in the open.

  As he crossed the threshold from the hallway to the great room, his face hardened and became all business. In that moment he transformed from an ordinary breathing man into the Heavy Metal God of Norway.

  He’d bare his soul to his woman and be there when she needed him, but right then his only job and purpose was to put on the most killer metal show Romania had ever seen.

  Chapter 27

  Helena

  Helena woke to a pounding headache and muffled noise echoing throughout her room. Her whole mouth felt as dry as raw cotton. She grabbed an open bottle of water on the nightstand and poured it down her throat. After quenching her thirst, she sat up and tried to make sense of the world through the pain in her skull.

  She looked at her watch. It was after midnight. That sound vibrating throughout the room was undoubtedly the concert in full swing. All the stone distorted the sound as it echoed, but even her hungover brain could tell it was music.

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to remember everything. She went to the bartender in the courtyard determined to get drunk, after deciding in her mind that Torsten didn't love her. Helena cringed as she remembered the bartender, an attractive woman in gothic clothes and makeup, advising her to slow down as she downed shot after shot.

  By the time she got cut off, all the alcohol hit her at once.

  "You're pretty hot. You're probably Torsten's type," she'd drunkenly slurred to the bartender.

  Ugh. I am such a hot mess when I drink.

  She didn't remember much after that. How did she get to their room? She glanced around in confirmation that it was indeed the correct room and she didn't stumble into someone else's suite.

  As she stretched and drank more water, the hazy memories began taking more solid forms.

  Oh God, Torsten! Oh my God, I could fucking die…

  Even though he wasn't there, she dove under the covers in embarrassment. The strongest memory was his warm, spicy smell. He carried her back here and he smelled so good, she could get intoxicated his scent alone.

  She remembered crying and being held by him. His words soothed her, as they always did. Trying to make sense through the painful pounding in her brain, she strained to remember.

  Did he actually say it? Did he say he loves me or did I dream that?

  She concentrated as hard as she could, trying to fit the pieces together, but couldn't. Exasperated, she sighed.

  Well, if he comes back here after the show, it's possible he does. If he up and leaves me in this spooky-ass castle, I guess that's an answer too.

  A sudden knock at the door made her jump out of her skin. She listened carefully. Music still drifted and echoed off the walls, so it wasn't Torsten coming back.

  She approached the door hesitantly. "Who is it?"

  "It's Crina, miss! Just stopping by to check on you and bring you some refreshments."

  Helena blushed, wondering how many people saw Torsten carrying her drunken carcass through the castle. She smoothed out her hair and tried to put on a friendly smile as she opened the door.

  "Thank you! That's very--,"

  A gloved hand shot out of nowhere and covered her mouth tightly. She didn't have any time to feel panic or fear. In a flash, another arm attached to a massive, strong body wrapped around her waist and began dragging her away from her room down the dark hallway.

  Chapter 28

  Helena

  The hallway was coated in pitch black. All the wall sconces along the castle corridors had been turned off.

  Oh my God, I’m being fucking kidnapped!

  Pure fear swam through Helena's mind as she blinked and tried to gather any information on who just snatched her from her room. But nothing. She faced backward as the man pulled her roughly through the castle passageways. She couldn't get a glimpse of his face, shoes, or anything that could help her.

  With every attempt Helena made to stand and walk on her own, her kidnapper hoisted her off her feet to continue dragging her.

  "If you try to struggle or call attention, I'll have him beat you unconscious," hissed a heavily accented female voice.

  Helena recognized it as Crina and choked back a muffled sob. Where were they taking her? Why were they doing this?

  She cried out in pain against the man's hand as they suddenly descended down a flight of stairs. Her feet dragged and bounced on the cold, hard steps. A door opened and the man dragged her through.

  Finally, a light came on and Helena blinked. The man pulled her roughly to a chair in the middle of the room and forced her to sit down. She felt cold, biting metal handcuffs shackle her wrists to the chair.

  Glancing around, Helena observed she was in some kind of storage room. Metal file cabinets lined the walls. Shelves held a variety of office supplies. A simple desk and chair sat in one corner. Trembling, she raised her head slowly to get her first look at her captors.

  There stood Crina, as she expected, looking smugger than the cat that ate the canary. Her partner was an extremely tall, large man covered in black from the mask over his face to his steel-toed boots. He looked like he could knock her off her feet with one slap.

  "No need to be afraid, dear," Crina said, venom dripping from her voice. "We just need your boyfriend to pay us and you'll be back with him in no time."

  Helena sucked in a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts more clearly. "You're holding me ransom?"

  "Mmm. Such a harsh way to put it. But if that's what you insist on calling it." Crina's dark lips turned up in a nonchalant smirk. Neither she nor her hulking companion seemed nervous at all.

  Helena shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position with her arms pulled behind her so tightly.

  It doesn't seem like they'll kill me. But I have to make them talk,
make them expose some kind of weakness. Bide some time.

  "So you've done this whole kidnapping thing before?" She tried to make her voice sound as nonchalant as Crina's.

  "Only when absolutely necessary. Do you know how hard it is to make a living in Romania?" Crina stepped forward and knelt directly in front of Helena. "I have three children to raise on my salary alone and no rich, famous boyfriend to bail me out." She stood, her face contorting into a hard scowl as she looked down at Helena with disdain. "How nice it must be."

  Seriously? She kidnapped me because she’s jealous?

  "Look, Torsten will give you money, a new job, whatever else you need for your family. He actually cares about people who struggle. If you need help getting by, you could have asked! You didn't have to snatch me from my room."

  Crina threw her head back and laughed as if Helena was a stand-up comedian. The sound of her laughter filled the small room and echoed almost as loudly as the music upstairs. Clearly, she didn't think anyone would hear her. Helena also realized she could no longer hear the concert, and wondered if it was over or if they were too far away.

  "I thought your boyfriend was a rock star, not one of our politicians," Crina guffawed, wiping tears in her eyes. "But even if he is an angel on earth, you're already cuffed to a chair. He probably won’t be pleased, so we'll just stick with the plan."

  "How exactly are you going to pull this off?" And how do you expect to not get caught? There are thousands of people here for a concert!

  "A drop-off location has been established." Crina's cool, carefree demeanor returned. "I left a note for your dear hubby to find. All he has to do is drop the cash at the spot by the deadline and he gets his princess back."

  "And if he doesn't?" she challenged.

  Another wry smile tugged at the corners of Crina's darkly painted lips.

  "Then he's not a smart man."

  Helena's eyes flickered over to the giant, masked man who remained silent the entire time. He stood in front of the door with his tree-trunk forearms crossed in front of his chest. He towered over both women with his feet slightly apart. She wondering how this silent sentry got involved with Crina.

  "Gregor's a strong, silent type, as you can see." Crina caught Helena's gaze and walked over to pat the giant man's forearm affectionately. "He's the best security I've ever hired. Too many stupid kids tried breaking in and vandalizing the castle until he came along. Of course, he gets a handsome chunk of the ransom money, too."

  Gregor's eyes were dark underneath his dark mask. Helena couldn't read any expression or intent from them. She shifted again in her seat, praying he wouldn't get any closer to her.

  "Oh, don't worry, dear. Gregor is not the type to rape or torture you."

  Ah, good. So comforting.

  "But if your music man doesn't pay on the deadline, there will be consequences. And we'll need to send him photos of those consequences." Crina spoke as if she were placating a child.

  She leaned down until she was inches away from Helena's face, holding onto the armrests of her chair. "Gregor is an expert at giving black eyes without causing serious bodily harm. So cheer up, sweetheart. At best, we won't touch a hair on your pretty blonde head. At worst...well, you won't look so pretty for a few days."

  Helena tried to swallow the dry lump in her throat but instead felt like her throat was closing up. Fear paralyzed her. She couldn't move or spit out a "Fuck you, bitch.". She tried to think, but couldn't pull her thoughts together. She wished desperately to remember what Torsten said to her during her drunken outburst.

  Maybe he said he loves me, but what if that was a dream?

  If her frazzled, hungover brain could just recall his last words, she would at least have an idea of whether or not he would come to save her.

  Chapter 29

  Torsten

  Torsten felt thankful that, as a rock star, he wasn't obligated to smile. His jaw would be as sore as a prostitute’s after all these fan photos. Still, the nervous impatience filled him to return to Helena.

  "You are a hero in our country!" exclaimed the young man who would not let go of his arm. "Your music expresses all the struggles and frustrations that our people feel!"

  "Thank you." He tried his best to sound earnest, but his eyes kept flickering around the room, hoping to see the fans filing themselves out, rather than overstaying their welcome. The Romanian fans were generally a reserved, quiet bunch, maybe due to the language barrier. Many of them came to the meet-and-greet, asked for photos, then left. Even the girls did not throw themselves at him like those in western Europe.

  "Look, man, it was great to meet you," he said, throwing in a smile for good measure. "But I've got to go somewhere quiet. You know, let my eardrums recover."

  "You will come back to Romania?" the fan asked desperately.

  "Of course, man. I love Romania!" Torsten gave him a comradely slap on the back and the guy finally let him go.

  Torsten walked quickly out of the great room, not bothering to say anything to his band mates. He figured if Helena was still passed out, he’d come back to drink and properly mingle with the fans.

  Yeah right, he told himself. Once you see her angelic, sleeping face, you'll stay up all night watching her sleep, just to make sure she's okay. Because you're fucking hopelessly in love with her.

  In his mind, he pictured her twisted, drunken expression as she threw those poisonous words at him. He didn't expect her to stab him right as his core.

  She made him feel like no other woman did. He couldn’t get enough of her smile, her quick wit, and those dangerous curves, but love? He didn't know the depth his feelings until she accused him of not having them at all. Seeing her heartbroken because of him jolted his stubborn head out of the sand. He closed off his heart to loving another person for so many years. It only opened for music and running his business like a well-oiled machine.

  He slowed his walked down the hall when he saw their room door was wide open. Curious, he cocked his head. Was she expecting him? Waiting in bed naked, showing an exhibitionist streak?

  He smirked to himself as he approached the door. Oh, Helena. I'll have to spank you for this. Nobody gets to see those lovely tits and ass but me.

  He stopped in the open doorway. The fire in the massive brick fireplace still burned, casting a warm glow across the entire room. Helena was not waiting for him in bed, but a piece of paper sat on the pillow. Intrigued, he picked it up and unfolded it.

  As he read it, his blood ran cold.

  WE HAVE YOUR GIRLFRIEND. BRING ONE MILLION EUROS TO THE EAST TOWER BY 5 AM OR WE’LL TURN HER BLACK AND BLUE. COME ALONE. IF WE SEE POLICE OUTSIDE THE CASTLE, WE'LL START EARLY.

  Torsten's hands shook as the corners of his vision began turning red. Rage built up inside him like a volcano under pressure. He knew he'd explode once he saw the faces of whoever did this.

  He crumpled up the note and threw it in the fire. The clock on the wall read 1:00 am. That gave him three hours to put together the money if he actually intended to pay them.

  Fuck these cowards, they're not getting shit. But I will get Helena back.

  "FUCK!" he cried out in anguish and slammed his fist against the bedpost. The thought of Helena captured and scared tormented him. If they hurt her at all, those fucks wouldn't leave the castle alive.

  He paced the room trying to think clearly through his rising rage.

  I need to be smart about this. If they outnumber me I could be dead before Helena can get away.

  His hand coiled into a fist at his side like a snake. He raised it to punch the bedpost again but stopped himself, flexing his fingers.

  I need to save my punches for the ones that deserve them.

  ***

  At four o'clock Torsten left the room with a large duffel bag in one hand, his demeanor noticeably calmer. He headed east, unsure how exactly to get into the tower but trusting he would find the way.

  The castle was eerily quiet and felt empty at this time of day. There was no fe
eling of tension in the air, nothing seemed amiss. He'd gone to the room last night feeling tired, but was wide-eyed with adrenaline as soon he read that note. Outwardly he remained cool and collected. Inside, he felt like an enraged bull whose only purpose was to gore the matador that toyed with him.

  The end of the hallway stopped abruptly. Before him stood a roped-off staircase. The sign in front of it read, "EAST TOWER CLOSED FOR RENOVATION. FOR YOUR SAFETY, DO NOT ENTER."

  Torsten stroked his beard thoughtfully then stepped over the tape and began to ascend the staircase. He didn't notice this off-limits area earlier and the castle staff never told him about any renovations.

  Could this kidnapping be orchestrated by someone who works here? he wondered.

  As he ran up the narrow steps, taking two at a time, he glanced out the small, triangular windows. Dawn approached, lighting up the sky in a rich, pale pink. The full moon began to fade as distant wolves howled in the dark, Romanian forest.

  It would have been a perfect, beautiful sunrise to watch with Helena if these fuckhead cowards hadn't snatched her like stolen merchandise. Torsten ran up the steps faster, eager to lie in wait at his destination.

  After what felt like an eternity he reached the top of the staircase and stepped into the circular room.

  The tower stood empty except for a single table against the stone wall. Not a soul was in sight and Torsten felt a wave of relief wash over him. He'd gotten there first. Across the room, Torsten saw a doorway and another staircase leading down, identical to the one he just ascended.

  Whether they come from there, or from the stairs behind me, I'll be able to hear them.

  He dropped the duffel bag on the floor with a heavy thud. Leaning against the table, he pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and lit it. The raging, white-hot anger building within him subsided to a cool, calculating simmer.