Rock Star Romance Ultimate: Volume 1

by Olivia Cunning, Jayne Frost, RB Hilliard, Crystal Kaswell, Michelle Mankin, Emily Snow, Athena Wright

  I hit the button to crack the window. Nothing. Another failed attempt and I barked over the sound system, “Hey, can you open the window back here?”

  “No can do. Too many fumes out there.”

  Unfuckingbelievable. It smelled like a dog’s ass in here, and the dude was oblivious. Dropping my head against the back of the seat, I stared at the stains on the ceiling.

  “Before we get back to our super set, we’ve got some news,” the DJ on the local rock station began in a somber voice. “I’ve just gotten word that Christian Sears, bassist for the band Caged, has been involved in an accident this afternoon in Dallas.”

  I jerked upright. “Turn that up!”

  Startled, the driver did as I asked.

  “We haven’t got any official word yet on his condition,” the commentator continued. “Caged is scheduled to perform this Saturday at the AT&T Stadium for the Rock Texas Music Festival. We’ll keep y’all advised. Our thoughts are with you, Christian.” And just like that, the DJ’s voice morphed into his cheery radio persona. “And now back to our Monday super set. Here’s the latest from Caged, ’Above Me,’ on 97.1 The Eagle.”

  Cursing the traffic, my headache, and the God-awful smell, I hit the cracked, vinyl seat with a balled fist.

  “I knew you looked familiar,” the cabbie said, when he coasted to a stop at yet another snarl in traffic. “You’re Colin, right? The guitarist from Caged?”

  “Cameron.” My attempt at a smile failed miserably. “Cameron Knight.”

  “Man, I love your music.” Gunning the engine, he cut across two lanes of traffic and maneuvered the cab onto the shoulder. “I’ll get you there as soon as I can. Hold on.”

  My shoulders sagged in relief. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  As the taxi barreled past the four lanes of gridlock, I curled my fingers around the edge of the seat so I wouldn’t slide into the door. The dread coating my stomach slithered north, a ball of cement in my throat. Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard against the bitter taste. And for the first time in a long time, I prayed.

  ***

  Scanning the waiting room of the emergency ward at Parkland Memorial, I spotted Logan seated in the corner, doing his best to look inconspicuous. As inconspicuous as a six-foot-four-inch rock star with long, blond hair in a three-hundred-dollar, custom fitted shirt could look. At his side, Lindsey tapped on her iPhone.

  Jerking her gaze to mine when I walked up, she said, “Cameron, it’s about time you got here.”

  Her annoying voice faded as I focused on Logan. He wasn’t easy to read, but the lines on his brow and the serious set of his jaw gave him away. He was worried. “Heard anything?” I managed to choke out.

  “They’re taking him back for a CAT scan or an MRI,” he said quietly, his gaze darting to the people sneaking glances at us. “Something like that. Checking for internal injuries. I haven’t seen him yet. The doc says it doesn’t look serious.”

  “Thank God.” I sank onto the chair beside him with a thud. “Where’s Sean?” Looking around for the missing member of our band, I noticed a couple of camera phones pointed in our direction.

  “Cafeteria,” Logan grumbled. “He left as soon as he heard Christian was in the clear. Fucker is a bottomless pit.”

  Chuckling, I took a couple deep breaths, and the tension ebbed from my body. “So now we just wait, huh?” When Logan nodded, I stretched my legs, crossing them at the ankle. Out of habit, I dropped my gaze to the floor. Caged wasn’t newsworthy enough to garner the attention of the mainstream press, but our celebrity made us ripe for tabloid fodder. I didn’t want this little meeting to end up on TMZ. Or worse.

  Lindsey heaved a sigh. “You guys should head back to the hotel and get some rest.”

  If she was genuinely concerned for our wellbeing, that would be one thing. But that wasn’t it. We had a show coming up. Media commitments. Rehearsals. Lindsey was only protecting her investment.

  Shrinking in her seat when Logan and I scowled at her, she went back to fidgeting with her phone. But Logan was done. I could see it in his eyes.

  “You know what, Lindsey?” he snapped, failing to hide his disdain. “Why don’t you get the fuck out of here? And do…whatever it is you do.”

  She blinked at him. But before she could reply, her phone rang, snagging her attention. “I have to take this.” Hopping to her feet, she headed for the automatic doors.

  Jaw clenched, Logan tracked her movements. “I’m about to strangle her, bro. Her phone has been going off every five minutes. She actually had the nerve to ask if I could do a phone interview while we waited.”

  I glared at Lindsey through the dirty windows. Pacing in a tight circle, she puffed on a cigarette, her arms flapping as she spoke. I couldn’t stand the woman. Hiring a company from L.A. to manage us was the biggest mistake we ever made. At the time, we didn’t know any better, but every day it got harder to deal with her shit.

  A petite redhead in blue scrubs sidled into the room. Logan and I sat up when she headed straight for us. She appeared to be our age, mid-twenties, and she was seriously cute, with flaming red hair and big green eyes. And from the way her gaze lingered on our faces, she knew exactly who we were.

  “Are y’all waiting for news on Mr. Sears?” We nodded in unison and she glanced down at her clipboard. “Um…Christian…Mr. Sears, has been admitted for observation.” When Logan’s face fell, she added quickly, “He’s going to be fine. It’s just a precaution. He’s asking for you.” Her gaze volleyed to me. “Both of you.”

  We were on our feet, our sights set on the double doors marked “trauma,” before she’d even finished.

  “No, wait—you can’t go through there,” she called, rushing after us. “He’s on the fourth floor. Room 402.”

  Logan powered to the bank of elevators while I paused to offer her a smile. “Thanks, darlin’. Our friend Sean went to the cafeteria. He’s about six two and—”

  “I know what Sean looks like.” She fluttered her long lashes. “I’ll tell the duty nurse to send him up as soon as he comes back.”

  “Thanks again…” I dropped my gaze to her name tag. “Sophia.”

  “You’re welcome…Cameron.”

  When her smile turned from shy to downright seductive, I glanced at her left hand for a ring. Force of habit. Finding no band, I inched a little closer.

  “Cameron!” Logan bellowed. “Come on!”

  Shrugging my apology, I tossed the cute little nurse a wink and then sauntered toward him.

  “You’re a fucking dog,” he muttered, hitting the button for the fourth floor when I stepped onto the elevator.

  “Woof,” I growled, as the doors whooshed closed on Sophia and her pretty green eyes, still glued on me from across the room.

  ***

  “Dude, it’s not funny.” Christian winced, clutching his side. “My ribs are killing me.”

  Perched at the foot of the bed, I frowned at him. “That’s what you fucking get. Why would you go for a bike ride in the middle of the city when you don’t even know where you’re going?”

  The band usually stayed in Irving when we were here, close to the old stadium. We knew that area. But this time the promotor had booked us at the Omni Hotel in the middle of downtown Dallas. No bike lanes, and nothing but four lane highways and busy side streets as far as the eye could see.

  Christian shrugged sheepishly. “I needed the exercise.”

  That proved my theory that the cure was worse than the disease. Of the four of us, only Christian would have a bike delivered so he could get in his ten miles instead of going to the gym at the hotel like a normal person.

  “When are they letting you out of here?” Logan asked, pushing off the wall where he’d been standing.

  “Tomorrow.” Christian stifled a yawn, his eyes drifting closed for a second as he spoke. “They’re keeping me here in case I have an aneurysm or something.”

  The worry lines etched on Logan’s brow deepened.

  According
to the doctor, Christian had a slight concussion and a hairline fracture on two of his ribs. Other than the pain meds that were making him drowsy, he didn’t appear any worse for the wear. The door swung open, and Sean Hudson, our drummer, stepped inside.

  “Took you long enough, dickhead,” Christian said, a lopsided smile creeping over his face. “I could have been dying while you were wolfing down a burrito.”

  Ignoring the comment, Sean crossed the room, laying a hand on Christian’s shoulder. “You ever pull something like this again, I’ll kick your ass. You’ll be playing that bass from a wheelchair.”

  Christian smiled up at Sean, patting the hand that was pressed to his shoulder. “I’m good, bro. Just a few bumps and bruises.”

  “Jesus,” Logan groaned. “I need to get the fuck out of here. Before I grow a vagina.”

  Logan wasn’t comfortable with this type of emotion. Never had been. I was surprised it took him this long to reach his limit.

  “Don’t…shit…don’t make me laugh,” Christian snorted, wincing as his hand flew to his side. His shoulders quaked, and he tried to choke back his laugh.

  Lindsey’s high-pitched squeal drifted from the hallway, sucking the air out of the room. “I’m Mr. Sears’ manager,” she huffed. “Of course, he wants to see me.”

  Barging into the room a second later with a nurse on her tail, Lindsey’s five-inch heels clicked on the worn linoleum.

  “Christian,” she cooed in a saccharine-sweet voice. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  Christian nodded at the nurse who looked ready to snatch our manager’s Chanel purse and strangle her with the gold chain. “It’s fine,” he said in an apologetic tone. “She can stay.”

  With a final glare at Lindsey’s back, the nurse spun on her heel and retreated from the room, her ponytail swinging behind her.

  “Spreading sunshine wherever you go, eh, Lindsey?” Christian asked wearily, throwing an arm over his forehead.

  Dismissing his comment, Lindsey glanced at her watch. “I hate to break this up. But I need all of you back at the hotel for a radio interview. There’s a limo waiting outside.”

  “Don’t even start, Lindsey,” Logan spat. “I’m not doing a fucking interview. Issue a statement or whatever. I’m not going to talk about the show, or the single, or anything else.”

  Logan pushed Sean out of the way, then leaned in to whisper something in Christian’s ear. I followed suit, grabbing Christian’s hand and squeezing it.

  “Get some rest,” I said. “And let me know if you need anything.”

  Christian smiled, his unfocused eyes at half-mast. “I’ll be fine.”

  And though I was sure he was right, I couldn’t help but wince inwardly when I noticed the purple bruise on his forehead.

  Logan tugged the sleeve of my t-shirt to get my attention, then stepped around Lindsey and headed for the door with Sean on his heels. But I lingered for a moment, surveying our manager in her monochromatic suit with the flat smile frozen on her lips.

  “Damn, Lindsey, do you have anything resembling a heart in there?” I matched her cold stare. “If I were you, I wouldn’t push it.”

  She rolled her eyes, then shifted her focus to Christian. “I’ll arrange for the Dallas Tribune to come interview you tomorrow.”

  “Lindsey. Outside. Now,” I snapped. Punctuating my demand with an arched brow and a pointed finger.

  Seething, I held the door for her.

  As soon as she glided out of the room, I spun around to face her. “There will be no fucking interviews in Christian’s hospital room. Are we clear?”

  She sighed. “Fine.” As she stormed away, I swear I heard her mutter, “Idiot.”

  Shaking my head, I followed a step behind. “Last nerve, Lindsey. I swear. Last. Fucking. Nerve.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  * * *

  Cameron

  Dumbstruck, I stared out the tinted window of the limo at the crowd of people, mostly female, milling around the parking lot of the Omni Hotel. They spilled out of the lobby, holding makeshift signs with “I LOVE YOU, CHRISTIAN” and “GET WELL SOON” scrawled on them.

  “What the fuck is this?” I asked, shifting my focus to Lindsey. “How did they know where we were staying?”

  Her smile disintegrated under the weight of my scowl. “I’m not sure.”

  Since she refused to look me in the eyes, I knew she was lying.

  Shrinking against the seat when several faces pressed against the glass, I muttered, “I thought you were supposed to keep shit like this from happening.”

  “Yeah,” Logan cut in, “isn’t that what we pay you for, to keep us safe and anonymous between shows?”

  Lifting her chin, Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest. “If you wanted to remain anonymous, maybe you should’ve stayed in Austin. There’s no such thing as bad publicity, boys.”

  Tipping forward, I clasped my hands in a death grip to keep from choking her. “And if Christian were in a fucking coma, would that be ‘bad publicity’? Or would you arrange a competition to find a new bass player? Maybe have it televised?”

  The sparkle in Lindsey’s eyes told me I wasn’t too far off the mark.

  “Of course not.” She picked an imaginary piece of lint off her skirt. “I just thought since you missed the interview, we’d bring the interview to you.”

  Logan stared at her while Sean shook his head, his gaze shifting to the van parked a few yards away with 97.1 The Eagle emblazoned on the side.

  “Come on, boys.” Lindsey plastered a smile on her face, sliding her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. “Your adoring fans are waiting. I’ve arranged for security to meet us.”

  “Security?” Logan roared. “Did you set that up before or after we found out Christian was in the clear?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Logan,” she said in a patronizing tone as she scooted closer to the door. “You’re scheduled to do the interview, so do the interview. With this crowd, it’ll probably be broadcast all over the state.”

  Reclining against the seat, Logan chewed his lip. “Fuck this. I’m not about to get trapped in my hotel room all week because you wanted extra publicity.” He shifted his attention my way. “Any ideas, Cameron?”

  Shrugging, I pulled out my phone. “Just one.”

  Logan sighed. “Yeah, okay. Make the call.”

  I hit the button, then sat back and waited for my brother to answer. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey, Chase.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, Christian’s fine, but we have a little problem.”

  ***

  My brother came through, just like always. It didn’t take him ten minutes to firm up the arrangements. And now, our limo was speeding down the freeway, away from the traffic and the skyscrapers. And Lindsey.

  “So what’s the deal with this place?” Logan asked, looking absently at his phone.

  “I dunno.” I sighed. “Chase said it’s the shit. He knows the manager. It’s got great food and a spa. All the amenities.”

  I trusted Chase more than anyone else in the world. He was more than a brother to me. He was a mentor, and a surrogate father. Not to mention a huge supporter of the band. Four years ago, he bought the Parish bar, the largest live music venue on Sixth Street. The ink wasn’t even dry on the papers before he’d booked Caged as the house band. And that’s when things started happening for us. We never would’ve made it out of the dive bar scene without him.

  My phone vibrated next to me on the seat. A text from Chase.

  Your contact at the property is Lily Tennison. I booked three bungalows. There’s another bungalow on hold for Christian when he gets out. Get some rest. And don’t tell that bitch where you are.

  Chuckling, I tapped out a response.

  Thanks, bro. No worries, Lindsey doesn’t have a clue where we’re headed. She’s going to be blowing up your phone when she can’t find us.

  Seconds later, Chase replied: She’ll be lucky if I don’t blow her ass all th
e way back to L.A. Call me later.

  I took the last swallow from my Shiner Bock just as the limo turned at the sign marked “Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek.” Red bud trees dotted the long driveway, their pink petals scattered on the concrete.

  Logan stretched his arms over his head when we coasted to a stop. “I hope the staff at this place is as accommodating as the Omni.” He gave me one of his patented grins, and I rolled my eyes. We’d only been at the Omni Hotel for two nights, but Logan had already managed to bang one of the bartenders. And from the look of the cute little maid that I’d spotted leaving his room this morning, she’d delivered more than fresh towels.

  “And you call me a dog?” Sliding across the seat, I waited for the driver to open the door. “Don’t shit where you eat, Lo. Chase will kick your ass if his buddy tells him you defiled half the female staff.”

  Logan’s sexcapades landed us in the press more than our music. The dude had an endless supply of energy when it came to entertaining the more willing of our fan base.

  Shrugging, he ran a hand through his long, blond hair. “Whatever. We’ll go out, then.”

  I shook my head. If Logan wanted to prowl, he’d do it without me. The only thing I needed was a good meal and a soft bed.

  Squinting from the sudden brightness, I placed a foot on the pavement when the limo door swung open. Taking in a lungful of the fragrant flowers from the trees surrounding the circular driveway, I smiled. After a string of nondescript hotels in cities I couldn’t even remember, it was nice to be staying someplace that actually had some character.

  “Get out here, y’all. You’ve got to see…”

  The sentence caught in my throat when I noticed the petite blonde gliding down the stone steps. My gaze drifted from the mass of yellow waves, falling in ribbons over her slender shoulders, to the swell of her breasts beneath the sheer ivory blouse. But it was her eyes that had my attention. They locked onto mine and held, her lips curving into a smile like we were old friends.