RAPT - The Price of Love: Everhide Rockstar Romance Book 3 (Everhide Rockstar Romance Series)

by Tania Joyce

  Sam rested his arm on the windowsill and tapped his index finger at sonic speed. “I knew I should’ve gone back for her. Damn it.”

  There was no doubt the threats played on repeat at the forefront of everyone’s minds. The very thought of them becoming a reality made Kyle’s stomach curdle.

  Had the stalker got to Gemma?

  He hated waiting. Waiting for Chester to call. Waiting for Gemma to make contact. Her silence was killing him.

  The limousine pulled up near the wide sidewalk outside Richard’s building. Kyle scanned the area. Men and women, dressed in suits, dashed in and out of the rotating glass doors. The planter-boxed trees along the edge of the sidewalk showed the first signs of fall, their leaves tinged with shades of yellow and orange. Tourists with maps in hand glanced up and down the street with I’m-lost looks on their faces. But the one person he hoped would miraculously appear, didn’t.

  No Gemma.

  The compression crushing his chest was so hard he thought his ribs would crack. With fumbling fingers, he loosened his tie and reefed his top button open. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. “Come on, Gem,” he mumbled. “Where are you?”

  Sam and Mick slipped out of the car and stood at opposite ends of the vehicle, looking foreboding in their black suits and dark sunglasses. So much for being discreet.

  Sweat trickled down the back of Kyle’s neck and soaked the small of his back. It had been twenty minutes since Chester had called. Why the hell was it taking him so long to get to the bar?

  Kyle caught sight of Kara and Lexi rushing down the street, the skirts of their similar pale blue dresses swishing in the breeze. “The girls are here.” Kyle shoved the car door open. They all piled out and dashed over to greet them. “You heard from Gem?”

  “No,” Kara said, catching her breath. “She still not here?”

  “Phew.” Lexi fanned her face. “We made it in time, then.” She joked, but concern hooded her eyes.

  Shit. Kyle glanced at his watch. It was nearly 2:45pm and there was still no sign of Gemma.

  A pedestrian walking by noticed them. She grabbed her friend’s arm, pulling her to a halt, and pointed in his direction. Her mouth gaped and her frizzy black hair flopped about as she jumped and squealed. “Oh. My. God. It’s Kyle. And Hunter. From Everhide. OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod.”

  Great. Not the distraction he needed today. They shouldn’t have gotten out of the car. Kyle forced a smile, gave the girls a wave, and started to pace the sidewalk.

  Gem. Call me. Just call me. Let me know you’re okay.

  Luckily, the gawking girls just took some photos and scurried off, too shy to come up and say anything. Maybe his I’m-not-in-the-mood vibe scared them off.

  Kara, Lexi and the guys huddled in a circle by the car. With their help, Kyle ran through a list of places where Gemma could be. Nowhere seemed feasible. As each second passed, he drew closer to the worst conclusion. He dialed Gemma’s number for the twentieth time. It made him feel like he was doing something toward finding her. But yet again . . . it went to voicemail.

  Fuck! He hung up.

  “She’s still not answering.” Panic lodged between his ribs. Cloudy thoughts, thick and stormy gray, whirled through his head. With the force of a hammer drill, another what-if scenario rammed his skull. Made it throb and ache. What if all the stress and pressure of the wedding had gotten to her? Had she had enough? Of him? Reached breaking point?

  Shit.

  His breath hitched hard, ripping his lungs to shreds. She wasn’t coming.

  SHE. WASN’T. COMING.

  No. No. No. This was what they wanted. She wouldn’t do that to him. Would she?

  His heart slammed like a sledgehammer against his ribs. Tears stung his eyes.

  Oh God. No.

  Kyle’s hands shook. Bile bubbled in his throat. He gripped onto his cell phone so hard he thought it might shatter. He halted in front of Hunter. “I’m losing my fucking mind.”

  “Yeah, I kinda got that impression. I know you’re worried; we all are.”

  “WHY ISN’T SHE HERE?” Fire burned beneath his skin.

  “I don’t know.” Hunter’s voice caught in his throat. “She was so excited about today. In that I-don’t-want-a-big-wedding kind of way. There has to be a valid explanation.”

  Yeah. And it was one of the things that terrified him most.

  He closed his eyes. Tilted his head back. He had no idea what else to do. Every drop of his blood drained from his face. His breath seesawed in his lungs. His veins strangled his neck.

  People walking by slowed when they recognized them. With him and guys dressed in suits, and Kara and Lexi dressed in similar dresses, it wouldn’t take any fan too long to piece what they were doing together. The only element missing was Gemma.

  This is fucked. So fucked.

  He stepped in front of Sam, standing near the front end of the limousine. “When am I allowed to panic?”

  Sam’s expression didn’t move off neutral. His dark glasses hid his eyes. “I think you started a half hour ago.”

  Kyle tensed his hands; he was in no mood for Sam’s smart mouth. “Do something.”

  “Let’s wait until Chester calls with an update.”

  Freaking useless. Kyle spun around to face his friends. He wasn’t going to stand around doing nothing. “Guys, help me contact everyone. See if anyone has seen her or knows where she is.”

  He divvied out names and they jumped into making calls—to their friends, their management team, their makeup artist and backup band. Five minutes later, no one had found her. Their faces grew paler and paler.

  Shit.

  Kyle’s cell phone buzzed in his hand and his heart skipped a beat.

  A message.

  No caller ID. The number, private.

  He swiped the screen open and time stopped. Pain ripped through his body as if his heart had been torn from his chest. His knees buckled. He staggered back three steps and sat on the edge of a planter box. A burning tear slipped down his cheek.

  “Kyle?” Sam strode forward; his hand outstretched.

  Hunter dashed to his side. “What is it?”

  The cell phone trembled in Kyle’s hands as he held up the message for Hunter and Sam to read. The message that destroyed him.

  I’m not coming. Gemma.

  “What the fuck? No way. Give me that thing.” Hunter snatched the cell phone from Kyle’s hands. He re-read the message. His eyes glassed over and he shook his head. “I don’t believe this.”

  Kyle’s vision blurred and a high-pitched ring pierced his ears. Gemma didn’t want to speak to him. Didn’t want to marry him. Hurt exploded from him like a fissure erupting, bursting every blood vessel. “She’s not coming. She’s NOT FUCKING COMING.” He grabbed Hunter by the lapel of his jacket “Get me the fuck out of here. NOW.”

  Hunter’s jaw dropped as if he’d been struck by a stun gun. Kara’s hands shot over her mouth. Lexi’s eyes flooded with tears.

  “I said NOW.” Kyle stormed toward the car. He punched the side of the limousine, hurt the crap out of his hand. Swearing, he yanked the door open and jumped inside. He pummeled the fuck out of the leather seat. The others scrambled around him, giving him space to vent.

  Mick hopped into the front passenger seat and ordered the driver to take off.

  Kyle punched the seat again. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

  Kara, with tears zigzagging down her cheeks, clutched Hunter’s arm. “This can’t be true. This isn’t Gemma.”

  He thought so too. He thought their love defied the universe, that they’d survive anything. He didn’t want to believe that message. But the alternative, that something might have happened to her, was worse than being stood up. “If she didn’t want to marry me, why couldn’t she tell me to my face? Call me? Instead, I get a fucking text.”

  Wait.

  The text.

  Oh shit!

  He ripped his cell phone from his pocket and stared at the message. His hand shot over his mout
h, then fell like a dead weight into his lap. “This message. Gem didn’t send it. She never sends a message to me without ‘xG’, kisses Gem, at the end.”

  Sam half-turned toward him. “Are you sure? Even if she’s a no show?”

  “Even if. Guaranteed.” Every cell in his body twisted and contorted. Drawing air into his lungs buckled his bones. “I’m a fucking idiot. I flipped out, thinking she’d stood me up, but she wouldn’t do that. I know Gem. She wouldn’t leave me. Since Dylan’s call, every cell in my body has been screaming at me to face the truth. It’s the stalker. They’ve got to her. Haven’t they? They sent this message.”

  “Let me make some calls.” Sam jumped on his cell phone and talked to someone in his office, then Jones.

  “Where to?” Hunter asked, a shell-shocked expression on his face.

  “Let’s go to that bar.” Kyle’s voice scraped through his vocal cords, got lodged in his throat. “We’ll find out what they know. And call Richard.” He winced as if an arrow had been plucked from his chest. “Cancel the wedding.”

  Hayden gave a solemn nod and grabbed his phone. “I’ll do it.”

  Hunter stared at Kyle. The look in his eyes reflected the frenzied nausea swirling in Kyle’s gut. Hunter shook his head slowly. “Bud, you really want to go to the bar?”

  “Yes. I do.” Not the kind of ‘I do’ he’d expected to be saying right then. “I need to find her. It’s the only place I can think of where to start.”

  “If Gem’s missing, leave it to the police.”

  “I can’t do that.” Tears singed the rims of his eyes and threatened to fall. “They don’t care about her like I do.”

  Hunter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know you, and I know her. Do me a favor. Let’s go home, change, take a breath, then we’ll try to find her.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  Lexi fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “Maybe she was so nervous, she did get drunk and lose track of time. Got cold feet.”

  Kyle hoped that was the case, but the tightening knot growing between his shoulder blades told him otherwise.

  Hunter splayed his hands. “It’s possible. You know how anxious Gem’s been over getting married. You don’t want to storm into that bar, find out she’s there, and say something you may regret.”

  He took a deep breath and shot Hunter a don’t-fuck-with-me glare. “Do you honestly believe she’d do that? Get drunk and not turn up to our wedding?” He hated himself for even contemplating that path for a minute. That wasn’t his Gem.

  Hunter sat back and sank into the leather seat. “No.”

  “Exactly. I’m going to that bar with or without you.”

  Kyle’s cell phone rang. It was Chester. Everyone kept calling but Gemma. He swiped the screen and put it on loudspeaker. “Chester, did you find her?”

  “Ah. No. We have a problem.” Chester’s voice quaked. “She’s not here at the bar. But I’ve found her purse and a dress bag. They’d fallen onto the floor, kicked underneath the table I presume she sat at.”

  Oh shit.

  Kyle’s stomach hit the asphalt. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers under the collar of his shirt. She would never go anywhere without her purse. And her dress was there? Her wedding dress? Fuck.

  It was the confirmation he’d dreaded. This wasn’t about her not coming or getting drunk and losing track of time. God, no. He shook his head, over and over again. “Oh my God, she’s been taken.”

  Chester’s shaky voice was barely audible over the background bar noise. “Let’s not assume the worst yet.”

  Too late for that. He didn’t want to draw any horrible conclusions. Her standing him up was heartbreaking; her being kidnapped, hurt or killed, would destroy him.

  He gripped the edge of the seat. Hissed through his teeth. “I trusted you to look after her and now she’s gone.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Regret loomed in Chester’s voice. “I won’t rest until we find her.”

  “She shouldn’t be missing in the first place.” Kyle’s vision blurred. His heart teetered between breaking apart and freezing with fear.

  “I talked to the barman.” Chester spoke at one hundred miles an hour. “He saw two girls come in and have a drink. Said they seemed to know each other. They weren’t here long. Some guy joined them and then they left.”

  “How long ago? She could be anywhere by now.” Kara’s ashen face was a mirror image of Hunter’s. Hayden and Lexi stared at him, worry set in their eyes.

  “The barman is getting me a copy of the security footage,” Chester added.

  “Good.” Sam leaned forward and spoke into Kyle’s cell phone. “We’re on our way.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Kyle stormed into the bar. Sports blared on TVs and patrons’ heads turned. A few eyes lit with surprised recognition, but the customers kept drinking their beers. This was not the type of place where Gemma would hang out. He and Sam charged through the crowd and around some men gawking at the television screens, making their way over to Chester sitting at the end of the bar, hunched over a laptop.

  Kyle’s heart stampeded like wildebeest. “What have you found?”

  “Nothing.” Chester swung the laptop toward him and hit play on the security footage.

  As Kyle watched the two videos, one angled down from the far end of the bar and one at a distance overlooking the tables, his pulse roared like a waterfall in his ears, louder and louder. Sweat beaded on his brow. It was definitely Gemma. But the other person? The girl? Was that Taylah? Her head was constantly down. She didn’t make eye contact. She had her back to the camera. And she walked with a limp. Taylah didn’t limp. He didn’t know anyone with a limp. With a bulky hoodie and a big hat on, it was impossible to confirm her identity. It looked like the same person from the SummerStage and Brooklyn captures. Shit. And the guy? Tall. Super skinny. Head down. Kyle couldn’t tell who that was either. Damn it.

  Sam took a seat in front of the laptop. Mick and Chester stood beside him, and they watched the video over and over again. Kyle paced behind them. Hunter, Hayden, Dylan and the girls sat at a booth. They kept making calls to try and find Gemma but had no luck. Kyle’s gaze jumped back to the video Sam had on repeat. He stepped in behind Sam and pointed to the screen. “Gem’s walking funny. That’s not her drunken stagger.”

  Sam cleared his throat and spun around. The hard lines drawn on his face sent an icy shudder through Kyle’s bones. “I agree. I’ve watched you three for years. I know the way each of you move, run, skip, jump. That’s not her normal walk.” Sam twisted the laptop toward him. “And look here.” He pressed play on one of the other videos and pointed at the screen. “On this video, when the girl gets the drinks at the bar, she places her tote behind them, digs inside for something . . . and there . . . see? She covers the glass with her hand.” He loaded the next video and hit play. “Then in this video at the table, Gemma gets groggy a few minutes after having her drink.” He looked up at Kyle and swallowed hard. “Kyle, you can definitely hit that panic button now, ramp it up to full throttle. I think she’s been drugged and kidnapped.”

  Kyle’s heart stopped.

  His knees buckled. He caught the edge of the bar to steady himself.

  Kidnapped?

  His instinct had been right.

  They’d got Gemma. They’d fucking got her.

  FUCK.

  Every muscle in Kyle’s face contorted. His eyes stung with burning tears and he howled. “No. No. No. Not Gemma. Oh God, no. Sam.” Kyle grabbed him on the shoulders. “Please. I don’t care what you have to do, just find her. Fucking find her. Find her now!”

  Chapter 17

  Gemma’s body felt as if she’d been covered in a blanket of bench-press weights. Why can’t I move? Her mouth, dry and gritty, struggled to form saliva. The odor of dirt, dust and dampness assailed her. The flat, uncomfortable pillow beneath her head wasn’t hers. She willed her eyes open and her heart clambered to her throat.

  Holy fuck!
Where am I?

  Nothing looked familiar.

  In the small bedroom lit by a lamp on the nightstand, the faded mint-green walls were lined with posters. Pine shelves, stuffed with CDs, albums and old magazines, bent under the weight of their burden. Faded, warped photos pinned to the corkboard above the desk had seen better days, but they were too far away for her to make out the people in them. At the sight of a pile of pale pink envelopes and paper in a tray on the desk’s surface, her throat constricted.

  Oh shit.

  Sick, nauseous, and unable to roll off her side, Gemma did a double take of the shelves and wall. A chill crept beneath her skin, crippling her even further. Everything—every picture, every poster, every piece of paraphernalia—was of Kyle. Any image of her and Hunter in photographs had been cut out. There was only one image of her, stuck to a dartboard on the wardrobe door, with five darts rammed through her head.

  Fuck. I gotta get out of here.

  But her legs and arms couldn’t move more than an inch. Each attempt left her exhausted and weaker than before. How did she get here? What time was it? Her hands were curled beside her. No wedding ring.

  Oh no. Kyle. Our wedding.

  Tears stung her eyes as she wriggled on the lumpy mattress.

  Catching sight of Vicki sitting on an old wooden chair by the door, Gemma froze. A small table stood beside her. She was dressed in a black tank top and cut-off shorts, and her gothic-black hair curtained her face. Her new hairdo didn’t shock Gemma; it was the glass pipe she held in her mouth, the cigarette lighter blazing beneath the bulb, the ziplock bag of white crystals on the table. Vicki sucked in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled a puff of smoke. She looked up and a wicked smile drew across her face. “Good. You’re awake.”

  “Vicki?” Grogginess swung in Gemma’s whispery voice. “Where am I? What are you doing?”

  Clutching onto her pipe and lighter, Vicki dragged her chair over to the side of the bed and plonked beside her. “You’re at my place. Enjoy your sleep?”