Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1)

by RB Hilliard

  “Did you get a chance to call Ava about the notebook? If not, I’ll call when we land,” I asked Hank. The spiral I used to write my songs in was missing. The last time I remembered seeing it was at my house – on the floor in the studio – where I tossed it before jumping Mallory. I glanced down at her beautiful face and, for the thousandth time, couldn’t believe she was actually here with me. Someone was looking out for me when they sent me Mallory. There was no way in hell I was losing her again.

  “I spoke with her earlier and she said she’d take a look around and call me if she found it,” Hank answered. It was a good thing I’d played the song as much as I had and could remember all the changes or tonight wouldn’t be possible. “If you don’t mind me asking, what went down with Luke yesterday?”

  “Fuck if I know. One minute we were practicing and the next he was chewing me a new asshole.”

  “Normally that’s Chaz’s job,” he joked.

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered. Then I explained what happened.

  Yesterday in practice I knew I was acting like a whiny bitch. In all fairness it had been a shit week and I was at the end of my rope. CiCilia was frantically trying to come up with the money to buy Mallory out of her contract, which is exactly what I didn’t want to happen, and we were waiting to hear word from Blane’s friend at Channel 22 News that the interview with Mrs. Jacobs was a definite go. I was in the middle of bitching about us not having our shit together when Luke slammed his hands down on the keys.

  Once he had our undivided attention, he said, “Do you realize that if you’d spent half as much time worrying about Dale as you’ve spent chasing Mallory’s tail, he would still fucking be here?”

  “Luke,” Nash warned.

  “No, I’m serious. This whole week your total focus has been on some chick you barely know. Dale was one of your best friends. I just don’t fucking get it.”

  Had it been anyone else, I would have told them to fuck off, but since it was Luke and he was grieving, I gave him the benefit. “I’m in love with her,” I admitted to the entire room.

  “You’re in love with her,” he repeated dismissively. He was starting to piss me off.

  “Yes, Luke, I’m in love with her,” I stated in a matter-of-fact-tone.

  “Well goody for you,” he snarled before storming out of the room.

  Once he was gone, I turned to Nash and Chaz and asked, “What the fuck?” They both shrugged.

  “Was he cool to you this morning?” Hank asked.

  “I didn’t see him this morning. Did you?”

  “Yeah. He seemed fine to me.”

  Mallory’s eyes drifted open. Once she focused on me she smiled and asked, “Have I been out long?” The Captain came on the loud speaker and told us to prepare for landing. “Well, I guess that’s my answer,” she mused as I helped her sit up and secure her seatbelt.

  Meltdown did a quick stop over in Connecticut after New York. We played to a packed arena. Blane was there but Kirkland was not. The next morning the bus was heading for Boston. CiCilia was no longer answering Blane’s calls, Mallory still hadn’t responded and I was fucking done. So, with Blane’s help, Hank and I commandeered the Happenstance jet and headed for Dallas to get my girl back.

  Boston was a cool city. It was even cooler now that I had Mallory to enjoy it with. We arrived at the hotel with very little time to spare. As promised, Blane placed Mallory in the suite with me and put the rest of the guys in a separate suite right down the hall from us. I could tell Mallory was nervous about facing the public after everything that had happened, but she needed to. She needed to face them with her head held high and they needed to see us together and know that she was my woman and I one hundred percent supported her. I’d learned the hard way to stand and face my shit head on. No matter what it was, if I believed in it, I had to face it. This was the only way to survive in this crazy world I existed in. Tonight I had something special planned for Mallory. I wanted her to know that, no matter what, I would always have her back.

  I watched Mallory’s face as we entered the suite and smiled when she saw the vases of roses and let out a happy squeal.

  “Knock, knock,” Blane said from the door. When he saw Mallory he smiled and said, “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks, Blane,” she responded.

  “I hate to interrupt, but you need to get a move on,” he directed at me.

  “Already?” Mallory asked.

  I felt bad for leaving her, but I had to make sure the guys were ready. “Tonight’s venue is smaller than what we’re used to and I haven’t had the chance to check out the acoustics yet,” I explained.

  “Oh, in that case go,” she ordered.

  “Marcel will bring you over in a few hours,” Blane told her. “See you shortly,” he said to me before walking out the door.

  “I’m sorry I have to leave you.”

  She held her hand out and said, “Come here.”

  Taking a step in her direction, I reached for her hand and let her reel me in. Once our bodies touched she tilted her head up and said, “Now kiss me.”

  As I dipped my head to capture her mouth, she wound her hands around my neck. I lifted her off of her feet and smiled when she wrapped her legs around my waist. My girl wasn’t wasting any time. She groaned when I dug my fingers into her ass and deepened the kiss. I wanted her naked. I wanted to fuck her senseless, but I couldn’t. At least, I couldn’t right at the moment. Later, it was game on. Before I blew off the night, fucked her anyway and ruined the surprise, I tore my mouth from hers and set her on her feet.

  “This is happening later,” I growled.

  As I turned to leave, she called out, “Break a leg tonight.”

  With a huge smile on my face I went to find the guys.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Exit…Stage Left

  Mallory

  As soon as the door closed behind Grant I let out a deep breath. How in the world was I going to face the press tonight? Talk about jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire. Everything had happened so fast. One second I was watching television and thinking about buying a cat and the next Grant was in my apartment. He broke into my apartment. The last thing in the world I expected was for him to come after me. He’s Grant Flipping Hardy, for Christ’s sake. Women throw themselves at him on a daily basis – and he came after me – he loves me.

  He loves me!

  With a huge smile on my face I grabbed one of the three vases of roses and skipped to the bedroom to get my phone. When I powered it on and saw the twelve missed messages, my heart sank. Not ready to lose my happy bubble quite yet, I contemplated turning it back off and dealing with it tomorrow. Then I thought about how both my mother and CiCilia were most likely beside themselves with worry. Grudgingly, I called them both to let them know I was okay.

  Mom wanted me to hop on the next flight home. When I told her I was with Grant in Boston she started crying. I wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or not. Any other time I would have asked, but I was crunched for time. I knew if I probed too deeply I would never get off the phone. When she mentioned how my dad watched the interview and wanted to speak to me, I was done with the conversation. The last time my father and I had spoken, I mean really spoken to each other, was the day he told me what a disappointment I’d turned out to be. That was the same day I left for rehab. After rehab I’d visited them a few times, but Dad was always busy with work. He couldn’t even bring himself to sit and eat a meal with me at the same table. I was trying so hard then to move forward, but every time I so much as looked at my father, I found myself sliding back to that place I’d fought so hard to dig out from. Finally, I stopped visiting altogether. Tonight was not the night to mend fences. I was nervous enough as it was. No way did I need my father in my head with everything else that was going on. By the time I finally got my mother to relent and called CiCilia, I didn’t have much time to talk. She was furious I hadn’t called her immediately after the interview aired. When I expl
ained how I wouldn’t have even known there was an interview if Grant hadn’t broken into my house and forced me to watch it, she stopped her bitching.

  “He broke into your house?” she squealed. I proceeded to tell her the entire story. When I was done she said, “Thank you Jesus! I’ve been ignoring Blane’s call for the past three days while Selma and I wracked our brains trying to figure out how to get you out of that damn contract.”

  And here I was thinking she was a heartless bitch. “Sorry, Ci. I told you I would figure it out.”

  “Shush. You’re back and happy and that’s all that matters.” We talked a few more minutes and then it was down to the wire. I had approximately one hour before Marcel would be here to get me. After promising to call CiCi tomorrow, I raced to get ready.

  All week I’d been dodging the press. Since I refused to watch the news, I had no idea what was being said about me. I preferred it that way. However, tonight, whether I liked it or not, I was going to have to face them. If I was going to be branded a horrible person, I might as well go down looking my very best. I thought about the night Grant pulled me into the empty dressing room and decided on a cap sleeved pale pink dress that dipped low in the front and ended in a flirty skirt right above my knees. I accessorized it with a silver belt, silver one inch heeled sandals and silver jewelry. Since Grant loved it (and I was determined to never wear my hair in a bun again) I left my hair down with a slight curl to it. I’d just finished my makeup and was sliding into my heels when I heard a knock at the door.

  “Here goes nothing,” I whispered, as I grabbed my silver clutch and went to greet Marcel.

  “Mallory,” he smiled. Marcel had given me a lip twitch or two along the way, but never a full blown smile. It made me slightly uncomfortable.

  “I’m ready,” I announced, and before I knew it I was in his arms and he was hugging me. Marcel was actually hugging me.

  “You got this,” he encouraged. Tears sprang to my eyes.

  “Thanks,” I whispered back.

  As he pulled away, I could tell by his serious expression that the moment was over and it was back to business as usual. “You ready?” he asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I answered.

  We made it to the car and the venue without incident. As we pulled around back to the loading dock and parked, I stared at the building in front of us. Grant wasn’t kidding when he said the place was small. Instead of the usual arena or amphitheater, it looked more like my high school theater. The door swung open and Hank stepped out. Once he gave Marcel the nod, we were out of the car and on the move. Hank greeted me with a cheek kiss and a comment about how pretty I looked. Once again I teared up.

  “You guys have to stop being so nice,” I warned. That got me smiles all around. It was amazing how I felt as if these guys had become a part of my family after only two short months. I’d missed them terribly over the past week and wondered what was going to happen when the tour was over. No negative thoughts tonight, Mal, I silently chastised. We proceeded down a long hallway and into a large room where we were greeted by the band and Blane. I was relieved not to see Kirkland and surprised by how few people were in the room.

  “Mallory is in the house!” Nash called out. I was used to Luke teasing me, but never Nash. This seemed to be a night of firsts. Chaz greeted me with a smile, which almost sent me into cardiac arrest, and Luke gave me a two finger salute. Definitely a night of firsts.

  “Hi guys,” I called out. I searched the room for Grant, but didn’t see him.

  “Grant’s working with the sound tech right now,” Nash informed me. “We’ll walk you down when they give us the shout out.” I tried not to let my disappointment show. I was hoping to see Grant before he went on stage tonight. I wanted to wish him luck, among other things.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “We thought we’d give you some calm before the storm,” Nash replied. For the hundredth time tonight, tears stung the backs of my eyes. My heart warmed with love for these amazing men.

  Surprised and humbled by their kindness, I said, “You cleared the VIP room for me? You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Shut it woman. Get your ass over here and sit down,” Nash replied.

  Half an hour went by quickly. Everyone was relaxed and talkative, which helped me to relax. Nash was in the middle of explaining the various reasons why Rowan wasn’t the woman for him when a man stepped into the room and announced, “Showtime boys.” I immediately tensed. The guys stood and shuffled toward the door. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I stayed seated.

  “Mallory’s behind me,” Nash announced. When he noticed me still sitting, he walked over, grabbed my hand and pulled me into line behind him. The lineup consisted of Hank first, then Nash, me, Luke, Chaz and Sean. Sampson stepped up beside me right as we exited the room and the second we hit the hallway I understood why.

  “Oh, my God,” I gasped, as flashes blinded me. Reporters were jammed in like sardines and vied for the perfect shot as we walked single file down a ridiculously long hallway.

  “Smile,” Nash said from over his shoulder. I tried to smile, but this was crazy. Where in the hell did they all come from? I wanted to ask Sampson what they were doing here, but didn’t dare for fear of it being caught on tape. By the time we reached the end of the hall I had the Royal wave down pat. I was so busy worrying about my face splashed across the front page tomorrow morning that I failed to notice we were standing on the stage. That is until the crowd went ballistic. When I saw Grant sitting on a stool with his guitar in his hands, I completely froze.

  “There’s my girl,” Grant’s voice rang out over the roar. My feet may have been frozen to the spot, but my heart sure wasn’t. It was melting as Grant stared straight at me with love in his eyes.

  Nash grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the stool next to Grant. “Sit,” he whispered in my ear.

  Once I was seated, Grant asked, “Doesn’t my girl look gorgeous tonight?” The crowd screamed, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. What was this crazy man up to?

  He gave me a wink and asked, “Did you know that Cat Stephens is dead?”

  “Grant!” I shrieked, and my face flushed with embarrassment.

  “Just kidding,” he said, and busted out laughing. “You want to hear a song?”

  “Yes!” voices echoed throughout the room.

  “Good because I’ve got one for you.” His amber stare turned to me as he said, “This is for the woman I love. Her name is Mallory, and she unravels me.”

  Grant began to play his guitar and the guys joined in. In an attempt to fight back the tears, I bit my lip. Grant started to sing:

  This isn’t a game of cat and mouse.

  It’s not a game of power.

  It sits at our fingertips…right at our fingertips.

  Please don’t run.

  Just don’t run.

  If you have to go, you need to know…

  When I catch you, which I will, I will unravel you.

  I’m here today. Please, babe, stay.

  Just say you’ll stay.

  It sits at our fingertips…right at our fingertips.

  And when you catch me, which you will, you will unravel me.

  Please, babe, stay.

  Say you’ll stay.

  Forever.

  I tried to hold it in, Lord knows I did, but in the end, I just couldn’t. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the man I loved more than anything in this world show his vulnerability in front of who knows how many people, and all because he loved me. The crowd was on its feet and chanting my name as Grant bent down to set his guitar on its stand. I stood and waited for him to straighten back up before lunging into his arms.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you,” I chanted through the rumble of his laughter. This was hands down the best moment of my life.

  I knew my time on stage was up when Luke began playing the beginning of the next song on their set list. With a quick kiss and a slap t
o the ass, Grant shooed me off the stage.

  Call me biased – or even love-sick – but to my dying day I would swear it was their best show ever.

  After the final encore, instead of exiting off of the back of the stage like he usually did, Grant headed straight to stage left where I was standing.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Grant!” the woman standing next to me called out. Without so much as glancing in her direction, he grabbed my hand, pulled me down the stairs and whisked me behind the back of the stage. The sound of heels clacking on the floor echoed from behind us as he yanked me into a dark alcove and placed his hand over my mouth. The clacking got closer and stopped directly in front of where we were standing.

  “Where’d they go?” a voice called out.

  “This way!” someone shouted.

  Once the clacking subsided, Grant dropped his hand and replaced it with his mouth. Talk about playing with fire. We could be discovered at any second and I didn’t care one bit. All that mattered was the man standing before me, the man who’d handed me his heart on that stage tonight. I broke the kiss in order to get my bearings. Grant took it as me trying to get away and, like a predator stalking its prey, took a step forward. When I stepped back, I lost my footing and landed on my butt… on something furry. It felt like a large stool.

  Grant chuckled, that is, until I had my hands on his fly and he realized where this was leading. His humor melted into an exaggerated “Fuuuuuuck” and it was my turn to smile. The fact that I couldn’t see a damn thing only heightened my senses. After fumbling a few times, I finally had him unzipped, freed from his briefs and right where I wanted him. His breath hitched when he felt my tongue and he let out a hiss of approval when I took him deep into my mouth. We’d done this many times before, but never, had it ever, felt like this. It was daring, exhilarating and so crazy stupid it wasn’t even funny. “Deeper,” Grant panted. I inhaled through my nose, relaxed my mouth and took him as far into the back of my throat as I could without gagging. When he grabbed the top of my head and picked up the pace, I knew he was close. I was waiting for his release to hit the back of my throat, when he pulled out and gruffly ordered, “Panties off now.” Without a second’s thought, I lifted my hips, pulled up the skirt of my dress and yanked down my panties. I gasped when he dropped to his knees before me, and shivered as he skimmed his fingers up my thighs. As he wedged his hands under my ass, I felt the warmth of his breath ghost against my cheek. I turned my face and our lips connected. As he touched the tip of his tongue to mine, I wanted more – I wanted it all. “Put me inside you,” he murmured against my mouth. As quickly as humanly possible, I took him in hand, lined him up to my entrance and gasped when he surged inside. Using his hands on my ass as leverage, he pulled out and slammed back in. We were being bad, but it felt so good. “Fuck, I wish I could see your face right now,” his sexy voice rasped. The risk of getting caught combined with his smell, his voice, the song he sang to me, the way he looked at me – all of it – sent me sailing right over the edge. Hands in his hair, mouth fused to his, I wrapped my legs around his waist and urged him to give it to me faster, harder – anyway he wanted to give it, I would take it. Sweat pooled at my breasts and back, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about one damn thing except the man who was buried deep inside me. Without any warning it hit me so hard it practically knocked the breath out of me. “Yes, fuck yes,” Grant growled, as he planted himself deep, and let go.