The Griffin's Secret

by Cate Masters

  Kev appeared at her bunk with the travel mug. “Mal said for you to drink this.”

  She slid to the floor. “I have to visit the restroom. Hold onto it for a sec?”

  “How long will you be?”

  This might be her chance. “No more than a few minutes. I want to freshen up a bit.”

  He winced and pressed the mug into her hands. “Take the cup, then. Give the empty back to me.”

  She fought back the joy welling up and deadened her voice. “Whatever.” Sauntering away, she tried not to squeal. She’d empty it, all right. Straight into the toilet. Tonight, no extra fog would fill her head, no additional weight drag her down when she met Jackson.

  If he showed up. She closed the door and turned in the small room to face the mirror. He would. Her trust, she rarely gave to anyone. Something about Jackson was different. He was either honest and loyal or a total liar. She wouldn’t believe the latter. He had secrets, she’d bet her life on it, but whatever they were, he guarded them closely. They caused him great pain, but he hadn’t tried to deceive her.

  She tilted the mug over the sink. Green liquid oozed out. No wonder they always served the drink in a lidded cup. The sight of the special mix horrified her.

  The bus lurched and then slowed, and a trail of green slimed the side of the white ceramic bowl. Horror gripped her for the longest second, and then she grabbed a paper towel and scrubbed, but only succeeded in smearing the liquid. The tiny cabinet beneath the counter held one bottle of bathroom cleaner. The spray bubbled over the smear and turned green.

  Fear-laced frustration released in her groan. Footsteps in the corridor reminded her she had to hurry. The bus tilted as it turned, probably into the parking lot of the next gig. Everyone would start getting off soon. She had to be among them, or Mal would send someone looking for her.

  Carefully lining up the opening of the lid with the drain, she emptied the last of the potion. A knock startled her. “Almost done.”

  An unfamiliar girl said, “Can you hurry?”

  Another quick scrub, and she ran the faucet. The water also tinged green, fading slowly into a clear stream. Her strangled breath eased.

  She emerged from the bathroom and smiled at the stranger. “All yours.” Hopefully, she could say the same about Mal. He sometimes chose a fan to accompany him along the tour, a perk for Layla, too, because he paid less attention to her. Never had she craved privacy more than now, when she wanted to spend time alone with Jackson.

  Climbing off the bus, she glimpsed him among the roadies already unloading the equipment. Setup would take a few hours. She wouldn’t mind watching.

  After settling herself in the side bleachers, she took in her surroundings: the roadies relentless in hauling out crates, Kev overseeing the correct positioning of every item of equipment, the stage taking shape piece by piece.

  And Jackson. She knew she shouldn’t watch his every move, so obvious to everyone, especially after the first time he noticed her. The double-take—so adorable. Then his smile hit her like a megawatt spotlight and made her feel like the ultimate rock star.

  The sun slid toward the horizon. Kev enlisted Jackson’s help in carrying out the instruments Malcontent would use that night. All but Mal’s, of course.

  Finally, Jackson stood at the center microphone. “Check, one-two.”

  His voice echoing through the stadium sent chills over Layla. Longing rippled through her, the fierce need to hear him sing instead of Mal. And play guitar.

  Long coat fluttering behind him, Mal strode onto the stage and swept his gaze across the scene. He issued a few curt instructions, pointed, and Kev and Jackson tilted the other band members’ instruments just so.

  Waiting for Mal’s approval, Jackson glanced over, but Mal had turned his disapproving attention to Layla.

  “What are you doing?” Mal’s words clipped the air.

  She shrugged. “Staying out of the way.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to help.” He waved her forward. “Come on.”

  Startled, she shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  “Hurry, love. We need your expertise.” Someone who didn’t know Mal might mistake his pleasant expression for a smile. Until his eyes twitched. “Get up here.”

  Steeling herself for whatever awaited, she rose and made her way down and then up the side steps. Just beyond the wings, she stopped.

  “Not there, pet.” Mal held the microphone. “Here.”

  “Why?”

  “You finish the sound check.” When she hesitated, his pleasantness faded. “Now.”

  This had nothing to do, she suspected, with the concert, and everything to do with Jackson. She trained her focus on the microphone and stepped in front of the stand.

  Quite the intimidating view, all those empty seats. And a thrill to imagine them filled with people. “Check.” Her voice echoed through the bleachers.

  “Hmm.” A disapproving sound. “Not good enough. Sing for us.”

  “But…” One glance at him and any hope vanished. Might as well get it over with, or he’d make a terrible scene. After a steadying breath, she gripped the mic and swallowed.

  Mal spoke close to her ear. “Sing ‘Bound to Me.’” Not a suggestion, an order.

  Another reminder. But not only for herself. She closed her eyes and sang.

  You’re bound to me, in all that you are.

  Your touch soothes my aches, brightens my star.

  At first wavering, her voice gained strength. Thoughts of Jackson blotted out Mal, and she gave herself over to the song. By the time she ended the last long note, the stadium seemed to hold onto her voice and then became dead silent.

  So that’s what they mean by crickets. She ducked her head and waited.

  A single clap echoed through the stadium. Then another. “Well,” Mal gushed, “how did I never guess we had such a star in our midst?”

  “I’m not a star.” Though she was all too aware of everyone’s stares, especially Jackson. How humiliating.

  Moving within inches of her face, he glared. “Exactly. And you never will be.”

  She fisted her hands. So long as the spell remained unbroken, he meant. Mal sapped all her talent for himself. She hurried away, from him, from them all, especially the shame of having him belittle her in front of Jackson.

  “Don’t go far, pet,” Mal called after her. “The show starts at nine. I wouldn’t want you to miss one moment.”

  A low growl in her throat grew into an angry screech, just loud enough to block out his laughter. She pushed her pace faster and burst through the back entrance. Asshole.

  Someone caught her arm as she rounded the building. She jerked free. “Get away.” Her grimace faded when she faced Jackson. Dammit. “Did Mal send you to fetch me?” She hated the pouty sound of her own voice.

  “No. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  “I don’t need saving.” She didn’t want to need anyone, least of all him. No more relationships based on obligation or duty.

  “I know.”

  “You do?” Surprise. Maybe he could convince her. The way he looked at her, she wouldn’t mind a little saving right now.

  “You’re strong and intelligent.”

  She half laughed. “And bitchy.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Nah.”

  “Don’t lie.” About anything. Any deception from him would kill her.

  He shrugged. “Maybe a little. But only because Mal’s a dickwad.”

  She held her head and shook it. “I can’t believe he made me sing. I’m so embarrassed.”

  His mouth gaped. “Because you’re so much better than him?”

  “Stop.”

  “I’m serious. Your voice is incredible. He’s the one who’s embarrassed.”

  More like pissed, probably. She’d used too much energy on the song, but couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted to create music instead of cutting off the magical flow.
A dangerous craving, one that might lead to an even more dangerous addiction. “We should get back before anyone misses us.”

  “Still up for a walk later?”

  Suddenly shy, she nodded.

  He pointed. “On the way in, I noticed a path behind the parking lot over there.”

  The lot was already jammed full of vehicles so would take a long time to empty after the show. And Mal would undoubtedly be busy entertaining. “See you there, then. As soon as it’s safe.”

  “Right, don’t take any chances.”

  “I won’t.” But she had a feeling she just did. A huge one. And now she wanted to take more.

  He backed away a few steps. “Going back to the roadie bus. So no one sees.”

  A wave, and she headed inside as the opening band took the stage. Normally, she waited in the green room, but the band sounded pretty good. What the hell, wouldn’t hurt to listen. She stayed hidden in the wings. As they launched into the first song, her body picked up the groove. Hips swaying, she kept her feet in place as she danced. Catchy tune. Easy enough lyrics, so she quietly sang along. By their fourth song, she wanted to hear more of their music and decided to look them up online later. So nice to enjoy a band whose music helped free her spirit instead of shackle it.

  “You’re early.” Mal sneered from behind her.

  She stiffened.

  He circled to face her. “What are you up to?”

  Why so suspicious? “Can’t I listen to other people’s music?”

  Mal’s glare was electric ice. “Not without permission.”

  “Bullshit.” The terms specified nothing of the sort.

  “Careful, love. You’ll ruin my mood.”

  She huffed. What else was new? “You’re the one who should be careful.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “If telling you to back off or otherwise your performance might be less than stellar, then I suppose I am.” She smiled at the members of the opening band as they departed the stage.

  Through clenched teeth, he hissed, “You little slut.”

  The accusation hit her like a slap that left a trail of heat on her face. “How dare you.”

  “Slithering like some pathetic exotic dancer. Are you so desperate for attention?”

  “Careful, Malcolm. I’d hate for you to have to cancel tonight’s show.”

  His smile was pure malice. “Not an option, love. If I have to gag you and chain you to the rafters, I will.”

  And not a bluff. The roadies might not want to, but would do as he commanded. Jackson, too? She didn’t want to find out.

  He caught her wrists and examined them. “No bracelet. That’s my pet.”

  Not there, anyway. Trying not to grimace, she jerked her hands away. And she was no one’s pet.

  Once he sauntered off, she slipped her hand beneath her shirt and smiled at the feel of warm metal. The bracelet still hung from her belt loop. Tonight would prove how strong its protection was.

  Through the speakers, Kev announced Malcontent. Dog, Fred, and Shane strode by, and lastly, Mal, guitar strapped around him.

  That damned guitar. Her life would never be her own while he, or anyone, had it. The only way to take back control was to reclaim the guitar, and with it her life.

  Chapter 6

  Jackson sweated throughout the concert as Mal’s performance teetered on the brink of mediocrity. Not wonderful but not awful. The other three band members took advantage of the opportunity with impromptu riffs and solos, coaxing cheers from the audience.

  And jealousy from Mal, who scowled in Layla’s direction. Trancelike, she swayed, wrapped in the grips of the music, more so than last night, but not as bad as the first. She must have worn the bracelet hidden somewhere.

  As the concert neared its end, Jackson stayed as close to Layla as he dared. Mal practically stomped offstage, grumbling on the way past her with his guitar. Head drooping, she seemed too busy recovering to notice.

  Squealing laughter from down the hall meant Mal had found the groupies du jour outside his dressing room. Should keep the jerk happy for a while.

  If he hurried to finish his work, he could take that walk with Layla. Jackson packed away the instruments and wiring and helped carry equipment into the bus for the next show.

  Kev clapped his shoulder. “What’s the rush? Got a hot date?”

  Swear to God, not a date. He needed to make sure she was all right. “Did I screw up something?”

  A laugh. “Wish the rest of the guys worked so fast. You didn’t answer me. Are you going somewhere?”

  Jackson tilted his head to relieve the kinks with loud cracks. “Guess I’m restless from sitting around too long.”

  Kev’s slow nod made Jackson nervous. If anyone suspected, they might follow. Jackson couldn’t afford that.

  “Well”—Kev’s tight smile lasted a millisecond—“good work.” Kev called out a few orders as he strode off.

  The conversation left a foul smell in the air. Jackson made a show of snapping bungee cords, securing crates, each one closer to the exit. Finally, when no one watched, he slipped outside and inhaled deeply. Yeah, breathing space. He hadn’t guessed roadie work would make him claustrophobic.

  “Hey.”

  He turned toward the whispered word. Shadows nearly hid her.

  “Hey.” Why had she waited here instead of out of sight? The question vanished from his mind when her hand slid in his and sent a jolt through him. Soft and warm.

  She tugged him away from the doorway’s light. “What took you so long?”

  “Sorry, we just hauled the last—”

  “I was teasing.” She squeezed his hand and glanced behind him. “Come on.”

  Following her lead, he stayed close to her, and to the wall. “Are you sure you want to risk this?”

  She stopped at the end of the trailer. “Don’t you?”

  “I can’t stand to see you hurt.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “You know I won’t.” The farthest thing from his mind. The faint scent of sugary vanilla made him hungry for more. He was only there to protect her. He eased nearer. But maybe just a taste…

  “How do I know? You might be one of his spies.”

  At her light tug of his hand, he dug his boots into the ground. “Bullshit.” How could she say such a thing?

  She faced him, her mouth so close he could taste her minty breath. “Prove it.”

  That one instant left him helpless and unable to breathe. A glow rimmed her head from the spotlight behind her. Unable to see her features, he couldn’t tell if she mocked him.

  A door slammed, chilling the blood in his veins. Christ, if they didn’t get away now, all hell would break loose. “Let’s walk. Before someone sees us.”

  He still held her hand. The fact surprised him, and at the same time, seemed familiar. Natural, as if they held hands all the time. They moved in tandem to the end of the building, then made a dash across the back parking lot to the pathway through a sparse stand of trees.

  A twig snapped under his boot. He wordlessly pulled her to a stop, again wishing he could see her face. With the spotlight at a distance, the dimness put him at a disadvantage. Now wasn’t the time to screw up his life, and if she was playing him, that’s exactly what would happen.

  “This is kind of crazy.” He said it teasingly, but also to test her response.

  “We’re free, and that’s the opposite of crazy.” She drew something out of her bulky sweatshirt. “Tonight, we’re going to pretend we’re normal. Sit down.” She crossed her legs and sat.

  A flick, and the screen of a tablet lit up, lending its soft glow to her face.

  Curiosity drew him next to her. “What’s that?”

  “A movie.” She made it sound like some rare treasure. “Or we could see a show. Do you like Comedy Central? SyFy?”

  Incredible. He had no clue about tel
evision. “I’m way behind on stuff like that.”

  “You don’t watch anything?”

  He shook his head. “What do you like?”

  “Oddly enough, travel shows. Or documentaries, the History Channel, anything about animals or science or…” She shrugged.

  Not surprising she had such wide interests. “What’s your favorite?”

  “You won’t laugh?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because.” In the glow of the tablet, she appeared shy. Then she swept her fingers across the tablet and a black and white film clip came up. “I love music videos, especially the old ones.”

  He jerked his head at the screen. “Let’s see it.”

  At her touch, a youthful Mick Jagger appeared and sang with pouty lips.

  Jackson rocked his head. Off of my cloud. Perfect description for tonight, no one else but him and Layla. “Great classic rock.”

  The video ended too soon. She selected another, and Malcolm Fetterman’s face filled the screen, features twisted in anguish. A great imitation of a guy with actual emotions. She remained perfectly still until the song ended.

  “You should be the one onstage, the one the audience can’t get enough of.” A situation he had to be careful not to fall into. And oh man, he’d easily tumble into that trap with her.

  “In a perfect world, you mean?”

  He heard the smile in her voice. And the sadness. “What hold does he have over you?”

  “Over my heart, none.” She angled toward him and caressed his cheek. “But you’re beginning to.”

  He eased back. “No.”

  She stared as if he’d slapped her. “Sorry, I thought…” She flew to her feet.

  He leaped up. Hell. He’d landed in exactly the place he had tried to avoid: wanting to protect her and just plain wanting her. “It’s too dangerous for you.”

  “I’d never put you in danger.” She tucked the tablet inside her hoodie and brushed past.

  He caught her by the wrist. “I’m not worried about me. If he hurts you…”

  She closed the distance between them, looped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to his.