Reid got out of the car and beckoned Jason over. They both slid into the back seat. He knew Reid had a licensed firearm in the glove compartment, and he wasn’t afraid to use it if necessary.
“What’s up bro?” Jason greeted happily.
Colt did not respond.
“Sign these and quarter mil is yours to keep,” Reid stated, handing the blackmailer the papers.
“What’s a gag order?” Jason asked.
Colt glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “It’s to keep your fucking trap shut!”
“Come now bro; that’s the way to treat your brother?”
Colt turned in his seat, scowling at Jason. “You are not my brother.”
“If that’s the way you want it?” Jason’s face tightened. “No deal.”
“Then get your ass out of the car,” Reid’s icy tone cut in. “Did that record, Colt?”
“Yeah, it’s running.” Colt grinned, holding up his phone.
On the screen was what was happening in the car. A tiny camera was fitted to the dashboard, a precaution suggested by the attorney. They had to have something to use in case this got out of hand. The lawyer said that all blackmailers always returned to the source of money. Jason could not be trusted to just sign the papers and leave them alone. They needed something more.
“What the fuck?” Jason, who was about to get out of the car, fell back against the seat. “What the fuck is all this?”
“Deal or no deal? What will it be?” Reid asked.
With a stoned expression and pursed lips, Jason grabbed the papers from Reid’s grasp. The band manager handed him a pen. He quickly signed all the documents, and Reid pulled a large manila envelope from the driver’s seat. Jason frowned as he hesitantly took the envelope.
“What?” Reid chuckled. “You were expecting a briefcase? You think this is the movies?” He gave an amused laugh. “You really are a dumb shit. Two hundred and fifty grand … count it.”
“I’m good,” Jason replied, barely glancing inside the package.
As Reid got into the driver’s seat, he had one piece of advice. “Don’t spend it all in one place, and if you ever come near Chelsea again, no one will find your body,” he almost shouted as Jason walked away. Before he slammed the door shut, the guy gave him the finger.
* * * *
The morning presented bleakness, showing signs of rain as the bus rolled out of the hotel parking space. There was a chill in the Missouri air with dark gray clouds rolling in. This would slow the journey, but they moved out just the same.
Colt kept his eye on Chelsea. He wanted to ask her what Jason said to her but wasn’t certain how to approach it. Reid was at the front of the bus discussing with Mike something about the concert. Andrew was fast asleep beside Tony, and Cory was strumming on a guitar.
“This is boring as shit!” Cory blurted out.
“What do you want? A sing-along?” Tony asked.
Andrew opened his eyes and remarked, “That ain’t such a bad idea. We could practice the new songs Colt wrote.”
“What do you say, Chelsea?” Tony eyed Colt when he asked her.
Her face brightened with a broad, sunny smile. Colt felt his heart jolt and inside the bus became so bright that he forgot the bleakness outside. His heart raced looking at her face, then she turned and looked at him, and everything faded.
“Will you sing?” she asked.
“Colt never reh …” Tony said, but Cot cut him short.
“Yes.”
Andrew suddenly sat up, staring at Colt with shock. Mike and Reid stopped their discussion and also stared. Tony’s mouth fell open, and Cory strummed a wrong cord. Chelsea looked at all the faces with a frown, and then her eyes came back to him. Their eyes locked a moment, and he knew he was a goner.
“Get my guitar,” he said.
He would have gotten it himself but did not think he could look confident walking in front of her. He took a couple of minutes to compose himself, and when she placed the instrument in his hand, he was ready.
“How about that new song … she’s fire?” Cory asked.
“No … I’m not releasing that,” he said in a low tone. All fell silent, so he added. “It’s not finished.”
“Sounds finished to me,” Cory remarked. Colt gave him a cutting stare. “Okay, let’s do something else.”
Colt closed his eyes and started humming, and then he played a chord. He’d written a song a long time ago about a girl with wild hair and a honey smile. As he sang the notes, he saw her running through a field with the wind in her hair. Tony got out his keyboard, and Mike snapped his fingers while they all did back up.
By the fourth song, he felt relaxed. This was how it was in the beginning with the band. Nostalgia washed over him. The happier he got, a gloom began to settle. He’d learned from experience that whenever things got too great, something was lurking, waiting to attack.
* * * *
The bus rolled to a stop at a gas station near midnight. They had one more stop to make before LA, and he must admit, he didn’t mind hanging with the boys. His eyes followed Mike and Cory as they went to use the restroom of the gas station. Andrew went to pick up a few things in the small store out front, and Chelsea’s eyes were watching him. He locked eyes with her for a sec, and then he remembered that he wanted to talk to her.
“What did Jason say to you?” he asked.
She stared at him confused. “Jason … who is Jason?”
“My stepbrother,” he replied with one brow raised.
“I haven’t spoken to him. Why?”
“They said you were with some guy back at the hotel when you fainted.”
She looked away, biting down her bottom lip. He had a strange feeling she was hiding something.
“Was it not Jason?”
“No, it wasn’t Jason,” she answered softly.
“But Reid said he was sending you texts and calling you,” his voice raised a notch.
She looked up and met his hardened eyes. “Yes, he was. He texted me and called, but it wasn’t him I met. It was someone else.”
“Who was it?”
“I can’t tell you that?” She didn’t meet his eyes.
Was she seeing someone? What the hell? Colt stared at Chelsea, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest and an emotion, completely new to him, punched him in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of him. The piercing pain was almost physical so that it made him grimace. Jealousy was never something he felt for anyone … any woman. He slowly stood and walked to his private area, pulling the curtain behind him.
He stretched himself out on the sofa bed, closing his eyes against the emotions that were assailing him. He could not get the idea of Chelsea with another man out of his head. He kept picturing some guy touching her and she laughing with him.
“Colt, I brought snacks, man.” It was Andrew, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’m good,” he grunted from behind the curtain.
“Have a beer,” Andrew urged, opening the screen and handing him the beer.
“I said I’m good; what the fuck don’t you understand in that?”
Andrew stepped back, raising his hands in defense. “Okay man, whatever you say,” Andrew returned. “You don’t have to bite my head off.”
“What’s the matter?” Reid entered, immediately sensing the mood.
“Your boy is in a mood,” Andrew told him.
Reid stepped behind the screen and stood looking down at him. He had his hands wedged in his pants pockets with his eyes narrowed. Colt closed his eyes, willing him to go away. He wasn’t in the mood to talk and was definitely not in the mood for Reid’s presence.
“I want to be left alone,” he growled.
Reid sat on the bed and spoke in a low tone, “Colt I think you need to see someone.”
“What are you blabbering about now?”
“You need to get professional help.”
His eyes shot open, and he gave Reid a cutting look. “What the
… I don’t need a shrink.”
“We both know you do. Your mood swings, we both know what’s causing them. This darkness you sink into …”
“I’m fine. I don’t need a shrink,” he replied, closing his eyes once more.
“Think about it. It certainly helped me,” Reid added, rising to his feet.
“What do you mean?” Colt opened his eyes again, eying Reid with curiosity.
“We have more in common that you know,” he replied and slipped through the slit in the curtain.
Colt wondered what he meant by that. Reid always left unanswered questions with his little speeches. And what did he mean it helped him? Did he see a shrink? He knew his manager was a little crazy, but he must have been out of his freaking mind to see a shrink. He pushed Reid and his little talk from his mind.
The only thing that could make him feel better was a hot chick or a few. Being on the road like this was cramping his style. This was a deliberate plan on Reid’s part to tame him, and then there was Chelsea. He didn’t know what he was thinking or hoping. He thought … what the hell did he think? He wanted her. Heat ran up his belly at the thought of her, and his cock jumped.
“Damn!” he cursed under his breath.
He wanted to taste her lips again, feel her breast pressed into his chest. But the thought of her with another man made him angry. Who the hell was she with? He must know, it was driving him crazy not knowing. The hotel must have some sort of security surveillance. That settled, he closed his eyes.
He covered both ears with his palms and willed the screams to stop. Her voice penetrated the silence of the night. It was around midnight, and his stepfather came home staggering through the back door of the kitchen. His mother had sat at the kitchen table for four hours waiting for him to arrive. She’d fed the two boys and sent them to bed. Jason was on the bottom bunk, and he would kick the top bunk mattress, causing him to jerk up and down. He kept doing it nonstop.
“Stop Jason, I need to sleep,” he pleaded.
“Come and stop me,” the other boy said.
He sat up and was about to descend the little ladder when the first scream pierced the air. He flapped back onto the bed. Another scream filtered through the bedroom walls and door. Jason stopped kicking just for a minute and then resumed. His mother screamed repeatedly for what seemed like ages while Jason continued to kick the mattress. After a while, something within him snapped.
He made one flick, like a gymnast, swinging his feet onto the bottom bunk, startling his stepbrother. He straddled the older boy and punched him in the mouth. Blood trickled from his mouth. His lips started to swell, but David could not stop at a single punch. For every scream his mother made, he punched the son of the man causing her pain. Jason tried to shield his punches, but it was no use. He was a wild beast. All he could hear was his mother’s screams as his stepfather beat her.
Colt awoke with a jolt. He sat up abruptly and looked around wildly. He was on the daybed at the back of the bus. His hair was damp, and beads of sweat ran down his face. His T-shirt was soaked, and his heart pounded unevenly beneath his ribs. He lifted his doubled fist, staring at it.
“David,” he muttered, his voice raspy. “David.”
A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. The closer he got to his hometown, the darker was his mood. Was his past buried and forgotten? His heartbeat picked up pace. He tried to still it, but as the Purple Crush tour bus rolled on, the darkness became quite dense.
Chapter 21
The Hotel Olympus was sitting near the beach where they would be doing their first LA concert in two days. After the sing-along on the bus, things quickly became dull. Colt retreated into his dark mood and Chelsea … her heart began to develop a dull ache. The longer he stayed behind the curtain on the bus, the more she felt his rejection.
He’d asked about whom she was with at the hotel in Missouri, and then he seemed angry that she did not tell him. He had not spoken to her since.
The hotel suite was a similar setup, except that this one had the living room opening up to a balcony on the 7th floor. There were two suites and two rooms occupied by the band with adjoining doors. They almost occupied the entire half of their floor. As for her, she locked her door from the inside and only opened it when she was entering Colt’s suit.
The place seemed empty as she entered. One of the doors was ajar. It was Mike’s room, and it was empty. She knew Reid was at the concert venue getting things in order, so the band must be at practice. She breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t have to encounter ‘Mr. Bad Mood’ today. She drew up her chair to the tiny desk near the curtains of the window and switched on the laptop.
She’d tried one of the outfits from the hotel boutique that Mariska picked out. It was a peach skirt and softer shade sheer top. It fitted her curves too well. As she sat, the skirt rode up her thigh a couple of inches. This irritated her.
“Darn it,” she grumbled, trying to pull the hem close to her knees.
The sound of a door opening startled her, and she whipped her head around to see Colt standing at his door. His eyes cruised her from her neatly brushed hair, which fell carelessly beyond her shoulders, down to her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took.
His eyes lingered there a moment, and heat began to make its way up her neck, scorching her cheeks. He continued his perusal, traveling over her hips, coming to rest for a few seconds on her thighs. She was certain he was mocking her skirt. But when his eyes went lower, she was not so sure.
“I’m going out,” he said in an undertone.
She stood and moved quickly towards the front door. “No, Reid said to make sure you don’t leave without me. He says …”
“Out of my way.” He sidestepped her, trying to pass, but she grabbed his arm.
“No!” she said loudly. “Every time you leave on your own, something happens.”
“Let go of my arm, Chelsea,” he said.
“Then I’m coming with you,” she said. Her voice shook a little as her heart was racing out of control. Moreover, her palms, which were gripping him, were quite warm and tingly.
He turned abruptly, yanking his arm from her grasp. The movement sent her reeling, causing her to stumble. Colt reached for her, but not in time. She hit the center table, falling, bruising her shin first and then her derriere.
“Ouch,” she moaned, rubbing her shin.
Colt crouched, concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”
She raised her pleading eyes to meet his. “Don’t go, please,” she croaked.
His hazel pools seemed like molten fire as they flickered yellow sparks. The way he was looking at her made her self-conscious. She swallowed, trying to still her galloping heart. He inched closer, and she inhaled a shaky breath. Then his hands were on her shin, and his eyes dropped to the spot she had hit.
“How is it?” he asked with a frown.
“F-f-f-ine,” she finally managed to stutter.
She tried to get up, but her ankle felt sore, and she sank back to the floor. Colt cocked one brow, looking intently at her for a moment. Then he slipped one hand beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her and gently placing her on the sofa.
He stood staring down at her a minute before his face hardened and he began to walk away. Without thinking, she reached out, grabbing his hand. Her hand fitted in his palm, and the heat of the contact traveled up her arm.
“Let me go,” he calmly said without trying to pull away.
Her heart was pounding, and she liked the touch of his hand as it clasped hers. He was saying that she should let him go, but his hand had grasped hers, and the hold tightened.
“No,” she bravely stated.
He turned, looking down on her. “Why won’t you?”
“Why do you hate me so?” she asked with a slight tremor.
“I don’t hate you,” he replied easily.
“But you …”
“What is this Chelsea?”
“I-I …”
she had no clue what she was doing.
“Who was he?” Colt asked, and her eyes flew to his.
“Who?” He let go of her hand and started to move away. She grabbed his hand again. “Please don’t go; I’ll tell you anything.”
He did not seem to believe her. She sat up straight on the sofa and tried to stand, but her sore ankle prevented her. Colt halted. She held his large hand in both her smaller ones. He looked down at his captive hand but did not pull away again.
“Please,” she pled.
This was not her usual behavior. Reid had told her she should keep check on wherever he went, but whenever Colt walked away from her, specifically while on the bus, she felt something stab her chest. When she saw him come out of his room, her heart pumped speedily, but behind that was the joy of seeing him. Then when he said he was leaving, there was a slight pain there.
“Was he your boyfriend?” his tone was acidic.
“No, but don’t get mad. I was only trying to find out what he wanted. That’s all.”
He narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to one side. “Tell me.”
“Carl Benson. He said he needed to interview me, but I knew he was just fishing.”
“What happened? Why did you get sick? Did he say something?” he asked, his voice taking on an edge. She let go of his hand and wrung both her hands together nervously. “What are you hiding?”
“It wasn’t Carl that made me sick.”
“Was it something you ate? What?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Colt seemed impatient. “Are you pregnant?” he asked, and she looked at him in wide-eyed shock.
“No!” she said, her voice raised a little. “It was you,” she blurted out. Her hand flew to her mouth. She didn’t mean to tell him that.
“What did I say … or do?” He seemed to be thinking. “I can’t remember.”
“It’s nothing, let it be,” she said in a small voice, turning her face away.
Damaged Love Page 70
