Wrecked (Blind Man's Alibi #1)

by Sarah Grimm

  “Rumor has it,” Zach said, dropping his ankle over his opposite knee and glancing at Joe, “Marv called your girl a piece of ass.”

  In the front seat, Gary muttered a suggestion for Marvin that was a physical impossibility.

  The comment caused Kirk to chuff a laugh.

  Joe smiled. For months now, Kirk had been distant and quiet, moving through each day like a ghost. He would attend sound checks, do his bit for the shows, then slide away again. Sometimes for hours on end. No one knew for sure where he would go. Joe had an idea—because lately he’d been the shell of the man he used to be. But where Joe would drown his troubles in alcohol, Kirk would drown in fear. Fear for the woman he’d been raised with, the cousin who was more a sister to him. Who had disappeared exactly ten weeks ago and was presumed dead.

  Christ. Joe wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and squeezed. He couldn’t wait for this damn tour to be finished. Too much shit had gone down on this one. Too many of them affected in ways that weren’t good. Yet Kirk was laughing, and everyone seemed to notice it. Even as none of them commented.

  Steve smiled at the back of Kirk’s head, relief crossing his features. “So how’d she take it, Joe? Being called a piece of ass, I mean. Is that why we’re running late? You have to sooth her?”

  “She didn’t require soothing, no.”

  Bobby jumped on Joe’s admission with both feet. “So it was you who needed it?”

  If Bobby thought he could bait Joe, he was mistaken. Joe was feeling far too mellow. He’d been bloody furious when Marvin struck out at Emma verbally. Sure, she put Marv in his place, but that didn’t mean his words didn’t sting. Worried about how she’d take it, Joe had gone in search of Emma to do just as Steve suggested, but in the end, it was indeed he, who had needed soothing. She did that for him—calmed him—and he didn’t care who knew it.

  His reply dried up in his throat when Kirk laughed again. “You missed it. Emma told Marv she preferred to be called by her given name and if he had better manners maybe he’d have a piece of ass, too.”

  Everyone dissolved into laughter.

  Steve gasped for breath. “Are you serious? Bloody hell that is fantastic.”

  “I need to meet this woman,” Bobby said. “Sounds like my kind of girl.”

  “You already met her in Cleveland,” Joe clarified.

  “Shit, like I’m supposed to remember Cleveland.”

  Kirk sobered. “She’s too good for you, Bobby.”

  “The hell. But she’s not too good for Joe?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Kirk replied, “She’s too good for Joe, too.”

  Isn’t that the truth.

  “She likes him though, so leave her alone.”

  “I haven’t done a thing to the girl,” Bobby argued.

  Zach cocked his head, taking Joe in with a cool glance. “He must like her, too. I’ve never known you to bring a bird on the bus before, Joe.”

  Coughing out a laugh, Bobby tapped the back of the seat near Kirk’s head. “Watch out, Joe, looks like Kirk is into your girl.”

  “Piss off, Poulsen,” Kirk growled.

  “Now kids,” Steve chastised. “Let’s not argue the whole trip.”

  Joe closed his eyes and tipped his head back, resting it on the door. “Kirk and Emma have a bond.” Christ, he was relaxed. The rumble of the tires on the road was hypnotic. Sleep pulled at him.

  “Jesus, Joe, you’re not nodding off are you? It was that good?”

  Joe smiled at the exasperation in Steve’s voice.

  “I still don’t get it,” Gary piped up, confusion evident in his voice. “She’s sexy, funny and warm. You’re grumpy, have zero social graces and drink too much. I never thought you stood a chance with her.”

  Pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head, Joe cracked an eye. “Neither did I.”

  Zach straightened, holding his hands like he clutched a pen and paper. “So Mr. Campbell—”

  “Please don’t let the interviewer this morning refer to me as Mr. Campbell. I hate that.”

  He hated interviews in general, which is why Zach was giving him shit. It never failed, every interview, every bloody one of them, Joe would say the wrong thing and it all would go to shit. Then, as if looking like an ass in one country wasn’t enough, the clip would circle the globe at warp speed, playing over and over on all social media outlets so he could relive the moment ad nauseum.

  “Mr. Campbell,” Zach repeated and Joe sighed. “How did you woo Emma into your bed? Tell us your secret.”

  “She likes my dragon.”

  “Jesus!” Bobby flung out his arms, forcing Steve to duck and dodge or take one to the face. “Can we stop talking about your happy dick?”

  The SUV came to a stop in front of the radio station, but Joe didn’t spare a glance at the throng of people who began calling out greetings. He smiled at Bobby. “I was referring to my tattoo, ya twit.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Zach gave up the pretense of holding a pencil in order to make a cupping motion below his pec. “You showed her your man-boob and all her clothes magically fell off.”

  Kirk snickered.

  Joe shook his head in exasperation. This farce was the perfect example of how his interviews always went sideways. “Yes. That’s exactly what I did.”

  “Hell, yeah!” Zach pulled his shirt off over his head as he reached for the door handle. “I’m giving this a try.”

  “Brenner,” Gary growled. “You open that door and I’m breaking your fingers.”

  “You wouldn’t dare! How would I play the guitar?”

  “Better than if you stir up this crowd and they get out of hand.” The crowd he spoke of appeared controlled, but one never knew. “No way I can hold them all off and, trust me when I say this, you’ll be my first sacrifice.”

  “Harsh,” Zach mumbled, pulling the shirt back on. “That’s harsh, mate.”

  Steve chuckled as if he hadn’t been ready to follow Zach’s lead only moments ago. “Where are we, again?”

  “Lake Charles,” Gary supplied, his eyes scanning the crowd.

  “Louisiana,” Kirk said at the same time.

  Apparently liking what he was seeing, Gary pushed his door open and stepped out.

  His smile in place, Joe followed, doing his best not to wince as the temperature change from air conditioning to hot humid air shocked his lungs.

  “Bleeding hell,” one of his band mates muttered. Joe had no idea which since the roar of the crowd increased tenfold with each band member who climbed out of the SUV. “Half past seven in the morning and already muggy as balls.”

  “Typical.” Steve pitched his voice to be heard over the crowd. “All Bobby can think about is his balls.”

  They were nearly to the door of the radio station when a cute little redhead grabbed hold of Zach’s arm and screamed, her pitch the stuff that could break glass. Zach jumped, appearing for a moment like he just might scream right back, then grabbed hold of her face and pressed a kiss to her lips.

  The redhead fainted into her friend’s arms.

  Joe stared in shock. “What the fuck, Zach?”

  Zach shrugged. “She scared me. What else was I supposed to do?”

  “At least we know which one of us will be trending on social media tonight,” Steve muttered, slapping Joe on the back. “And hey, whatever crazy shit gets said in the interview, it’s not gonna top that, is it?”

  Oh look, a fucking bright side. “Tell me the girl is okay. She didn’t hit her head or anything, did she?”

  “Nah,” Bobby assured him. “She’s coming around. Course Zach looks like he’s thinking of trying it again.”

  “For the love of Christ.” Reaching out blindly, Joe snagged the back of Zach’s shirt and pulled him away before he could make another bone-ass move. He sighed with relief as the station doors closed behind them, Gary moving in to keep the fans out.

  After the melodrama of the morning—specifically Martin throwing a fit
over her being in his spot—Emma sat in the back lounge, watching the latest trending video when Joe walked in.

  “How did it go?” she asked, pausing the video.

  Joe leaned against the wall just inside the lounge and sighed. “I hate those things. The interviewers never stay on topic and usually shift to personal questions. My life is boring. Who gives a damn what I had for breakfast?”

  She smiled. “He didn’t ask you what you ate for breakfast.”

  “You were listening.”

  “And here’s something to note, your life is only boring to you. To your fans it’s fascinating.”

  Joe shook his head. Pulling his hand out of his front pocket, he scratched his beard, then tipped his head to the coffee table before her. “What’s the book?”

  Her handmade leather journal lay open just to the left of her laptop. She’d been writing earlier, before the broadcast interview, and forgot to put it away. She gave it a look, absently wondering if he could read any of it from his distance before giving in to temptation and shutting it. “It’s my journal.”

  “Yeah?” He grinned. “Do you write about me in there?”

  “Sometimes,” she answered honestly.

  “What do you say? Do you mention how handsome I am?”

  “Nope.”

  “How talented I am?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her as if he didn’t appreciate her answers.

  Her smile broadened.

  “What about,” he began, then pushed off the wall and started in her direction, “how I make your panties wet just by saying your name?”

  She held her breath as he slid onto the couch next to her.

  “Do you write about that, Emma?”

  Her gaze went to his hand as it settled atop the brown leather. She did her best to appear indifferent to hearing her name fall from his lips. Setting her hand next to his on her journal, she pulled it closer. “No.”

  “Well then, it sounds boring.”

  “Doesn’t it just?”

  He grinned, leaning in until his mouth was a whisper from hers. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you? You really do write those things about me.”

  She kissed one corner of his lips, his jaw, the tip of his nose. “You’ll never know.”

  Her words brought a teasing smile to his face. “Do you have any idea how adorable you are, even with those bloody awful glasses on your face?”

  “Shit.” She’d forgotten she was wearing her glasses. She only needed them when working on her computer as they helped reduce glare and keep her headaches under control. Since she was self-employed, the look of them never concerned her. Until now.

  Pulling them off, she placed them on the table.

  He chuckled then caught sight of her laptop screen and his humor faded. “What is that?”

  She turned the screen in his direction and pressed the play button. The clip of Zach kissing a young woman who then fainted started over. “It’s trending on Twitter right now.”

  Frown in place, he closed the lid.

  Emma giggled. “The look on Zach’s face when you grab him by the collar and drag him into the radio station is priceless.”

  “Fuck.” Shifting away from her, he reclined on the couch, his head on her thigh. “At least it’s not me this time.”

  She straightened in her seat.

  He closed his eyes. “Don’t you dare. If you search my interview blunders I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?” she asked, settling her hand on his chest.

  “Just don’t. I’m not sure I could handle the humiliation.”

  “You got to see my glasses. It seems only fair.”

  “No.”

  “They can’t be that bad.”

  “Wanna bet?” He rubbed at his eyes before lacing his hands over his abs.

  “Tired?”

  “How did you guess?”

  “The droop to your shoulders and dark rings beneath your eyes as you walked in was my first clue.” Add to that the weight of his head on her thigh. The fact that none of his muscles seemed to be anything but lax, and the truth was hard to miss. Slipping her hand into the open collar of his shirt, she began rubbing his chest in long, slow strokes.

  “Mm, that’s nice.” His voice had already softened, each word drawn out.

  “Yeah?” She slipped a few more buttons through their corresponding holes, allowing her better access, keeping up the gentle strokes from one pec to the other and back again. It wasn’t long before his breathing evened out.

  His skin was warm and soft. Her hand made another gentle pass before stopping atop his tattoo. The vibrant blue eye of the dragon peeked out from between her ring and middle fingers, his orange tongue near her thumb. She traced the lines and shadows, admiring the artist’s skill. The saturation of color, the depth, and the fluid movement as if the beast was actually alive. It took talent to create such a convincing image on paper, she couldn’t imagine inking it onto a living canvas.

  Her fingers itched to sketch it, see if she could replicate the dramatic image, its living, breathing appearance. Flipping open her journal, she put pencil to paper. Pencil drawing was her passion, with charcoal a close second—creating light and shadow without the assistance of color. She had an aptitude for people, an innate talent at creating visually breathtaking portraits. But animals and mythical creatures? She didn’t seem to have the eye for them at all.

  “I’m not even going to ask.”

  “Jesus!” Emma jumped, spilling the pencil off her lap. It rolled under the coffee table and stopped halfway between her and the door. Struggling with the dragon’s body, she’d been busy shifting Joe’s shirt as she tried to get a better look at his arm, and hadn’t noticed Gary’s arrival until he spoke. “You need to wear a bell or something!”

  Gary’s dimple flashed.

  Joe muttered in his sleep. She replaced her hand on his chest and he calmed.

  Gary’s brow lifted. “Joe’s asleep.” he said, his tone a mix of accusation and confusion.

  “He is. Is that so strange?”

  “Actually, yes. However, I’m wondering more about why you were molesting him while he’s sleeping.”

  “I wasn’t.” Heat suffused her cheeks and she knew she was blushing. “I thought you weren’t going to ask?”

  His grin widened. “I changed my mind.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Your face is the color of an apple and it’s not what I think?”

  Emma blew a breath and offered up her journal, thumb in the center, keeping it open to the page she was sketching.

  Gary’s brow slid farther up his face, but he stepped forward, crossing the room in a few strides. He curled a hand beneath the soft leather and placed his other atop the open pages, then took it from her and turned it around.

  “His dragon,” he said his eyes alight with humor.

  “Is it that bad?”

  His tongue played behind his cheek, his smile huge. “It’s damn good actually.” He sounded sincere, but what was with that look on his face?

  She shrugged. “I like his dragon.”

  He started to laugh. A deep, rich, belly laugh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Emma stared at him.

  He was still laughing as he sank to the empty space on the short end of the curve to her right, setting her journal atop the table.

  “I’m missing something here, aren’t I?” she asked.

  “Yup.” He took in her hand smoothing across a sleeping Joe and shook his head.

  “No one got more than four hours of sleep last night. Why is it odd that he’s resting?”

  Closing his eyes, Gary leaned his head on the wall. “He never rests. I told you, you calm his demons.”

  “The ones he normally drowns in alcohol?”

  “Or tries to.” He let out a slow, careful breath. “I have to walk the arena. Interested in accompanying me?”

  “Walk the arena?”

  �
��Learn the layout. Check the dressing rooms, the entrances and exits.”

  To say she was intrigued would be an understatement. “Sure.”

  He grunted. “Give me five.”

  “Gary?”

  He was asleep. Sitting up. One minute he was making normal conversation and the next he was out. There had been no clue he was about to drift off, no warning at all, just…asleep. Like flicking a switch. How was that possible? Even Joe usually started slurring words before he tuned out, and he fell asleep at record speed, too.

  She gave Gary ten, then said his name again and touched his hand where it lay atop his knee. His eyes popped open and his hand closed around her wrist, moving so fast she never saw it coming. The grip was strong, but not painful. Until she jerked instinctively and his hold tightened.

  “Shit.” He released her as quickly as he had grabbed her. His gaze went to her wrist before rising to her face. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? I…it’s best not to touch me when I’m sleeping.”

  “I’ll remember that.” When his dark gaze drifted back to her wrist, she reassured him. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

  “Okay.” He dropped the subject, even though she wasn’t certain he believed her. A glance at his watch and he blinked. “Let’s do this. That is, if you still want to.”

  “Sure.”

  Gary stood, stepping away so she could slide out from under Joe’s head then scoot across the spot where he had been sitting and out from behind the table.

  Emma stuffed her cell phone into her back pocket. She flipped through the pages of her journal until she found her backstage pass. Slipping it around her neck, she closed the book. “You can stop looking at me like that.”

  “How am I looking at you?”

  She scanned him from top to bottom. Ubiquitous black tee and cargo pants topped military-style lace front boots. Instead of his usual relaxed self, his muscles were tight, hands shoved into his pockets. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m brutally honest.” Most of the time, anyway. “So believe me when I tell you that if you’d hurt me, you wouldn’t have had to ask.”

  The look on his face didn’t change so she poked him in the chest with her finger. Which wasn’t smart because he was built like a tank. “Okay, that did hurt.”