Lost Lyric (Found in Oblivion Book 4)

by Cari Quinn

Denver narrowed her eyes at Mal. “You listened to them having sex?”

  “More like it was impossible not to. Bus isn’t huge.” He lumbered to his feet and dropped his empty beer can in the recycling bin. “I’m going back to bed. Couldn’t fucking sleep with all that racket earlier.”

  “What about Elle?”

  He’d already disappeared into the back.

  Denver sighed and tapped out a reply to Elle.

  Denver: Can you come back to the bus, please? I’ll explain when you get here.

  Elle’s response was immediate.

  Elle: Explain? What’s going on?

  Denver: It’s just easier to tell you in person. I’ll see you soon.

  She tossed her phone on the table and rose to refill her glass of tea. She debated chasing it with a beer, then decided she’d had enough alcohol for one night. As awful as it would be on her to tell Elle what had happened, this wasn’t her heartache or her drama. She’d be there for her as a friend in whatever way she could, of course, but she needed to shore up her emotional reserves to deal with her own hot mess.

  Also known as one Ryan Waters, who she needed to talk to sooner rather than later. Her reaction to finding Kirk in his bed had proven that more succinctly than anything else.

  First, she needed to help Elle through the knowledge that she’d been seeing a user and a womanizer.

  Bastard.

  Denver sighed for about the fifth time since Kirk had left. Elle was doubly screwed, since Denver was the one around to help her through this traumatic event. Denver had no illusions about her ability to be soft and nurturing. She’d been an accounting student for a reason. Numbers made sense to her. So did machines and vehicles. Push the gas and vroom.

  People? Not so much. They required different pressures and tacks to get them to do what you wanted.

  Ahem. She meant they required different methods. She didn’t want to make people do what she said.

  She’d never admit it anyway.

  An empty glass of sun tea later, a gentle knock sounded at the bus door. Great. The time of reckoning had arrived.

  Denver pushed to her feet. Better get it over with. In this case, delaying tactics helped no one.

  Except the jackass probably already asleep in the back bunk. Useless man beast.

  She opened the bus door to find Elle shivering in the rain. “Where’s your jacket?” Denver scolded, dragging her inside. “You’re freezing.”

  “It’s July. It’s not supposed to be cold in July. I mean, what the hell?”

  “Upstate New York,” Denver said sagely. “They get four seasons all in one day sometimes.”

  “How do you know? Weren’t you born in LA?”

  Denver grabbed Elle a towel from the bathroom, then tossed it to her. “Yeah. But you know, bus driver. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything.” Including things she’d never discuss with anyone.

  Elle smiled faintly and sat on the couch as she dried her long ropes of wheat-blond hair. “You and Johnny.”

  “You know your music, Crandall.” Denver sat down on the couch opposite Elle and gripped her hands between her knees. “I don’t want to drag this out. I suck at this kind of thing so I’ll just apologize right now that you have to hear this from me and not from one of the others. Well, from Jules or Lauren. I can’t imagine Molly would be any better at this than me.”

  “It’s okay, Den. What did he do?” Before Denver could answer, Elle lowered the towel and scooted forward on the sofa. “Did he come on to you?”

  “Oh, honey, I wish it had been that.”

  Elle wrinkled her nose. “You do? You like Kurt?”

  “Kurt?” Denver snorted. “Oh my God. I thought his name was Kirk.”

  Elle’s throat worked as she swallowed. “Just tell me. Please.”

  Straight out and fast. That’s the kindest way.

  “I came back to the bus and heard some noises. They were coming from Ryan’s bunk.”

  Elle’s expression relaxed. “Ry?”

  “No. Not Ry.” Denver cleared her throat. “Sweetie, he was having sex with a groupie in Ryan’s bed.” Which would require serious extermination of the mattress later, but that wasn’t pertinent right then.

  “A groupie? Who?”

  “No one I’d ever seen before.” Denver rose after Elle jerked to her feet. “Look, I know it’s tough to hear, and Lord knows, I’m pretty much the worst ever at delivering this kind of news, but—”

  “Maybe it was a mistake.” Elle rubbed the towel over her hair once more and tossed the towel on the couch. “The bus is dark and it’s late and you were probably drinking.”

  Denver frowned. “I hardly ever drink.”

  “You do after shows. Besides, you and Ryan were fighting, so maybe you got lit. Who knows? It’s okay. You can do whatever. I’m just saying, it’s easy to get mixed up.” Elle rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, still studded with rain drops and goose bumps, and turned to face Denver. “Maybe you made a mistake.”

  The plea in Elle’s voice nearly swayed her, as did the sheen of wetness in Elle’s big blue eyes. But lying to her wouldn’t help her long term. She might not like hearing the truth now, but better this way than when she was in deeper.

  “She didn’t get mixed up. He was balls deep in that trashy bitch,” Mal said flatly from the back of the bus.

  Elle paled and dug her nails into her arms as she closed her eyes.

  Inwardly, Denver winced. Of all times, Mal had to pick now to nut up. “I’ve got this,” she said tightly. “Go back to bed.”

  “I can’t sleep with all your blathering anyway, so might as well just say it clear. Your guy was a fucking douche. Be glad you realized it now. Now go to bed and get some goddamn sleep, and I’ll do the same.”

  Mal had turned around and taken a step when Elle spun on her heel and charged toward him. She slammed the heel of her hand against his shoulder blade and he didn’t move. “What do you know about it? Huh? I thought the only trashy bitches on this bus were the ones you brought on here.”

  Mal didn’t react, though she didn’t stop striking him. Every word she’d said she punctuated with a blow.

  “Elle, it’s not his fault. I swear to you, he was only trying to help.” Denver rushed forward, stopping just short of touching Elle. She seemed brittle enough to shatter. “Neither of us knew what to do. We just wanted to get him off this bus and away from you.”

  “Fuck that. I knew what to do and I did it. He was a piece of garbage, and I got rid of him.” Mal turned and stared down at Elle, who didn’t so much as back up an inch. “If you’ve got a problem with that, go find him in the gutter where I dumped him.”

  Elle reared back and slapped him, so hard that Denver recoiled. Christ, this was all going sideways.

  Before any more blood could be shed, Denver grabbed Elle’s arms and banded them behind her back. “No. Don’t do something you’ll regret for someone who isn’t worth it.”

  Mal stared at Elle and said nothing. His cheek had already flamed bright red from her palm.

  If Elle had tried to fight her, Denver would’ve been prepared. What she wasn’t ready for was Elle’s shoulders shaking as she began to sob.

  Denver shifted Elle around and cupped her head to her shoulder as she cried, her gaze connecting with Mal’s over Elle’s head.

  Without another word, he went back to his bunk.

  Denver led Elle over to the couch and tugged her down, half pulling her onto her lap as she cried. She didn’t know what else to do. Elle was tall for a woman, but she didn’t weigh much. Her tears were enough to make her petite frame shudder.

  Worst of all, Denver was a sympathetic crier from way back, so listening to Elle lose it had her on the verge of a floodfest herself. So she screwed up her eyes and pressed her cheek to Elle’s head while her friend released all the pain.

  Rocking her silently. Rocking them both.

  “I just wanted someone, you know?” Elle asked between sobs.

  �
��I do.” God, did she ever.

  “I knew he wasn’t forever, but sometimes…sometimes it doesn’t matter.”

  “No. It doesn’t.”

  “And he seemed to like me. He told me I was pretty.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Not more beautiful than that groupie.” Elle sat up straighter and rubbed at the mascara gathering under her eyes. “He was only alone for half a night. Am I really that forgettable?”

  “No. He’s that much of a jackass.” Denver cupped Elle’s cheek in her hand and blotted up her tears with her thumb. “Any guy who’ll cheat on you isn’t worth a single tear.”

  And she’d thought Ryan would do that to her. That he could. Though it wasn’t cheating because they weren’t truly together. They couldn’t be.

  Even if it sure as hell felt like they were.

  “I know that. Logically. But I’m just tired of being alone. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone in my life. The guys I used to know…”

  “What?”

  “I can’t go back to that life. To those people.” Elle’s lower lip wobbled. “So it was like starting all over again. No real friends. No one to lean on. Just my brother, and he’s so far away and he has his own family now. It’s just me, and I’m all alone.”

  “Hey, you listen here. You aren’t alone at all. Everyone in this band is your family. You know that damn well.”

  Elle smiled through her tears. “Even Molly?”

  “Even her.”

  “My brother slept with her sister. I read that in a tabloid once.”

  “Thanks for sharing.”

  Elle’s smile deepened until a dimple winked at the corner of her mouth. “Bands are so incestuous. Normally anyway. No one hooks up in ours.”

  Denver hummed to herself mentally as she smiled and nodded. Technically, she wasn’t part of the band. Staff didn’t count.

  “Well, Randy hooked up with Jules. So I guess that counts? Sort of. The tech crew is kind of close to the band itself.”

  And denied.

  “Not that I’d want to sleep with any of these freaks. They’re like my brothers.”

  “Even Mal?”

  At once, her face closed down and her eyes shuttered. “No. He’s just the jerk who only speaks to me long enough to say rude things.”

  “He attacked K-Jer—um, Kurt. I mean, he flew at the dude. I couldn’t get back there fast enough to stop Mal from whaling on him. He pounded on him like a slab of beef. He was so pissed at him for screwing around on you.”

  Elle sniffled. “Nah. He probably just wanted to beat on someone for liking me.”

  “No, Elle, he was furious for you. The stuff he said—if I hadn’t been there, he might’ve killed the guy for hurting you.”

  Elle picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “He couldn’t care less if I get hurt. Haven’t you heard how he speaks to me? He treats me like he thinks I’m nothing.”

  No, he treats you like he has a thing for you, and he’s sixteen instead of twenty-six.

  But Denver didn’t say that, because she didn’t know if her own recent dalliance was coloring her perception more romantically than usual. She definitely hadn’t noticed any sparks between Mal and Elle before, just general malcontent. But tonight, damn if they weren’t firing up in all directions.

  Or else she was as horny as fuck and seeing dongs and hearts. Stranger things had happened.

  “Guys are weird,” Denver said.

  There. That was safer than ruminating on Mal possibly crushing on Elle. The only crushing that dude did was of bones.

  Anything else was beyond the realm.

  “You can say that again.” Elle let out a long sigh. “I really missed sex.”

  “Girl…” Denver began, and Elle glanced up, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. “I feel you. So much. Being stuck on a crowded bus with all these hormones and not getting any dick is a special kind of hell.”

  “It is. I’m not one for one-nighters either. At least I didn’t used to be. Maybe I need to go on Tinder or something. See if I can make me a match.”

  Denver patted Elle’s leg. “Now you’re talking. But no rebounds. Give it some time first so you don’t jump on the first limp wang that crosses your path.” Elle giggled and Denver couldn’t help smiling in return. “Let’s go back to your hotel.”

  “Really?” Elle asked. “You’ll come hang with me for the rest of the night?”

  Denver couldn’t help warming at the invitation. Elle was such a sweet soul. How she’d ended up in such a remarkably cold business, Denver had no clue. “Sure. We can trash talk men until you fall asleep.”

  “I’m not that tired.”

  “Then we’ll trash talk men until sunrise. Which isn’t all that far away.” Denver barely managed to smother a yawn.

  What a frigging night.

  Denver called the driver to come pick them up and left Elle on the sofa playing with her phone while she went back to tell Mal she was taking off.

  “I heard,” he said shortly.

  “You cool being here alone?”

  “No, I’m scared. Can you call my mommy? She’s probably recovering from a nose job in Burbank.”

  Denver had to laugh. “You’re a serious dick, dude. And now that I’ve felt it, I know that’s the truth in more ways than one.” She winked at him and left him chuckling.

  Imagine that.

  “Ready?” she asked Elle.

  “Sure thing.”

  They’d just gotten settled in the SUV back to the hotel when Elle asked, “You touched Mal’s dick? Really? Ugh.”

  Denver just shook her head and laughed.

  Chapter Nine

  Someone was knocking on the door. Insistently. Not getting the message that, hello, it had to be fucking late—or early, depending on your point of view—and he’d left the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door for a reason.

  Hard to brood in private if people refused to stay away.

  Ryan rolled over and opened a bleary eye as he checked his phone. Past four. Jesus. Whomever was knocking must either have the wrong room or have a serious issue.

  He kicked away the tangled sheet and climbed out of bed before padding to the door. He’d showered and put on boxers to sleep in. Even the AC couldn’t combat the damn heat.

  At the next knock, he grunted and undid the locks. It was a fancy hotel, but no one could be too safe. Especially when they were becoming more well-known and groupies and paparazzi seemed eager to get a piece of them in whatever manner they could.

  He checked the peephole and swallowed a groan.

  Fuck, was he dreaming?

  He swung the door open. Denver was standing in the hallway in just flip-flops and an oversized Raiders football jersey, her long dark hair pinned up away from her un-made-up face. Her brown eyes were so huge he could’ve drowned in them.

  “Hi,” she said softly, and Christ, he was sunk.

  He didn’t even think about what to do next. Normally, he was the guy with a plan. He’d been the one who had strategized how to position Warning Sign in the early days, because practicality was in his blood.

  It had been until he’d been inside this woman and forgotten what it was like to breathe without her by his side.

  Cupping her face between his palms, he feasted on her mouth until she went pliant. She swayed against him, fisting a hand in the waistband of his boxers, rising up on her tiptoes to chase his lips when he eased back for a second to haul in air.

  No time for that. No time for anything but her slapping her hands on his chest and shoving him into his suite, then kicking the door closed before he fell backwards onto the bed.

  She scrambled up his body, her greedy fingers already sneaking into his shorts, her mouth a fever on his throat. Teeth grazed his skin and he groaned, throwing back his head even as he coasted his hand under her top and up her spine, desperate for the satin of her flesh. Always desperate. Somehow he knew even if they did this a million ways over a million years, he’d alway
s feel this endless frenzy just to get more.

  But this wasn’t some random chick. This was his best friend, the woman who meant so much more to him than a hotel hookup.

  “Colorado, wait,” he whispered, fisting a handful of her hair to drag her head back. She moaned, the sound as ripe as the warmth of her pussy daring him to take as she ground herself against his cock. The thin layers of fabric between them—her panties and his boxers—were no match for her liquid heat.

  Holy fuck.

  “Don’t want to.” She dropped kisses all over his face and down his neck. Over the slope of his shoulder and across his chest. Everywhere her silky lips could touch. “Don’t want to talk either. Just wanna fuck. Please.”

  How was he supposed to say no to her? But he had to, because he couldn’t just be the guy she bounced on at four-thirty a.m. His dick might have no issue with that, but the rest of him was a different story.

  He rolled her beneath him and lightly pulsed his cock between her legs. When she whimpered, he laid a finger over her lips. “If we’re going to do this again, we need some ground rules. Ones we set before, not after.”

  Her lashes fluttered in the dim light from the lamp he’d left on in the other room. He hadn’t been able to deal with total darkness tonight. That hadn’t borne examining. Neither had the dreams of chasing a figure he could never quite catch.

  Because she was here right now, and he couldn’t fuck this up. Not again.

  “You were mad at me earlier and now you’re here and it’s late. Is this a booty call? You need some, so you put on some sexy clothes and came at me when I’m too weak to fight you off?”

  Her lips twitched beneath his finger. “You don’t feel weak to me.” She bumped her pelvis against his and damn if he didn’t moan like he was in serious need. “And this is your idea of sexy clothes?”

  “Oh, hell yeah. The Raiders logo stretched by your perfect tits?” He plucked one of her diamond-hard nipples and she shifted restlessly against the mattress. “Shit, I could come from looking at you this way, never mind anything else.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Though I don’t like the idea of you wandering these hallways dressed like this so anyone could see.” He reached around to fill his hand with her ass. “This is all fucking mine.”