Justice’s hand settled on her back, warm and safe. She turned to meet his gaze. But nope, his stare was riveted on the bartender, watching every move the girl made. When the drink was finished and Gray put it on his tab, Justice picked up the glass and took a drink. He made a face and handed it to her. “That’s some girlie shit right there. But perfectly safe.”
To anyone around them, it probably sounded ridiculous. He couldn’t tell the drink was safe with a two-second sip. Most date-rape drugs were odorless and tasteless. But it was symbolic for her. A gesture that he was there, standing between her and danger. It didn’t have to be logical, sometimes it was all about the gesture. Holding the cold glass in her hand, gratefulness filled her heart, and she said, “Thank you.”
He lifted his beer and clinked it with hers. “Happy Birthday, Beth.”
She took a sip as everyone stared. Sweet mango, tart lime with the bite of mint and whoa…that must be the rum kick. She tried another sip.
“Well?” Emily clinked her cranberry and vodka drink against the mojito. “What do you think?”
“Good.” She shot Justice a look. “Not girlie at all.”
Gray clicked his glass with hers. “Bon Anniversarie, Liza.”
Startled, she hesitated with her drink halfway to her mouth. “You speak French?” She’d taken a couple semesters in high school and barely remembered any of it.
The other man grinned. “When I feel like it.”
Lynx shoulder bumped him. “Which is usually when he’s trying to get into some girl’s pants.”
“Huh.” Liza eyed Gray, curious. “Does it work?”
Gray smiled and said nothing.
“Liza!” a female voice yelled from behind her.
She spun around to see Wendy, lead singer of Fury Run.
Liza hugged her. “You guys were great tonight.” Letting go, she took in Wendy’s blinding yellow hair with red tips. The singer changed her hair color as often as Liza changed her nail polish. “You remember Nikki and my friend Emily?”
“Sure.” After some hellos, Wendy shouted out, “Savages, get me a beer. Come on, let’s go sit. Those boots I wear on stage are a bitch. Getting those babies off are almost like an orgasm, but my feet still hurt.”
Liza took in Wendy’s flip-flops and hid her grin.
“Damn, woman, it’s good to see you,” Wendy said. “You getting stabbed right outside Court of Rock filming was scary shit. You’re good now?”
“Yep.”
“There’s a spot over there.” Em pointed to the far end of the pool where a big group was leaving.
“I’ll catch up in a minute,” Nikki said, and headed off the other way.
Once they locked down the spot, Wendy chatted for a minute, entertaining them with stories about Tangent, their schedule, and then said, “They want me to do this makeover. Like…go blonde and lose twenty pounds.”
“What did you tell them?” Liza asked.
She grinned. “Nothing. It was a lunch, and I ordered cake and ice cream for dessert.”
Liza high-fived her.
The guys joined them, along with some girls Liza hadn’t seen before.
Once Justice sat next to her, she asked, “Where’d the girls come from?”
“River chatted them up at the bar and invited them.”
Why was she even surprised?
Emily surveyed their group. “Where’d Nikki get off to?”
“I don’t know. Bathroom maybe?” Liza checked her phone, but there was no message.
Gray cut in with, “She’s over at the bar now. I saw her by the bathrooms earlier talking to Ace, and it looked animated. I called out her name, she said something to Ace I didn’t catch, and came over to me. She said she was fine when I asked, so I dropped it.”
Liza started to get up and go check, but caught sight of Nikki striding over to them carrying a drink.
“What did Ace want?” Liza blurted out. “Did he touch you?”
“Nah.” She sank into the chair by Em, across from Liza. “Believe it or not, he was trying to get me to go to some stripper bar with him.”
“Shut up.” Liza couldn’t contain her shock. “After the way he treated you when you were his student publicist? Does he not remember that he attacked Simon when you were with him?” Plus Ace’d manhandled Nikki a few times.
“Right? He acted like none of that was a big deal. And why would he think I’d want to go see girls stripping?” She shook her head. “He wasn’t bad onstage tonight, but he’s still an asshole.”
Wendy studied Nikki. “You didn’t sleep with him back then, did you?”
Nikki choked, her face turning red. “God no. He used me like a pimp service. If he saw a hot girl, he’d tell me to get her to come to his table or greenroom or whatever. Just thinking about those two weeks gives me a grimy feeling I need to kill off with alcohol and a change of subject.” She lifted her glass. “To Liza. Happy Birthday!”
Liza scooped up hers and took another sip, surprised to find it was down to ice. Wow.
Justice leaned closer. “Want another?”
“Sure.”
While he walked off, Nikki gestured to the other band members and their entourage. “When did that happen?”
Liza eyed the dark-haired girl on the lounge chair sucking face with Lynx. River had another girl on his lap. Gray was chatting up still another. Simon sipped his drink and watched. She answered Nikki with, “Between the bar and here.” More girls were trying to get Simon’s attention.
“Jeez. I can’t even get a decent first date.”
“Oh come on,” Wendy said. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It totally is,” Liza teased. “Nikki collects bad first dates. They’re priceless. Tell her about the one last weekend, you know, the guy you met at work, which should have been your first clue.”
“Where do you work?” Wendy asked.
Nikki wrinkled her nose. “A division of Polly Care.” She paused a beat then added, “I’m in marketing for their adult diaper line.”
Wendy snorted. “That’s where you scrounged up a date?”
Nikki sighed. “Better than Ace, right?”
“Amen,” Wendy agreed. “Okay, so what happened on this date that was so bad?”
“This guy is in accounting, so I don’t know him very well, but he seemed okay. He picked me up, and we went to Chili’s. The first odd thing was he refused to sit in the bar, but I figured maybe he doesn’t drink.” Nikki paused.
Liza smiled at the sparkle in Nikki’s eyes. She loved telling her date stories, or Liza wouldn’t have brought it up. Nikki thrived on the attention.
“So what happened next?” Wendy prompted.
Nikki took another sip of her drink. “We got a table, and he spent an entire forty minutes staring at this family—a mom, dad and little boy who was maybe three? I don’t know.”
River looked around the girl on his lap, and asked, “Was she an ex or something?”
“Tell them.” Emily practically bounced in her chair.
Nikki went on, “That’s what I wondered too, so I asked him. He swore he’d never met her. But then he added, ‘That kid’s really cute though, don’t you think?’”
“Ew,” Wendy said. “Creeper alert.”
“Right?” Nikki agreed. “I mean, what twenty-something guy stares at a kid in a restaurant and says that? But then I thought, okay, maybe he’s just one of those guy who wants a family. I told myself not to overreact, and asked, ‘Do you want kids?’” She paused again.
“What did he say?” River blurted out.
“He leaned across the table and whispered, ‘I already have kids. Dozens of them, probably even hundreds. I’m a sperm donor. And I think that one might be one of mine.’”
They all cracked up.
“Wait, it gets better. He then told me he was pretty sure the movie about the guy who finds out he has all the kids, Delivery Man, is based on him.”
Liza jumped in with, “Nikki called me from the ba
throom, and I went and picked her up.”
Wendy laughed so hard she spilled some of her beer. “That’s…wow, that’s just sad. But you’ve had good dates, right?”
“Sadly, nope. I’ve had runners, mommy’s boys…” Nikki rolled her eyes. “My dates just suck.”
Justice returned, sat and handed Liza her mojito. “You might want to drink that slowly.”
“Nah, she should knock it back,” Nikki said. “She’s gonna need some courage.”
Liza swung around, facing her. “What did you do? You didn’t hire a stripper, did you?” She’d threatened that on the car ride.
“Nope.”
She should be relieved, right? “Then what?”
“I put you, me and Emily on the list for karaoke.” She pointed past all the lounge chairs and tables to a stage set up under a big canopy.
Liza looked in horror as even now some guy was attempting a Justin Bieber song. “Shut up! You didn’t.”
“She did,” Emily assured her. “And it gets better. Tell her the song you chose.”
Liza glanced around at the entire group. Her mouth dried, and she took another sip of her drink. She didn’t sing in public. She never drew attention to herself that way. Finally, she couldn’t bear the suspense. “What song?” How bad could it be?
“Britney Spears’s ‘Oops!…I Did It Again’.”
Oh God. She turned to Justice. “Help.”
He laughed in her face. “I’ll make sure your drinks are safe and you’re safe, but this? Nope. If you’re too chicken to get on that stage and sing Britney…” he shrugged, “…you’re on your own.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you just call me chicken?” Oh yeah, she heard the part about him protecting her, and they were safe out here at the pool bar. Security and bouncers damn near outnumbered the guests. But she was feeling…loose. Happy.
Brave.
“Do you cluck like a chicken? Is that why you’re afraid to get up there and sing?”
She took another healthy sip of her drink. “You think I won’t do it?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You refused to sing at Screech’s. Remember? Bock, bock…”
She faced her friends. “I’m in. When do we go on?”
* * *
“Liza can sing,” Wendy said. “Even if it’s a Brit song.”
Justice stood at the edge of the stage. He’d walked the girls up here, wanting to be close in case Beth got cold feet or some guy bothered her. Wendy had come along with him, giving the girls last-minute advice. But his concentration was riveted on Liza. After two drinks, she was buzzing. Her hair was a wild mass of curls, her face flooded with color, and she wore a flowing tank top over black skinny jeans and heels.
Not an ugly sweater in sight. When he first met her, she’d covered up in those ugly cardigan things, but now his Beth was shedding her reserve and coming out of hiding.
“Yep, she can sing. But I don’t think this group will be getting a record deal anytime soon.” The three girls held their mics and strutted around on the stage, half the time bumping into each other and laughing.
She snorted. “They’re getting a lot of notice.”
The majority of the poolside partiers had stopped their chatting to fix their attention on the stage. Justice looked around. His band, the Fury Run girls, and some of the Court of Rock crew had commandeered a spot by the pool. They were partying, laughing, dancing, but they’d all stopped to watch Liza, Em and Nikki.
The girls launched into the final chorus of “Oops!…I Did It Again.” Liza belted it out with more enthusiasm than skill, but her voice wasn’t bad at all. When they were done, people clapped, and Beth raced down the steps. “I did it!” Her face glowed. “I’m not a chicken.”
He chuckled at her excitement. “Nope.”
“I want my prize.”
He yanked her against him and kissed her hard. Uncaring of who watched, he thrust his tongue in her mouth, tasting her, this girl who shed her fears—rum, mint, lime and that sweetness that was pure Beth. Lifting his head, he stared down at her.
More color flooded her face, and her eyes sparkled. “What was that for?”
“Because I can. Because I wanted to. Because you were so damn hot up there. That’s your prize. Me.”
“Damn, I wanted another mojito.”
Laughter shot up his throat. “Fine. Let’s go to the bar.” Once there he handed each girl a water while the drinks were being made. He concentrated on watching the bartender make Beth’s mojito.
“That’s it for karaoke,” the DJ said. “Thanks to everyone who took their shot. Let’s get back to dancing. Any requests?”
“How about ‘Wicked Garden’ by Gene Hayes?”
Justice spun around at the too-familiar voice, the same one he’d had to listen to for the last two weeks on the tour. Ace, lead singer of Jagged Sin and pain in his ass.
They stood by the pool, dripping chains, piercings and bullshit attitude. For two weeks they’d kept to themselves and out of trouble. Justice assumed so they didn’t get thrown off the tour and lose their bonus for finishing. Nikki said Ace was going to some strip club, but obviously, they’d hung around. Why?
Because Beth is here. She’s the draw.
He glanced over at his guys. Simon and Lynx had shot to their feet. Ace knew damn well “Wicked Garden” was the title of Hayes’s second album—the one that had dropped and shot to the top of the charts right before he drugged and raped Liza. Bastard was looking for a fight.
A few of the partiers murmured and glanced uneasily at Liza, obviously having figured out that she was the infamous Elizabeth Ranger.
Beth stood frozen between Nikki and Emily, her face draining of color.
Finally the DJ spun a rap beat and people relaxed, going back to partying. Taking the drinks, Justice walked up to Beth. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go to another bar.” He wasn’t going to let Ace the asshat ruin her birthday.
“No.” She took the drink and knocked back a quarter of it. When she turned her gaze on him, fire gleamed in her green eyes. “I’m not running and hiding.” She swung around and walked—no, make that strutted—toward the rest of their crew.
“Hell yeah,” Wendy said. “Now that’s spunk.” She flanked Liza, along with Nikki and Emily.
Justice strode after them, his pride in Beth’s grit and screw-you attitude warring with a rush of fury priming his muscles. He caught up to the girls as they passed Ace and his group at the edge of the pool.
“Oh look, it’s oops, I did it again,” Mick mimicked.
“More like, oops, fuck me again, Hayes. Oh, baby, fuck me again,” Ace said.
Rage pounded in Justice’s head. Energy snapped at his spine, and his fingers curled with the need to slam his fist into that bastard’s face. Don’t do it. Keep walking. Not only could they be thrown off the tour and forfeit their signing bonus, but Beth and the girls could get hurt.
“Leave her alone!” Nikki yelled.
Justice stopped. Everything happened at once.
Nikki stood in front of Ace with her hands on her hips and her head thrown back. “Gene Hayes is a rapist, and you’re a butt-sniffing, coke-snorting loser.”
“Shut up, you traitorous slut.” Ace shoved the girl’s shoulder, knocking her off balance.
Justice leapt forward, grabbing Nikki beneath her arms before she fell. He swung her behind him and set her on her feet, then whipped around in time to see Beth slap her drink on a nearby table and stomp up to Ace.
Oh fuck.
“Don’t you ever touch her again!” Beth yelled.
“What you gonna do, suck my dick and cry rape?”
Justice lunged, reaching a hand out to move Beth so he could kill the bastard.
“This!” Beth yelled and rammed both hands against Ace’s chest.
His drink flew out of his hands, and his arms windmilled as he tilted back, lost his balance and fell into the pool.
All hell broke loose.
* * *
A throb in her head forced her to wake up. Light shafted through the partially opened drapes.
Wait, this wasn’t her room.
A bolt of panic clamped her chest, and she jackknifed up to a sitting position, heart pounding, fear drenching her. A buzzing competed with the throb in her head. Where was she? What—?
“Beth, hey.” The bed dipped, and Justice rubbed her bare arm.
Damn, it hurt to move her eyes, but once her gaze connected with the familiar stare of her boyfriend, her panic receded. Right, they were in Vegas. It was her birthday trip. But why was there an acute thudding in her sinuses and forehead, as if some monster had slithered in and pulsed? What had she done?
The answer flashed painfully in her head. Mango mojitos. The memory flooded back. “Oh God, I got thrown out of the bar.”
“Yep.”
She squinted, then reached over to get her glasses. After slipping them on, she peered closer at her boyfriend. “Why are you smirking? It isn’t funny.”
“It was hilarious. You pushed Ace into the pool. My favorite part was how he sputtered and fought the poser chains hanging off his belt. He flailed like a beached whale trying to get to the side of the pool.” Justice snorted then busted up.
Liza’s lips twitched. “He squished when he walked, and those stupid chains clanked.” It had been pretty funny, although at the time she’d been too drunk and mad to appreciate it. But then… “I got us thrown out.”
Justice sobered and cradled her face in his hands. “Congratulations, baby, now you’ve partied like a rock star. Happy birthday.” He kissed her forehead, then grabbed a bottle of water and a couple pills. “Take this and take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
After downing the pills, she slowly climbed out of bed and stood. Thump, thump, thump. “Hangovers suck. How did my mom do this night after night?”
“At least you’re not puking.”
Thank God for that. It was just her headache causing her misery. He’d obviously showered, his jaw was beard-shadowed, hair sex messy, and he was wearing a T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. “You have no right to look so…delicious.”
Savaged Vows: Savaged Illusions Trilogy Book 2 Page 7
