Savaged Vows: Savaged Illusions Trilogy Book 2

by Jennifer Lyon

  Right now, he was stretched out on the bed, talking to his wife on the cell phone with his tablet on his lap.

  “You need to sleep,” Beth said.

  “Says the pregnant woman. It’s close to midnight there.”

  “Can’t. I’m too excited. I can’t even write, I just hit refresh over and over on my laptop.”

  He groaned, thinking of Beth sitting in their bed with piles of pillows behind her, laptop balanced on her thighs and glasses sliding down her nose. “Me too.” He hit refresh on his tablet. “Oh shit. Eighty-six. We’re at fucking eighty-six.” “Expired Hero” was climbing up the charts.

  “I see it! Look at you guys go.”

  His head ached with fatigue, but he didn’t care. “I can’t believe this is really happening. I wonder if my dad knows.”

  “I’ll text him tomorrow, but I bet he watched the show today.”

  He smiled at that. Beth had sent his dad videos of Justice’s performances. Noah rarely answered her, but the counselor at the transitional center suggested they keep that line of communication open.

  “We know Jagged Sin watched,” she added. “They’ve been putting out all kinds of trash talk on their social media.”

  “Losers.” He didn’t want to talk about them or have Beth remember their connection to Gene Hayes, especially right before she went to sleep. She still had nightmares about that bastard. He changed the subject to one that made them both happy. “I’ve been thinking about your book. Your heroine sleeps with the lead singer, then he ignores her, and she almost sleeps with the bassist.”

  “Right. To make the hero jealous.”

  “Beth, she likes that bassist. A lot.”

  “I know, but…” She hesitated for a heartbeat. “She can’t sleep with both.”

  He pushed her. “Why not? The lead singer is sleeping with other girls.”

  Her silence spread.

  “Talk to me,” he prompted. Discussing her book was their thing. It was important to him as a way to support her dreams after all she was doing to support his. He didn’t want to be the husband and lover who could only talk about his career.

  “I want her to get pregnant. If she sleeps with the bassist…she won’t know who the father is.”

  A zing went down his back, the hot recognition of something so special—like when he nailed the words to a song he was writing. He also knew exactly what was holding her back. Beth wrote tidy little romances where bad things were headed off at the last minute before they happened. The heroines hovered on the brink of disaster but made the good choice.

  The respectable choice.

  The safe choice.

  But this book screamed for more. For the truth of doing the wrong thing. Excited, he blurted out, “She’s in love with both men. It’s there, Beth, right fucking there in the pages. When the bassist touches her, she’s terrified of how much she wants him when she’s in love with the other singer.”

  “But when she gets pregnant…”

  Justice couldn’t hold back and jumped into her pause. “It’ll rip the band apart. Let her do it. Take the reins off your heroine. Let her be a groupie who falls for both men. Let them really fight for her.”

  “And one lose?”

  “Or both win. What if you wrote something totally forbidden? Sharing happens all the time, but showing two stars committed to one girl? Now that’s some power.”

  “I don’t know.”

  He wanted to reach through the phone and touch his wife, pull her in his arms and soothe her fears while at the same time pushing her to grow as a writer. “Stop censoring. Remember how you told me you found your voice after you went to college? That’s why you chose to get your degree in communications?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your voice is maturing. Let it happen. Just write, don’t worry about where it goes, and send me the pages. It’s only you and me who will see it. You can delete it if you hate it.”

  “It feels risky.”

  Her voice vibrated with excitement and uncertainty. “Scared?”

  “Yes. It feels wicked, and God, I want to do it.”

  He laughed, the sound rippling up from his belly. “That’s my girl. Write it.”

  “Could you do it? Share a woman?” She let it hang there for a second then said, “The truth.”

  “A woman? Yeah. I’ve done it. And I’ve been with two women. But you?” Fiery possession lanced his gut. “No. Never. I’d kill the man who touched you.” Once he started talking, words spilled out. “I can’t even stand the thought of Dillion in the same room with you. I know he’s touched you, had you, and I want to kill him for that.” Yeah, that was honest and a bit homicidal.

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Told you, I’m not subtle. When it comes to you, I’m anything but.” He touched the headset he used to talk to her while in bed, wishing he could touch her. “I love you, Beth.”

  “I love you too. And you know what else?”

  “You better not tell me you have a fantasy of two men.” He’d give her anything else but that.

  “Nope. Well, I mean it’d be hot—”

  “Beth.” That came out a growl, low and feral. She was his. Only his.

  Her laughter trilled through the line. “—to write that scene.”

  He grinned. That he could live with.

  “Justice! Hit refresh! You’re now eighty-five. ‘Expired Hero’ is still climbing!”

  He closed his eyes, absorbing the joy. “We’re getting closer. All our dreams are going to happen.”

  His dream of superstardom.

  Her dream to write.

  Their marriage and child. They were going to have it all.

  * * *

  Liza was going to hate herself later for not getting much sleep, but she was too wired now to care. She’d woken at five, checked the numbers for “Expired Hero.” Seventy-eight! She couldn’t sleep after that and didn’t want to wake Justice by calling him.

  Instead, she grabbed her laptop and couldn’t type fast enough. She loved this story about a twenty-year-old groupie that no one wanted…until two men wanted her.

  When she looked up, it was almost seven. She’d have to hustle to get to work by eight. She dressed, dotted on a little concealer and mascara, and tamed her hair into a twist. After leaving the bathroom, she picked up her phone off the nightstand and calculated the time difference. It was seven thirty here and Texas was two hours ahead, so about nine thirty. Would Justice be up? He had a concert tonight, and she didn’t want to cut short his sleep.

  Deciding it’d be better to call him later from work, she headed out of the room, when her phone buzzed in her hand.

  She smiled and answered, “You’re awake, did you see it? ‘Expired Hero’ is at seventy-eight!” It hadn’t budged since then, but—

  “Beth, turn on the news. Christine called… This isn’t good.”

  Crap, something must have happened. “What’s going on?”

  “Gene Hayes.”

  That name sliced her with a blade of cold dread, and her heel caught on the old shag carpet. Liza slapped her hand down on the back on the couch. “What’s he done?”

  “She just got word that Gene Hayes is releasing a video. Turn on the news.”

  Don’t panic. After rushing around the couch, she grabbed the remote. Once the flat screen came on, she flipped to a network morning show.

  A serious-faced anchor said, “Here now is the just-released video feed from Gene Hayes and one of his lawyers.”

  Lawyers? He had lawyers? Buzzing pitched up in her head. Her fingers went numb as that hated face appeared on the screen. Gene Hayes. He had his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, with one piece falling over his forehead. Hayes had Johnny Depp eyes that she’d once thought sexy, but now they turned her stomach. Liza couldn’t think, her mind cluttered with images. Hayes wearing only pants, handing her that drink. His voice telling her they were alone. Feeling sick and so scared, wanting her mom…

  Then nothing.
>
  Pain bloomed in her wrist. Glancing down, she saw a spot of blood well at the edge of her oversized watchband. She’d shoved the edge in, cutting her skin. She dragged in a breath. Stop it, you’re safe. He’s not in the room with you.

  “Beth, you there?” Justice said.

  “Yes. I have it on.” Hayes sat at a cloth-covered table with a microphone in front of him, as if it were an official news conference. Beside him sat a youngish woman in a prim dark-gray blazer over a white blouse, very lawyerlike. Liza turned up the sound.

  “Today, my lawyers filed the papers to overturn the bogus and radically unfair verdicts against me in the United States. We’ve amassed an incredible amount of evidence that Elizabeth Ranger, who is now going by Liza Glasner, is a liar and schemer.”

  What evidence? That one picture of her he’d shown before? Or that she was dating a rock star? It was old news.

  “Liza has tried to convince the world she was a victim, and just a college girl working hard to rebuild her life. It’s a lie, a carefully crafted image that’s a complete and utter falsehood designed to hoodwink us. But my lawyers and I have spent months compiling the truth of who Liza really is. Let’s start with this little video of Liza in Las Vegas.”

  Liza gaped as a short clip came up of her singing the karaoke song, “Oops!…I Did It Again.” She was in front, flanked by Nikki and Em, and belting out the chorus, shaking her hips, leaning forward, her face flushed, eyes bright. Her birthday. She clutched the phone tighter. “Oh God. Where’d the come from? How’d he get it?”

  “I don’t know. But if that’s all he has—” Justice cut himself off as Hayes reappeared on the screen.

  “Or here at the same party when she attacked Ace Hollis from the band Jagged Sin.”

  A still shot of Liza filled the screen. Her face was contorted in rage, and she had her hands on Ace’s chest, clearly shoving him back. Ace had both hands out, trying to get his balance as he fell into the pool.

  “That’s not what happened.” The words came out a painful whisper. Yeah, she’d pushed him, but the viewers weren’t seeing the way he’d pushed Nikki first and provoked Liza.

  “Easy, Beth. I’m right here.”

  His voice was, but in reality Justice was almost fifteen hundred miles away in Houston, Texas.

  “Or this of her partying at Club Nosh’s VIP room.”

  More pictures of her dancing at Club Nosh flashed by, finished off with one of Liza holding a bottle of champagne, spraying Lynx.

  Hayes reappeared on the screen. “In case you’re still not convinced, did you know that Liza got herself knocked up? And then managed to convince Justice Cade it’s his kid and get him to marry her? They’re keeping it a secret and lying to the fans of Savaged Illusions.”

  An ultrasound picture appeared with her name and the date in the left-hand corner. Before Liza could fully comprehend that, a document appeared on the screen.

  “That’s our marriage license.” How was Hayes getting this stuff? She didn’t understand.

  “That’s public record, but the ultrasound isn’t,” Justice said.

  Hayes reappeared. “See the dates? The ultrasound is roughly one month before their wedding. Liza sealed the deal with Justice Cade one week before Justice and his band Savaged Illusions released their new album and single. Which means Liza now gets half of all Justice’s earnings as a rock star. And it looks like her gamble is paying off. The band is on tour, and they’re making a splash. Reviewers are talking about them as the possible breakout band of the year.

  “She’s got her claws in Justice, and the dumb kid doesn’t even know it. Now she’s living in his house, waiting for him to make it big, and then she’ll ruin him, their band and everyone connected. Let me ask you this, music lovers: Do you want to support this blackmailing, life-destroying woman? Because every time you go to a Savaged Illusions concert, buy one of their songs, even listen to them on a streaming station, you’re supporting her.”

  Hayes paused, his dark eyes radiating false concern. “To Savaged Illusions, and most especially Justice Cade, I’m telling you now, man. Wise up and leave this woman. Find a way to get your kid away from her…if it is your kid.”

  Hot rage flashed over her skin and boiled her insides. If it’s his kid? “How dare he? That man’s a rapist and a felon, and he dares to question my character?” Her voice shuddered with the blinding force of her anger. This was her child that bastard was talking about.

  “As for me,” Hayes went on. “I’m fighting these charges with everything I have. Every. Thing. I’m going to win, and then I’m going after Elizabeth Ranger or whatever she calls herself now, with any legal means I have. She must be stopped. I don’t want other lives crushed and devastated the way she and her parents did mine.

  “And to my fans and supporters, thank you. I wouldn’t have made it this far, wouldn’t have endured the absolute loneliness of being unfairly branded as a rapist, without your amazing and heartfelt support. You are part of the reason I’m fighting back so hard. I want vindication for you as well as myself.” He stared into the camera. “Together we will triumph.”

  The screen switched back to the newsroom. “This is a bombshell. For more than six months, we’ve heard little from Gene Hayes.”

  “That’s right,” a female anchor chimed in. “But now he’s burst back on the scene, and he’s got serious credibility with the powerhouse law firm Reyes and Salt.”

  Liza tried to get air in her lungs, tried to think, but all her anger and frustration made it difficult to focus. “He can’t do this.”

  “He did. And he’s going to fuck us up.”

  “Us?” Dread kicked her hard. “You and me?” Was he doubting her now? Wondering if the baby was his, or—?

  “No. Don’t be absurd. I’m talking about my band. Our single is climbing the charts, and Hayes just told the whole damned world we’re liars, that you’re a scammer, that I’m a goddamned moron and…fuck.”

  Tension balled in her stomach. “Oh.” Of course he was upset. They’d worked their asses off, and Hayes was threatening their success. Because of her.

  “Beth.” Some of the anger in his voice softened. “I don’t mean to snap at you. Are you okay?”

  Realizing her legs were shaking, she sat on the couch. On the TV screen, lawyers were popping up, discussing what it meant that Hayes had filed appeals and writs and how he was convicted in absentia and whether or not that would hold up if he got an appeal. Her biggest nightmare was being put into clinical legalese that meant nothing to her.

  She tried to answer her husband’s question. “I don’t know. Is the media going to descend on me again?” Hayes was in hiding outside the country. Most believed he was in a small principality that bordered France and Spain. So she wasn’t afraid he’d physically show up, but what about the media? Or another lunatic like Hans who was swayed into trying to harm her by Hayes’s rhetoric? “What should I do?”

  “Is anyone outside the house?”

  She hadn’t looked. Getting up, she crossed to the window and peeked out the blinds. “Not that I can see.”

  “Go to work. At least you’ll be safer there. Text me when you’re inside SLAM.”

  That made the most sense, but part of her wanted to stay here and hide. “What about tonight? What if reporters are here?” For the last two weeks she’d been alone, but it wasn’t bad. If she couldn’t sleep, she talked to Justice, if he was still up, or wrote. But now? “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She couldn’t go home to Santa Barbara. She hadn’t talked to her family in well over six months. They didn’t even know she was pregnant. Well they know now, don’t they? That thought tightened her throat.

  “Beth,” Justice’s voice cut in. “Easy, sweetheart. I wish I was there with you, but I’m trapped in Dallas so we’ll do this together by phone. The first thing is to get you out of the house until we understand the fallout of the video. Do you feel safe enough to get to your car and drive to work, or should I call Drake and he’ll
come get you? Then tonight you can stay with Em or Nikki.”

  He was offering to send Drake because Justice knew she felt comfortable and secure with him. His thoughtfulness helped, yet part of her wanted to beg him to come home. She even opened her mouth to confess she needed him.

  Then she shut it. He couldn’t leave without breaking his tour contract, and the band would have to pay to reimburse the tickets plus fines if they missed any concerts.

  “Beth, talk to me, please,” Justice said. “I need to know you’re okay. Drake will be there in fifteen or twenty minutes if I call him.”

  “No, don’t do that.” Twice now, Justice had come to her rescue. The first time Hayes released his horrible video, Justice had walked offstage and come right to her. He’d had her stay at his house where she was safe. Then after she was stabbed, he’d taken care of her, moved her things into his house…and now he needed her to handle this.

  Determination steeled her spine. “I’ll call Drake if I need him, but I think I can handle things here, and you do what you have to there.” Plans began to form in her head. It was Friday, so she’d be off for the weekend. Hurrying to the bedroom, she pulled an overnight bag from the closet. “This might blow over. But since word is out now that we’re married, I can fly out this weekend, and we’ll make a statement together. We’ll explain that you didn’t want to put your child at risk. After all, I was attacked last June by a man influenced by Hayes’s vicious rants. Get the fans on your side. And with me there with you, it’ll show them we’re not hiding, we’re putting our baby’s safety first.” Liza threw in a few essentials, pajamas and a change of clothes.

  “I’ll run that by Christine and her publicity department. Text me when you get inside the office, don’t forget.”

  “I won’t.” Liza gazed at the bed, the one she shared with Justice. Even when he wasn’t there, she talked to him while in that bed. Last night and early this morning, they’d been so thrilled, while watching together as his song climbed the charts, and talking about her book. When it was just them, they were close and happy, and now Gene Hayes was threatening that. Apprehension wormed in. “Justice, I love you. We’re going to get through this.”