“I’m not gonna hurt you,” a soft, very deep voice said, as the shadow moved toward her.
She stared at him, though she still couldn’t see him clearly in the dawning light.
“Come on, now, darlin’,” he said, holding out his big hand. “I’ve gotta get you out’a here, before somebody else comes along or these thugs wake up.”
Either scenario made her willing, but she looked at that big, gloved hand and swallowed hard.
“I…I can’t,” she said. “Th…they put ha…handcuffs on m…me.”
He cursed, sounding furious, but when he turned back to the nearest man on the ground, she was unexpectedly certain his fury was not directed at her.
He searched the man’s pockets and finally found what he wanted. In another minute, he was leaning over her and unlocking the handcuffs. When they were free, he threw them toward the back of the alley with an angry snap of his wrist.
“Let’s go.”
She tried to stand—what else could she do?—but she staggered, and it took his firm grip on her shoulders to pull her to her feet.
“Easy, now.” he said, his voice a smooth Tennessee drawl. She shuddered once, hard, and he seemed to really look at her for the first time.
“Shoot, you don’t even have a coat on.”
He shed his own and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was huge, big enough on her that even as he closed it at the front, she managed to slip her arms into the sleeves. They came down to her knees, and he rolled them up for her, one at a time. Inside the coat was warm and toasty. It smelled good, too, clean with a scent of something she didn’t recognize but identified as pleasant.
“That’ll have to do for now,” he said.
“Thank you.”
She looked up to meet his eyes, and even in the early morning light, she saw his were a deep, golden color, unlike any she had ever seen before. They warmed noticeably when he smiled, though, and she felt her first flicker of hope.
“You’re surely welcome,” he said, “but we gotta get goin’.”
He pulled a stocking cap out of the coat’s pocket and pulled it down over her head until her ears were protected from the cold, then took her arm in his.
Candace glanced back at the men on the ground. She thought she saw something shiny and black on the nearest man’s face.
“Don’t look, darlin’,” he said, turning her toward the front of the alley. “That’s nothin’ they didn’t deserve and more for what they were doin’ to you.”
She gripped his arm firmly, trying to pull him around to face her.
“Did they hurt you?” she asked.
He looked surprised. “No. Don’t worry about me.”
“But I heard a shot!”
“He missed.”
He wrapped one arm firmly about her shoulders and the next thing she knew they were back out on the street, winding their way in and out of the growing crowd on the sidewalk. Candace couldn’t help looking over her shoulder, certain those two men had not been the only ones the Manager would have sent out to look for her, but they seemed to have gotten away.
She glanced up at the stranger who now had her firmly under his control and tried to think positively about her change in circumstances, but she failed miserably.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire?
“First thing we gotta do is get you warm,” the man said. “I saw a coffee shop just up here.”
“No!” Candace stopped, or at least she tried to, but the man had a good hold on her.
“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, turning to look down at her.
She glanced nervously back the way they had come.
“Is there gonna be somebody else out lookin’ for you?” he asked, sounding concerned.
She nodded, afraid to look at him.
He took a deep breath.
“Okay,” he said, almost to himself. “I gotta get somethin’ then I’ll take you to the studio with me.”
His eyes skimmed over the shops along the street then he headed for one, pulling her with him. “You can at least get warmed up in here.”
The soft tinkling of bells welcomed them as they entered the shop. It was a music store, Candace saw at once. Guitars, both acoustic and electric, hung on the walls alongside a menagerie of banjos, basses, and mandolins. The floor was stacked with a variety of equipment—drums, amplifiers, mixers, and stands of all shapes and sizes. Her eyes were wide as she looked around the space. She’d never seen such an inventory in person.
“Can I help you?” a man asked as he came in from the back of the store.
“I need some new brushes,” her rescuer said, giving her arm a squeeze and moving toward the back.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well, I prefer a fixed head and a hickory handle,” he said.
Candace put herself behind a tall window display, so no one outside the store would see her, and turned to watch the two men intermix. She had no idea what her rescuer was talking about, but he seemed to know just what he wanted. She liked listening to him, though. She had been locked inside all of her life. The only men she had ever seen were brutes working for the Manager or that other kind of man who had sat in the audience while she entertained them, singing and dancing. None had been allowed to touch her, thank God, and when the bad men had grabbed her this morning, the feel of their hands on her had terrified her. She hadn’t felt the same at all with her rescuer’s arm around her. It was odd, but for some reason she trusted him.
“You can try them out, if you’d like,” the store owner was saying, gesturing to a drum set he had set up toward the front of the store.
“Thanks.”
Her rescuer sat down at the drums, adjusted the placement of a couple of them, placed his feet on two pedals, and began to play.
It was amazing. There was no music, except for what was apparently in his head, but the smooth sound of the steel brushing along the drum heads and lightly touching the cymbals was mesmerizing. It wasn’t just her opinion, either, because the store owner was standing by, his arms folded across his chest and a look of pure enjoyment on his face.
She turned her eyes back to her rescuer and found herself as taken with his appearance as she was with his performance. He was tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He wore an insulated red flannel shirt over what looked like long underwear. His jeans were clean but worn; his dark brown boots the same. He held the drum sticks lightly in his huge hands, as though they were made of glass instead of wood. His hair was a dark brown and shaggy, with streaks of auburn that showed under the bright store lights. His face was chiseled but not polished, and when he looked up to meet her eyes, she was hit once more by their deep golden color.
He smiled then, and barely touching the brushes to the largest cymbal, he ended his play in a soft thump of the bass drum.
“That was sure nice,” the store owner said. “What band do you play with?”
Her rescuer did a quick lick on the drums then stood to hold out his hand to the other man.
“I’m Luke Saint of The Four Saints,” he said.
“Well, I am glad to meet you,” the man said. “I’m Chad Burton—the son half of Burton and Son Music. Thought you looked familiar. My wife and I caught your band over at the Full Moon the other night.”
“That was fun,” Luke said, handing Burton the brushes.
“I’ll wrap these up for you, if you like.”
“I do. They have a great sound. Much lighter than the ones I’m using now.”
“Going to be doing some nice ballads, then?”
“Yeah. My new sister-in-law writes beautiful ones. We’re trying to get her to sing with us. Hopefully soon.”
“That going to make you The Five Saints?”
Luke laughed and pulled out his wallet to pay for the new drum sticks. “Could be, though don’t pass that on. Addy’s okay about recordin’ with us, but she’s not too keen on gettin’ on stage in front of an audience.”
Chad grinned as he handed Luke his change. “I won’t say anything, then. Pam would have it all over town in a day. She sure liked you boys.” He sighed, shaking his head.
Luke laughed again. “Don’t worry, man. You can tell your wife that my two older brothers got themselves married over the past few months.”
“Now, won’t that be a disappointment to some of the ladies,” Chad said, though he himself looked relieved. “Looks like you got yourself a girlfriend, too.”
Candace froze when she realized he was talking about her. Luke grinned and crossed to put his arm around her.
“Workin’ on it, anyway.”
“Looks like she got caught out in that gully-washer this morning.”
“That she did,” Luke said, hugging her close before turning toward the door.
“You all have great day, now.”
“Thanks. You too,” Luke said, reaching for the door.
But Candace spotted a movement outside and held him back. Luke glanced out and saw the giant black car creeping along the sidewalk. He didn’t hesitate.
“Hey, Chad,” he said, pulling her back away from the door, “you got a back door to this place?”
Chad looked up. “Sure, but I keep it locked.”
“Mind if we use it?” Luke asked. “There’s this car that’s been followin’ us around all mornin’, and I see it out there, now.”
“Want me to call the cops?” Chad asked, concerned.
“No, no. They’re probably harmless, but they’re botherin’ my girl. Can you just let us out the back door? We can catch a cab on the next street over and get away before they can follow us.”
“Sure. No problem.”
As he started toward the back, Luke caught sight of one of their CDs on display on the peg board behind the counter. It had already been opened, apparently for playing in the store, so he grabbed it, pulled a pen out of his pocket, opened the plastic case, and pulled the cover out.
“You’re wife’s ‘Pam,’ right?” he asked.
“Yes!”
Luke signed the cover “To Pam” with a flourish then put the case together again and handed it back to Burton.
“For your wife and the favor,” he told him with a grin. “The next time you all come to hear us, bring it, and I’ll get my brothers to sign it, too.”
“Thanks, man!”
Chad led the way back, turned off the alarm, and let them out the rear door.
“You all take care now, hear?”
“You, too,” Luke said. “And thanks.”
It must be nice, Candace thought as she hurried to keep up with Luke. She’d read about celebrities, of course, but this was the first time she’d seen one in action. Then she thought of the easy, friendly conversation between Luke and the store owner and decided that maybe it hadn’t been celebrity after all. Maybe it was just because Luke was a nice guy.
They came out of the alley onto a cross street, and Luke stepped to the curb to flag down a cab. He kept her hand in his. Probably just to keep me from bolting with his coat, she thought, but it felt good, just the same. Then a taxi pulled up, and Candace froze, as Luke opened the back door and stepped aside to allow her to enter first.
“I know you’re still not sure of me,” he said, keeping his voice soft, so the cab driver wouldn’t hear. “And you can keep the coat, even if you don’t get in. But I can promise you’ll be better off for comin’ with me. My sister-in-law will be at rehearsal today, too, so she’ll be able to make you feel a little safer, I think. I know me and my brothers can seem kinda overwhelmin’ if you’re not used to us.”
“You think?” she said, without thinking about it then clamped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment.
Luke only grinned. “Yeah. That’s what both of my new sisters tell us, anyway.”
Candace took a deep breath. How could she tell this man that it wasn’t really him she feared? She was eighteen years old today and had never been in a car before. She’d been literally a prisoner all her life, though it wasn’t until her mother’s confession yesterday that Candace had really appreciated it. She still felt like the biggest fool on the earth.
“Meter’s running,” the cab driver called out.
“Don’t worry about it,” Luke said to the man.
He turned back to Candace. “So. What’ll it be?”
Candace took another deep breath then stepped into the car.
“Good choice,” Luke murmured.
He gave the address to the driver, and they were off. Candace could only stare out the window. She had seen plenty of television shows and movies and car commercials, but she’d never experienced the thrill of moving so fast herself. And they weren’t even moving that fast, she realized when she spied a much larger road off to the right and saw how quickly those cars and trucks were moving. She hugged herself, hoping Luke wouldn’t notice her hands were shaking.
“You okay?” he asked.
She should have known better.
“I’m getting there,” she said.
He smiled again, and she felt the warmth of it. She had to admit, if she had to be rescued by someone, it was good that it was by someone like Luke. Whether or not his brothers would approve was another story.
Before she knew it, they were pulling up to a gray-painted block building. There were large windows in front, and what looked like a stone house attacked to the back. The street was tree-lined, so it felt very much like a neighborhood hangout, rather than a fancy recording studio.
But then, what do I know? she wondered. The performance “theater” in the House had once been a parlor. It had been enlarged, she’d been told, when the Manager had decided to add dinner and musical entertainment to the other nighttime entertainment. At least if Luke’s band was recording, there wouldn’t be an audience, and hopefully this Four Saints group would be too busy to pay much attention to her. The longer she was with them, the longer she was safe from the Manager’s minions, so she hoped they’d let her stay with them at least until she could figure out what to do next. She had no money, no identification, no real identity outside of the House, thanks to her mother’s deal with the Manager.
Dear God, what am I going to do?
But Luke was paying the taxi driver, and then he was guiding her to the front door. The sign beside the door said, “Grand Avenue Studios,” so at least Luke was telling the truth about their destination.
Amir (BBW Bear Shifter Moonshiner Romance) (120 Proof Honey Book 3) Page 43
