Fearless For Love (Lovelly #3)

by Clara Stone

  “Thanks, Jessica,” he says, and he has the good grace to at least look sheepish as he holds the door to the club open for me. “You have no idea how sorry I am that this didn’t work out. But hey, let’s at least make tonight the best it can be. And if you ever need a reference, I’ll be happy to provide you with one.”

  I nod, too angry and hurt and numb to say anything, and follow him inside.

  The things that go into prepping for a show are more complicated than people think. Between setting up the equipment, multiple sound-checks, coordinating the lighting and stage effects, and generally gearing myself up to perform, I barely even notice the vicious looks from Jarod. If this is my last chance to play with the band, then I’m not going to let anything get in the way. I’m going to live out my dream for every second I have left.

  And since I’m the only girl, I was given my own private quarters to change in, adjacent to the guys’ room and linked through a door. I was told my official dress for the event would be waiting in that room, and after finishing the last round of sound-checks, I hurry to go change.

  I step inside and look around, feeling a tad giddy as my gaze travels over the dressing table with its bright lights and an armoire-looking cabinet in the corner. I pull open the armoire’s double doors and see a clear plastic garment bag hanging inside. I pluck it off the hanger and read the little note tacked to the outside. “Wear me.”

  Carefully, I unravel the bag and stare at the outfit inside, wide-eyed.

  Black, skin-tight leather pants with interlooping quarter-inch belts shimmer at me in greeting. Above that is a black crop-top so short I’m certain it will cover just my boobs, leaving everything else bare, and a matching full-sleeve, cropped leather jacket. I pick up the jacket and turn it around, noticing the sequin drumsticks on the back. Well, I guess there’s that at least.

  It’s no worse than some of the outfits I’ve had to wear at Blue Tango, I suppose, but then I look at the shoes paired with my outfit.

  Holy heels, Batman.

  Tossing aside the outfit, I crouch down and pick up the heels. They’re a good four to six, hell, maybe eight inches high. I know I’m short compared to the guys in the band, but seriously? I bet I could be eye to eye with Harrington in these babies. But unfortunately, I have no experience walking in anything even remotely close to these and drumming in them would be completely impractical. I guess I’ll have to stick with my black army boots and call it good.

  A knock on the door gets my attention and I stand, still holding the beautifully ridiculous shoes. Before I can answer it, the door opens and in walks Cat and Fisher.

  “Hey, hey!” Cat hollers, strolling in like she owns the place. “Damn, girl,” she says, whistling as she twirls. “Rolling with the big boys, I see.” She pulls me into a hug.

  When she lets go, Fisher gives me a quick hug.

  “Hey there, stranger,” says a new voice, and my heart seizes. I look past Fisher and see Vincent standing in the doorway, grinning widely.

  “Vincent!” I squeal, shoving the heels into Cat’s arms and running at him. I throw myself into his arms, giving him the biggest hug ever as he laughs and spins me around.

  “Hey, Jessy-girl. I’ve missed you.” His hold around me is so wonderful, familiar, and comforting, that it’s hard not to feel instantly at home. “You doing okay?” he whispers into my ear, so only I can hear him.

  I nod and he kisses the crown of my forehead. I tilt my head up and smile at him.

  “God, I’ve missed you so much, dorkface,” I say, grinning so wide I think my face might split in two. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Of course! I couldn’t miss your big moment. Though, I won’t be able to stay as long as I hoped. I have to be back in Pine Cove tomorrow. This lawyer—a Gary DiNera?—called me out of the blue, saying he had information that could help me win my case and asking if I could meet him. I hope you’re not mad?” He looks at me apologetically and my heart clenches. I’m disappointed, of course, that I won’t get to see my best friend for long, but I could never be mad at him for doing what he has to to save his brothers. I wonder if Harrington is somehow behind this? He did say he’d try to help . . . I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

  I realize Vincent’s still waiting for me to answer, and I swat him on the chest with a playful pout. “Of course I’m not mad! But I am sad I won’t get to see you much.”

  “I know, I am too. We have so much to catch up on. But right now, you need to get ready to go out there and kick some ass.” He ruffles my hair as he steps back, giving me a smile that I know he means to be encouraging but that’s a little sad around the edges. “I’ll catch up with you again afterward, okay?”

  I nod, and he and Fisher leave the room.

  “Break a leg, Jessy-girl,” Vincent calls as the door shuts behind him.

  “So, how can I help?” Cat asks, clapping her hands, a wicked grin on her face.

  I sigh and lift the hanger with clothes. “Where do you want to start?”

  Thirty minutes and a full hairspray bottle later, I’m given permission to look at myself in the mirror. When I do, my breath catches in my throat. I don’t even recognize myself. But dare I say it? I like what I see. The green of my eyes pops against the dark, smoky makeup Cat expertly applied, and my hair is teased and pinned, equal parts badass and sexy. And then there’s the outfit. Holy smokes. The girl staring back at me from the mirror looks like a freaking rockstar.

  “You like?” Cat asks, her hip jutted to the side as she assesses my reflection over my shoulder.

  I turn around and my grin gets crazy wide. “Love.” I hug Cat. “Thank you. Seriously.”

  “You’re a natural beauty. I simply made you extraordinary.” Cat shrugs. “But okay. Okay. Enough of the sappy. You ready to break a leg?”

  I nod and let out a heavy breath. “Yep. I should probably go check in with the guys.”

  “Okay. I’ll leave you to it, then.” She pulls me in and hugs me hard. “Can’t wait to see you kick ass out there. I’m so proud of you.”

  And then she’s gone, disappearing in signature Cat fashion before I can even think of a response. A minute later, I take a deep breath and knock on the door connecting my room to the guys’. I plaster on a big bright smile. When the door opens, I expect to be greeted with glares and snarls, but . . . that’s not what happens at all.

  “Hey!” Jarod says as he swings the door open, his face vibrant. “Look who’s here!” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him.

  “Holy shit.” Joel gets to his feet. “You are so fucking hot.”

  I blush and laugh nervously. They seem a bit different tonight. It’s like they’ve done a complete one-eighty in the last few hours. Their eyes are glazed, and their movements are a bit more loose than they were the last time I saw them.

  I see empty beer bottles on the coffee table, and it suddenly all makes sense. They’re drunk. No wonder.

  “Tonight is going to be amazing, boys . . .” Jarod says, letting me go and returning to the couch against the wall. They start to get loud and obnoxious. I notice Tom’s watching me keenly, more so than usual. I give him a tentative smile as I listen to the Jarod’s pep talk. Once we’ve gone over the set list one last time, the boys decide they want to go meet their fans. They tell me to take a few minutes and to join them in fifteen.

  They leave in a rowdy bunch, except for Tom, who lingers in the middle of the room. I turn to him, raising my eyebrows expectantly.

  “Here,” he says, handing me my drumsticks. His response is cold and distant, like it used to be when I first joined the band.

  “Thanks.” I take them from his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. I look up at him, my forehead creased.

  I meet his gaze head-on, but he turns away quickly, reluctantly letting go.

  I can tell there’s a battle brewing inside his head and want to ask him what’s up. But I don’t want any more drama, not tonight. So I turn to leave, but before I can get far, h
e grabs my wrist, stopping me. I look back at him, waiting.

  “I’ve always liked you, Jessica. I thought your talent would take us places.” His voice is low, almost like a whisper. His jaw clenches.

  “I’m sorry that you can’t be part of The Torque, but I appreciate it all the same, you being here. And I don’t know what’s gotten into Jarod.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighs. “After what happened and the way he was earlier, this . . . this new happy Jarod isn’t what I expected.”

  No kidding.

  He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocks on his heels. “Just . . . be careful, okay? Don—he’s stationed outside your room—will walk you to the stage when you’re ready. Don’t be late. You have ten minutes before the show starts.”

  I nod and watch him walk out of room. He talks to the guy—Don, I assume—standing guard outside my room and then disappears down the hall. I nod to Don as I open the door to my dressing room and step inside. I stand in front of the mirror and dark green eyes stare back at me.

  I don’t know how much time has passed when a knock on the door brings my attention back to reality. “Miss Owens. It’s time.”

  I give one last long look in the mirror. Break a leg, Jess. Make dad proud. I send up a quick prayer, asking for courage and strength for tonight, and then pull open the door.

  “Ready?” Don asks.

  I nod and let him lead the way.

  “Here we are,” Tom says as we join him next to the stage. I stop peek around the curtains and see the club’s filled with loads of people. My nerves kick in, pushing away all other thoughts. I twirl the drumsticks in my hands, playing air-drums as my eyes scan the crowd.

  “They’re over there,” Tom’s yells over the screams, startling me. He gestures toward the front row, off to the right, and I see Cat, Vincent, and Fisher huddled together. Cat’s jumping, screaming through her cupped hands. Behind her, I see Harrington with one finger in his ear as he yells into his phone.

  Worry gnaws at me, but I don’t get the chance to dwell on it, as just then, the announcer’s voice echoes over the crowd, introducing us and calling us to the stage.

  Jarod’s the first to walk out, just as we practiced, followed by Joel, and then Jackson. I was told to wait until Jarod announced me.

  I hear Jarod goading the audience. “Are you guys ready?” he asks.

  The crowd goes wild.

  “I can’t hear you!”

  And then, next thing I know, I hear him call my name. Whistles and screams break out.

  I take a deep breath and walk out into the spotlight. I’m blinded for a moment and have to resist the urge to shield my eyes as I make my way over to my drums.

  The crowd goes wild and Jarod winks at me. I smile back, hoping I don’t look like I need to throw up. Because that’s exactly how I feel right now. I’ve never performed in front this many people before.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Focus, Jess. Focus on the music and the drums. Forget everything else.

  I settle down on my seat, and thank god I can’t see anyone in the crowd. Licking my lips, I scan the stage, getting an encouraging nod from each of my band mates. I glance back to the side of the stage and meet a pair all too familiar eyes next to nervous, fingernail-biting Tom.

  Harrington’s stands beside him, and it sends a sort of thrill through my bones. He smiles encouragingly and mouths, “You got this.”

  With newfound energy, I face the crowd again and take a deep breath, just as Jarod covers his mic and mouths, “Summertime.”

  I nod and count down with my sticks.

  This is it.

  Joel strums his guitar, kickstarting what will be my last performance with the band. But for the next two hours, the only thing I focus on is the music and the way it vibrates into the very pores of my soul as we play.

  “HELL YEAH!” THE guys holler, bouncing and jostling their way down the hall as Don escorts us back to our dressing rooms. They high-five me and pull me into a hug before disappearing into their room.

  Tom pauses in the doorway and actually smiles. “Thank you. For everything. You were amazing out there.”

  I nod, feeling a little out of place. Is this how everyone feels when they get fired? I mean, hell, do people get fired on good conduct? He pats my shoulder and then follows the guys into their room. Something catches my attention in the corner of my eye and I turn back to see Harrington striding down the hall. I swiftly walk toward him.

  “Hey!” I say, pulling on my brightest smile.

  He picks me up and spins me around, kissing me. “You were so fucking amazing! I was so turned on the entire time.”

  I snort-laugh. “Yeah? You like the way I handled those sticks, huh?”

  “Fuck yeah.” He puts me down and I wrap my arms around his neck. He shrugs, unapologetic and grinning salaciously. I guess that’s one thing I do like about Harrington. He’s always straightforward with anything he does. There’s no filter when it comes to him.

  I grin back, because I can’t help it and pull him into me for a long, passionate kiss. His arms snake around me, pulling me close, but we break apart when a massive squeal-shriek echoes down the hall. I look over to see Cat running—in her heels, no less—full-out down the hall toward me, Fisher and Vincent following along behind.

  “Stop hogging my best friend,” Cat cries as she pulls me from Harrington’s arms and into a massive hug. “You were ah-mazing out there!”

  “So . . .” Vincent shifts his weight from one to the other as he and Fisher come to a stop in front of us. “I take it this is Harrington?”

  Harrington’s chest puffs out and he slings his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side as Cat steps away to lean on Fisher. “I better be. There’s no one else who’s going to kiss my girl like that.”

  Vincent looks from Harrington to me, holding back his smile. “You’re right, Jess. His ego is over the top.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad to know that I’m popular among the masses, but you are?”

  I walk forward, standing between the two most important men in my life. “This is Vincent.”

  Harrington raises his eyebrow. “The Vincent?”

  “The one and only.” Vincent extends his hand toward Harrington, and Harrington takes it.

  “Harrington Lovelly,” he says as they shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “You too,” Vincent says. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you. Both good and bad.”

  Harrington glances to me and winks. “More good than bad, though, I assume.” He grins, and I realize there’s a sort of tension in his face. I cup his cheek and study him, noticing now that he seems preoccupied, worried almost. It’s subtle, but I know him well enough now to see it in the way he’s standing, the angle of his jaw.

  “Uh, give us a sec, guys,” I say to the others and then take Harrington by the hand, pulling him further down the hallway and out of earshot.

  “Something isn’t right,” I say softly. “What’s going on?”

  He looks around nervously. “Stamos wants to see me tonight.”

  “What? W-why?”

  “Hell if I know, but something doesn’t feel right. Especially since he wants me to meet him in his office.”

  Something heavy uncoils in the pit of my stomach, making me feel ill with dread. If Harrington’s intuition is telling him something’s off . . .

  “Don’t go,” I blurt out before I’m done processing my thoughts.

  “It’s okay, Jess. I’ll be fine.”

  But I don’t like the way he says “fine.” It’s like he’s trying to convince himself at the same time.

  “I promise, everything will be fine. You’ll be safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He smiles and cups my cheek, caressing it lightly with his thumb.

  “I’m not worried about me, Harry,” I whisper. “You’re the one walking into the snakepit.”

  “None the less
, if I know you’re safe, nothing can touch me.”

  “Then stay,” I beg. “Please. If you’re around, I’ll be safe.” But he isn’t listening. There’s something else he isn’t telling me. “You promised we’d celebrate tonight.”

  He smiles again and, gently shoves a few strands of hair behind my hair. He leans down and kisses my lips. “I’ll make it up to you. In more ways than one. Promise, sweetheart.”

  “But—”

  “I love you, Jessica Owens. I love you so much, there isn’t a damn thing in the world I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right?”

  Panic rises inside me, and I search for ways to get him to stay, to keep him from leaving. But before I can say anything, he pulls me into a deep, deep kiss, the kind that wrecks the very fabric of my being. I’m left breathless when he pulls back.

  “I love you,” he whispers again, and then he’s turning back to the group, and all I can do is follow. “Well, you all have fun tonight,” he says as he rejoins the trio who were waiting with barely concealed curiosity.

  “You’re not joining?” Cat asks, disapproving.

  “I can’t. Boss man calls,” he replies. He gives a curt nod to Vincent and taps Fisher’s shoulder.

  And, like they’ve practiced it a thousand times before, Fisher waves to me, walking backward as he follows Harrington toward the exit. “Awesome job out there, Jessica.” He winks to Cat and gestures with his fingers like he’s shooting at her. “And I’ll see you tonight, Kitty Cat.”

  Vincent gives me a look and mouths, “Kitty Cat?” I press my lips together to stop from laughing out loud.

  Cat scoffs and waves at Fisher dismissively. But I can see there’s a faint blush over her neck. I nudge her in the ribs. She blatantly ignores me, throwing her arms around me instead, hugging me hard. “You girl, were the hottest piece of ass on that stage.”

  I laugh and drag her toward my changing room. Vincent follows behind.

  “Seriously, though, nice job out there, Jessy-girl,” Vincent says, shutting the door behind him. “How did it feel?”

  Letting go of Cat, I give Vincent a hug. “It was ah-mazing. Too bad I won’t get to experience again.”