“First of all,” he said, his tone strong, “let me express my present disgust with the media as a whole. The sensationalistic climate right now is so rife with lies, accusations, and just plain bullshit, that it’s a wonder any of you can even sleep at night. That being said,” he said, his tone changing to a businesslike voice, “this evening at five thirty, Cassie Roads was admitted to Cedars Sinai. She’d attempted to take her own life.”
His eyes pinned each and every member of the press as he paused.
“Now, before you start making up even more bullshit stories, let me set you all straight on the truth, something I think you’re highly unfamiliar with. One, Cassie Roads and Fast Lane were signed to Badlands Records not by myself but by one of my associates. I had no prior knowledge or acquaintance with Ms. Roads before she was signed to this label. Two, Fast Lane has been signed to Badlands for one reason and one reason only, they’re a damned good band, with a lot of potential, and I’m going to see that they reach it.” He glanced back at Tommy, catching the man’s eye. Tommy’s lips curled in a self-effacing grin as he nodded.
“Furthermore,” Brenden continued, turning back to the press, “I was under the impression that this country had long since gotten past the ridiculous inclination to blame a woman for being raped,” he said, his tone jeering, his lips twisted in disgust. “It is beyond my ability to grasp how anyone could conceive of a woman welcoming being attacked, violated, and left for dead, but somehow, you people managed it. And worse still, people reading your trash believed it.”
The press shifted uncomfortably with the direction the conference was going. They were being called on the carpet for their behavior, and it didn’t feel very good, especially since they knew BJ Sparks was right.
“And finally,” Brenden said, his eyes turning directly to the camera filming the conference, “to the individual that sent that letter that was broadcast to this city. I know exactly who you are, Mike, and I know what you did. If you’re watching this now, you know what I’m talking about. Let me assure you, that if you and I ever meet you, you will be extremely sorry we did.”
Every member of Fast Lane nodded their heads in agreement, each of them looking quite ready and willing to do exactly what BJ Sparks had just threatened to do himself. There were a few utterances of “Damned right,” and “Hell yeah.” It was the media’s first real glimpse of the nature of Fast Lane. Cassie Roads was not only their lead singer, but their friend and someone they’d all kill to protect. It showed Cassie Roads in a whole new light; the fragile beauty, with a voice of an angel, who had men willing to do anything to protect her and her honor. It was reminiscent of knights in shining armor, and even the press loved a fairy tale.
The press left that evening with a whole new slant on the BJ Sparks/Fast Lane connection and they were all dying to tell the ‘real story’ now. Brenden watched them file out, his eyes trailing over to Tommy who was watching him. Tommy inclined his head to Brenden, by way of a thank you and an apology for not trusting him in the first place. Brenden nodded back, accepting both the thank you and the apology.
****
Cassie lay on the hospital bed, staring at the wall. She was wearing black capris pants and a black T-shirt. It was getting to be a habit, and she was fairly sure she’d see that color in her head for the rest of her life.
“You’re back from group therapy early,” John said from the doorway.
She glanced at him, then looked back at the wall.
“Time off for good behavior,” she muttered sourly.
“So, you actually talked to them today?” he asked, taking up his now customary spot in the chair next to her bed, where he could see her eyes easily.
Her lips twisted in a wry grin. “They don’t care if I talk, Mackie.”
“They don’t?” he queried, his eyes watching hers.
“No,” she said, “they just assume I’m some little drama queen, they wouldn’t hear a word I’d say anyway.”
“Is that what they think?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “Or is that what you think?”
Her violet eyes looked at him. He surprised her, he knew that.
“Do you think I’m a drama queen, Mackie?” she asked quietly.
He looked back at her for a long moment. “I think you want them to think you are,” he told her.
“Why would I do that?” she asked him.
“Maybe, so they’ll let you out of here, and then you can go back and finish the job properly,” he said evenly.
She narrowed her eyes, then looked away from him. He knew he’d nailed her.
“Why, Cassandra?” he asked her softly.
“Why what?” she asked tiredly.
“Why are you so interested in dying?” he asked, his tone still soft.
“What do I have left, Mackie?” she asked.
“Your entire life, Cassandra,” he replied, his voice strong. “If you’d have let Tommy in here to see you, he’d have told you that the album is just on temporary hold and that, pending you getting better, the tour is on too.”
She looked at him, surprise evident on her features, then she shrugged.
“They’ll just write me off as a slut anyway,” she said.
“Cassandra, you know who you are, don’t let those people tell you who you are,” John said, his tone strident.
“They’re the ones that buy the albums, Mackie,” she said.
“And they’ll buy yours,” he said. “As soon as you get your ass out on that stage and sing for them, they’ll be begging Sparks to release your album so they can have more.”
She contemplated what he’d said, then shook her head, looking away from him again. John narrowed his eyes, knowing that she was on the edge. He kneeled next to the bed, one knee on the floor, putting him on eye level with her.
“Cassandra, you have an enormous talent,” he told her, his eyes searching hers. “You have the ability to draw people in and make them want to take care of you.”
“And that’s useful, how?” she asked, her tone dry.
“People need to care about something, Cassandra, or someone. You’re this beautiful girl, with a huge voice and something to say. And if you can get people to hear you, then you’re doing what other people can’t. That’s a gift.”
She looked at him for a long moment, surprised by what he was saying.
“What if they don’t like what I have to say?” she asked him.
“Some people won’t, Cassandra, but others will, and it’ll change their lives.”
She looked back at him cynically.
“You gotta have a little faith, little one,” he said.
“In what?”
“In life, in people, in yourself,” he told her. “There’s a lot left in life to see, Cassandra. You have to trust me on that.”
Her eyes searched his then. “I do, you know,” she said.
“You do what?” he asked, not sure what she was talking about.
“Trust you,” she said, “and I don’t trust anyone.”
He smiled, his eyes still staring back into hers. “Probably a good thing that you do,” he said, “considering I’m guarding you.”
He saw the beginnings of a grin on her lips then. “And I’m guessing I now owe you my life,” she said.
He nodded. “You could say that,” he told her.
“And I’m betting you’ll consider taking it back at some point in the future,” she said then.
“I’m fairly sure of that too,” he said, chuckling.
She laughed softly too. Then she shook her head.
“What?” he said, canting his head to the side.
“All these professionals trying to help me,” she said, gesturing at the hospital, “and I feel better just talking to you.” She seemed surprised by her own words.
“Sometimes you just need someone you can trust to talk to,” he said.
“I guess,” she said. Then she looked at him. “Mackie, get me out of here, please?” she said, her tone beseeching.
“Once I’m sure I can trust you not to do a repeat of what you did, I promise you I will.”
“How will you know you can trust me?” she asked.
“That’s the trick, little one,” he told her.
She looked back at him, shaking her head. She never did understand him totally. She did, however, have to admit that if it weren’t for him, she would have gone crazy in the hospital minutes after waking up. She hated hospitals. She hated people she didn’t know touching her, prodding her, and trying to medicate her. Mackie was the only person she trusted in this entire place, and without him she would have screamed, kicked, and fought her way into the psycho ward, she knew that.
John moved back to his chair, leaning back, and stretching out his legs. Cassie settled more comfortably on the bed and closed her eyes. He didn’t see John’s measuring look. He was trying to decide for himself how he’d be able to trust her again. He wasn’t sure.
Two days later, he had no choice. He’d left the room for a few minutes to go down the hall and smoke. While he’d been gone, a male nurse went into Cassie’s room and tried to take blood for more “tests.” She went crazy, jumping off the bed to get away from him. The nurse grabbed her by the arm, but she yanked herself away from him. He grabbed her again, holding tighter this time.
“Listen, you little psycho bitch,” he growled. “You’re going to get this one way or the other, don’t make me beat the crap out of you first.” He was mad that she was evading him.
It was well known in the hospital, that this particular patient was difficult. He had no intention of letting her be that way with him.
Cassie gave a banshee scream, kicking the man in the shins as hard as she could, and wrenching herself away from him. Then she ran from the room, looking for John. She ran out to him in the quad. He had just enough time to toss aside his cigarette and catch her as she threw herself into his arms.
“He was going to …” she said, pointing back toward the hospital, and panting trying to catch her breath. “He was going to …” she began again.
“Okay, okay,” John said, soothingly, holding her and bending down to pick her up in his arms. “Slow down …” he said, starting to walk toward the building.
“He was going to hurt me,” she told him. Her voice sounded so scared, John felt his own blood start to boil at the thought.
He strode down the hallway with her in his arms. He saw another nurse in the hallway outside the room.
“Who was just in there with her?” he asked the nurse.
“I don’t know,” the nurse said, shaking her head.
“What did he look like, Cass?” he asked Cassie.
“He had brown hair, and he was tall,” she said, still shaking.
“David Hargrove,” the nurse said, “why?”
“Because he just scared the shit out of her, and I want his ass,” John said calmly.
“Sir,” the nurse began, but then her eyes saw the dark marks already starting on Cassie’s pale skin.
John’s eyes followed her gaze, seeing what the nurse was looking at.
“Son of a bitch,” he growled. “You get him down here now,” he ordered.
“Yes sir,” the nurse said, nodding and rushing off.
John carried Cassie into the room and set her on the bed. Then he turned to the wardrobe and started pulling out her clothes, and putting them in the small case he’d brought in for her. Cassie sat on the bed and watched him. She kept her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.
At one point, John glanced at her, seeing the look of desolation in her eyes. He sat down on the bed, reaching his hand out to touch her on the cheek.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he told her.
“You’re here now, Mackie, that’s all that matters,” she told him.
He nodded, blowing his breath out. It didn’t assuage his guilt, but there was no sense in arguing with her.
David Hargrove walked in a few minutes later. John turned to look at the other man.
“What happened in here?” John asked evenly.
“I tried to take some blood, and she went nuts on me,” David Hargrove said.
“And what did you do?” John asked him.
“I tried to detain her,” David said, sure he was getting out of this one, and the little bitch would really pay then.
“Tried to detain her,” John repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Yeah, she kicked me and ran off.”
“Not before you assaulted her, though,” John said, “and that’s what I have a problem with.”
“A problem?” David asked.
“Yeah,” John said, smirking almost evilly, “anyone who touches her has to deal with me,” he said, his tone taking on a dangerous edge.
“Are you threatening me?” David asked, his tone almost triumphant.
“No, I’m telling you, you better watch your back,” John said.
David swallowed convulsively. “She attacked me, man,” he said, his tone almost whining.
“No,” John said, “she defended herself, and you’re going to have to do the same.”
David looked back at him for a moment, then decided to try and call his bluff. “You’re full of shit,” he said confidently.
John snatched the younger man up by a handful of shirt, slamming him against the nearest wall, holding him a full half foot off the floor, and looking him in the eye.
“You think so?” John asked. “You think I can’t break you in half right here? You think I won’t? She,” he said, nodding his head toward where Cassie sat watching, “is my responsibility, and no one hurts her, without me doing them some damage in kind. So, consider yourself lucky that the lady is faster than you are, because if you’d done her anymore damage, I’d be putting you in a room in this hospital.”
With that, John let go of the smaller man. David dropped to the floor like a rag doll. Turning, John took the bag of clothes, and put his hand out to Cassie.
“Let’s go,” he said.
She grabbed his hand gratefully and followed him out of the room. They didn’t stop until they were outside. John hailed a cab and gave the driver directions to her apartment. Cassie curled up on the seat next to him, her hand still in his, her head on his shoulder. The cab driver glanced in the rearview mirror at the tiny black-haired woman, and the comparatively huge man sitting next to her. It struck him the way the man’s eyes scanned the landscape alertly. The young woman, apparently totally secure, curled up on the seat with her legs tucked under her like a tiny cat holding onto the man. They were a compelling picture, and the thought of them stayed with him long after they left his cab. It was also the scene many would witness in the weeks to come. Cassie Roads with her bodyguard always at her side, protecting her from the world. Her very own knight in shining armor.
♪ Four ♪
Things between John and Cassie got quite comfortable after she returned from the hospital. She now trusted him more than anyone in the world. A couple of days after getting her back to her apartment, John gently suggested that she learn a little bit of martial arts.
“It will do you good to be able to defend yourself, and the self-awareness is always a plus,” he told her.
“In other words,” Cassie said, with a grin, “so I won’t be stupid enough to down an entire bottle of sleeping pills again, right?”
“That’s what I was thinkin’,” was his reply, his grin ever present.
They started that day, with John teaching her the things he’d been taught in the SEALs and things he’d picked up since then. That night, she soaked her sore muscles in a tub of bubbles and hot water. He knocked lightly on the door.
“Come on in, Mackie,” she said.
“It’s safe?” he asked, poking his head in the door.
“Generally,” she said, grinning as she made sure she was totally covered by the bubbles.
“God forbid you see skin, right?” she said, giving him a wry look.
“More
than I’m paid for,” he said, his mouth curled in a sardonic grin.
“Would it be that bad?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Nah,” he said, moving to sit against the vanity sink, “just a whole other can of worms.”
She canted her head to the side, trying to discern what he meant by that. She wasn’t sure if he thought it would be a bad thing or not. John had a way of avoiding certain conversations if he didn’t think it was a direction they should go in. Cassie always allowed him to lead conversations in the direction he wanted them to go. It was something she didn’t allow with anyone else. If she wanted to know something with other people, she asked point blank and kept asking until she got an answer. With John, she let him do the leading and she followed. She trusted him that much.
He’d saved her life and kept her from harm while she was in the hospital. In her eyes, he’d proven his loyalty, and proven that he wouldn’t run at the first sign of real trouble from her. It had been a hell of a way to establish her trust, and although not in the least bit intentional, it had proven a great deal to her.
“So, where did you learn all that stuff you taught me today?” she asked him.
“Life,” he replied simply.
“Bullshit, Mackie,” she said, grinning.
He inclined his head. “In the United States Navy, ma’am.”
“You were in the navy?” she asked. Then she nodded. “I guess I can see that. So, what were you in the navy? I’m betting not a cook,” she said, grinning.
“Are you saying I can’t cook?” he asked.
“You cook just fine,” she said, shaking her head, knowing he was avoiding the question. “Just tell me, Mackie, please?” she asked curiously.
She knew next to nothing about him. Before her suicide attempt she hadn’t bothered to get to know him, she hadn’t wanted to. It was easier to hate him on the basis that he was doing something she didn’t want him to. Knowing him might make that harder. Now she didn’t hate him, she appreciated him a great deal, and that made her want to know him.
In the Fast Lane Page 9
