The enormity of what Liza had done sank in—she’d found his dad and persuaded the man to come see Justice. No one else had managed to do that. “How? I don’t understand. How did you find—?”
The door opened, banging into the wall. Simon stormed in, followed by Lynx, Gray and River. Simon’s scowl took them in. “You’re supposed to be in the media pen, not in here with your troublemaking girlfriend.” Simon crossed the room to get right up in his face. “You, this…” he gestured to Justice and Liza, “…is the reason we lost.”
Oh, he was done. Frustrated rage poured into his veins. Making sure Liza was behind him, he glared at Simon. “Don’t blame her.”
He leaned around Justice. “What the hell was that, Liza? Coming onstage with some guy? Were you trying to knock us off our game?”
“That was Justice’s father,” Lynx said. “But I gotta agree with Simon here. What the hell? Shocked the shit out of me.”
Simon narrowed his eyes. “Your father? Did you know? Was this some little game you and Liza are playing?”
“He didn’t know,” Liza jumped in. “I’m sorry, I was trying to help. Justice wrote that song for his dad, and—”
“It was our moment. The band’s. Not Justice’s goddamned family reunion.” Simon slapped his hand down on the refreshment table. “You had no right, Liza. None.”
She drew back. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop yelling at her.” Justice wasn’t letting anyone blame Liza. The real problem stood right in front of him. “What sank us is your feud with Jagged Sin. If they didn’t hate you, they’d have kept their fucking mouths shut.”
“Now you’re blaming me?” Simon bellowed. “Don’t you get it? They weren’t voting for Fury Run over us, they were voting against her. Look at all the Hayes groupies outside. They hate her.”
Justice’s brain drenched in red. From the very pit of his soul, all his muscles coiled, ready to drive his fist into Simon’s face.
“No,” Liza screamed.
A door slammed.
Dropping his arm, Justice spun around.
Christine stood there, arms crossed and her face a blank. “Everyone can hear you.”
Justice took a breath. This night was so fucked up he had no idea how to save it. None.
Gray dropped onto the couch. “Does it really matter now?”
The manager perched on the arm of the couch. “That depends on you. Is this where you guys fold? Give up? Then go right ahead, fight with each other and let the whole world hear you.”
Justice leaned against the wall, head throbbing. “I don’t quit. None of us here are quitters.” Getting control, he swung his gaze to Christine, and asked, “What about you? Are you giving up on us?” The deal was she’d only manage them if they signed with Tangent and she got her cut.
She looked them over. “Depends.”
Tension vibrated in the room, so palpable his muscles twitched with it. “On?”
“Prove yourselves to me. Pull it together and record an album. Despite your loss, I can get you gigs and keep you going. But without Tangent, you have to pay for the album yourselves. That means studio time, sound engineer, marketing and promo materials. I’ll get you a tour, but you have to do the work and finance it all. It’ll be long and grueling. Anything you’ve done up to now will be a cakewalk in comparison. You have to decide soon, while you still have some exposure.” Her assessing stare slid over each of them. “If you want it bad enough, get your asses into the media pen and do the interviews.”
Silence settled around them.
Simon made the first move. “You’d better decide, Justice. Because if we do this, it’s one hundred fucking percent. All our time and money will go into trying to make it indie without a label. We’ll be paying for everything.”
He glared back at the man, the weight of the eyes of his band—and Liza—on him. “I’ve been in a thousand percent. I’ve made sacrifices and worked my ass off.”
Simon glanced at Liza then back to him. “You kept a secret about our band publicist that exploded in our faces, and that shitstorm is still growing. Are you getting this, Justice? She was supposed to help us, but you knew something that had the power to hurt us and didn’t tell us. I get that Liza’s a victim too, but you put us all in the line of fire. How are we supposed to trust that next time you won’t do the same thing?”
Christ, he couldn’t defend himself. He’d done exactly that, no matter how he tried to justify it. “That’s on me. I’m the one who promised her I wouldn’t say anything.”
Simon shook his head. “She’s becoming our Yoko, the thing that divides us. The whole world is tuning in now, half for Liza and half against. You’re going to have to choose which you’re committed to.” He walked out, and the others followed.
Choose between the band he’d poured his soul into, or the woman he loved who had chosen him over her family?
Her hand settled on his arm. Justice turned, catching her scent of warm peaches and distress. Her eyes hurt to look at, too damned vulnerable and shadowed. “Beth—”
She shook her head. “Go to the interviews. It’s important. Show your fans that you guys are united and that Savaged Illusions will keep playing the music you love. Then come home, and we’ll talk.”
Did she think he’d leave her? He wouldn’t, damn it. The weight of it nearly crushed him. Much as he loved the band, he needed her too. The girl who trusted him enough to sleep in his arms.
“Don’t leave. Wait here. I don’t want you out there alone.” He’d seen the crowds and protesters, and people were still leaving the auditorium, creating more chaos.
She drew her phone out. “Ben and Emily are waiting for me.”
Right, he’d gotten her two friends tickets to the show tonight. Okay, she’d be safe with them. Tugging her to him, he spread his hand on her back bared by the dress—the same dress she’d worn to the USS Midway. “You’ll be there? At the house?” He needed that much tonight. To just know she’d be there.
Her brave mask cracked, streaks of fear and dread glittering in her eyes. “I don’t want to be your Yoko.” She sucked in a breath, visibly pulling herself together and stepping back. “We’ll talk at the house.” Grabbing her bag, she headed to the door, her back stiff and tense, almost as if she was shielding herself.
Her pain ripped straight down the center of his chest. Foreboding spread from the crack. Don’t let her go. Don’t let her walk away now.
“Justice? You coming?” Christine’s sharp voice sliced into him. She was the future of his success.
But the girl walking down the hall held his heart.
Chapter 18
Yoko.
The word flashed in her head like a neon sign in a dark room.
She was ruining everything for Justice. His band. His life. A hot lump knotted her throat and burned her nose. The screen of her phone blurred as she sent a text to Emily. Coming out now. Side door by staff lot.
Her thoughts wouldn’t stop. Simon blamed and hated her. All of the guys in the band were angry, and now they wanted Justice to choose: them or her.
Yoko. Yoko.
Don’t cry. Just hold it together.
Beelining for the exit, she kept her head down and didn’t look at anyone.
Finally, she hit the door, escaped out into the night and flinched at the frenzy of shouts, hysteria and honking horns. An endless row of cars snaked along the alley bisecting the theater from the staff parking lot. To the right, protesters and groupies were held back by a barricade and a line of cops. Two police cars had their blue-and-white lights flashing as part of the crowd control, adding to the chaos. Huge signs bobbed. One had an obscene picture of Liza soaked in beer with Slut Not Victim stamped across it. Additional signs blared phrases like, Tell the Truth! Bring Hayes Home!
Next to her, Colin and one of his guards were dealing with a determined man insisting he was a reporter. No, he didn’t have credentials, but they should recognize him.
She could tell him that being
recognized was overrated. Memories tugged at her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her head buzzed, and pain slashed at her heart. Everything was crumbling around her. She’d wanted to believe she could be normal, just be a college girl who took a few risks and fell in love.
So much in love. Justice…oh God. What was she doing to him? He’d kept her secret, and look what happened. And taking his father into the wings? What had she been thinking? The knot in her throat swelled. She’d wanted to show Justice his dad did love him, but instead she’d shocked him—shocked them all right as they were going to perform, throwing them off their start.
Shame flashed hot and miserable over her skin. Even the cool night couldn’t touch it. Justice and his band had lost.
It killed her to see his dream shattered.
“Hey, Liza.”
The voice pierced her agony. Forcing her eyes open, she focused on her friend and roommate. “He lost.”
“I know.” Emily hugged her. “It’s going to be okay.”
Pulling back, Liza said, “Everyone in the band except Justice hates me. They blame me. Called me Yoko.”
Sympathy hardened into fury on Emily’s face. Her gaze slid to the door.
She’d seen Em’s ready-to-kick-ass expression before. “No. You can’t get in there.” Security had it locked down tight. “I just want to leave. Where’s Ben?”
“Here.” He strode up to them. “Had to answer a quick call. We’re in the staff lot. Let’s hustle.” Taking her arm, he tugged her between him and Emily.
“Liza,” Colin called out. “You good? Need an escort?”
She glanced over at the security guard. He really didn’t miss anything. “They’re friends. I’m fine.”
He lifted a hand in acknowledgment. “Night.”
“You want to come to our place?” Emily asked as they wove between the line of cars trying to exit.
Our place. Emily didn’t mean the apartment she and Liza shared, she was talking about Ben’s condo. She hadn’t even officially moved out of their apartment, but she’d already left in her heart.
Another worry. Where was Liza going to live? She had to be out of the apartment soon. She couldn’t go home—her aunt didn’t want her there. More tears threatened. No, damn it. She’d survive and find a way to take care of herself. But tonight she’d be there for Justice…if he still wanted her. “Thanks, but I’ll go to Justice’s house.”
On her right, screams pitched up from the protesters. Liza ignored them. The police kept them back far enough, plus it was dark, so she doubted they could recognize her anyway. Especially since they were headed away from the street. She didn’t have enough energy to care how much strangers hated her when her heart was breaking over Justice and Savaged Illusions losing tonight, and that scene in the greenroom.
Em said, “We’ll stay with you at Justice’s house until he gets home.”
She hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it made sense. “Thanks, I’d feel better with you guys there.” Gratitude for her friends eased some of her turmoil.
“You won’t be saying that once I clean out your kitchen,” Ben said. “I’m starved. The car is the next row over.”
“He’s always hungry,” Em complained while she pulled out her phone. “I’ll call in a pizza. What do you guys want on it?”
“Get what you guys want, I’m not—”
A force slammed into Liza so hard, she sailed through the air and hit the ground on her left shoulder. Her head smacked onto the asphalt. Pain slashed into her brain. Blackness sprang up at the edges of her vision. Inky darkness spread, trying to pull her into unconsciousness.
No. Terrified of the obscurity, of what could happen if she lost consciousness, she bucked and fought a crushing weight on her hips pinning her down.
“Message from Hayes, you cunt,” an ugly voice snarled.
A man was on top of her. He’d attacked her. Confusion muddled her thoughts.
“Liza! Oh God, get off her!”
Em was screaming. Desperately trying to figure out what was happening, Liza forced her eyes open and struggled to find her friend. But all she saw was the knife slashing toward her face.
Instinct took over, and she turned her head away an instant before fiery pain sliced into her neck and shoulder.
* * *
Justice grabbed Simon, spinning him to the wall in the hallway outside the room set up for media interviews.
“Enough,” River snapped. “No more fighting.”
Justice shrugged off River’s hand and faced the man he considered a friend and a brother. “You have every right to be pissed at me. But you don’t ever do that to Liza again. Ever.”
Simon’s eyes heated. “Me? I didn’t keep a damn secret. Or—”
“You’re a hypocrite. You went on TV and gave the whole story about how your wife killed herself after vicious words hurt her unbearably. Then you turned around, blamed Liza and called her names like Yoko.” Justice struggled to stay in control this time. He needed to make a point to clear this between him and Simon. He’d make things right with his girl at home later. “I’m not saying we, Liza and me, didn’t screw up. But as you said in that interview, words matter. And Liza has the scars on her wrist from trying to escape cruel words in the past.”
Comprehension dawned like a tornado touching down, instant and devastating. A storm of grief and regret ravaged Simon’s face in just seconds. “Oh damn.”
Justice dropped his hands, stepping back. “Let’s do this interview and—” He cut himself off when his phone vibrated insistently in his pocket. Yanking it out, he expected Liza’s name, sure she’d tell him she wasn’t going to his house. That she was going to Ben and Emily’s to think, or some fear-laced bullshit. No way was he letting her run.
But it wasn’t Liza. Instead it was a text from Emily.
Liza’s been attacked in parking lot. Get out here.
His guts clenched as he read it a second time. Oh hell, she was in danger. “Liza’s been attacked.” He had to get to her, turned and raced down the hallway. Hitting the door, he burst out and skidded to a stop. Where in the parking lot were they? A sea of cars snaked along in front of him, and more cars were trying to get into the line. Groups of people milled around, and by the street, protesters bellowed and chanted. Where was Beth?
Simon caught up to him. “Over there.” He pointed to a group of cops running to the staff lot.
Justice raced to the area, shoving people out of his way, his desperation rising.
Some cop grabbed him, but Justice tore free, too jacked to explain. “Liza!”
“Over here!” A blonde waved at him. Justice traveled closer, recognizing Emily. Then he looked down. Liza. “Oh Christ.” She was curled on her side, her face streaked with tears, dirt and blood. She panted, her eyes glazed. He crouched down, afraid to touch her.
Behind her knelt Ben, who was bare-chested and holding what must be his shirt against the curve of her neck and shoulder. Blood soaked the material.
“What?” Justice croaked out his dry throat. “The blood. What happened?”
Ben’s gaze lifted to his. “She was right between Em and me, and some guy tackled her from behind. She hit the ground hard, and he cut her. It’s bad. I need an ambulance. Now!” No sign of the funny, gentle man Justice had met at the restaurant. Ben vibrated competence, determination and anger.
A cop ran up to them. “Ambulance around the corner. Police are clearing a path through the protestors. I have a blanket and kit from the rig. Told them you’re a doctor.” He tossed the white blanket to Justice and set a big, plastic toolkit on the ground. “I’ll hold a flashlight for you.”
“Em, IV now,” Ben ordered.
Emily ripped open the lid, and the two of them worked. Her hands shook, making it clear she wasn’t anywhere near as sure as Ben. When Justice had seen her at the medical clinic the day Liza took the morning-after pill, Em had been in a clerical position. But she followed Ben’s directions, and right now that was all they had.
He tucked the blanket around her. “Beth, baby?” The nickname came out automatically.
Her eyes slid to his, slowly focusing. Tears pooled, communicating her pain and fear.
She was ripping his damn heart out. “I’m here. Right here.” He didn’t know where to touch her and settled for her hand. Broken nails. More blood. What the fuck happened? How? Helpless agony wrenched his chest. Someone had attacked and cut her.
“Dark.” Her lips trembled. Her bloody fingers gripped his.
“What?” He pressed his cheek to the ground so she could see him easier. Feel him.
“Dark spreading.” Her eyes fluttered, as if she fought unconsciousness. “Don’t leave me. Please.”
Oh God. She was afraid of the dark. So afraid. “I won’t leave you.” He held on to her hand. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Her eyes slid shut, her hand going lax. Into the darkness. “Beth. Liza.”
Hands pulled him away. Two men in uniform shirts took over. Ben swore, issuing more orders, his voice tinged with a frantic edge. “Have to find the bleeder. Keep that flashlight on the wound.”
Justice fought the arms holding him. He had to get to her.
“Hold it together.” Lynx got in his face while someone else bear-hugged him from behind. “They’re trying to save her. That doctor guy has his fingers inside her skin, clamping something. You can’t touch her.”
Save her? No. Beth couldn’t die. A shudder wracked him. How the hell was this even happening? Around Liza lay bloody cloths and discarded paper. The two paramedics lifted her onto a gurney, while Ben kept his fingers on—or in—the back of her neck or shoulder. There was so much blood, her hair was soaked with it.
Jesus. His whole world narrowed to the woman. He didn’t dare take his eyes off her, as if he could will her to live. The paramedics braced her on her side, with Ben snapping out directions. Once they had her secured to his satisfaction, Ben said, “Go,” and they ran toward the ambulance.
Savaged Dreams: Savaged Illusions Trilogy Book 1 Page 25
