by Tonya Brooks
John laughed through the haze of smoke. "Grows his own," he explained while holding his breath. "Some kind of hybrid shit."
They continued to pass the joint back and forth between them as they walked around the room looking at the event posters and concert flyers covering the walls. Cyn was amazed. It seemed the Bad Boys had played all over the country and had the memorabilia to prove it. “What was the coolest gig you ever played?” She asked curiously as John stubbed the roach in an ashtray.
“Birthday party for Rex Crawford.”
“Holy effin’ shit,” she breathed reverently and turned to face him wide eyed. “You met Rex Crawford?” The guy had been one of Hollywood’s brightest stars and so handsome it was absurd. Women had been known to faint if he smiled at them.
“Yeah, we uh... we lived with him for almost a year,” John admitted and raked a hand through his hair as he wondered why the hell he'd mentioned that. He didn't discuss this shit. Ever. Not with anyone. Alex must have dusted the bud with some weird shit 'cause he'd never been high enough to spill his guts before.
“What?” She squealed in awe and tossed their empty beer bottles into the trash can. “How did that happen?”
“He walked by some bar we were playing in Cali and liked what he heard,” he said and dropped into a slouched position on a couch. “Rex came in and stayed for the show. When the bar closed, he introduced himself and invited us to his beach house in Malibu to party.”
“And you wound up staying there?” Cyn asked in astonishment as she curled up onto the couch beside him, anxious to hear more.
“Some of the time, yeah. Most of the time we were at his place in Beverly Hills." John clarified. "He hired us as consultants for a movie he was gonna do. His role was the lead in a band struggling to make a name for themselves. Since that was what we were doing, he used our real life experiences to mold his character."
“Shut up!” She exclaimed in genuine excitement and tucked her feet beneath her. “What was he like?”
“Lonely,” John said without having to think about it. Now that it had started, he couldn't seem to get the verbal diarrhea to stop. He was acting like a chick, spilling his fuckin' guts. “The dude was loved by millions of fans, had people around him day and night, but he was the loneliest person I’ve ever met.”
“Why?” Cyn frowned and didn’t understand what he meant.
“He didn't have a family. Was raised in foster care. Never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends growing up,” he explained with a shrug. “Once he became famous everybody he met wanted a piece of him. He didn’t have anybody that he really trusted, ya know?”
Cyn nodded and understood how difficult that situation must have been. She knew that celebrities often dealt with the lack of privacy and they felt increasingly isolated and alone as they struggled to maintain the image their fans expected. As a result, they were four times more likely to commit suicide than the average person.
“How do you know all of this?”
“He told me.” John said quietly and knew he needed to shut the hell up, but he couldn't stop talking. "We spent a lot of time together and got real tight. He trusted me. And I let him down." He sighed wearily and closed his eyes in pain. "I got there too late."
“Oh my God,” she barely breathed as realization dawned. Every media source in the country had run the story nonstop for weeks. Some of the tabloids had claimed that the actor had committed suicide until the coroner ruled that his death was an accidental overdose. But even the reputable ones had all publicized that Rex had been hosting some kind of debauched house party for months leading up to his death. “You were there.”
“Yeah,” John said heavily. “We were there.”
“John, I’m so sorry. That had to be...” Words simply failed her. She was a professional, highly trained counselor and she had no idea what to say when faced with the pain in his too blue eyes.
“The worst day of my life,” he admitted. “I’m the one who found him.” When she stared at him in dawning horror, words just started pouring out of him again. “When we met him we were so dammed excited. I mean we met a real live movie star. It was cool as hell. And when he invited us back to his place, we partied like rock stars. Or movie stars,” he laughed bitterly.
“Then we played his birthday party and were rubbing elbows with more celebrities than I can name. Man, we were so full of ourselves, so sure that this was our big break. That being friends with this dude was gonna be our ticket to stardom.” He shook his head in disgust. “We were using him just like everybody else and didn’t even realize it.”
“Then I got to know him. I mean really know him, and he was just this lonely dude looking for a friend. Yeah, he was rich and famous, but it didn’t make him happy. So he got high to forget how miserable he was. And then one night he got so high that he was gone,” he said in a voice filled with regret. “He was just tired of the lies.”
“Lies?”
“He was gay,” John said bluntly and saw her jaw drop in shock. “Yeah, now you get it. His ‘people’ convinced him that it would ruin his career if he came out. The world wasn’t ready for the dude voted sexiest man alive to be gay. He’d never get another leading role. Acting was his life. It was all he knew. He couldn’t give it up any more than he could go straight.”
“And you understood because music is your life,” she presumed.
“Yeah,” he confessed. “The eyeliner was Rex’s idea. He said, ‘Dude, if it works for Johnny Depp, Johnny B. Bad will totally rock it.’ I wear it in tribute to his memory.”
“He was right, ya know. You do totally rock it.”
"You're the only one who thinks so," he said with a cynical laugh.
"Right now, I'm the only one who matters," Cyn teased as she slid her arms around his shoulders and gave him a big comforting hug.
John returned the embrace and was surprised at how much lighter he felt now that he had told someone. He still couldn't believe that he'd gone all emo and shared that shit. Hell, he'd never even told the band that Rex was gay. One thing was for damn sure. He wasn't smoking any more of Alex's fucked up homegrown.
"Don't know about you, darlin', but I've got the munchies," he announced to change the subject.
"Oh, Jesus. I'd kill for a chunk of wedding cake," Cyn moaned and realized that she was starving.
"I'll grab us some and be right back," he offered and released her to head for the door.
When John came back carrying two plates piled high with food, Cyn was draped across the top of the concert grand in nothing but her shoes. "Smoking makes me horny," she explained with a wicked smile.
Goddamn, he'd found the perfect woman. John placed the plates on the coffee table, picked up a chunk of cake and flashed her that lethal bad boy grin. "Darlin', you ever been covered in chocolate and licked clean?"
Her moan of approval said it all.
Chapter Twelve
Thursday, June 5
Cyn opened the door to her Jeep and froze in place when she saw a lily lying in the driver's seat. The blood drained from her face as chills ran up her spine. Oh, God. He's here. She whirled around in a dead panic and slammed into a solid wall of muscle. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and she screamed bloody murder, her hands shoving against his chest to push him away. It was like trying to move a brick wall.
"What the hell, darlin'?" John frowned as wide, terror filled eyes met his. Before he could even attempt to pull her into his arms, she had flung herself against him and was holding on so tight he thought she was trying to climb inside his skin. She was also trembling like a leaf he realized as his arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace.
"He's here," she whispered in a shaken tone as she clung to his solid strength. John would protect her. Cyn knew that with unshakable certainty on a visceral level that she had no inclination to explore. Just being in the safe haven of his arms completely alleviated her fear.
"Who's here?" John asked with a frown as he stroked his hand soo
thingly up and down her back.
"I have a stalker," she admitted heavily and felt every muscle in his body coil into readiness.
"Say what?" He growled in shock even as his piercing blue eyes scanned the area to see if anyone was nearby.
"I moved here to get away from him and it looks like he followed me," she explained and lifted worried blue eyes to meet the glacial blue of his. Oh, yeah. John would protect her alright. The look on his face was downright menacing. It sent a totally different kind of shiver down her spine than she had felt a moment before.
"How do you know he's here?" He demanded since he didn't see anyone who might have spooked her.
"The lily," she said with a shudder of revulsion and pointed to the still open door of the Jeep. "He always sent me lilies."
John looked behind her and saw the dammed flower lying across the seat. The knowledge that some sick bastard had been terrorizing Cyn sent pure rage flowing through his veins. He slammed the door shut and led her back into the club, his arm firmly around her waist. Once they were locked inside and he knew that she was safe, he pulled out his phone and called Brett. "Get your ass to the club, Bro. Shit just got real."
Brett sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Like his father, the youngest Baker was a man of few words. He said what he meant and meant what he said. More often than not it was blunt and brief, but this was cryptic even for him. "Gonna need a little more info, John," he said patiently. "Like do I need to bring the SWAT team or will a squad car do?"
"Just get your ass over here," he growled and ended the call. John began to pace back and forth in obvious agitation. Then he noticed Cyn sitting in the corner of a sectional, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms locked around them as silent tears fell down her cheeks. She looked so small and worried that it twisted his guts into knots.
He dropped down on the seat beside her and pulled her against his chest, his arms going around her protectively. Placing a kiss on her head, he promised, "I got you, darlin'. You're safe."
Cyn shifted until she was straddling his hips, her arms locking around his shoulders. She buried her face in his neck and reveled in the absolute security that she felt in his arms. She was a strong woman who rarely depended on anyone, but after receiving such a fright, it was nice to let him take care of her. At least for a few minutes.
The fear had vanished the minute he'd wrapped his arms around her. The shock was beginning to fade and the adrenaline rush from the scare was wearing off. Worry was taking over, and not just about the stalker. The thing that concerned her the most was that she actually trusted John enough to let him take care of her, and that could be more dangerous to her than the stalker.
Cyn was a woman who was destined to walk alone. That wasn't the path that she would have chosen, but it was the path that she was determined to follow. And she embraced it completely. There was just something about him that made her wish that she could open her heart and let him in.
John was a wonderful man, inside and out. Yeah, he was handsome and charming, hotter than hell and an incredible lover. But he was also teasing and playful, sweet and caring. He was a really good guy and it was so hard to resist the way he tugged on her heartstrings. However, she had already been through that version of hell and had no intention of doing it again. Temporary was all they could ever be.
John didn't like this shit. He didn't know a whole hell of a lot about stalkers and he didn't want to ask her any questions until Brett got here. Cyn was upset enough and making her tell the story twice seemed like an asshole move. What he did know was that he was going to protect her from the psycho no matter what it took. When Brett hammered on the door a few minutes later, he stood with her held tightly in his arms and went to let him in.
When John opened the door with Cyn wrapped around him, Brett shook his head in dismay. The Baker brothers might be some of his best friends, but they could also make him nuts with their antics. "First of all, " he said sternly and placed his hands on his hips. "Kinky sex does not qualify as a police emergency. And before you ask, hell no, you can't borrow my handcuffs."
John was pretty sure that he didn't want to know what the other man was referring to, so he settled for glowering at the police chief instead. "Cut the shit, Brett," he insisted. "Some perv's stalking Cyn and that shits gotta stop."
His entire demeanor changed and when he got a good look at the woman's tear stained face, Brett became all business. "Why don't we have a seat and you tell me about it?" He suggested.
John carried her back over to the sectional and sat down. Cyn slid off of his lap, but stayed close to his side as she looked across the low table at the chief. "I'm not really sure where to start," she admitted and felt John's arm go around her waist and pull her even closer. The absolute comfort that gesture offered had warning bells sounding in her head. Yeah, she was beginning to trust him way too much and that was so not a good idea.
Brett pulled out a notepad and pen and said, "The beginning is usually good."
"About three months ago, I started receiving flowers anonymously," she began in a tone void of emotion. "They just showed up at home and work and sometimes, on my Jeep. Then the crank calls started on my mobile phone. After a while it got really annoying so I changed my number. Then he started calling me at home and at work."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"No, just heavy breathing," she replied and raked a hand trough her hair in obvious agitation. "We know it was a man because he would ask for me at work. The manager said he had a soft, raspy voice, like he had a cold. After the first call she told him that he'd have to leave a message and he'd hang up."
Brett nodded and asked, "What else?" He knew there would be more. Stalkers were persistent and didn't give up.
"There was a stray kitten outside my apartment that I fed and played with. When I found it dead on the hood of the Jeep, I realized that he was jealous of the attention I gave the kitten. He was escalating and potentially dangerous to everyone around me." John cussed a blue streak at that, his arm tightening around her even more. "So I called the police and filed a report."
"Did they have any leads?" Brett queried as he made notes.
"None," she admitted. "The detective in charge of my case advised me to get out of town for a while. When I told him about the job offer in Lakeside, he suggested I go ahead and move instead of waiting for the shelter to open. So here I am."
Putting as much distance as possible between her and the stalker had been smart. That she had moved to a small town where strangers were easily noticed was even better. If he was here, someone had seen him and would mention it. Gossip ran rampant in Lakeside and right now, the sexy new waitress was the talk of the town. "Why do you think he followed you?"
"I found a lily in my Jeep this morning," she admitted in complete disgust and was beginning to get pissed. She had uprooted her entire life because of this whack job and he had still managed to find her. Now she was going to have to go through all of this bullshit again.
She had been so careful not to leave any kind of trail that could lead the stalker to her. Cyn had packed everything she owned and given her apartment key to a moving company. They came in a week after she left and put all of her possessions in a portable storage unit that was being stored in a warehouse until she told them where to ship it.
"I don't know how he could have found me," Cyn complained. "I didn't tell anyone that I was moving. Hell, I even packed a couple of bags and slipped out of my apartment in the middle of the night so no one would see me."
Chances are the guy had staked out her apartment and had known every move she made. "I'm gonna need to talk to the detective in Florida and get the case file," Brett explained and she gave him his name and number from her phone. Since she was a mental health counselor, he asked curiously, "What's your take on this guy?"
"From the behavior pattern he's displayed so far, he's either an intimacy seeker or an incompetent." Cyn replied.
"What the hell does that mean?" John fro
wned.
"It means the guy has fixated on Cyn and thinks he's in love with her. Depending on which type he is, he may or may not believe that she reciprocates his feelings," Brett explained.
"That pretty much sums it up," she agreed.
"So how do we get him to back off?" The bad boy wanted to know.
"What part of fixated didn't you get?" The chief asked and his expression was grim. No sense in sugar coating it. Cyn already knew what she was dealing with, but John needed to understand how serious this was. "The perp managed to track her across three states, find out where she works and more than likely, where she lives. The guy is not going to back off until he gets what he wants, John. They never do."
And what the psycho wanted was Cyn. As the realization sank in, his expression became positively feral. "Then we take him out first." John growled.
Oh, hell, no. This was not happening again. It was a damn miracle that Matt hadn't wound up in prison when he'd gone after Harley's rapist. There was no way that John was getting tangled up in this. "Since it's official police business, I will handle this," he said firmly and his expression assured the younger man that he meant it. "You will stay out of it."
"The hell I will," John snapped angrily and surged to his feet. No way in hell he was gonna sit back and let some psycho get his hands on Cyn. Just the thought of it made his blood boil.
Brett rose as well and wasn't about to back down an inch. "If you want to help then you need to make sure that Cyn is never in a position where this guy can get to her," he instructed. "Keeping her safe should be your main focus right now."
"Damn straight she'll be safe," he swore and looked down at her beautiful face. "Not lettin' you out of my sight, darlin'."
"John, this has been going on for months," Cyn pointed out as she stood as well. "You can't be with me all the time."
