The Key to Love: A Rock Star Romance (Adrenaline Book 4)

by Callie Bardot

  “And you’re the brother I never wanted,” she said, laughing.

  “Asshole,” he said.

  “Idiot,” she said.

  “Speaking of Mia, what’s her address? She left her coat at my place, and I’m sure she needs it.” Actually, she left it at the studio, where we came up with the song that’s going to launch my solo career. Keys picked up his tumbler of water from the coffee table and downed it.

  “She has other coats. She had a coat on tonight.”

  “Well, this one might be her favorite, I don’t know. What’s her address?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “So, I can drop off her coat,” he said. A knot of annoyance squeezed his insides.

  “Ask her yourself if she’s such a good buddy,” Gia said.

  “Just fucking tell me, Gia, since I’m on the phone with you. I’m not going to stalk her. I told you we’re just friends, okay?” Irritation churned in his belly.

  “Why does everything turn into a fight with you?” Gia said. “I should just hang up on you.”

  “But you haven’t, so fucking tell me the address.” Keys strangled the phone the way he’d like to strangle Gia at this moment.

  “Fine. I’ll text it to you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, mollified enough to release his grip on his mobile device.

  “You’re welcome. Hey, I gotta go. I’m outside my apartment, it’s freezing, and I want to go inside and get warm. Get your shit together and come to practice without your boxing gloves on for a change, okay? You sail through the door, ready to fight. Like I said, it’s getting old.”

  “Yes, Mom,” he said.

  “I thought I was your sister?” Gia said with a chuckle.

  “Whatever. Later, sis,” he said, disconnecting the phone. Without wallowing in thought, he rose from the couch, grabbed his keys from the coffee table, and shoved them in his pocket. Then, he headed for the front door. In the foyer, he shrugged on his coat, jammed his feet into his boots, and grabbed Mia’s fur-lined coat. She won’t mind a visitor at this time of night, will she? There’s only one way to find out. He stepped into the elevator, took it to the bottom floor, and hustled out onto the sidewalk to hail a taxi. Within ten minutes, he stood outside her apartment.

  Rather than ringing her buzzer to be let in, when a resident popped out the front door, he slid inside, nodding to the resident as if he owned the place. Then, he took the sleek marble and glass elevator up to her floor. When the elevator door slid open, he exited and strode confidently down the hall.

  The front door hung open. That seems odd. Who leaves their apartment door open in New York? With a furrowed brow, he quietly stepped closer. Once he stood in front of the door, he pushed it open with his palm. What the fuck…?

  A skeevy looking hoodie-wearing dude paced in the front room. As he paced, he muttered, “I saw the pictures of you and some guy on social media. You were dancing. You used to dance with me. With me.” He disappeared down the hall, shouting, “Mia! Where the fuck are you, bitch?”

  Oh, shit. This creeper saw photos from our date at Crash. The hair on Keys’ nape prickled like a porcupine.

  A few seconds later, deeper in the apartment, a door crashed against the wall.

  Mia screamed, shaking Keys out of his momentary confusion. He barreled through the house, heading in the direction of the scream.

  Mia’s shouts continued.

  Keys rushed through the open door into a ginormous bathroom, billowing with steam.

  The creeper had Mia’s naked body pinned against the shower door. A huge bathtub, filled with water, sat in the middle of the room surrounded by wet clothing on the slippery floor.

  Keys charged toward the intruder, and seized the asshole’s shirt, yanking him away from Mia. “Get the fuck away from her, you fucking asshole.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” the creeper said.

  “I’m her boyfriend, that’s who.”

  “You’re not her boyfriend. I am.” The creeper’s eyes bugged from his eye sockets.

  “Like hell, you are.” Keys studied the slimy features of Creeper Dude. His hair hung limp and nasty around his face like it never got washed. The guy’s eyes hung inside the sockets like dried up balls.

  “Ha!” Spittle flew from Creeper Dude’s mouth. “Mia and I aren’t through. We’ll never be through. Isn’t that right, baby?” An insane looking grin spread across his face, revealing two huge gaps between his two front teeth and his incisors.

  “Get out of my house, Darion. You’re dead to me,” Mia shrieked.

  Keys kept a fisted grip on Darion’s shirt. Darion? Who the fuck is Darion? She never mentioned a Darion.

  “Baby…you can’t mean that,” Darion said. Twisting back and forth, he tried to wrench himself free from Keys. “Let me go!”

  “Not a chance.” Keys hauled Darion across the bathroom floor, heading for the hallway. “Sweetheart. Call 911,” he called to Mia.

  She didn’t budge, but stood with her hands across her breasts, trembling.

  “Angel. Make the call,” Keys pleaded.

  “What did you call her? She’s not your angel.” Darion clawed at Keys’ arms.

  “Get your fucking hands off of me.” No stranger to a fistfight, Keys hauled back one of his highly insured fists and let loose, clocking Darion in the face. After colliding with Darion’s face, he winced and shook his hand. But the blow had left its mark. His numerous rings, combined with the impact of the punch, had to hurt.

  Blood dripped from the open wound Keys had inflicted on Darion’s face.

  Darion’s mouth dropped open, and he felt his bloody cheek. Roaring like an animal, he charged Keys, slamming him into the wall.

  Keys’ head whacked against the solid surface, and his mobile phone flew from his pocket, skittering across the hardwood floor. After a quick shake to the head, he barreled into Darion, knocking him off his feet. He landed with a loud grunt on top of Darion. While he had the guy pinned to the ground, he landed another solid smack to Darion’s face, knocking him out cold.

  Keys scrambled to his feet. He lunged for his phone and quickly dialed 911.

  “State your emergency,” said the dispatcher.

  He relayed what had happened and answered all the dispatcher’s calmly stated questions. When finished, he disconnected and raced into the bathroom where he’d left Mia.

  Still naked, she sat huddled in the corner, shivering and whimpering.

  Crouching before Mia, he gripped her shoulders. “Where’s your robe, sweetheart? Tell me where your robe is. We need to get you warm.”

  Her frightened, tear-filled eyes broke his heart. “In the b-b-bedroom,” she stuttered.

  “Okay, come with me. Let’s find it together,” Keys said. He took her hand, rose, and helped her to stand. Then, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his body to lend her warmth.

  Her body trembled.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Show me where to find your robe.” He rubbed her arm with his palm, ignoring the stinging sensation from having punched Darion.

  With shaky steps, she navigated out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into her well-appointed bedroom. She crossed to her bed, collapsed onto it, and rolled into a tight ball.

  A sense of helplessness squeezed his belly. “Angel, I need to find your robe or a sweater or something to get you warm. Pajamas, anything. Where should I look?”

  She shook her head as if the question was too much to bear.

  He huffed out a sigh and trekked to her closet. On a hook behind the door, he found a long, fluffy robe. He yanked it from the hook and hurried to Mia. “Here. Let’s get you inside the robe and get you under the covers, okay?”

  She kept shaking her head.

  As best he could, he maneuvered her unwilling limbs into the garment. Somehow he managed to scoop her into his arms and fold back the bedding. Gently, he lowered her and covered her with the sheets, blanket, and soft layered gold and red bedspread.

 
She shut her eyes and curled back into a ball.

  The doorbell rang. “I’ll be right back, Mia. That’s probably the police.”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes squeezed shut.

  Exiting the bedroom, he expected to see Darion passed out in the hall. Only, the asshole was nowhere to be seen. Keys hurried to the front door to find it ajar.

  Two blue-uniformed policemen stood in the hallway.

  “Did you see a skeevy guy in a gray hoodie exit the apartment?” Keys said.

  “No, sir, we did not. We got a call to investigate a break-in at this address,” said one of the policemen, an older, gray-haired man.

  Shit. The motherfucker escaped while I was comforting her. “Yes, I’m the one who called. Some guy broke into my girlfriend’s apartment. She’s in her bedroom. She’s pretty freaked out.” His mind raced to form a cohesive thought. “The dude escaped.” He kicked himself for leaving Darion without tying him up, but Mia’s well being had grabbed his attention.

  “Okay, we’re going to need to ask you some questions. I’m Officer Franklin, and this is Officer O’Neill. And you are?”

  “Keys Johnson,” Keys said, wishing he could be back in the bedroom with Mia. She looked completely broken. “I came over to give her back her coat, and I found this pervert in her house. Cornered in her bathroom by the asshole, Mia was screaming. I punched the guy and knocked him out cold. He must have escaped while I was helping my girlfriend get warm and dressed. She’s a wreck.”

  “Do we need to call the medics?” Officer Franklin said.

  “No, sir, I don’t think so,” Keys said, dragging his hand through his hair. “She’s just shaken up.”

  “Can you describe the perpetrator?” Officer O’Neill said, a pen in his hand poised over a notebook.

  “I don’t know…let’s see. He was about five-eleven. Shorter than me. Greasy brown hair, brown eyes. Kinda skinny. Wearing a black hoodie and torn blue jeans. Chucks. He was wearing Chucks sneakers.”

  “Chucks?” the gray-haired Officer Franklin said. “Who’s Chuck?”

  “They’re those high top sneakers the kids wear,” Officer O’Neill said, scribbling in his notebook.

  Franklin nodded. “Can you think of anything else?”

  “That’s about all I remember.” Keys’ eyes darted toward the hall then back to O’Neill.

  “Call the station and let them know to be on the alert for a guy who matches the description given,” Officer Franklin said to Officer O’Neill.

  O’Neill nodded and began speaking into his radio.

  Keys’ heart sank. He could be anywhere by now. This is a huge city with endless places to hide.

  For the next forty-five minutes, Keys endured the interrogation, answering everything in triplicate. He let the police interview Mia in her bedroom until he had to insist they leave so she could get herself together.

  After showing them to the door, he rushed to her room, stripped, and slipped inside the sheets. With her back to him, he wrapped her in his arms.

  Clutching his hands to her chest, she backed into him and began to cry. “I have to leave, Keys. He knows where I live. He always finds out where I am.”

  “Shhh,” he said. He urged Mia to roll over, so she faced him. Then, he proceeded to wipe the tears away from her eyes and cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re not going anywhere. I heard what you told the police but tell me again. Tell me everything.”

  Her tear-filled eyes wrenched his heart. “He’s my horrible ex. We dated since high school and moved in together after we graduated. He became abusive. It was more emotional than physical, but he did hit me. He tried to control my every move and screw with my head. We were in a band together. That’s when I was into m-m-music,” she stuttered. “That’s why I get so freaked out about music.” She began to sob.

  He pulled her into him, stroking her robe-covered back while she cried.

  When she managed to calm down, she said, “We were about to be signed by an agent when I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take the control, the endless criticism, the walking on eggshells.” More sobs heaved from her lungs. “He was so jealous of me. He thought I was handed everything in life,” she wailed. “But it wasn’t true. I worked for everything I got.”

  Keys’ heart shattered as he lay listening to her. He wanted to put a bullet through Darion for hurting her.

  “I escaped from San Francisco several years ago and headed for Seattle. That’s where I met Zander. I was a waitress, and he and a bunch of his buddies ate at the restaurant where I worked. He offered me a job, no questions asked. That’s why I owe him. That’s why I can never leave him.” Her sobs resumed. “Darion always finds me,” she said through a lungful of tears. “I change my number, and he finds me. He always finds me. He texts me. Suspicious letters get dropped in my mailbox. But until he assaulted me, I haven’t seen him for five years. I’ve got to move. I’ve got to hide. I can’t stay here.”

  The thought of losing Mia crushed Keys. He couldn’t imagine it. “No. You’re not going to move. I’ll stay with you until they find the motherfucker, or you can stay at my apartment. He doesn’t know where I live.”

  “You can’t just change your lifestyle for me, Keys. We’re not exactly dating or anything,” Mia said with a sniffle.

  “I can, and I will. I’m not letting anything happen to you.” As testosterone flooded his bloodstream, he raged inside. No one can ever hurt her like this again.

  “Thank you,” Mia said.

  He kissed the tears from her cheeks. Then, he grasped a corner of the sheet and gently dabbed her face dry. The whole taking care of a woman thing felt unnatural and foreign. He didn’t know if his actions helped or not. He wished he could call his mom or maybe Gia for advice, but neither of those options appealed. Gia would probably yell at him for being an idiot, and his mom was no doubt fighting with his dad. They were always in the middle of a fight.

  Instead, he did the best he could at comforting Mia, hoping he made a dent in her sense of safety. Yet, as he stroked and soothed, the icy grip of memories clutched his heart. All this bullshit with Mia’s ex brought up his own painful past. All the shit he didn’t want to face, didn’t want to deal with came surging to the surface of his mind.

  Never in a million years did he dream of loving someone like Mia Song. But no fucking way could he afford to be in love.

  Mia

  Sun blasted through Mia’s bedroom windows the following morning like sharp knives, carving away at her dreams. Her eyes felt swollen and puffy. A headache stabbed the back of her head. With a groggy groan, she opened her eyelids and squinted at the day.

  Keys lay sound asleep next to her, naked, mouth ajar, snoring softly.

  Her limbs were bound and strangled by some garment. She lifted the soft bedding to check. My robe. How did I get in my robe? Last night came rushing into her brain like a tsunami, tearing away any comfort the sight of Keys’ naked body might have given her. Her mind began to whirl and scheme, plotting her exit strategy. I’ve got to find a new place to live. Darion’s back.

  Keys’ mouth snapped shut, and he opened his eyes. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  A sudden sense of awkwardness blocked her ability to speak. She cleared her throat and said, “Morning. What can I fix you for breakfast?”

  He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then stretched out his long body. “I don’t know. You’re the one who was assaulted last night. Shouldn’t I be making food for you?”

  She shook her head. “I need to stay busy.”

  A lion-sized yawn stretched Keys’ mouth. “Don’t forget, I’m not usually awake at this hour.”

  “Well, let me make you something. I’m grateful you stayed with me last night. Thank you.” She pushed aside the covers and rolled to sit up. Untangling the robe she’d slept in last night proved challenging. It had wound around her limbs like an octopus. She slipped her feet into slippers and stood up so the robe could fall free into submission.

 
“I don’t care. What do you like to eat for breakfast?” Keys said from behind her.

  “I’ve got some good bread from my favorite bakery. How about some French toast?” Still trapped in awkwardness, she didn’t want to turn around.

  “As long as there’s coffee, you can feed me anything,” Keys said.

  Mia took a step, but Keys rolled across the bed and snagged her hand.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “What?” she said, still not turning around.

  “You okay this morning? Last night had to be traumatic for you. What’s going on?”

  With a sigh, she turned and perched on the side of the mattress. “I’m mostly numb. I can’t believe Darion found me. I mean, did he look that smart to you? I don’t know how he does it. He’s relentless.” Tears pricked at her swollen eyes. I probably look awful. “Look. I need to shower and make myself look somewhat presentable. Then, I’ll fix you breakfast.” She pushed away from the bed and made haste toward the en suite bathroom.

  As she stood in the doorway, she shivered from the memory of last night’s assault. Would he have killed me? Raped me? Her clothes were still strewn all over the floor. “Keys,” she called.

  “Yeah?” His voice sounded rough like he’d drifted right back to sleep.

  Gripping the doorway, she said, “I can’t do this. I can’t look at this room without wanting to vomit, and I need to take a shower.”

  He cleared his throat and, two seconds later, stood behind her. “What do you need?”

  “I don’t know. I only know I can’t go in there.” Her voice sounded tremulous and weak.

  “Okay, turn around, and I’ll pick up all the clothes and drain the tub. Will that help?” he said.

  She nodded, turning around into his hot, bare-skinned body. A small gasp left her lips.

  He gripped her shoulders, kissed her neck, and said, “Okay. I’m going in.”

  Once more, she nodded, gazing into his eyes for comfort. “Sing to me while you’re picking up.”

  “Sing to you? Uh, okay. What do you want me to sing?”