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

by Callie Bardot

  Her brain coughed up random, disconnected thoughts. I hope Darion doesn’t mess up my face when he kills me. Who will take care of Max? Please don’t let this story be on the front page of the newspaper. I haven’t trained anyone to take over my job.

  All around her, cars, trucks, vans, and motorcycles sped along the busy night-blanketed streets of New York, everyone obsessed with their own lives, heedless to the crisis in the car right next to them.

  “Where are you taking me?” she rasped.

  Darion’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. The gun still lay propped on his shoulder, clutched in his left hand, pointed right at her head.

  The taxi veered into the opposing lane of traffic.

  “Watch out!” Mia screamed, waving her hand toward the oncoming car.

  The gun flew from his hand. Darion wrenched the steering wheel to the right, avoiding the collision by a heart-pounding whisker. “Stop distracting me. We’re finally going to be together. I wasn’t planning on spending our first few days in a hospital bed.” An ugly sneer marred his face. “You always do this to me when I’m trying to make things nice.”

  A quick retort formed on her lips, but she bit her tongue. Having lost whatever sanity he once had, Darion wouldn’t listen to reason.

  “It’s going to be so great to be together again. This little cat and mouse game you’ve had going for the last few years, well…” An unsteady chuckle left his lips. “I just grew tired of it, you feel me? It had to end.”

  “We’re never getting together, you asshole,” Mia hissed.

  “You can let go of the game, sweetheart,” Darion said, shaking his head. “I won. Game over. We’re heading to the airport. I bought tickets to Ibiza. It’s party time, baby,” he said exuberantly, bouncing in his seat. “Remember how we said we always wanted to go there? Well, now’s our chance. It’s ‘us’ time.” His fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

  Mia forced a few deep breaths, trying to get some clarity back into her fear-clogged brain. I can release my seat belt, and… Quietly, she tugged the metal clasp and released the belt. Now what? How can I stop a crazy man? The only thing that came to mind was to claw his eyes out or choke him or… Wait. I’ve got a pointed nail file in my purse. Keep him talking and get the file out.

  “Ibiza. How thoughtful. Those tickets must have cost a bundle. Where have you been working to afford them?” Slowly, she slid her hand across the seat and wound her fingers around the handle of the purse.

  Darion frowned at her. “I’ve been saving, you know? Working odd jobs, here and there. I had to quit my gig in San Fran to search for you. I pick up jobs here and there. And then I came to New York and got my cabbie medallion a year ago. I’m a patient man. I’ve been watching you for a long time.” He shrugged. “It will have been worth it when we’re together.”

  She shuddered, imagining being stalked by this total creep for the past year. Hoping the purse wouldn’t make too much sound, she inched it toward her across the seat.

  “Can you feel me, baby? We’re living the dream.” He grinned at her in the mirror.

  She nodded, quietly undoing the purse clasp. “Yes, we will soon be.” While staring at the back of his head, she forced a stiff smile.

  Acne peeked through the greasy strings of hair falling around his neck. Grime dirtied his collar. A sour smell wafted from his skin.

  Another frown creased his forehead. “Why are you nice to me?”

  “Isn’t that what you want?” Her fingers fumbled inside her purse, feeling around for the nail file.

  “Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “But, you’re acting weird. Wait a minute.” His face brightened, and he snapped his fingers. “You can feel the connection, right? Neither of us can resist it. It’s pretty potent.”

  “Oh, boy, is it,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t shake. Darion’s absolutely nuts. She found the metal file and closed her hand around it.

  Darion flipped on his turn signal, easing onto FDR Drive North ramp. The traffic had eased up and bit, and he whizzed along the night-lit waterfront, weaving recklessly around vehicles in the three lanes.

  Mia slid her hand free from her purse, gripping the metal file.

  “I know you missed me as much as I missed you,” Darion said. He chuckled. “You can’t force a connection, but when you find it…” He shook his head. “There’s no denying it. And think about it. We’re going to live in Ibiza. That’s where the action is. We’ll go clubbing every night, just like the old days. Maybe we can start a band again. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  “Sure. Totally cool,” she said. Her arms shook from gripping the nail file so tightly. Leaning forward, she stroked Darion’s left shoulder.

  His eyes softened in the rearview. He released the steering wheel with his right hand, moved his arm across his body, and clutched Mia’s fingers with his hand. Dirt crusted beneath his nails.

  Sitting so close to him, his stench made her want to cover her mouth and nose with her coat. She willed herself to not recoil.

  He stroked her hand with his dirty fingers.

  Vomit shot into the back of her throat. She swallowed, hoping to not puke all over the seats. The hand that clutched the nail file shook.

  “I’ve missed touching you,” Darion said. “Have you missed touching me? We used to be so hot together. Say it.” He scowled and stared at her. “Tell me you missed me, too.”

  “Oh, baby, you have no idea.” She took a deep breath and struck, stabbing Darion in the neck, hoping she pierced the carotid artery.

  “Fuck!” he roared. The taxi screeched across all three lanes.

  Vehicles honked and slammed on their brakes.

  Mia banged against the door, whacking her head on the window. Frantically, she tugged the door handle.

  Blood dripped from Darion’s neck.

  Did I get the artery? Wouldn’t the blood be spurting? Mia’s heart jammed in her throat.

  Darion pressed his palm to the wound, and said, “Shit, this hurts. You’re such a bitch, Mia. Always wrecking our special moments. This changes things.” He floored the gas pedal and hooked a violent U-Turn, crashing through the metal barrier.

  More cars swerved out of the way, horns blaring.

  “You’ve left me no choice,” Darion said. He leaned down and fished around. When he sat up again, he clutched the gun in his blood-covered hand. “We need to slow things down here. I don’t want to alert the police, do I?” Another one of his insane-sounding chortles left his throat.

  “They might have already been alerted,” Mia said, searching for her purse. It lay jammed under the seat with her phone inside the zippered compartment. Why didn’t I fish my phone out instead and dial 911? Please let some good citizens contact the police.

  Darion eased the taxi into the far right lane and slowed to the speed limit. His windshield wipers slapped against the window. The taxi made a rattling sound and shimmied along the road like the frame had bent. He exited the FDR and turned up a side street that looked like a construction site. A big sign said, Detour. A couple of large pavers and graders, used to level roads, sat along the side. A cyclone fence surrounded a trailer which was probably used as the construction site office.

  Darion pulled up next to the empty lot and turned off the car. Blood pooled in his collar, spreading a dark red stain into his shirt.

  He wiped at his forehead with his arm. “Shit, I don’t feel so hot.”

  You’re probably weak from blood loss. Mia readied herself to flee from the car the second the door had been opened.

  Darion gripped the gun, twisted in his seat and pointed it at her. “Our plans have changed. Something always gets in the way of Ibiza, doesn’t it? First, it was your education. ‘Oh, no, Darion, I can’t go to Ibiza. I have finals,’” he said in a high-pitched voice. “And, then, you cock-blocked the idea by saying you were not well enough to go.” He tsked and shook his head. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it? Maybe I should have chosen another place to go. I thought i
t was a good idea, but maybe you would have preferred Morocco.”

  Mia’s limbs shook like trembling leaves in a windstorm. “Ibiza is fine. Let’s go. I’m sorry I stabbed you,” she said, sounding pathetic to her own ears. “I don’t know what came over me. I’d love to go. Please?” She blinked, trying to bring moisture to her desert-dry eyes.

  “No, little girl,” he said indulgently. “I’m sorry, but no.” He transferred the gun to his left hand and kept it trained on her head. Then, he leaned forward and fished around in the glove box with his free hand. He drew back his hand and waved an envelope in the air. “Here are our tickets.” He placed the envelope in his mouth and bit down. Then, he ripped it in two. “See? Tickets all gone.”

  “We can tape them back together. As long as we have our identification, we’ll be fine,” Mia pleaded.

  “Sorry, sweet cheeks. Bye-bye, Ibiza. Say it with me. Bye-bye, Ibiza.”

  Mia stayed mute.

  “Say it!” He shoved the gun closer to her head. “Say it with me. Ready? Bye-bye, Ibiza.”

  “Bye-bye, Ibiza,” she croaked. More like bye-bye Mia. Her mouth had joined her eyes in the desert zone. She ran her tongue around the inside of her cheeks to pry them away from her teeth.

  “So, here’s the way this is going to play out. I’m going to open this car door nice and slow…repeat it with me. Nice and slow.” He waved the gun in a circle at her face.

  “Nice and slow,” she repeated. Her chin trembled as she spoke. The black dots swam in her vision again.

  “That’s it. Good girl. And, then, we’re going to go for a little walk, you feel me?” His eyes bugged out as he stared at her.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Yes, what?” he snapped. “Yes, Darion, I feel you. Got your lines? Say it.”

  “Yes, Darion, I feel you,” she squeaked.

  “There we go. Good girl. So what am I going to do?” He pulled back the hammer on the gun.

  “You’re going to get out of the car nice and slow. And then we’re going to go for a walk,” she said, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. And, then, he’s going to kill me.

  “Okay, here we go. I’m going to get out, I’m going to open your door, and you’re going to get out, hold my hand and walk with me. Repeat what I said, so I know you heard me,” Darion said, gripping the gun in his shaking hand. He blinked and swiped at his eyes as sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his face.

  Mia’s voice quavered as she said, “You’re going to open your door, then mine, and then we’re going to walk somewhere.”

  “Good girl. And no funny business or else, blam!” Without hesitating, he pulled the trigger on the gun and shot out the back window.

  Mia screamed, covering her head with her hands.

  “That was a warning shot, love. I need you to know that I mean business.” His eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded her.

  Her ears rang with the force of the explosion. Ice-cold fear rippled through her body, turning her bones and muscles into useless icicles.

  Darion’s complexion had become ghostly. Sweat continued to drip down his face. Using his forearm, he wiped at his eyes again. “Stay.” He cackled. “I always wanted to say that to you. I used to imagine you as my bitch, and I’d give you commands, and you’d do them. Sit. Stay. Roll over.” His cackles turned to wheezes and then violent coughs. “Shit. Let’s get this over with,” he snarled.

  The driver’s side door snicked open. He slid from the seat, then leaped around and trained the gun at her.

  Instinctively, her hands flew to her face.

  “That’s a good little doggie,” he said. He reached for Mia’s door and opened it. “Come,” he said, leering at her.

  She pivoted and let her legs drop from the vehicle.

  “Good girl. Out of the car. Now.”

  Mia slid from the car, landing on shaky legs.

  “Heel, bitch.” Again, that icy cackle left his lips. He seized a handful of hair with one hand and trained the gun at her head with the other. “Walk with me.”

  With effort, she managed to get her legs to move. Intense pain shot through her scalp, where Darion had fisted her hair.

  “We could be on a plane right now, Mia. We could be on our way to Ibiza right now, Mia. There are so many things we could be doing, but no, you always have to complicate things. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t like me.” He yanked on her hair, causing her to stumble forward.

  Mia eyed the crushed front of the taxi. The hood bent in at a weird angle. A crease of metal scraped against the tire. Her soul felt equally destroyed. I never had a chance, did I? I should have loved Keys harder. I shouldn’t have lived like a scaredy-cat. All I’ve done the last few years is hide, waiting for this moment. “Where are we going?” she said, in a strange-sounding raspy voice.

  “There’s a park over here. I’ve been sleeping there for the last couple of nights. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to snatch you away.” Darion shook his head, seeming to struggle to hold it aloft. Blood covered the entire shoulder of his shirt. He pressed the weapon against her temple and dragged her along.

  Her temple pounded beneath the cold, hard steel of the gun muzzle. Her brain fuzzed in and out. She focused on lifting each foot, lowering her feet to the squishy ground, and moving forward. Step, step, step. Her breath flowed in and out of her lungs like a noisy windstorm. Step, breathe, step, breathe.

  They approached a bench, lit by dim lights surrounding the park.

  “Here we are,” Darion said. “Here’s my bedroom, honey.”

  I’m not your honey. The retort jammed in the back of her throat. She didn’t dare say a word to this lunatic.

  “Now, sit,” he commanded, shoving her toward the bench.

  She stumbled, whacking her knees against the wooden slatted structure. “Ouch!” she exclaimed.

  “Turn around and sit,” he said. His skin-tone matched the dirty snow clinging to the ground near the bench.

  She complied.

  “Stay,” he said, cackling and wheezing. He blinked and wiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before lifting the gun and pointing it at Mia’s head. “I finally got the last word, didn’t I? Who’s in charge now, bitch?”

  “Please don’t do this,” Mia pleaded, her voice quavering. “Please, please, please. I’ll live with you. I’ll give you anything you want. Just please don’t kill me.”

  “Too late. That chance has fled the scene.” He pressed the muzzle into the skin of her temple.

  Mia screamed, shoving his hand away.

  The revolver exploded, and a bullet whizzed past her ear.

  At the same time, the loud growl of a motorcycle engine blasted through the air, and a sleek red and black motorcycle rocketed toward her. The bike came to a screeching stop, and the driver leaped from it, letting it fall in a spinning heap on the wet grass. The helmet-clad driver threw off his helmet as he powered toward Darion.

  “Keys!” Mia yelled, her heart soaring at the sight of Keys. “He’s got a gun!”

  Darion’s eyes bulged as he raised his weapon, aiming at Keys.

  “No!” Mia cried. She leaped from the bench and tackled Darion, sending him sprawling.

  The gun flew from his hands as he landed on his side.

  “Angel, get far away from here. The cops will arrive any second.” Keys pointed in the direction of the road.

  A shrill siren erupted from nearby.

  Keys fell on top of Darion and began pummeling him with his fists. Each strike of his fists landed with bone-crunching fury.

  Darion didn’t fight back. Instead, he simply lifted his arms to his face and tried to curl his body into a ball. Blood sprayed from his face. Finally, he lay limp.

  Mia’s legs gave way, and she crumpled to the ground.

  Keys glanced over at her. He lunged to his feet and hurried toward her. “Baby, are you okay?”

  “I don’t know. I was so scared, Keys. I couldn’t think. I was sure that I w
as going to die,” she blubbered.

  Keys scooped her into his arms.

  Several uniformed policemen raced onto the grass carrying high-powered rifles.

  Darion came to and began dragging himself across the ground in the opposite direction.

  “Stop!” one of the cops ordered.

  “Look out!” Mia cried. “He’s got his gun!”

  Keys’ head whipped around.

  Before another word could be said, Darion trained the muzzle of the revolver inside his mouth and pulled the trigger. Blood and brains arced from his shattered skull.

  Mia let out a blood-curdling shriek.

  Keys gripped her tight and began sprinting toward the road. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go this time. Not ever.”

  The only thing she could think to say was, “Thank you.” The ordeal with her ex had finally ended. But it would be a long time until she could finally put the pieces back together and heal from the traumatic event.

  Keys

  “I almost lost her, Trevor,” Keys said, as he paced his thousandth circle in the small hospital waiting room. He glanced at the black wall clock. Two-fifteen a.m. His arms clasped his midsection, and his fingers tapped restless rhythms against his elbows. His muscles jumped and twitched beneath his skin as if he’d overdosed on amphetamines.

  “I know you did. But you got there just in time,” Trevor said, his eyes following Keys’ every step.

  Keys’ eyes skittered back to the wall clock. Two-sixteen a.m. So far, he’d tracked every minute in the last hour. And each minute lasted a lifetime. “I would have died if I lost her. I couldn’t take another loss. Not like that. Not someone I truly love.” He glanced out the windows which faced the hospital corridor.

  The hospital staff had informed him that someone would come and get him the second Mia’s exam had been completed.

  Seeing no one, he let out a sigh and flopped next to Trevor. He spread his legs out and lay his head against the unforgiving green chair back. “Fuck. This waiting shit is the worst.”