Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1) (14 page)

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Authors: RB Hilliard

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance

BOOK: Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1)
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“Morning Mallory,” Hank said. She stopped glaring at me long enough to throw him a blindingly beautiful smile.

“Morning Hank, did you have a good run?”

“I did, thanks for asking.”

A confused look appeared on her face. “Uh, where did you roll in from?” Hank pointed to a black Jeep parked behind the bus and her eyes lit up. “Oh, I like it. Does the top come off?”

A giant grin spread across Hank’s face. “Yes Ma’am.” I fought back a growl of disgust. Both sets of eyes turned to me, his with humor and hers with anger.

After a few seconds of staring me down, she focused back on Hank. “And the doors?” she sweetly asked.

“The doors too,” he confirmed.

“Can I ride in it sometime?”

If he smiled any wider his face would split in half. “Anytime you like,” he answered. I let out a snort and Mallory gave me an eat shit look. Hank laughed and I rolled my eyes at him. Mallory busted me mid-eye roll.

“You’re being rude,” she chastised, “and what are you humming? It sounds like Cat Stevens.”

I didn’t even realize I was humming but that didn’t matter because I knew right then and there that I was standing in the presence of my dream woman. “You know Cat Stevens?” I asked her.

“Yes, I dated him before he died,” she sarcastically replied.

“Well, being that he’s still alive I find that hard to believe.”

She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Cat Stevens is dead,” she repeated.

Yep, I’d most certainly found my hard headed woman.

I glanced over at Hank, who was shaking his head slowly back and forth at Mallory, and asked, “Care to weigh in on this before it gets to the betting stage?” No one and I mean
no one
could best me when it came to music trivia. I was the king, the master, the numero uno aficionado and anyone who knew me also knew this.

“Cat Stevens is still alive,” Hank informed her.

“No he’s not,” Mallory insisted, “He died like ten years ago.” Hank shook his head again, and I laughed.

“Bet you he’s still alive,” I challenged.

“Fine, what are we betting?” she shot back at me. Her blue eyes were full of piss and vinegar and I couldn’t wait to strip her down and learn all of her dirty little secrets.

“If I prove that Cat Stevens is in fact still alive, you will answer the questions you so craftily avoided when your boss called last night. In detail,” I added.

She physically paled and I almost took it back but then she quickly recovered and said, “Fine, and if you lose then you have to answer any question I ask, in detail.”

“You have yourself a deal, sweetheart.” She held her hand out to shake, and I fought the urge to yank her in and lick the sass from her lips. Instead I clasped her hand in mine. Our eyes connected and held. The image of her hand firmly wrapped around my cock slithered through my head and the subject of my fantasies began to swell. I could tell this was going nowhere fast.

“I’ll just leave you two to work this out,” Hank murmured, and disappeared up the bus steps.

As soon as the coast was clear Mallory said, “Cat Stevens is dead and I swear I didn’t take those pictures.”

“He’s alive and I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for not hearing you out and jumping to conclusions.”

“Why would someone set me up like that?” I could tell by the look on her face that her feelings were hurt.

Welcome to my fucked up existence.
“I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t you they were trying to set up?” I countered. “Hank will need a copy of the pictures and the text when you get a chance.”

A frown appeared on her face. “Shouldn’t I call Kirkland and try to explain? I mean, it was my phone.”

I considered what to tell her and decided to stick with Hank’s plan. “Before you do anything, why don’t we see what Hank comes up with? If he comes up empty handed then that might not be a bad idea.”

“I’m here to help, Grant, and not only because I’m being paid to, but because I genuinely want to help you figure this mess out. In order to do that, though, I need to know what’s going on.” Her blue eyes shimmered in the morning sunlight and she smelled like honey. All she had to do was look down and she would bust me popping a major chubby in my running shorts. The worst part wasn’t that I was sporting a hard on while wearing running shorts, it was that my dick was slowly getting caught in the netting. I looked like I had a case of elephantitis of the nuts. As if sensing something happening
down there
Mallory’s eyes dropped to my lips and then my chin. When they hit my chest, I gave her hand a tight squeeze and they snapped back to my face.

“After I take a quick shower,”
and get rid of my very uncomfortable boner
, “we can talk,” I told her.

She graced me with a huge smile and I tried not to wince as pain sliced through my balls. My boys were literally being strangled to death. Before she could ask what was wrong I turned and hauled ass up the bus steps. Hank was still in the shower so I made a b-line for the back bedroom. The second I got the door shut I shoved both hands down my shorts in effort to release my cock and balls from the confines of my fucking shorts. After a minute or so I got impatient and just ripped the entire crotch out. While rubbing the pain away I let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Please tell me you’re not doing what I think you are,” Chaz said from the bed. His eyes nervously darted around the room and I could practically taste the stench of his discomfort. I’d forgotten what a homophobe he was. The first time he walked in on a chick sucking me off while Nash plowed her from behind I thought he was going to lose his mind.

Continuing to stroke my cock, I lowered my voice and said, “Hank’s in the bathroom.”

“Well wait until he gets out!” The panicked look in his eyes was almost too much.

“But the shower is so small,” I growled, and continued stroking. My dick was starting to enjoy the attention. In reality I would rather not jack off in front of Chaz but his ridiculous reaction made it oh so tempting.

“This is my fucking room until noon!” he screeched. Not able to stand it any longer I burst into howls of laughter and he knew he’d been had. “Get the fuck out of here, Grant!” he shouted.

I laughed all the way to the bathroom and snickered through a quick shower. When I got out of the shower I was in a much better mood. I couldn’t wait to see Mallory’s face when she discovered that Cat Stevens was indeed still alive and kicking. Finally, I was going to get some answers from her. Wrapping the towel around my waist I quickly exited the bathroom and made my way back to the cubby that held my clothes. Luke was cooking breakfast and Nash was playing his guitar.

“Where’s Mallory?” I asked.

“She went with Hank to check out the venue,” Luke answered.

“Motherfucker!” I shouted.

She’d done it again.

Chapter Twelve

Digging Deep

Mallory

“I
can’t believe
Cat Stevens is still alive, I mean he has to be what, ninety?”

Hank Chuckled. “More like seventy.”

“I’m sure he’s older than that,” I muttered.

He gave me a toothy grin. “Wanna bet?”

“Uh, no.” It was bad enough that I’d lost the bet to Grant. I wasn’t about to go back for seconds.

“You do know that Grant is going to be angry when he discovers you’re gone?”

Oh yes, Grant was going to be angry, which is exactly why I insisted on accompanying Hank to the place where Meltdown was performing tonight. I played it off as needing better Wi-Fi reception, which was actually true. What I didn’t say was that I also needed a private moment so I could call the rehab facility.

Per my request Hank had rolled the top to his jeep back. Since we were in a time crunch he’d kept the doors on. The fresh air was as exhilarating as not having to answer Grant’s questions. “How did you meet Grant?”

“Do you want the long or short version?”

“How long do we have?” I asked.

“The long it is,” he said with a smile. “About a month after I’d been discharged from the Army I decided to start my own security firm. As I was finalizing the details I received an offer from a buddy in North Carolina to run security for a few businesses he and his friends owned. It would have meant relocating, but it also would have meant no overhead costs.

“You’re originally from Texas?” I cut in.

“Fort Worth.”

“I live in Dallas, but I’m sure you already know that.” I waved my hand in the air. “Sorry to interrupt, go ahead.”

“While I was in the Army my father had done some business with Grant’s father and they’d become friends. When I discussed the idea of relocating with my father, he mentioned that Meltdown was looking to hire a security team. If it meant not having to move, why not check it out, right? Blane and Grant hired me and the rest, as you know, is history.”

“What happened to your friend in North Carolina?”

“He’s still there. You’ll most likely meet him on the Charlotte leg of the tour. That reminds me, D mentioned closing down the bar for an after party if we wanted. I just need to run it by Grant first.”

“D?”

“Dillon Whitaker. Ever heard of him? He’s a great musician. Not like Meltdown great, but pretty damn close.”

“The name isn’t familiar. So who do you actually work for, Meltdown or Happenstance?”

“Happenstance gives me a monthly paycheck but make no mistake, I work for Meltdown.” I didn’t blame him.

“How many guys are on your team?”

“There are four of us.”

“All from the Army?”

“Sampson, Marcel and I went to high school together. Sean was stationed in Germany with me.”

“Do you like working for Meltdown?”

“For the most part, yes.” His eyes cut over to me and he smiled.

“What?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions. Are you by chance trying to shrink me?”

I held up my hands and laughed. “I’m curious by nature, I swear.” We turned into a mammoth parking lot and a very impressive arena loomed before us. It reminded me of Houston, only bigger.

“Are you good to sit in the dressing room while I run through security measures with the team?” Hank asked.

“Yes,” I patted my briefcase. “All I need is a cell signal and proper Wi-Fi and I’m good.” As I followed him in through a side door and down a long hallway I attempted to tame my windblown hair. At the end of the hall we pushed through double doors that led to a series of rooms. The last on the left had a large sign on the wall that read Meltdown. Marcel, Sean and Sampson were waiting inside the room with about fifteen other people, all wearing blue shirts with a falcon emblem on the front. Marcel smiled when he saw me.

“Everyone ready?” Hank greeted. All eyes turned to us and the five people who were seated stood at attention. At that moment I began to understand how much power and responsibility sat on Hank’s shoulders. Not only was he responsible for the men under him, but he was also responsible for making sure nothing happened to Meltdown or anyone associated with the label. Being that there were hundreds of people surrounding the band at all times, this was a huge undertaking. Hank held a finger up indicating for them to wait a second, and turned to address me. “You’ll find drinks in the fridge. Sampson will give you the Wi-Fi password and Sean will provide you with a Two Way Radio. That way if you need one of us all you have to do is press the red button and talk.”

I realized he was going out of his way for me and was filled with gratitude. “Thanks Hank, I really appreciate it.”

He smiled. “Enjoy what alone time you have. The bus arrives in an hour. Oh, and a word of advice for the future, never bet Grant Hardy on anything having to do with music. He always wins.” With a wink he turned and greeted the waiting crew.

Now he tells me.

Five minutes later they were out the door and my computer was up and running with a strong Wi-Fi signal. As I dialed the rehab facility I thought about how lucky Meltdown was to have Hank and his crew on board.

After several rings someone finally picked up. “Hello, you’ve reached The Meadows, how may I direct your call?”

“Yes, could you please connect me with Dr. Whitfield?

“I’m sorry. Dr. Whitfield is not available at the moment, can I take a message?”

My heart sank. “Do you by chance know when he’ll be free?”

“Are you a family member, a provider or calling from a doctor’s office?”

“I’m a counselor to one of Dr. Whitfield’s previous patients and would like to speak with him,” I firmly stated.

“Oh, in that case, let me transfer you to his personal assistant, Yolanda.”

“Thank you. That would be helpful.”

“Hold on one moment, please.”

As Tears for Fears sang about ruling the world I thought about the Cat Stevens song Grant was humming earlier,
Hard Headed Woman,
and made a mental note to look up the words when I had the chance.

The line picked up and, after quite a bit of shuffling, a woman said, “This is Yolanda, how can I help you.”

I decided to play it cool. “Hi Yolanda, this is Mallory Scott.” She didn’t reply so I forged ahead. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor, I –” She cut me off before I could get the rest of my question out.

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