Hillbilly Rockstar (11 page)

“What?”

“I dunno. Five minutes ago you seemed . . . restless.”

She wouldn't admit to him, either, that being so close to him had her all kinds of revved up. But her usual ways of dealing—booze, sex, grappling—weren't feasible, so she'd go with option four: playing
Call of Duty
for a few hours. She faked a yawn. “Sorry. I'm fading fast. I'll see you in the morning.” Halfway down the hall, she stopped. “Don't forget to—”

“Leave my door unlocked. Yeah, I know the drill by now.”

Liberty grabbed her pajamas and changed in the bathroom. By the time she finished brushing her teeth, flossing and coating herself with lotion, Devin had turned off all the lights in the front of the bus. She listened at his door, expecting to hear the muted sounds of his TV or guitar, but it was quiet.

Her excitement level was still high when she crawled in her bunk and cracked open her laptop. While she was waiting for the connection, she fluffed her pillows and slipped on her noise-canceling headphones.

Cracking her knuckles might've been a little over-the-top, but she kept that superstition before she jumped into the fray.

Ready, set, go.

It was like coming home. Kicking ass and stomping over the dead
corpses on her way to empty a rebel safe house. She'd cleared the space of civilians and had tossed in a grenade to keep the rebel forces from returning to reclaim the structure when Devin ripped back the curtain.

She released a small scream and tore off her headphones. “What the hell?”

He got right in her face. “Just gonna crash, huh?” He pointed at her laptop screen. “Is that after you pulverize an entire city with your stockpile of weapons?”

Liberty glared at him and hit pause. “You play?”

“Not very often.” He squinted at the screen. “Holy shit. What level are you on?”

“Veteran.”

Then, without warning or even asking, he bullied his way into her private space. “Scoot over.”

“Hey!”

“What? I wanna watch the expert soldier do her thing.”

“Fine.” She moved closer to the wall. But they were still shoulder to shoulder. She hip-checked him. “Crowding me much?”

“I'm a big guy. I take up a lot of room.”

“Good thing you don't have to sleep in this bunk.”

“Quit complaining. This is a helluva lot bigger than some of the bunks I've slept in over the years.”

“It's definitely not made for two people.”

She realized her mistake when he crowded her even more. “It can be pretty comfy for two; it's just someone's always gotta be on top.”

Rather than get sucked into his smoldering eyes, she refocused on her laptop screen. “You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?”

Devin chuckled. “Without apology, darlin'. Want me to show you so you're in the know too?”

Yes. Please
. “No. Now hush. You're breaking my concentration.”

As the game progressed, Liberty realized Devin was hell on her ability to focus. The man was just so solid. And warm. He smelled good too, like sun-warmed pine and clean cotton. And sex.

Okay, maybe not sex, but she couldn't be this close to him and not have everything remind her of sex. With him.

He didn't ask a bunch of questions. He seemed content to watch her play. After about an hour, her neck hurt and her eyes started to droop. It'd be easy to rest the side of her face against his biceps and doze off.

“You okay?” he murmured into her hair.

“Getting sleepy.”

“Me too. I think it's time to hit the hay.”

She smiled against his arm. Except . . . When had she cuddled up to him? Why hadn't he moved her?

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Devin's rough-skinned fingers slipped beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “Tell me.”

“I haven't heard the phrase ‘hit the hay' for a long time.”

“What can I say? I'm a bumpkin.”

That's when those intent blue eyes sucked her in. “You're too polished to ever be a bumpkin, especially in public.”

“But in private?”

“In private . . . you're just you.”

“You say that like it's a good thing.”

“It is. Like tonight at the campfire. Another artist would've played his own music, but you covered everyone's but your own. And when Crash suggested you add the cover tune in your show? You said no.”

“You seem surprised that not everything I do is calculated to sell more records or concert tickets or charm the pants off the female fans.”

Stung, Liberty jerked her chin out of his hold. “Forget I said anything.” She logged off the game and powered down her laptop, ignoring him completely even when she could feel his breath stirring her hair.

“It seems whenever you say something nice to me, I don't believe it. Then I open my mouth and insert my foot. Bein' antagonistic with you isn't my intent.”

She sighed. “I know. I'm at fault too. I just don't know what to do with this.”

“That makes two of us.” He scratched his head. “The logical part of my brain says it was better when we had no personal interaction. I don't wanna listen to logic this time, Liberty. And I don't think you want to either.”

How hard would it be to redefine the parameters of this relationship? Scary to think it wouldn't be hard at all. That they'd been circling each other the last three weeks. Waiting for the right moment to make the change. “Look, it's late. We can have this discussion another time, okay?”

Devin scooted to the edge of the bed and ducked out of her bunk. “I'll let it go for now, but we can't keep ignoring it.” He placed his right hand on the curve of her jaw and swept his thumb over her cheekbone. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart. Thanks for today. It's been one of the better days in recent memory.”

Not fair the man could be so damn sweet that he made her ache. She shut the curtains and curled up in her bunk. But sleep was a long time coming.

D
evin was awakened by a loud scream. Immediately, he scrambled out of bed.

He'd left his bedroom door ajar and paused inside the doorframe instead of racing out—per his bodyguard's request.

Then he heard it again. A lower-pitched scream this time, followed by a loud “No, no, no! Please, no!”

Thumping sounds echoed back to him, and he realized Liberty was thrashing around in her bunk, not wrestling with an assailant.

Devin ripped open the privacy curtain, hoping like hell Liberty wouldn't shoot him on sight.

The illuminated strip running the length of the hallway allowed enough light for him to see she wasn't armed. But she was rolling around and kicking, bucking her body as if someone—or something—was holding her down.

She let loose a pain-filled cry that chilled him to the bone. That's when he knew he had to wake her—regardless of whether she came out swinging.

He leaned in, placing one hand on her forehead while at the same time clasping her left hand in his other hand. “Liberty. It's me, Devin. You need to wake up.”

She thrashed and violently moved her head back and forth, trying to shake off his hand, moaning, “No, no, no.”

As his eyes moved over her, he noticed her face was damp—from sweat
or tears? His gaze moved lower, and he saw her bottom lip was swollen and bloody from where her teeth had dug into the tender flesh.

Jesus. What images had her sleeping mind conjured to elicit this
reaction? He squeezed her hand and tried again. “Liberty. Wake up. It's okay. You're safe.”

Her body went scarily still. Then she turned her head and her eyes opened.

His stomach pitched at the look of horror in those silvery depths. “Hey.” He smoothed her hair back from her clammy forehead.

Liberty blinked, and panic crossed her face. “Devin? What're you . . . ?” She struggled to sit up. “What happened?”

“Nothin' happened. Besides you havin' a nightmare. I heard you and came to see if you were all right.” He tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. “No need to get up.”

“Move.” She dodged his touch and swung her legs—her shapely bare legs over the edge of the bunk.

That's when Devin noticed she slept in a pair of very short running shorts and a baggy US Army Rangers T-shirt. Before he could lighten the mood, since she was clearly agitated, she snapped, “I'm fine.”

“Liberty—”

“I said I was fine.” She stared at her feet. “Go back to bed.”

Devin stood and headed toward the kitchen. After snagging a bottle of water, he returned to her, twisted off the plastic cap and handed it to her. “Here.”

“Don't treat me like a child. Just . . . leave me alone.”

“Like hell.” He wrapped his hand around her jaw and tipped her head back, but the stubborn damn woman kept her eyes closed. Frustrated, he grabbed her hand and curled her fingers around the bottle. “Drink it.”

She shook so hard she spilled water all over her legs and her shirt. She took two sips—he had no idea how she managed to swallow anything through her clenched jaw.

Goddammit, the woman was hanging on by a thread. He snagged the bottle from her shaking hand and screwed on the cap. Threading his fingers
through hers, he pulled her to her feet. “Enough. You're comin' with me.” He towed her down the hallway.

“Devin—”

“Don't argue.”

“But—”

“Shut. Up.” He stopped at the end of his bed and kicked the door shut. “Crawl in.”

Liberty didn't move.

“Fine. Want to do it my way? Where I pick you up and throw you into my bed?”

She shook her head and crawled to the far side of the mattress.

Devin moved in behind her, dragging her body against his with his chest pressed to her back. Then he yanked the covers over them.

She gave a token protest until Devin said, “Suck it up. I'm not letting you go until you stop shaking.” He nuzzled the back of her head. “Relax. I've got you now.”

If anything, that caused her to tremble harder.

Devin just held on. He didn't say a word. Not even when he felt her silent tears trickling down her face and dripping onto the sheet. Not even when the trembling abated, but she wiggled, trying to get free.

After a while, she settled. He had no idea how long they remained like that, body to body, each wrapped in unspoken thoughts.

Liberty didn't pull away even after she expelled a long, loud sigh. “I'm sorry I lost my shit.”

“No worries. You wanna talk about it?”

She stayed quiet so long he figured that meant no.

But then she sighed again. “I hate when this happens.”

“Does it happen often?”

“Guess it depends on your definition of often. I haven't had one of these in months.”

“These . . . meaning what?”

Another bout of tense silence. Then she said softly, “A flashback. It's not fair to call it a combat nightmare, because I didn't end up in the combat
situations my fellow male soldiers did. I can't imagine what those guys are going through.”

“What was the flashback?”

“We were in the second wave of soldiers that were sent over there. I was
young and cocky. Hell, we were all cocky. Gonna kick some Middle Eastern ass. We were trained, but goddamn were we unprepared.” Her breath became labored, and she fought to even it out again. “Within three months of our yearlong stint, we'd lost four key people out of our company. One was Maria. My roommate. We were inside the fence. She headed to the mess hall about two minutes before I did. A sniper took her out. One second she was ready to eat another shitty meal and the next, she was dead. Afterward I kept asking myself what was so damn important that I hadn't been walking with her. Maybe I could've . . . saved her.”

Devin kept his mouth shut, not pointing out that if she'd been with her friend maybe she'd be dead too.

“So I get to relive that moment over and over. Sometimes exactly as it happened and sometimes the parameters change, but it always ends up the same—with me covered in Maria's blood.”

“I can't imagine.” It seemed far too natural to offer her comfort. He rubbed his cheek against the back of her head, her soft hair teasing his lips. “What happened after?”

“I pretty much closed down. Did my job but went out of my way not to make more friends. It was a lonely, miserable time, and I swore I wouldn't reenlist. I'd get out and work at fucking McDonald's if I had to. But by the time I returned to the States and reunited with my home unit, I'd changed my mind.”

“How many times were you sent over there?”

“Four.”

Jesus.

“A one-year deployment each time. Plus six months of specialized training with UN peacekeeping units.”

“Was the last stint when you were shot?”

“Yeah.” She paused. “But I don't have nightmares about that. Too many other things haunt me that there's no room for more.”

Devin didn't know what to say.

Liberty wiggled—a hint for him to let her go. “Uh, thanks, for, ah, you
know, but I'm better now. I'll just go back to my bunk so you can get to sleep.”

But he kept her locked in his embrace, letting her know she didn't have to run away from him. Letting her know he had no agenda besides holding her, offering her a little security and comfort in the middle of the night. He braced himself, expecting her to fight, but her breathing slowed and she crashed.

He forced himself not to think of her smooth, bare legs entwined with his. Or her toned abdomen where his palms rested. Or the warmed chocolate scent of her skin. He simply held her.

As he finally drifted off, he realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd fallen asleep with a woman in his arms.

The door to Devin's bedroom flew open, and instantly, Liberty pushed him flat on his back and rose on her knees in front of him.

Odette skidded to a halt. Her gaze winged between them and she grinned. “I knew I'd catch you two in bed! Personal assistant, my ass.”

Devin looked at Liberty, wondering if she'd make a smart retort about it being the first and last time they'd be caught in bed together.

But she just shot him a sexy smirk over her shoulder and said, “Busted,” before she faced Odette and Crash. “Was there a reason you interrupted us?”

“We're about to take off and little O insisted you two had plans to write together today.” Crash paused and looked at Devin. “Is that true?”

“Yeah. What time is it?”

“After nine,” Odette said. “We won't reach the Pine Hills County Fairgrounds until four. That leaves us six hours to work on new material while we're rolling down the blacktop.”

“Fine. Let us get dressed and we'll be right up.” He looked at Crash. “Tell Reg we're ready to roll.”

Odette offered a little wave and disappeared.

Crash watched her until she was out of earshot. “Sorry about that, but
you know how she gets. She was through the door and down the hallway just as soon as I entered the alarm code.”

“She's damn lucky Liberty wasn't armed.” He sighed and jammed his hand through his hair. “Next time call first. This is not the way we needed to be woken up this morning.”

“Understood. I'll have Odette make coffee.” Then he shut the door.

Liberty hopped off the bed. She paused with her fingers on the door handle, but she didn't turn around. “Thanks for last night, Devin. Sorry to be such a pain in the ass. It won't happen again.”

“Are you worried what Odette thinks of you?”

She shook her head. “I'm more worried about what you think of me.”

That shocked him, but not as much as what she said next.

“Some bodyguard I am, huh? Shaking and goddamn crying in the middle of the night to the point that you had to fucking coddle me—”

“Stop.” Devin was on her, clamping his hands on her shoulders. He didn't turn her around—allowing her the privacy of keeping her face hidden, but he refused to hear her excuse for showing him that she wasn't infallible. “To be honest, I'm glad you showed me your human side—even if it wasn't intentional. I was beginning to think they'd turned you into some kind of robotic supersoldier during your stay in the military hospital, because, darlin', you're always so coolheaded. You don't miss anything. While I'm thrilled that you excel at your job, since it's protecting my ass, I'm glad that I could be there for you when you needed someone.”

She exhaled.

Devin spun her around. “Have you tried to talk to a counselor about what you're dealin' with?”

Her whole body went rigid again. “No.”

“Why not?”

“None of your business. Drop it or I'll drop you.”

She acted tough. But something didn't fit. Why wouldn't the queen of the killer stare-down meet his eyes when she leveled a threat at him? “Liberty.”

“Move.”

“Look at me.”

“No. Just . . . move, okay?” she said, barely above a whisper.

Devin took a chance, hoping she wouldn't bite him or rack him when he placed his fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face. “What happened? Weren't we getting along for a change?”

She nodded.

“Then what's wrong?”

Her icy pale eyes finally connected with his. “Go back to being a dickhead. It's easier to deal with than when you're acting nice to me.”

“Jesus. Seriously?”

Liberty jerked her chin out of his hold. “Seriously. Now, get out of my way.”

That's when Devin noticed the labored state of her breathing. The pulse point in her neck was throbbing. The irises of her eyes were huge, not wary but darkened with a look he hadn't seen on her before. Desire.

“That's why you got so pissy?” He wanted to say,
Because you're not hiding the fact you're attracted to me?
But he decided that would send her scuttling back into her shell. So he settled on, “Because you've realized I'm not such a bad guy?”

“Yes. This isn't real. We're forced together because of professional circumstances, not because we choose to be together.”

“Bullshit. I chose you as my personal security. And I know Garrett gave you the option of saying no to me. But you didn't. So some part of you wanted to be here with me. Maybe it was strictly professional at first, but things change. We've been on this path since the moment you stepped on this bus with me. You aren't denying that, are you?”

After a long pause, she shook her head.

“So, baby, talk to me. Please.”

Liberty turned and faced the door again. “I . . . can't.”

“You can. I opened up to you about Michelle, and, sweetheart, that's damn rare. There's no judgment between us. You already told me some of
what you're dealing with. Maybe it'll help if you tell it all. Just rip off the bandage instead of letting the wound fester.”