Hillbilly Rockstar (34 page)

“You . . .” She swallowed hard. “Have a way with words.”

“They come easier when they're spoken from a place of truth.”

“So how long will you continue this erotic torture? Until I beg?”

He traced the sharp edge of her jaw. “This isn't about power.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Makin' love. Showin' love. Bein' in love.”

Liberty's lips trembled. “I don't know how to do that.”

“Sweetheart, we've been learning how to do
exactly
that for the last four months we've been together.” When their mouths met, the kiss was scorching hot. But Devin wouldn't be rushed. When he kissed her, that's all he focused on. Her taste. The feel of her tongue tangling with his. Their synchronized breathing. How perfectly their mouths fit together.

How perfectly they fit together.

When the time was right, Devin levered himself over her, wedging his
hips against hers, and slowly slipped inside her. He forced himself to stay still. To not give in to that powerful need to thrust. He looked down at her.

She lifted her free hand and touched his face. “I love you.”

He'd never been happier than in that moment. “I love you too.”

Her hand moved down his side to his ass. She slapped it hard. “Now fuck me.”

Devin laughed. “Whatever you want.”

T
he final performance of Devin McClain's four-month-long Heroes and Heartbreakers tour had arrived.

Liberty would be intimately familiar with the term
heartbreaker
at the end of the night.

The late-afternoon sun shone through the skylight above Devin's bed, sending sunbeams across his skin.

They'd spent the last hour in bed. The first time had been so fast—clothes off, hit the mattress and
boom
he was thrusting inside her—that she wondered if they were playing
Beat the Clock
.

The second time had been slower. Climbing that peak together until they both tumbled down in a dizzying, blissful rush.

Devin's rough-tipped finger circled the white bandage on her biceps. “I know it's been a week, but sometimes . . . I can't believe you got shot.”

“I'm happy there wasn't muscle damage.”

“Me too. Still . . . you'll have a scar.”

“It'll match the others.”

“Liberty—”

“I'm not being flip.” She looked at his fingers gently stroking the inside of her arm. “Now I'm officially two for two.”

“Meaning what?”

“The ambassador I saved? First and last security assignment.”

“But I thought . . .”

“My security specialist skills Garrett brags about were securing transport trucks, not people.”

“That tears it. I'm gonna demand my money back for false advertising,” Devin drawled.

Liberty smiled. “Too late. And now, with my very first private security job, I end up with another damn bullet hole. It's enough to put a girl off bodyguard jobs for good.” The instant she said it, she wished she hadn't.

“So ditch your job workin' for GSC and come to work for me full-time. You can handle security for my tours.” He smoothed his hand over her shoulder and curled his hand around her cheek. “Although you never want to talk about this, you know I don't want this to be an ending. Let's make it a beginning.”

“Devin—”

“Hear me out. I need a security coordinator. You're the very best I've ever had. You could run your own business, set your own hours. We'd be together on the bus during tours and the rest of the time we can live at my place in Nashville. We could be out as a couple everywhere.”

The way he phrased it sounded perfectly logical.

But not for her.

Didn't he see that? How could he not realize that she'd suffocate in that no-purpose role? She'd never fit in his lifestyle. She needed something for herself beyond seeing to his needs.

But doesn't he see to yours? In ways you never imagined any man would?

Yes. But still, Liberty had known their relationship would end when the tour did, despite all of Devin's hints that he wanted it to continue. She could tell herself that she hadn't meant to fall in love with him, but from the moment he'd hauled her out of bed and comforted her after she'd had a nightmare, she realized falling for him was inevitable.

So her options were to end this with a big fight, or nod her head, play along with his delusions of their togetherness and then leave him like she'd planned.

Shame on you. Act like a soldier, not a coward running away again, and face this thing head-on.

At least a fight would allow her to tell him exactly why they wouldn't work. It'd hurt him—something she didn't relish doing. She wanted a clean
break, not a cruel break. Which is why she'd never tell him about the hundred-thousand-dollar bonus she'd earned for staying with him on tour.

Walking away from him would be hard, but she'd survive. She always did.

So why was she crying just thinking about it?

“Darlin', what's wrong?”

She rolled to the side of the bed and started putting on her clothes.

“Liberty? Say something.”

Inhaling a deep breath, she turned around and said, “No.”

“No what? No, you don't want to say something?”

“While I appreciate the offer, no, I won't be handling your security on a permanent basis.”

Devin shifted to his side of the bed and pulled on his clothing.

Then they faced each other in the middle of the room, ready for battle.

“What don't you understand? I love you. I want a life with you.”

“Stop. Your declarations are just making this harder. This will never work.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don't want the same things.”

“You don't want a man who loves you more than he ever thought he was capable? You don't want to make a home with me and maybe a couple of children?”

She wiped her eyes, but the tears kept coming. “Don't be stupid. Of course I want that. The problem is I can't have that with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I love my job and that job is in Denver. I'm finally in a good place where I can have a home of my own—something I've never had. I lived the nomadic lifestyle my entire life, Devin. First growing up and then in the military. I'm thirty-five years old, and for the first time I'm putting down roots.

“Can you really see me in your life, Devin? At some fancy record label party? I'll never be the polished type of woman you need on your arm. And can you imagine the looks of horror if you told them I ran your tour
security? It brings us right back to the issue you've had since day one on this tour.”

“Don't go there,” he warned.

“I have to! You don't want anyone thinking that you've got a woman protecting you. I won't let you be the butt of jokes in an industry where you work so fucking hard to earn respect. I've worked hard to earn respect too, and I'm not walking away from something that is more than just a job; it's my career.”

There was only about ten feet between them in the room, but it might as well have been ten miles.

A lifetime of silence hung between them.

“You never saw this ending any other way, did you?” he said softly.

She shook her head. “And I fell in love with you anyway.”

“That is exactly why we can make this work. We have to at least try.”

“Fine. Let's compare schedules. I'm training in the field for a month after I return to Denver. It's not a Monday to Friday, with weekends off kind of job. It's whenever and wherever Garrett needs me to train. So I have no idea when I'll be around. You plan to sit in my apartment and wait for me to get home?”

He scowled.

“Oh, does that conflict with
your
schedule?”

“Yes. You know damn well I've booked studio time and I'm playing at the Ryman.”

“So you couldn't kill time waiting in Denver anyway. We're back where we started. Living our lives, but not together.”

Devin shook his head. “I can't accept that. Maybe next month won't work as far as seein' each other, but the month after that might. And the month after that. We can take it month by month. Who knows what'll happen next year? My career might tank and no one will schedule me to play anywhere. And you could get—”

She held up her hand. “Please don't say I could get injured in the line of duty.”

“But it happened to you twice, and it can happen again.” He shoved his
hand through his hair. “I lived my worst nightmare when JT had a gun pointed at you.”

Here was the moment of truth. “Do you wish that I didn't have such a dangerous job?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

“Then we're even,” she said softly. “Because I see those hordes of women clamoring for you, and I wish you wouldn't step foot on that stage. But that's who you are, Devin. That's a big part of the man I fell in love with. I'd never ask you to change who you are to be with me.”

He stared at her for so long she wondered what the hell was going through his head. “And I'd rather have a few sleepless nights worrying about you than demand you change what I love and respect most about you.”

When Devin wrapped himself around her, she knew he finally understood. They clung to each other, neither one willing to be the first to break away.

“I love you,” he whispered. “That ain't ever gonna change.”

“I know. I love you too.”

Then, in almost perfect synchronicity, they both stepped back.

“Will you be at the show tonight?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Since it's the first time I'll see it as a fan and not your bodyguard.”

“It's the same show. I'll see you at the after-party?”

“All the bigwig sponsors will be there. Your time will be at a premium.”

“That's not an answer.”

Liberty was hedging because she'd already booked her ticket on the red-eye flight from LAX to Denver. She'd stay for the performance, but not the after-party. It'd be easier if she didn't tell him. If she just . . . wasn't there. “Are you doing any new material tonight?”

“Haven't decided. Crash is bugging me to do a couple of cover tunes to
make the set just a little longer, so we'll see.” He reached for her hand. “I've gotta get to rehearsal.”

“Go.”

Devin kissed her. It was a sweet melding of mouths that left her feeling breathless and even more brokenhearted.

“See you in a few hours.”

But as soon as he was out of the bus, she packed up.

The band and the crowd were rowdy. More wound up than any other night she'd seen them play. She chalked it up to it being the end of the tour.

After playing all his big songs and a new one that he and Odette had written, the house lights went down.

Devin situated himself on a stool, stage center, and strummed his guitar. Then he adjusted the microphone and looked at the audience. “I'm doin' something a little different tonight, so bear with me.” He plucked a few more strings.

Why did he look nervous? That made her nervous in turn.

“I've got a . . . friend who's not a big fan of country music.”

Boos rang out.

He laughed. “Now, hold on. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, even if it's wrong.”

It seemed like everyone in the arena laughed at that.

“It's tempting to take a pop song and countrify it to prove that if the song is good, it can be played country style.”

Leon did a traditional steel guitar riff; then Odette joined in on fiddle and Steve on drums.

“But some songs don't need extra flash. Some songs don't need to be countrified. Some songs are best as is. Stripped down to basics. Like this one.” He bent his head so his hat cut the glare of the stage lights. “This one's for you, Liberty.”

As soon as Devin hit the first chord progression, everything inside her tightened. And when he started the chorus of “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5, her tears fell without shame. She wrapped her arms around
herself, keeping her eyes glued to the stage, letting Devin's beautiful, soulful voice fill her—even when it was breaking her into a million tiny pieces.

There was a moment of stillness throughout the stadium when Devin
finished. Then thunderous applause created a roar that moved through the building in a deafening wave. Even the people behind the scenes were abuzz.

Which made it easier for Liberty to avoid everyone on Devin's crew and disappear into the night.

L
iberty was gone.

Gone without saying good-bye.

Isn't that what you were doing in the hotel room earlier today? Saying good-bye?

He signaled for the cocktail waitress to bring him another beer as he tuned out the hipster blowhard from some LA indie label.

“Here you go, Mr. McClain,” the cocktail waitress with gigantic fake tits, a fake tan and fake white teeth cooed at him as she handed him the bottle of Coors.

“Thanks, darlin'. And don't go far because I'll need a lot more of these tonight.”

“I'd be more than happy to provide anything you need,” she said in a husky tone.

As she sauntered away, Devin decided his cocktail waitress really had a cock—no woman he'd ever met had shoulders and arms that size. No way.

“Gah. Why are you drinking that?” indie label guy said with disdain. “I know there's a decent selection of craft beers.”

“Nothin' wrong with Coors.”

Indie guy opened his mouth to challenge that statement, but Devin cut him off. “Coors sponsored my tour. Which I'm sure offends your sensibilities, assuming I sold out. I didn't. I don't accept sponsorship money from companies I don't believe it. I've been drinking Coors since I was old enough to buy my first six-pack.”

The challenging look Devin leveled on him sent him scurrying away.

Carl moved in beside him and sighed. “You're usually a lot more charming than that, McClain.”

“After four months on the road, I'm all out of charm.”

“Can't say as I blame ya.” Carl tipped back his own bottle of Coors. “If that small-potatoes label didn't have an artist that your label was trying to poach, that guy wouldn't even be here.”

“Gotta love end-of-tour parties. Not.”

“I know you're glad this tour is over, and I have to tell ya, we couldn't be happier with the preliminary numbers. Even with the added expenses after the Houston incident and the Portland incident, we're still ahead. That makes the investors and the sponsors happy, so kudos to you. Anytime you're ready to talk about setting up another headlining tour, I'm game.”

Carl was game as long as Devin had songs in the top twenty and a new album to promote. Once that dried up, so would the offers. “I'll keep that in mind. But for now, I need a break.”

“I imagine so. Especially after all that happened with JT.”

It burned his ass that a man he'd befriended had lied to him, stolen from him and used him—from the very start. Not to mention he'd shot Liberty. “I still feel like an idiot over that.”

“The guy passed all the security checks. Who knew he had a gambling problem? Don't beat yourself up about it. I'm just really glad Miz Masterson was so fast on her feet or things might've turned out differently.”

While Liberty had been undergoing treatment in the ER, Devin had told the cops what'd happened. Mostly. He stretched the truth a bit and said Liberty had wrestled with JT—that's how she'd ended up getting shot. Devin had changed the details because he didn't want anyone reading the police report and thinking he was some kind of hero when he wasn't. Liberty was. He'd told Garrett the truth and let him decide what to tell the promotion company. Liberty didn't know any of this and never would.

Carl drained his beer and seemed to sway more than usual. Awesome. The man was drunk. “She was worth every damn penny, including the bonus.”

“What bonus?”

“Performance bonus. Extra cash if she lasted the entire tour.”

Right. It was a fucking bribe for her not to sue them for getting fucking shot. “She oughta be surprised.”

“Not a surprise to her. She knew about the money when she signed on. In fact, she insisted the bonus be paid within three days of the end of the tour.”

The truth sent his stomach churning even worse than the idea of a bribe to stay with him. “How much was I worth?”

“A hundred thousand dollars. I was willing to double that, but GSC didn't counter for more for her and I wasn't gonna offer.”

That was a lot of money. Now he knew why she'd been looking at property in Denver. A hundred K was a hefty down payment on any house.

Had she only pretended to be in love with him?

Fuck that. She loved him. She loved him so much she was running scared.

Or had she run away, laughing, with dollar signs in her eyes?

You're just a commodity to most people. Money, sex, publicity—if you don't provide it, they don't want you.

“Hi, Devin. You're looking good.”

Devin was tempted to sprint toward the door at the simpering voice of his ex, China. Of course he'd see her when he was all pent up, wondering if Liberty loved him, or if she'd merely played him.

“Hey, China. Surprised to see you.”

She stuck out her lower, heavily Botoxed lip in a fake pout. “I remember when you used to call me China doll.” She put her hand on his chest and leaned close. “Can we let bygones be bygones?”

“Really?” he said in a hoarse tone, trying not to breathe in the artificial smell of her. And did she really think he'd just forget about all the crap she'd put him through? Not fucking likely.

“Seeing you onstage tonight got me all hot for you again.”

“How about if I do something to put out that heat?”

She dug her nails into his chest and purred, “Now we're talking, lover.”

Devin stepped back. “I'll get you a drink.” He headed for the bar, snagged another bottle of Coors and walked right out the door.

Ten minutes later, he'd tracked down his tour manager, who was glugging down a bottle of Jack.

They sat side by side on the cement ledge of the docking bay watching the roadies load equipment. “I'm starting to feel the booze.”

“Getting shitfaced is unlike you, Crash.”

“This has been a tour unlike any other.” He swigged from the bottle. “I'm getting too old for this shit.”

Devin sent Crash a hard look. “Jesus. Don't tell me you plan to quit. I've already had one person leave me today.”

“Liberty didn't leave you. She finished her job and returned home.”

“That ain't helping.”

“Come on. How else did you expect it to play out?”

“I didn't expect her to take off without a fucking word.” He drained his beer and was tempted to throw the bottle just to hear the angry sound of crashing glass. “But I imagine she's gotta be in Denver, at her bank Monday morning, to cash that big fucking check.”

Crash frowned. “What check?”

“The big fat bonus check from Big Sky for makin' it through the whole tour.” He looked at him. “You didn't know?”

“No. But it's not like that's something new.”

Startled, he said, “What do you mean?”

“You've never been interested in the nuts and bolts of the tour side beyond the venues, but almost everyone associated with the tour, even the roadies, get a performance bonus if they finish the tour.”

“Even you?”

“Even me. So see, it's nothin' personal. From what I've seen of Liberty, as much as she earned that money, I imagine she feels guilty for keeping it.”

“Because she had to pretend to be in love with me for four fucking months?”

Crash laughed. “You are an idiot. The woman is in love with you for real. Goddammit, Devin. How many other women would've taken a bullet for you? How many other women really, truly don't give a good goddamn
about your celebrity? Or your money? She doesn't. You were more open
with her than I've ever seen you with anyone, including people who've worked for you for years, including your own family.”

Really tempting to throw that bottle now—except right at Crash's drunken head.

But he's not telling you anything you don't already know.

“I know you don't like me nagging, but did you see your family when you followed Liberty to Wyoming during the break?”

He shook his head.

“Why not? And don't tell me it's too hard.”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?” Crash demanded.

Devin snagged the bottle and knocked back a slug of whiskey. “It's like we're not even family—just strangers who survived a tragedy with nothin' else in common now that the crisis is over.”

“Your family never talks about Michelle? Or you never talk about her with them?”

“I talked about Michelle with Liberty.”

“Did it help?”

He sighed. “Yes. And no. It stirred up all that shit I've been avoiding.”

Crash snatched the bottle back. “Tried to tell ya at the Cheyenne show that your folks and your sister and her family were disappointed you didn't hang out with them. They saw you with your hometown friends, so it wasn't like you didn't have the time. You just didn't choose to spend time with them. I imagine that's a little hard to swallow.”

“I suck. I know that, all right?” he said hotly. “Maybe I'm stayin' away from them for their own good. What broke between us . . . Maybe it just can't be fixed.”

“Whatever, man. You sure can't fix it if you don't ever bother to try.”

The same exact thing Liberty had said to him.

Which made him suspicious. “Were you and Liberty talkin' about my private family stuff behind my back?”

“A few times. Mostly after you visited a kids' hospital. It wrecks you. In
the past I'd been the one to pick up the wreckage, and she gladly took on that burden.”

He had been a big damn burden to her. But she'd never been anything but supportive after those visits. Sweet. Caring. Or she let him wallow. Or she encouraged him to talk. She had the uncanny ability to know exactly what he needed.

“Despite the family situation that's still weighing on you, in the last four months you've been happier than I've ever seen you. It's like she gave you back a piece of yourself that's been missing.”

“What piece?”

“Your heart.”

Crash wasn't wrong, but he'd sound like a fucking pussy if he said the reason he didn't give out his heart was because the son of a bitch always got broken. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You'd be a damn fool to let her get away now that you finally found her. Gotta say, man, that'd drive me fuckin' nuts, knowing where she is and not goin' after her. Me'n my missus have been married thirty-five years. It sucks balls bein' away from her. But we made a deal that I'd do only one tour a year. The other eight months I'm be underfoot, driving her ass insane. We found a solution that works for us.”

“That's what I told her! We could figure out a way to make it work if she just trusted me.”

“Talk is cheap. Put your cards on the table so she can't miss what you're offering her.”

Devin let that sink in. He swiped the bottle from Crash and drank. “Did you see her leave tonight?”

“Yeah. She was crying so damn hard that she couldn't even talk. I helped put her bags in the cab. Christ. She had four pieces of luggage. How the hell she'll manage that with her injured arm is beyond me. Probably not beyond her though. That woman is a beast.”

“Where was she goin'?”
Please say a hotel
.

“Airport. Imagine she's in the air by now.”

His throat burned, imagining Liberty alone, struggling with her baggage and her emotions. He returned the bottle without taking a drink.
“Thanks for the advice.” He hopped down. “It's easy to let the family stuff slide, because I have you and the rest of the crew as my family these days.”

“And you, more than anyone, know how to fix things when they start to go bad with all of us. Maybe it's time you put that into practice with your own family.”

“Maybe.” He clapped Crash on the shoulder. “Later.”

“Where are you goin'?”

“To make a couple of calls.”

Liberty understood why they called it a red-eye flight. With few passengers on board, she just let her damn tears fall. There wasn't anyone around to see them.