Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) (3 page)

“
O
ut
!”

I nearly slumped against the crinkly POS pillow when a nurse bustled into the room.

“Visitation is long over, and we’re keeping Ms. Keystone for the night just to be safe. You can return in the morning for visiting hours, but she needs her rest.”

My dad started blustering, but my mother caught his hand. “Isaac,” she said in her quiet way.

He immediately went into protective mode. For once it wasn’t aimed in my direction. He gathered my mom into him and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry, Mere.” He looked over her head at Patrick, then at Noah. “I want a protective detail hired. Money isn’t an option.”

I closed my eyes. I knew he was worried, but the idea of someone following me around at all times was even more daunting than having an active stalker. I was used to people getting fixated on me. I was the only female in our band. There were just as many male fans, thanks to Hunter’s growly singing style and our heavy guitars that were tempered only slightly by my keyboards.

We were definitely in the hard rock category, and brought the rougher element to our shows sometimes. We’d made it through the crazy shift in music in the 2000s, and had come out even better as we were firmly heading to the other side of another decade.

But this was different.

This wasn’t just a guy who thought I was an easy lay.

This wasn’t a guy at all.

And somehow that made it all the more incredible to me.

Was this woman just fixated on my public persona? Or had she been trying to drag me off to her creepy basement to keep like a pet?

There was absolutely no reason for her to try to drug me.

The fact that I couldn’t remember everything that had happened was even more frustrating. I just wanted my life back.

I wanted to go on tour, and play music for my fans.

I didn’t want this.

But what exactly could I say? So I said nothing, and tried not to snarl and seethe at the people who loved me best. Wyatt and Owen came forward and gave me quick kisses on the cheek.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Owen said. His Irish was thick, worry etched in every word. He twisted his fingers with mine. The familiar scars webbing across his fingers made my eyes prickle.

I should be with my friends, celebrating at the wedding. At most parties, we usually ended up jamming on our acoustics to the drunken fight songs that Owen loved to pull out.

I shouldn’t be in this freaking bed. I shouldn’t be worrying my parents.

I shouldn’t have any of these problems, dammit.

Kennedy came forward with Hunter behind her. “Get better, okay?”

“I’ll be fine. The doctors are just being a pain in the ass.” The nurse made a humming sound, but I ignored her. “I want you guys to go on your honeymoon.”

Hunter shook his head. “Hell no.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Noah will be here until we figure out what to do. Heck, maybe I can hire him.” I spared him a glance. He was speaking with Patrick in hushed tones. Probably figuring out some sort of schedule to babysit me on the overnight.

“I already asked him to handle this,” Hunter said.

“Hunter—”

He moved around Kennedy and sat on the edge of my bed. “If I could get him out of his contract, he’d be hired right now.”

Disappointment hit me harder than I thought it would. I didn’t want to break in someone else. Noah might be a pain when it came to his rules, but at least I understood him. I knew him and was comfortable with him.

I didn’t want some stranger hovering around me at all times of the day.

“I understand. He’s always in high demand.” I knew he wasn’t just a bodyguard from the stories Hunter had told me. Noah was always going overseas or into some strange town in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t exactly know what he did, but I knew there was a lot more danger involved than a babysitting detail like mine.

Patrick walked to the middle of my room. “I’ll be right outside, all right?”

I sighed. It just wasn’t worth arguing about. At least not tonight. I smiled. “Thanks.”

He nodded and left.

My mother came up beside my bed and smoothed my hair back.

Hunter smiled at my mom then stood.

Noah came up beside them both. “I’m going to check in with a buddy of mine. He’s just finishing up a long-term job, so I’m going to see if he’s interested.”

Hunter frowned. “Who?”

“Quinn.”

Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. “Alexander?”

Noah nodded. “He’s one of the best I know in this business.”

“For Keys, though?”

I looked between the two men. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Hunter said quickly.

My mom’s hand came down on my shoulder. “All I care about is that he’s good at his job. Does he work with you, Noah?”

He nodded. “He works for Roth with me. He only does long-term assignments. People don’t ever want to give him up.”

“So, why is this job ending?” I asked.

“Because the client is moving overseas. Q likes to stay stateside. Believe me, the ambassador tried to get Quinn to relocate with him.”

Ambassador? I didn’t want to be impressed, but really? How could I not be?

“If he can protect a diplomat, he can protect my daughter,” my father said firmly.

“Dad, I don’t think he’s going to want to take on my job after he’s done something so important.”

“You’re important,” my mother said briskly.

If I rolled my eyes any harder, they would actually land on the floor. “You know what I mean.”

“If Quinn isn’t available, I have two others I can use, but he’s my first choice. He’s my best friend and I trust him with my life. Seems good enough for you, blondie.”

My lips twitched. “Smooth talker.”

Noah grinned and I relaxed a little. The dimples were back.

After Hunter glanced at his watch, Noah nodded at his brother. They were all fidgeting as if they were on the verge of taking off. But no one moved.

“Honestly guys, go. We’re going back on the road in two weeks, so I’ll just be hanging out at my house. I’ll be fine.”

“Like we’ll be able to eat, drink and be merry.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something to distract yourselves.”

Kennedy flushed. “It still wouldn’t be right.”

“Go. There’s nothing you can do here. Noah will take care of it, right?” I glanced at him.

Noah nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then it’s decided.”

Hunter’s brow was still furrowed, but he nodded. “Get some rest. We’ll check in on you tomorrow before we leave. How’s that?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Now I just had to get rid of my parents. My mom dragged over the chair and sat down. “Now, it’s time for you to go to sleep, my darling.”

“Mom, you need to go home.”

She shook her head. “No way.”

The nurse was reviewing the bags hanging beside my bed and checking my IV. I looked up at her. “She should really go home, right?”

The nurse glanced from me to my mom, and opened her mouth. When my mom gave her a mutinous look, I knew I was toast.

Guess I was having a sleepover with my parents after all.

Lucky me.

I
pulled
the books off the small bookcase in my quarters and loaded them into my ancient footlocker with the rest of my belongings. I’d been on this detail for close to eight months. One of my longer assignments to date.

It was my preference to have a home base of operations for my clients so they could reach me easily. Aidan Roth, my boss, knew my style and never seemed to have a shortage of these types of jobs lined up for me. Probably because I was the exact opposite of most of his operatives.

The bodyguard unit of Roth Defense was made up of a lot of retired or former military, and a few civilians with similar training. Aidan and Marcus Roth had created a very lucrative security agency based in New York City. When I’d left the Army Rangers, I’d been at loose ends.

Aidan had hired my best friend, Noah, and when he’d put feelers out for more people to add to the team, it had been a no-brainer. I trusted Noah more than anyone on this planet. The best part? Aidan wasn’t the micromanaging type. He left me the hell alone.

I took the shit assignments that the others didn’t want.

Gladly.

Most of the security team wanted action. I was the exact opposite. I liked order, and to keep order. The French ambassador was an older gentleman who liked routine as much as I did. He only entertained when absolutely necessary.

He preferred quiet nights with his family, and never gave me much trouble. His kids required a little more effort to keep in line, but for the most part it was exactly the kind of job I loved.

Orderly.

Structured.

No surprises.

I’d been tempted to go back with him to France and continue as his personal security, but I was tired of the politics. And without the ambassador, I sure as shit didn’t want to stay in Washington any longer than I had to. Security was a nightmare on Dupont Circle. I definitely wouldn’t miss that.

For the first time, I didn’t have another assignment lined up. I usually had at least a half-dozen people on the waiting list for me.

A soft hiss had me instantly reaching for the firearm that was never far away from my side. I slid the Glock out of my holster and pointed it toward the floor.

“Hey, old man.”

My shoulders relaxed. “Jesus, Noah.”

My best friend leaned against the doorjamb to my room, his eyebrows waggling in unapologetic glee that he got in without me noticing. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t have another client in the wings. Obviously I wasn’t on my game.

Or I’d gotten too used to the easy nature of this job. Neither was a comfort.

I tucked my gun back into the holster under my arm. “What the hell are you doing in D.C.?”

“Looking for you.”

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. “Is this why I don’t have an email waiting for me from Aidan?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

I’d worked with Noah more than a few times, but not in the last five years. He worked the more chaotic posts that usually included a few off-the-books operations. I had a greater chance of getting shot, usually. Even when I was a better shot than he was.

“Not like you to be cagey.” Again with an eyebrow response. “All right, not cagey with me.”

He grinned. “Truth.”

I resumed my packing. I wanted to get out of the house before the movers took over. I’d already handed the family off to their new detail, and did the goodbyes. I hated them. Avoided them at all costs, but the ambassador’s daughter was young and had grown very attached to me.

Probably why I was out of sorts. There was no other reason that Noah should have been able to sneak up on me.

I held up my dog-eared copy of
The Stand
. “I’m not going somewhere sandy and hot, am I?” A little Stephen King was good for a long, boring flight.

“Depends on your definition of sandy and hot.”

“Desert?”

“Then, no.”

I tossed the book into my bag, then crossed my arms. “Again, what’s with the lack of detail?”

“I know you’re not going to like it.”

“‘Not like it’ like when you dragged me to Fallujah for twenty-four days? Or ‘not like it’ because you’re passing off a pain-in-the-ass client?”

He drew air between his teeth. “Pain in the ass isn’t exactly right. I love this girl like a sister.”

My chest tightened. “Girl?”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Okay, not a girl. She’s almost thirty, for Christ’s sake.”

I frowned. Noah didn’t talk about too many people. One of the reasons we got along so well was because we didn’t push each other for a lot of discussion about our personal lives or pasts. The stickler for me? Family wasn’t a word he threw around lightly. “How much like a sister?”

His other dimple came out.

“No.” I backed up and slammed the top of my trunk closed and locked it. Before I could heft it up by the handles, he grabbed one side.

I was not working with his brother. Probably one of the band members’ girlfriends were… I frowned. No, he said family.

A flash of memory drifted in. Noah had a cigar box that he kept with him. It had a handful of photos, a sniper shell, and a cross. One of the photos—an old one that curled at the edges—was of him and Hunter with a girl hanging between them.

All smiles.

Blonde.

Trouble.

Like a sister.

“Come on. It’ll be a cake job.”

I pushed him through the doorway, not caring when his elbow clipped the doorjamb. “No, it won’t. Nothing involving
that
band is a cake job.”

He swore and shook out his arm. “Hammered isn’t dog shit on your shoe, Quinn.”

“Close enough.” One of the reasons I stayed away from the fame end of the bodyguard game was the pure lack of control. Venues, fans, entourages—all security nightmares.

He sighed. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

I stopped the trunk midway through the doorway. The dimple was gone, and his face was a little too bleak for my peace of mind. Noah didn’t ask for favors. I owed him about four by my last count, which meant my chances of saying no to this job were between none and zilch. “You’re a son of a bitch.”

“I beg your pardon? My mother is an angel, fuckface.”

I tried not to laugh, or even smile. For anyone else, I could manage it. “Yes, she is. I have no idea how you came from such a wonderful woman.”

“She says three rosaries for me daily. Says it’s the only way my soul will have a chance in getting to heaven.”

I started walking again. “That makes sense.”

“Did I mention you’re a shit?”

I nodded. “And yet you’re still here asking for a favor.”

“I’d do it if I could, but I was only in town for my brother’s wedding. I’ve got to report back to my client tomorrow night. I got Sarah to cover me, and she’s already bitching for me to get my ass back to Louisiana.”

I backed Noah through the living room in my small apartment, then we set the trunk by the door. I moved to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water, offering one to him.

This August in D.C. was hideously humid. My T-shirt stuck to my back and I’d barely had anything to pack. I sat on the edge of my couch. “All right. Give me a rundown.”

Noah leaned against the doorway between the living room and vestibule, and downed the bottle in thirty seconds. He tapped the bottle against his thigh, not saying a word.

I waited him out.

Either this was going to be one helluva whopping lie, or the job was a shitshow. I had a feeling it was the latter.

“Someone drugged Faith Keystone at the wedding.”

I slumped back on the cushion. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”

“Yeah. We were damn lucky I was about twenty feet from her when it was going down.”

“Was the guy caught?”

“Negative. Get this—not a guy.”

My eyebrows shot up. “All right. You got me twice.”

“She was dressed as the waitstaff and melted into the crowd as soon as I yelled. I didn’t even get a look at her. Just that she was blonde, five-three, and built like Keys. Also part of the problem—she’s got herself dressed up like Keys. Hair, clothes, hell…even her shoes.”

“Police?”

“Questioned her this morning before I left. Ketamine,” he said simply.

I sighed. “Swiss cheese for memory, huh?”

“Pretty much. The cops filed a report, but there’s not much they can do. There was intent obviously, but they can’t put a detail on her. The band has security, but Patrick O’Connor is more of an all-around babysitter. He’d punch me dead in the mouth for saying that.”

“And I get to work with this joyful person?”

Noah shrugged. “You’d probably get along with Patrick. He’s about as much of a conversationalist as you are.”

“Trying on that comedian hat again?”

“I hung out with the guys for a weekend. It happens.” Noah moved forward and leaned his hip against one of the club chairs. “Honestly, for the most part, these guys don’t have a lot of trouble.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He snorted. “I’ve known Keys since before she could legally buy a shot. She’s a good kid.”

“You’re thirty-six, Noah.”

“Yeah, well as I said—sister.” He folded his arms. “If something happened to her, Hunter would probably be arrested for murder. I might get away with it, but he’s dumb and passionate.”

I sighed. “Does she know you’re siccing me on her?”

“Yes.”

“You’re still not telling me everything.”

Noah paced away. “Look, I know you’ve got issues with the weirdness of LA—”

“I like LA fine. Great Mexican and sushi. Best I’ve ever had without being in the actual countries of origin. What I have a problem with is the absolute lack of security protocols followed. D.C. might be a pain in the ass, but people here know how to deal with security. Fans are worse than suicide bombers. You never know what the hell they’re going to do.”

“Yeah, well—full disclosure—they got nothing on Keys.”

“This kills two favors.” I leaned forward, the bottle dangling between my knees. “Two.”

“I saved your life three times, and dragged your ass out of Paris when that bitch tried to skewer you with a saber.”

I flushed. “You were the one who came up with the harebrained scheme to seduce a fencing champion at the embassy, you ass.”

“Can I help it that you suck at seduction?”

I opened my mouth to argue, and closed it again. It really wasn’t worth it. There was no way that I was going to win this argument. And there was no way I was saying no.

“When do we leave?”

“Let me help you with that trunk.”

“Crap.”

“It’s good for you to get out in the world.”

I hauled myself off the couch that had always been too short for me. “I hate you.”

“Nah. You hate rock stars.”

“Truth.”