Stolen Melody (Snow and Ash #2) (16 page)

Felicia goes round-eyed. She’s pretty, but she’s not what you’d call an extrovert.

“Jackie.” That’s all I say, but she squares her jaw. Jackie is her brother, and he is either dead or a prisoner here. We aren’t sure.

Juicy takes her role to heart and strips off both her coat and her sweater. She isn’t overly endowed, but there’s plenty enough to fill out the bra Zack pimped out for her, and anything she’s lacking, she makes up for with attitude.

The short Napoleon guy leads us up to the second floor and lets us into a dark, windowless hallway. He marches us halfway down and pauses in front of a polished double door. He gives it two sharp raps. “Sir?”

I count to five.

“Enter,” comes a stern voice. Or perhaps bored—I can’t tell.

Napoleon pushes the door open and “allows” us to pass.

An office is an office. Pens and desks and chairs and papers. They’re all the same. The second I enter this one, goose bumps erupt all over me. It’s no colder in here than it is outside, but the man seated at the desk looks like he poops ice, and his cold gray eyes scratch my skin. He has a chiseled face and an athletic body, and I guess some women might find him attractive in a crisp, military sort of way. Me, I feel like I’m in front of the warden.

He leans back in his chair and eyes me up. He lingers on my thong, and I wonder if he’s an ass man. A trace of a smile lights his face as he shifts his attention to Juicy.

“And what’s your name?” he asks her.

“Juicy.” She winks.

“Of course it is.”

He’s an asshole, but I didn’t come here to be friends.

“Melody,” he says slowly. “Why should I believe you?”

I refuse to tremble in front of this man. I’ll bet Axel could tear his head off with one jerk.

“I don’t have a birth certificate, and I was too young to get my license when Yellowstone blew.” I shrug. “Either you believe me or you don’t.”

He tilts his chin and seems to ponder that. “Tell me. Why is Melody running around the countryside giving concerts?”

I cock my head. “I’m not what the media made me out to be. I don’t go around screwing every guy I see, and I’m not going to lie, I’d burn every thong on the planet if I had a chance. But all I’ve ever been trained to do is entertain. Dance, voice, and piano lessons since I was four. I was onstage giving concerts when I was fourteen, and Yellowstone blew before I could get any type of…” I shrug, “Job training. Can’t cook, can’t type, and I don’t have a whole lot of choices.”

“Girl like you could have found a man.”

“Wow. Did I miss it, or was it just three years ago that we had a woman vice president?”

He smiles, and I get the sense that he’s enjoying me. I don’t know why. “All I’ve got is a nice rack, a singing voice, and twelve years of dance training. So I tour.”

He hmphs.

“Consider this the last gasp of the twenty-first century. It’s acoustic and a little on the country side, but it’s better than counting snowflakes.”

“So for the past three years you’ve been touring, huh?”

I feel a twinge of unease. What if he asks me what other towns I’ve been to? “Not all the time. I got stranded in a small community at first. I played piano for the church there. Then some guy came in and recognized me, and the good people of the town kicked me out.”

He lifts his brows.

“It happens a lot. I’m either a bad moral influence, or I have a bunch of guys following me around like I’m the town whore.”

His lips pucker as he sizes up my figure. He takes in the other girls too. “Do my men get to fuck you?”

“No!”

The corners of his mouth twitch, and although he could be laughing inside, to me it looks like he’s not happy about this.

I level him with a firm stare. “Let me make this clear. Sex isn’t part of the bargain. We’re not sluts; we’re performers.”

His gaze slides to Juicy, who blushes and simpers back.

“Maybe if you’re real sweet, one of them will be nice to you, but I’m not making any promises.”

He bends forward and folds his hands on top of the desk. “A concert.”

I nod. “One for the town, a private one for you and your guys if you want. In return we want warm shelter, three meals a day, and respect.”

He eyes me askance when I say respect.

“I’m just being honest. If there was someplace safe to live where people wouldn’t hound me, I’d go there. But there isn’t. I’ll say it again. I may dance like a whore, but I don’t put out. I don’t even give blow jobs.”

“Not even a blow job,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

I make a gag face. “Absolutely not.”

His expression closes. “No bargain.”

We stare at each other, and I get the feeling he’s waiting for me to give him something. Something a little extra.

“You two, go on outside.”

Juicy fixes me with a stare, like she’s saying who-the-hell-are-you?

“Out.” I point toward the door.

I wait until the door closes behind them.

“I’m responsible for a lot of people. What is it you want?”

“What every man wants.”

“You’re not getting that from me.”

He shrugs. “Then our business here is done. Corporal Dean will escort you to the gate.”

I go cold, and my feet anchor themselves to the floor. I have to stay. I have to do this. My hands form fists, and I fight with myself. Axel would kill me. Would kill him. He must never know.

“You can touch my tits.”

“Bra off,” he barks.

I look away and nod.

“With my dick.”

The shaking starts, and my breath comes in sharp, shallow pants. I blink back tears of humiliation and stare at the floor in front of the desk. This is betrayal. This is another man touching what belongs to Axel. The father of my baby.

My eyes glass over, and I can’t look at him. “If I do this, you have to promise not to tell.”

He sits up straighter. “Cross my heart.”

I look directly at him, and I let him see my soul. “If this gets out, there’s someone who will kill me. You have to take this to the grave.”

His eyes narrow and he leans forward. He gives a sharp nod.

Oh my God. What have I done?
 

“Take it off. Take it all off.”

“Are you okay, Melody?” Zack asks.

I nod, chin up so he can’t see how weak I feel.

I’m still shaking.

He narrows his eyes. “You don’t look all right.”

Juicy gives Felicia a wry glance. She’s kind of nasty if you want the truth, and I know if I make it out of this alive, I’m ruined. No one will want me, especially not Axel. It’s too late for regrets. The performance will start in about an hour.

Zack touches up my makeup.

“This stuff ain’t made for cryin’. You keep it together, hear?” He says this softly.

Which of course just makes my eyes fill up. Again.

With a sigh he grabs the corner of his sleeve and dabs them away.

“No more. I promise.” No more until after.

“You are brave and good.” He smooths my flyaways and steps back.

“You.” He points to Juicy. “Next.”

I huddle in a hard-back chair and clutch my coat to my chest.

“What happened?” Felicia winces.

“Nothing.” I don’t look at her. It was a savagely emotional experience, and I don’t want to talk about it.

While I was with Colonel Barry—turns out he’s the general’s brother—the others were escorted to our venue, an empty storefront in the downtown area. I don’t see how this is going to work. At the very least we need lighting. I take a break from self-pity to assess the situation. Mia tends to blend in well. She managed to sneak in and make contact with Zack a short time ago. By now, hopefully, our men know where to hit. Anxiety clenches my gut like a rubber band, and I want to fold over double. I don’t, though. It would only make the others nervous, and right now it’s time to be strong. For God’s sake, if we don’t pull this off, not only will Axel and the other prisoners die, but so will I and the other performers.

And so will the baby. If it’s even real.

Napoleon marches in clapping his hands. “Musicians!” He smiles like the dick he is. “Change of plans. We’re moving over to the Moonlight Bar.”

Panic wraps its hand around my throat. “What? You can’t do that!”

He raises his brows. “You got a problem with that, Melody?”

I glare at him, but inside I’m about to faint. “How are we supposed to get set up in time?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he says. “It has seating and good lighting. We’ll be able to see your—we’ll be able to see you better.”

Zack catches my eye, and I read my own dismay in his. I’ve got to think. Think.

“All right, people, let’s go!”

Every one of us is silent as three militiamen, including our Napoleon, escort us to the venue. It’s a ten-minute walk. Half a mile, maybe, but that’s all it’ll take to make this mission a disaster. I feel like I’m walking to one of those platforms where they hang you, and who knows? Maybe I am.

Juicy gasps. “What’s that?”

I turn to see what she’s looking at, and I stop cold.

“Don’t pay attention to that,” says one of our escorts. “Those men are being executed in the morning.”

They’ve fenced off a twelve-by-twelve area, and inside are a dozen or so wounded men.

Felicia gasps and claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes plead with me to do something, and I grit my teeth. I glance back at the men, and that’s when it happens.

I spot Axel. Our eyes meet, and my limbs twitch with need. I want to rip open that chain-link fence and go to him. The look on his face changes swiftly from wonder to anger. That can’t be for me, can it?

I swing my head away. My heart chugs inside my chest, and dread leadens my feet. Will he hate me for this? Will he punish me? Remembering his style of punishment, my pussy tightens. I’m that sick.

Chin up, I keep walking. I want to peer back one last time, to somehow communicate that I’m here for him and that I love him. But we’ve already passed, and straining for another look would only draw attention. A block onward, a group of young people, my age and younger, titter at the edge of the road. One girl sticks out. From here she seems a little older than the others. In her early twenties, maybe. When she sees she’s caught my eye, she does a little hop and she waves. “Melody!”

I smile weakly, so torn up with worry that I can’t summon the will to speak.

She looks to the girl beside her and turns back to us with a grin. “Can we have your autograph?”

Of all the stupid, selfish—I suck in a sharp breath. I stop and turn to Napoleon. I’ve forgotten his real name. “Um, sir.” I indicate the group with a nod of my head. “Is that allowed?”

He scowls at the cluster of young people, then sends me a power-trip smirk. “By all means.”

The others stop while I stroll over. I paste a smile to my face.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I place the speaker at about fifteen or so, and she shoves an old envelope at me.

I take it. “Anyone got something to write with?”

The older girl hands me her pencil. “Who should I make this out to?”

The perky fifteen-year-old does a little bounce. “To Hazel.”

I was that young once. I give her a genuine smile, scribble on her paper, and hand it back to her. I turn my attention to the older girl. I speak in a loud voice. “You’re pretty. You do any dancing?”

She blinks at me and shakes her head.

“I’ll bet you can sing, though. Right?”

“Ah, no,” she says with emphasis.

“You have great hair. Look at this.” I finger a strand of hair; then I grip her shoulders and turn her around, then back again. She’s staring at me like I’m a psycho now.

Well, I am. “Thank you for being my fan.”

Then I give her a hug. She pushes against me, and I put my lips to her ear. “It’s a setup. My boyfriend’s one of the prisoners. Get your friends out of here. If you want to help me, wait near the gate and tell the fort men we’re at the Moonlight Bar.”

She goes limp, and when I step away, she’s no longer smiling.

“Smile,” I say softly.

She does.

I take two steps back and wave at the group. “Thanks, everyone. I hope I see you in a couple days.”

A chorus of squees follows me back to the group.

“Feel better now?” Napoleon quips.

“Much.” I don’t, though. We’re in just as much danger as before, maybe more so. That girl could be so sick of fighting and death that she runs straight to Colonel Barry. I mean, really, what’s one ruling gang over another? The people here don’t appear to be suffering any more than the people in Sadie’s Bend. Poor, thin, a little desperate looking, but no more so than we are.

Right now I’m really scared. I used to puke before concerts, but I’m so far beyond that now I don’t think my stomach’s even working. Have I done the right thing?