Blame It on the Bass (28 page)

A cold, clammy weight pressed on Levi. His stomach churned. “The hospital?”

Corbin closed his eyes for a second, the phone half to his ear, as if still engaged in a conversation. “They called my number because it’s the last one dialed in Sonja’s phone. She didn’t have any identification on her and they didn’t know who else to…” He stopped. Shook his head. Opened his eyes and looked at Levi. “Who else to call.”

Levi’s blood ran cold. “What are you talking about, Cor? Why does the hospital have Sonny’s phone?”

Corbin drew in a shaky breath. “She was hit by a car three hours ago a block from here. A hit and run. They’ve performed emergency surgery but she slipped into a coma and they don’t know if she’s going to survive. Apparently she was running from the paparazzi and was hit on a pedestrian crossing.”

The world ceased to exit.

Sound vanished.

Levi stared at Corbin.

Corbin’s lips moved but Levi didn’t hear anything coming from his mouth.

The words of Sonja’s note slammed into him. “
I’ve gone home to get some clean underwear and clothes.”

And then it wasn’t just those words, but others gouging at his mind. Words from a lifetime ago…

“I’m afraid the baby didn’t make it, Mr. Levistan. She died at the—”

“The car ran a red light. Connie was killed on im—”

Fate rushed at him. Tore through him.

Ripped him apart and threw the pieces into the wind.

“The doctors did all they could, but her injuries were too severe for the baby to sur—”

The roaring wind. The roaring storm in his ears. The screaming roar. The roar that drowned the grief and the pain. A roar he ached to escape. The roar of his nightmares. His past…

“Fucking cry, will you? Little fucking cry baby. I’ll give you something to cry about. I’ll give you—”

The roar of his soul screaming. Screaming against the hideous horror of the hands, his father’s hands...

“Cry now, fucking baby. Go on. Cry. Cry. Where’s your fucking tears now, you little—”

The terror of the moment.

“I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…you just get me so mixed up sometimes. Here, let me show you how I’m sorry I am. Let me touch…yeah, there. That feels good, right? See how sorry I am? See how much I…how much I love you. Feel how much I—”

The terror of his soul, trapped in the body that could never escape his father’s—

“Levi!”

The shout smashed at his stupor. He blinked. Gasped. Shook his head and fisted his hands. Balled them against his thighs and ground his jaw.

Jax sat at his right, worry etched on his face. “Hey mate, you zoned out for a moment. You okay?”

Levi stiffened on the sofa. Looked around himself. “Where’s Corbin?”

“Getting dressed. Do you want me to call a taxi? Bruce is outside, standing guard at the door. Staving off the pap and reporters. Want me to send him to the hospital with you both?”

Levi drove his nails into his palms. “No.” The word left him on a blunt growl. He shoved himself to his feet.

Jax leapt to his, frown growing deeper. “Mate, you okay?”

Levi clenched his jaw. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

With a slow turn, Levi pivoted to face Jax. “Do I look fine, Campbell? Do I look like I’m falling to pieces? Will it help if I do? Would you like me to cry? Will that help?”

Jax narrowed his eyes. “How ’bout you go get dressed and I call a taxi?”

Without a word, Levi spun on his heel and strode to the bedroom. Corbin stood at the bed, tucking the hemline of his shirt into a pair of cargo pants. He raised his head when Levi entered the room. “She’ll be okay.”

Levi didn’t say a word. Instead, he yanked open the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans, Black Sabbath T-shirt, boots and a belt. He didn’t answer Corbin. Nor did he look at him as he dressed.

A beat of silence stretched across the room. He ignored it. Just as he ignored the screaming roar in his head and the numb grief in his chest.

Better to ignore it, shun it, than let it out. Letting it out only made the terror of the moment louder. Stronger.

He flinched at the feel of a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Please don’t do this again, babe.”

Corbin’s low voice sounded at his right. He shrugged off his partner’s touch. Swallowed the thick lump in his throat. Suppressed the rising fear in his gut. “Let’s go,” he said, walking from the room.

“Taxi’s here,” Jax turned from the apartment door, worry on his face. “Bruce will get you to it safely. He’s got most of the pap out there convinced he’s going to break them in half if they even think about taking a photo of you both. Sure you don’t want him to go to the hospital with you.”

Levi shook his head. “No.”

Fresh worry creased Jax’s forehead. “How about I come with you. I’m not overly convinced you’re thinking straight, Lev—”

“I’m fine,” Levi snapped. “I just want to get to the fucking hospital so I can see for myself how Sonja is.”

“Okay, okay.” Jax took a step back, hands raised. “Sorry.”

Levi bit back a sigh. Regret shot through him, but he suppressed it. As he did the hot lick of guilt scraping over his nerves when Jax shot Corbin a quick sideways glance.

“I’ll call you later, mate,” Jax said, although whether the promise was to Corbin or Levi, Levi didn’t know.

Deep in his gut, grief and sorrow broiled.

He pulled a slow breath, fixing his friend in a steady look. “Jax,” he said.

“Yeah?”

The concern in the keyboardist’s voice tangled in Levi’s guilt. He shook his head. “Never mind.” Turning to Corbin, he kept his own voice modulated. “Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t let them engage you. Ready?”

Dark, turbulent emotion flared in Corbin’s eyes. “Levi—”

Levi clenched his jaw. “I know. I’m a heartless prick. Now can we go?”

He pulled open the apartment door without waiting for Corbin to answer.

By the time they’d made it to the taxi, shielded from the paparazzi by Jax’s beefy bodyguard, the only sound Levi could focus on was the roaring in his head.

It grew louder the closer they drew to the hospital. Somewhere, in a detached part of his mind, he heard the news on the cab’s radio talk about, “the unknown female companion of musician, Levi Levistan and Hollywood screenwriter, Corbin Smith.” He heard the reporter state she was, “fleeing from paparazzi outside Levistan and Smith’s Woolloomooloo wharf apartment when hit by the car”. Heard the cabby ask if either he or Corbin knew of the woman and the famous men she was screwing at the same time seeing as they lived near the wharf where the hit and run had occurred.

Whatever Corbin said, Levi didn’t hear. The roaring in his head had become a deafening scream again. A scream so like his father’s incensed rage. A scream that hid a childhood of cajoling apologies and sickening, wrong pleas for forgiveness.

And yet inside that screaming roar, inside the icy numbness enveloping him, Levi fought for a voice. A warmth.

A memory of the joy he’d given himself over to last night. The love of a trusting man, the feisty spunk of a woman.

If only he could—

The taxi stopped.

Levi flinched again when Corbin reached for his hand. “The media’s here, babe.”

He looked past Corbin’s shoulder through the cab’s grimy window. Outside, loitering near the main entry doors to the hospital, like a pack of soulless ghouls, were the reporters.

“Do you know if there’s a back entry?” he heard Corbin ask the driver.

Levi shook his head. “No.”

Without another word, he pushed open the door and climbed from the taxi.

The media ran at him, microphones thrust out, weapons of mass degradation. He ground his teeth and walked through them. It wasn’t until he was in the foyer did he realized he’d been gripping Corbin’s hand the whole time.

He looked down at the fingers threaded through his. Blinked at them. When had he done that?
Why
had he done that?

“Guess you’re not as heartless as you think you are.”

He jerked his stare up, finding Corbin’s gaze. Finding his lover’s small wry smile. A twinge of warmth licked at the cold in his soul. He drew in a slow breath. Licked his lips. “Corbin,” he said, his voice dry. “I—”

“Mr. Levistan? Mr. Smith?” A man appeared at their side, wearing a suit and a furrowed frown. “A Mr. Jaxon Campbell called the hospital a few moments ago and informed us you would be arriving shortly. You are here to see the woman struck by the car?”

“Sonja Stone,” Corbin said. “Yes.” The steel in his answer, threaded with concern and unmistakable love, sheared through Levi.

The man in the suite nodded. “Come with me please. She’s been moved to intensive care in a private room.” He turned and strode away, his pace fast.

With a squeeze of Levi’s hand, Corbin followed.

What felt like a hundred corridors and turns later, the man—Dr. Killen, Head Administrator—lead them into a room filled with that surreal mix of suffocating silence and mechanical beeps only heard in hospital rooms.

A nurse stood beside a raised bed, adjusting the drip leading into the bandaged, motionless Sonja lying on it.

Levi froze, staring at the woman who, only a few hours ago, had been impaled on his cock as he and Corbin made love to her and each other.

“Shit,” Corbin whispered beside him.

One eye and half her face was covered in bandages. The other eye was swollen, bruises a molted mess of purple and red over her cheek and jaw. Black stitches ran from inside her bottom lip out to her chin. Grazes and gashes covered her exposed skin. Her right leg was set in a cast from hip to toe. A clear tube extended from inside her nose, taped to her nostril with stark, white plaster.

“Shit,” Corbin repeated.

“She was struck by an SVU at seven a.m. this morning,” the doctor spoke in a low voice, as if afraid to wake her. “The police have arrested the driver and I’m told the photographers who were pursuing her are also being questioned.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Corbin gripped Levi’s hand with painful pressure. Levi didn’t stop him.

Dr. Killen released a slow sigh. “The next forty-eight hours will be critical. She’s suffered internal damage and unfortunately, we were forced to remove her spleen. Cat-scans have revealed bruising of the brain along with a fractured skull, but thankfully there’s no evidence of an edema.”

“Jesus,” Levi whispered, staring at Sonja’s motionless form.

The smells of the hospital, the sounds, sank into his being, reminding him of the last time he was here. Their baby daughter’s death. The loss of his future. The breakdown of his and Corbin’s relationship…

He swallowed, sicken grief strangling him. Stinging heat welled behind his eyes. In his head, the roaring grew louder.

“Unfortunately,” Dr. Killen’s voice grew concerned, “she slipped into a coma post-op. I have assigned my best doctors to her, but at this point it is, perhaps, for the best. Her body has taken over her recovery.”

“Is she going to…” Levi stopped. Swiped at his mouth. He couldn’t say it. Instead, he held Corbin’s hand tighter.

Dr. Killen made a noise Levi didn’t like. Not one little bit. “I’m not going to lie to you, Mr. Levistan. She is critical. It depends on Ms. Stone. Is she a fighter?”

“Fucken oath,” Levi burst out.

The nurse flicked him a quick look.

“She’s…spirited,” Corbin offered, the word soft. Calm. Full of life and happiness and hope. In that one brief second, Levi couldn’t love him any more.

Nor need him more.

And the screaming roar in his head, his father’s tirade and lies and sick demands grew fainter. Less…consuming.

“Spirited is good,” Dr. Killen said with a warm smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will leave you both with her.”

“Both?” Corbin’s question echoed Levi’s surprise.

The doctor’s smile grew a little. “I am familiar with who you both are, Mr. Smith. And I’ve been informed—by numerous people in here—who Ms. Stone is to you. I am aware of your relationship.”

“And our fame?” Levi asked. “Is that the reason for bending the rules and allowing us in here with her? In this situation, I’m sure only family would normally be allowed in this room, no?”

Dr. Killen’s smile grew self-deprecating. “It would be foolish of me to deny I’m a fan of Nick Blackthorne’s music, and
Occasional
is one of my favourite films. But no, neither of you are in here because of your celebrity status. Rather, you are in here because Jaxon Campbell told me if I didn’t allow you in he would personally make my life a living hell. I’m not exactly sure what a rock star
can
do to a doctor to make his life so heinous, but in this case, I’m not going to risk it.”

With a nod, and a worried glance at the hovering nurse, he left.

The nurse glared at Levi, narrowed her eyes at Corbin and then, with a final check of the drip leading into Sonja’s arm, exited the room.