Hillbilly Rockstar (23 page)

In the time they'd been lovers, whenever she dropped to her knees or
slithered down his body to take his dick in her mouth, he'd let her get in a couple of good licks and sucks, but he wouldn't let her finish the job. He wanted more than that with her. Stupid reasoning, but he wanted all the other aspects of sex besides blow jobs that he'd denied himself with the groupies.

When she shivered, he broke the kiss and murmured, “I brought a blanket if you're cold.”

She smiled. “I'm not cold. If you haven't noticed, the way you kiss me always makes me shiver. But I wouldn't mind sitting on the blanket.”

“Sounds good.” Devin kissed her again and then reached for his backpack. He pulled out a sleeping bag, unzipped it, and walked to drier sand before he spread it out.

Liberty left her flip-flops where they were and plopped on the left side of the sleeping bag.

But Devin wasn't having it. He sat in the middle and pulled her up until she sat between his legs, with her back against his chest. “Much better.”

“Now there's sand everywhere on the blanket.”

“Sweetheart, we're at the beach. There's gonna be sand everywhere no matter how careful we are.” He nuzzled the back of her head. “Besides, this is a date. Our bodies are supposed to be in contact as much as possible.”

She snorted. “You just wanna cop a feel to see what kind of bra I'm wearing.”

“I already know you're wearing a normal bra, not a titty squisher. Because when you hugged me, I loved feelin' all that soft flesh pressed against me.”

“So maybe, just maybe, if you are a perfect gentleman the rest of the date, I'll let you get to second base.”

Devin bent his head to brush his lips across her ear. “And if I'm not a perfect gentleman?”

She wiggled her ass against his crotch. “Then at the end of the date, I'll
let you bend me over the couch on the bus and fuck me until I scream your name.”

“Tough choice. But I'll go with option two.” He nipped her earlobe. “That okay with you?”

“Mmm-hmm. Gonna be a long drive back to the bus.”

They gazed at the moonlit sky and the reflection of the moon on the ocean. The foam on the waves was a fluorescent green, from some kind of algae plankton that was prevalent in the summer months. He remembered Tanna explaining it during one of their beach talks.

After a while, his arms tired of holding them up, and he stretched out on his back with Liberty lying beside him.

“Could you live someplace like this year-round?” she asked.

“I don't know. It'd be cool to have a beach house getaway. But I like the change of seasons. I don't even get as much of that as I'd like living in Nashville. But the last year I've been on the road so much, I walk into my house in Nashville and feel like I'm in a hotel. Not the kind of place I thought I'd come home to.”

“Meaning a wife and three point two kids waiting for you in your mansion?”

“It's not a mansion by any stretch,” he said dryly. “I'd like to have the wife and kids someday. I'm not in any hurry.”

“You don't have to be. You're a guy. You can father kids at any age.”

“How about you? Got a burning desire to have munchkins running around?”

“Never thought I'd want that until Harper had Tate and Jake. But unless I meet Mr. Right—not the ones in the Wright Brothers Band, so quit making that growling noise—pretty damn soon, I'll be shit out of luck. My biological clock is ticking furiously.”

Devin never thought about this stuff, to say nothing of talking about it, because most women would assume when he discussed having kids, that meant he wanted to have them right now with them.

For some reason he had a flash of a cranky Liberty being pregnant with his child. Then he saw her cradling an infant and him holding the hand of
a pigtailed little girl and it didn't scare him senseless. It seemed almost . . . right.

Liberty moved until she hung on all fours above him, pulling his attention away from his strange vision.

“Are you ready to go?”

“No. Close your eyes and keep your hands folded behind your head.”

He complied. She kissed him with that blend of fire and control that
made him crazy. By the time her hand traveled from his pecs to his belly, his cock had gone hard.

She stroked his shaft through the cotton material until he made a low groan. Then she popped the button, eased the zipper down, and tugged on his camo shorts and boxers until they were past his knees.

Then she scooted backward, planting kisses in a straight line down his torso. The tip of his cock bumped her chin. She didn't look up, didn't speak. Liberty just drew him deep into her mouth on the first pass. Warmth and wetness surrounded his shaft—a feeling of bliss in itself, and then she started to suck.

Goddamn, did that feel fucking amazing.

Her hair drifted across the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen with every vigorous bob of her head.

Her breasts swayed with her body movement, rubbing his thighs until he imagined it was just her hard nipples teasing his skin with no barrier between them.

Fuck. That mouth of hers. She didn't need her hands. She was already turning him inside out.

But Devin needed to stroke her cheek or touch her hair. Look into her eyes. Make it intimate and personal and not like every other blow job, where he just sat there and the woman on her knees went to town.

Not this time.

He sat up and curled his hands over her ears, lifting her face to break the connection between her hot mouth and his dick.

Her eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Don't stop me so you can fuck me, Devin. I want to suck you off.”

“I want that too. But I wanna watch this pretty mouth wrapped around
the base of my cock. It's fuckin' sexy as hell that you can take me so deep. I want to watch as you drive me out of my mind. I want to watch as you swallow my come. I want you to look at me and see what you do to me.”

“Okay, then. But I don't want you to hold back. I wanna feel you spill in my mouth.”

He stroked her cheek. “That'll happen sooner than you might think.”

“Good. And I want to hear you say my name, Devin.
Mine
. Shout it,
groan it or whisper it, but in that moment when you let go, I want you to remember who got you there.”

There was a glimpse of her sexual ego he hadn't seen before. “Anything you want.”

Devin thought she might tease, drag this out longer, but she kept her eyes on his as she parted her lips and engulfed his cock in one greedy gulp.

“Fuck.”

He kept his hands on her head, not to direct her but to hold her hair back so he could watch her face.

That wet mouth worked him. And worked him. Shallow. Deep. He had one warning shot between his brain and his balls and then
zing
. He started to come. His pulse was thundering through his body louder than the waves crashing on the beach.

She looked up as the first spurt hit the back of her tongue.

He choked out, “Liberty,” and she clamped down on his cock, sucking in time to every pulse, until she'd milked him dry.

As he fought to remember how to breathe, she tilted her head, locking their gazes as she slowly released him. She placed a soft kiss on the tip of his cock and grinned when that action caused it to jerk closer to her mouth. She sat back on her haunches. “So that didn't suck?”

Devin shook his head. Maybe his brain wasn't running on all cylinders, but that was an odd response from her. “Not at all. I'm still feeling the aftereffects.”

“That's the first time you've let me at your dick for more than thirty seconds. I thought I might've done something you didn't like.”

“God, no.” He reached for her hand. “I never meant to give you that impression.”

Of course Liberty noticed that wasn't really an explanation. He'd tell her why he'd held back on that—just not now. “So how about you hop up here and sit on my face?”

“Tempting, but I'll take a rain check.”

Then he hauled her on top of him and rolled them both down to the ground, his lips sliding over hers until she opened her mouth to accept his kiss. He wanted to taste himself on her tongue. He loved the way she could
match his mood, knowing exactly what response he needed from her. The kiss calmed him.

“Are you getting cold with your pants down around your ankles?” she asked.

“Yeah. I think I've got sand in my ass crack too.”

She pushed up. “Poor baby. There wasn't any sand on your cock. I licked it completely clean.”

“Trust me, I know.” Devin stood to pull up his shorts. “You wanna walk on the beach before we leave?”

“Nah. I'm good. This was great.” She stepped into his arms and hugged him. “Really great. And just what I needed. Thank you.”

“It was what I needed too.” He pressed his lips against the top of her head, breathing in the salty air and the vanilla scent of her shampoo. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so hopeful. Liberty had to know that the connection between them wouldn't be this strong if it was only temporary. He believed fate had sent her his way for a reason besides protecting his ass.

They shook out the sand and rolled up the sleeping bag. When they reached the car, Devin said, “Don't suppose you'll let me drive?”

“Nope. And be warned; I'm gonna push this bitch to see what she'll do.”

With the warm wind blowing and Liberty singing softly to the pop tunes on the radio, Devin dozed off. He came to when they hit the lights of Houston and the always crazy Houston traffic. He squinted at the clock. “Holy hell, woman. How fast did you drive?”

“A little over the speed limit.”

“So without coming across as a backseat driver, you remember how to get to the event center?”

“I think so. If you see me taking a wrong turn, let me know.”

When they pulled into the back entrance of the parking lot and he saw all the cop cars, he figured they must've taken a wrong turn someplace. But sure enough, the arena was right ahead of them.

“What the hell?” Liberty said.

That's when he realized the activity was centered on his tour bus and his stomach dropped.

She threw the car in park by the police barricade. Then she looked at him, her face a blank mask, her entire body on full alert. There was no sign of the woman he'd spent the last five hours with.

“What do you think happened?”

“That's what I'm going to find out. You stay here. I mean it, Devin. Don't you leave this fucking car.”

Devin gave her his back and opened the door to get out. He kept his tone even when she started threatening him. He cut her off with “Do you really think me sitting in a car by myself outside the line of police protection or out of your sight is really the safest place for me to be?”

“Fuck.” She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “You stay by me,
right
by me.”

“Fine. I get it. Let's go see what happened.”

They reached the end of the barricades and were surrounded.

“Who are you? I need to see some ID now!” a cop, pointing a gun at them, barked.

“I'm Devin McClain. This is my personal assistant, Liberty Masterson. Crash Cavanaugh is my tour manager and he can verify who I am.”

Thirty seconds later Crash stomped over. “Where the fuck have you been? Jesus Christ. We've been tryin' to get ahold of you for damn near an hour!”

“What happened?”

“Someone shot the hell out of your tour bus. And when we couldn't find you . . . we thought maybe you'd been kidnapped. Especially since there was no sign of Liberty either. And once we got on the bus, it looked like you'd left abruptly. Both your cell phones were on board, as well as Liberty's purse. She'd left her laptop on and your TV was blaring in your bedroom. So where were you?”

“I rented a car and we drove down to Galveston.”

“Be nice if you fucking told someone and didn't just go off and do your own damn thing, boss.” Crash stomped away.

Devin glanced over to see Liberty in conversation with a cop in plainclothes. He headed toward her.

“. . . inside. Different story on the outside.”

“Can you tell me what's goin' on?” he asked the guy, not Liberty.

“Someone shot up your bus tonight, Mr. McClain.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“There wasn't anyone on the bus, which was a good thing. Your band had taken their bus to run errands and grab some dinner, was my understanding. Half the road crew went along with them. The rest of the road crew was inside setting up.”

“Thank God for that. Did they catch who did it?”
Please say yes. Please say it was some crankhead shooting stuff up on a dare and this wasn't directed at me.

“No, sir, we don't have any suspects. We don't have any witnesses either.”

“So this could've been random.” Devin noticed the guy wore a detective badge around his neck.

The detective rubbed the skin between his eyes. “It could've been. Or the shooter knew this was your bus and, for whatever reason, emptied twenty rounds into it, hoping one of those rounds hit you.”

Jesus.

Then the detective turned so no one could see what they were discussing. “Your security specialist has informed me because of previous incidents you've been assigned a full-time bodyguard?”

“That is correct.”

“Well, you'd better give her a big raise because keeping you away from the arena tonight might've saved your life. You're a lucky man.”

L
ucky.

Yeah, right.

Liberty wanted to throw up. She'd gotten so fucking cocky the last week. Believing that the worst had passed because the protesting had stopped.

But this? Shooting up the tour bus? This was worse than everything else that had happened during the tour combined.

She listened with barely controlled skepticism as the detective in charge and the cops discussed the ballistics pattern, which they were very careful to point out didn't denote intent. The shooter sprayed a wide arc to hit as much surface area as possible. Didn't mean the shooter knew the rear of the bus contained the master bedroom.

She called bullshit on that. If it was random vandalism, why not go for maximum damage and shoot out the windows in the front?

Without any witnesses, chances were good the shooter had left the area undetected. They were waiting for footage from the security cameras scattered throughout the event center's parking lot, but they couldn't access it until tomorrow.

So while she knew the cops were only doing their job, keeping things vague until they had some real answers, it pissed her the fuck off. Especially when the lead detective asked if Crash knew if the venue had sold out for the performance. Like the shooting had been some sort of publicity
stunt to sell more tickets. Then he asked if any of the media outlets had been contacted.

That's when Liberty had lost her cool. She pointed out that the dozen
cop cars with flashing lights and a police barricade with two dozen cops milling about would clue in the media that something was going on a helluva lot faster than a phone call.

Devin wasn't around for what happened after that, since the detective thought it wise to separate them.

He took her inside the bus and tested her hands for gunpowder residue. He asked to see her weapons. He asked to see her permit to carry concealed. The whole time he was checking to see if her guns had been fired, he gave her a running commentary on how
convenient
it was that no one was around when the shots were fired. And how
convenient
that she and Devin were mysteriously gone and no one could get in touch with them. And since they hadn't bought anything in Galveston, wasn't it
convenient
that they didn't have a receipt to show they'd been ninety miles away on the beach.

That's when she knew that they'd file this as a public nuisance case.

Her fury threatened to consume her. How many more dangerous situations was Devin going to deal with before actual harm came to him? Would something be done about it only when he'd taken a bullet or been beat to shit? Devin's safety had been compromised and no one gave a damn.

The detective's disbelieving look about her being Devin's bodyguard had burned her ass. As had his raised eyebrows and smarmy grin when he was asked to keep her position classified. The sexual innuendo hadn't been spoken, but it had sure as hell had been implied.

She hated that the dismissive attitude of the cops was affecting her confidence. And it didn't help that they were directing all their questions to Crash, not to her. Because he had a dick? Because he wasn't sleeping with Devin McClain?

Liberty snapped out of her fog of anger when her name was called. “Yes, Detective?”

“We've decided to impound the bus until we can access the security tapes.”

“Everything we need on tour is on that bus.”

“Then I suggest you pack a bag,” he said grumpily, turning his head away to expel a phlegmy cough.

She jammed a change of clothes, her laptop, her bathroom kit and her
stun gun in her workout bag. Before she left the bus, she made the detective write her a receipt for her remaining firearms and her ammunition.

Crash paced outside the bus when she exited. “What the hell did they do to you in there?”

“Beat me with a rubber hose,” she deadpanned.

“Liberty, that ain't funny.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I don't want to talk about what they did. What's the status on our accommodations for tonight?”

“We're staying at Benet Tower. It's an exclusive hotel that's not billed as such because the first twelve floors are private residences. Big Sky is providing extra security, and everyone involved with tomorrow night's performance is getting a room. The band and the opening act are on the presidential level, the road crew's one floor down.” Crash leaned closer. “Since there wasn't obvious external damage on the other buses, the cops aren't demanding access to them. Which is damn lucky.”

Lucky. There was that word again.

But it was good the cops weren't searching the other buses because they'd likely find illegal substances. Devin didn't need to lose his road crew the second to the last night on tour. “The buses will be all right, sitting here unattended?”

“They won't be unattended. They'll be under surveillance by the company that's providing security for the event.”

Liberty's eyes narrowed. “Who set that up?”

“I did.” Crash moved closer. “Look, I know you're in charge of security, but you weren't here and something had to be done.”

That jab stung. A reminder—besides the goddamn bullet holes in the bus—that she hadn't done her job.

“Big Sky is e-mailing all the info to you about the changes, but I don't know if they'll get it to you tonight.”

She wondered if Big Sky had contacted GSC. She couldn't fucking wait to have that conversation with Garrett, confessing that she'd been
frolicking on the beach with Devin while the bus had been under fire. She glanced over to where Devin was in conversation with Paxton Wright. Two cops stood a few feet behind them, blatantly listening in on their conversation.
“I grabbed some personal stuff. Devin should do the same before they take the bus away.”

“I already got it for him. He keeps an emergency travel bag packed at all times.”

Three long vans pulled up, and she watched band members and crew load their ragtag luggage into the back.

“You and Dev are takin' a car service to the hotel,” Crash said. “Looks like it's here.”

“Why don't you and Devin go? I'll finish up with the cops and talk with the surveillance crew.”

“Liberty, it's been handled. I know you're upset, but the truth is, it's a good thing you and Devin weren't here. I can see you feel . . . guilt or whatever, but you did your job. Devin wasn't in any danger because he was safe with you. Let me repeat it; you did your job.”

You did your job
.

Right.

“Liberty,” Devin said softly. When he set his hand on her shoulder, she flinched and stepped back.

Then she couldn't look in his eyes because she knew he'd either be pissed off or hurt by her reaction. “I know the car is here. Let's go.”

“Isn't Crash comin' with us?”

“No. He's staying here.”
To do my job
.

Liberty waited until Devin was in the car before she climbed in. Immediately, she opened the notes app on her phone and started typing in what she'd seen while it was still fresh in her mind.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Actually, I'm fucked up by all of this, but telling you how I feel would further undermine your confidence in my ability to protect you.
“I'm fine.”

“Then why won't you talk to me?”

“Because I'm dealing with a shitstorm of security changes, most of which I had zero input on, so I'm trying to sort through it all.”

“Liberty, look at me.”

“Give me a sec.”

“Now.”

Annoyed by his sharp tone, she looked up from her phone. “What?”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop whatever thoughts are in your head makin' you act like this.”

“Act like what? Like I need to remember that I'm supposed to be doing my job protecting you and not goddamn rolling around on the beach with you?”

His eyes darkened. “You rolling around on the beach with me did protect me. I wasn't here. I wasn't in the line of fire. Therefore you should get a fuckin' commendation for doin' your job.”

She shook her head. “I should've been prepared. I should've known—”

“Known what? That somebody would decide to take potshots at my bus? As far as I know, you can't see into the future, so there's no way you could've been prepared for it. Stop feeling guilty.”

“You don't understand.”

“No, I don't. But I can see this is another one of them times you won't give an inch or listen to me.” He turned away from her and gazed out the window.

They didn't speak at all for the remainder of the ride. And unlike their drive to the beach, the silence between them wasn't comfortable.

The main floor of Benet Tower looked like an upscale hotel with a restaurant, a bar, a spa and a few retail shops. The elevator system was confusing, with separate elevators for the residences. The concierge led them to an express elevator that served the top five floors in the building and required an additional keycard to access the presidential level.

At least the security was top-notch.

Devin had scored the presidential suite, which contained two bedrooms, a large living room and a small kitchen.

The concierge took their bags into the master bedroom. He told Devin, “There's a fitness facility on this floor and a sauna. Everything else is on the main floor. Don't hesitate to call the front desk if you need anything.”

“I appreciate it.” He passed the guy a folded bill. After the concierge left, Devin moved in behind Liberty and placed a kiss on her neck. “I need a shower. Wanna join me?”

“You go ahead. I have a few things to wrap up.”

An hour later, Devin stormed into the living room. “Enough. It's two o'clock in the fuckin' morning. Whatever you're dealing with can wait a few hours.”

Arguing with him would only make him dig his heels in deeper. “You're right.”

She'd forgotten to pack pajamas, so she pulled on yoga capris and a sports bra.

Devin was already under the covers when she crawled in. He brought her body against his and nuzzled the back of her head. “You wanna talk?”

“No.”

“Me neither.” He pressed a kiss below her ear as his hand skimmed the front of her body. “'Cause I know a better way to take your mind off everything.”

“Devin, I'm tired.”

“That's okay. I'll do all the work.” His warm lips trailed down the side of her neck as his hands cupped her breasts. “Sweetheart, we both need this.”

“Stop. I'm really not in the mood.”

He froze.

Liberty took advantage of his surprise and put some physical distance between them. “We both need to rest.”

Devin didn't say a word. But it was like a wall of ice had dropped between them.

As soon as Devin fell asleep, Liberty grabbed her duffel bag and headed out of the room.

She spoke to the guard stationed by the elevators, making sure he'd remain at his post and letting him know where she'd be if he needed to get in touch with her. Then she sprinted to the end of the long hallway, using her keycard to unlock the state-of-the-art fitness center.

Her anxiety had built to the point she had to drop her head between her knees for a couple of minutes to keep from passing out.

Once she'd regained her control, she exited the bathroom and checked out her options.

She could run on the treadmill. She could power climb on the elliptical. She could hop on the bike and spin her wheels. There was even a rowing machine. All those would get her blood pumping, but they seemed too passive for the emotions roiling in her.

Turning, she scrutinized the weight machines, free weights and kettlebells. Too tempting to throw the kettlebell like a shot put. In the opposite corner were yoga mats, exercise balls of all sizes, elastic bands for stretching, jump ropes and step boxes.

This was a totally tricked-out space, but it didn't have the one thing that would make it perfect—a heavy bag. She wanted—no, she
needed
—to pound the fuck out of something. Feel her fists connecting with a solid object, imagining it was the shooter's head. Feel her kicks connecting with a solid object, imagining it was the shooter's body. When she noticed the speed bag dangling from the extended arm of the weight machine, she was somewhat mollified. She'd use a cardio workout to get her blood pumping.

During her time on the treadmill, images of Devin's bullet-riddled bus kept up a constant loop in her head. What-if scenarios bogged down her mind, even when she knew it was counterproductive.

How could she live with herself if something happened to him on her watch?

She couldn't. Because she'd fallen in love with him.

Would she have to tell Garrett that? So he could find a replacement for the last three weeks?

She ended her run at the forty-five-minute mark and headed to the mat. Although her lungs labored, she did push-ups and abdominal-strengthening exercises. After slipping on her modified boxing gloves, she dragged her sweat-soaked body to the speed bag.