Hillbilly Rockstar (32 page)

“I need your hands on me,” he panted.

Liberty trailed her fingertips up and down the muscles straining in his forearms. “This part of you is so sexy, guitar slinger.”

Devin glanced down to watch her tits bounce. To see the reddened tips of her nipples poking up, making him wish he was flexible enough to suck on her while he fucked her like this.

Careful not to crush her, he tried to bear most of his weight on his knees. He thrust faster.

Then Liberty started pinching her nipples, knowing that would drive him crazy. “You're so close. I can feel it. You're so fierce-looking when you come. Let me see it. Come all over me, Devin.”

Fuck, that dirty talk did it for him every time. Devin slid back and started beating off. “Hold those tits up.”

Come shot out the end of his dick in a long arc, the first spurt landing below her left nipple, the second spurt right on it. He growled through each hard pulse, pushing upright onto his knees, bracing his hand on the headboard so he could mark her. Making sure every hot drop dripped onto her skin. He jerked and twisted on his shaft until nothing remained but the bliss of release; then he let his spent cock slip from his hand.

Fingers clamped onto his ass cheeks. Then Liberty's hot—
sweet baby
Jesus, her mouth was so fucking hot
—mouth swallowed his cock to the root. She released his shaft, licking and nuzzling the crown; her fingers gently stroked his balls.

His brain was so fuzzy, his dick so sensitive that he couldn't take it anymore. He croaked, “Please. Baby. Stop. It's too much.”

“Just a little more.”

That's when he realized the buzzing sound wasn't only in his head, but in Liberty's hand. She used the vibrator to get herself off again as she sucked on his softening dick. Her hot breath teased his damp cockhead in rapid puffs of air that sent chill bumps across every inch of his skin.

Liberty rolled down to the mattress with a very contented sigh. From beneath heavy lids, she gifted him with a sated smile.

Devin dropped to his hands and knees and hung above her. Keeping his gaze on hers, he thoroughly licked a milky trail of his come from her breast. And another. Then he smashed his mouth to hers, sharing the taste and the passion she brought out in him.

Her hands came up to cradle his face. She gentled the kiss, quieting the storm raging inside him. Devin wanted to shout to the ceiling that he loved her. Promise her anything and everything if she'd agree to share her life with him.

“Devin?”

He was afraid to open his eyes, knowing she'd see right into the heart of him. “That was so fuckin' hot. I think you fried my brain cells. Hang on; I'll get something to clean you up.” Then, like a chickenshit, he escaped to the bathroom. He soaked a washcloth in warm water and returned to her.

She was in the same position, staring at the ceiling.

Devin gently wiped the stickiness from her chest. He tried not to feel guilt upon seeing the finger-shaped marks on her pale skin. By the time he finished wiping her down, the cloth had gone cold.

Was it his imagination or had the air gone cold too?

“You okay?” he asked.

A beat passed before she answered. She sat up and twined her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For never holding back with me.”

Baby, if you only knew.

Devin didn't know what else to say to that, so he said nothing. He just breathed her in.

For a man who made his living with words, he sure couldn't come up with the right ones to say to her.

And he was running out of time to figure them out.

T
hey had one week left on this last leg of the tour.

Things had settled down since the bus incident, but Liberty was still twitchy.

She trusted her gut enough not to discount the feeling that something wasn't right. Her job was ninety percent awareness and ten percent instinct. And instinct had her holstering her forty-five tonight instead of her stun gun.

The banquet room was packed to capacity. With one exit, she'd stationed Devin at the front of the room. People who wanted to talk to him could come to him.

No matter where they went in the last week, she felt as if they were being watched. Not in the normal,
Omigod, I can't believe I'm in the same room with Devin McClain!
type of gawking they dealt with every day. But even when she and Devin had a spare moment to themselves, it felt like they had an audience.

She scanned the room for the hundredth time and saw the same thing as the other ninety-nine times. The band was there. Sarge, Check, Boomer and the road crew were huddled in the corner. They always came for the food, but they never mingled. Several ladies—heck, most of the ladies—were eyeing Devin like a juicy slab of beef. She couldn't quite keep her smile to herself because he
was
a burning-hot hunk of man flesh. And he was all hers.

For the next seven days, anyway.

“Only two things bring a smile that wide to a woman's face. Sex or chocolate. And if you've had both today, I might actually punch you.”

Liberty didn't move; she waited for Odette to stand beside her. “Start punching.”

“Damn. I gotta do something to get that spark back with Steve. The bag of M&M's I scarfed down ain't cutting it.”

Liberty pointed to the chocolate fountain in the corner. “Maybe have yourself a
man
due instead of fondue. Coat him in chocolate and lick him clean.”

Odette blinked at her.

“What?”

“So much for me thinking that you're the shy, retiring type behind closed doors.”

She grinned. “Still waters don't run deep; beneath the surface they run very dirty.”

“Liberty!” Odette giggled. “You are awesome. I'm so glad you're on tour with us. You're part of the family now.”

That caught her off guard. But it was true. She genuinely liked the band and the road crew. They had a lot of respect for Devin and looked out for him. “Thanks.”

“Thank you for the
man
due idea.”

“You're welcome.” Liberty leaned closer. “I need a really huge favor.”

“Name it.”

“I need to talk to Devin alone. It seems every time he has a spare minute, we get interrupted or intercepted. So once I get him out of here, could you keep an eye on the room? See if someone follows us?”

“You want me to try to stop them if that happens?”

“No. Just keep watch.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” She would've asked Crash to run interference if he'd been around, but she hadn't seen him since the show ended. As she cut through the crowd, several women were downright nasty about letting her pass. One skank even stomped on her foot, then offered a lame “Did I do that? So sorry.”

Liberty flashed her teeth, thinking that she'd much rather be flashing her gun. She finally reached Devin. Without breaking the conversation
with his fan, he held his hand out and tugged Liberty against his side. She caught the eye of the foot stomper and smirked. A girl had to take tiny victories where she could get them.

Devin said, “What's up?”

She put her lips on his ear. “I need to speak with you alone. It'll take just five minutes.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Devin smiled at the people in line. “Duty calls, but I promise I'll be right back.”

The only exit in the room was also the entrance. They had to wend through the throng to escape.

Once they were in the hallway, Devin said, “What was so all-fired important—?”

Liberty clamped her hands on Devin's cheeks and kissed him, trying to keep an eye on who'd followed them out of the room.

Devin wasn't on board with a mini make-out session. He twisted out of her lip-lock. “
This
was why you pulled me away from a fan meet and greet?”

“Sort of. You looked like you could use a break.”

They weren't alone in the hallway. Liberty grabbed his hand. “Let's go backstage where we can talk in private.” She towed him behind her and didn't stop until they were in the wings.

“Liberty, sweetheart, have you been drinkin'? 'Cause this is unlike you.”

“I never drink on the job. Have you seen Crash?”

“Gotta be more specific.”

“Have you seen Crash since the show ended?”

“Not that I recall.” His gaze turned suspicious. “Why are you so interested in what he's doin'?”

“Because he was supposed to help me,” she lied, “and he's been MIA. That's not like him. Usually he hovers around you as much as I do.”

Devin kissed her forehead. “He'll turn up. He always does.”

Stall. Think of another reason to keep him back here to see if anyone followed you.

“Anything else? I need to get back in there so we can leave at a decent
time tonight.” He traced the scoop neck of her shirt. “Because I have plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?”

“Naked with a can of whipped cream and a Ping-Pong paddle kind of plans.”

“Yum. And ouch. My two favorites together.”

He whacked her butt. “Take me back before I blow off my responsibilities and fuck you right here.”

She took his hand and returned him to the room but didn't go in.

Odette waved at her from down the hallway, and Liberty sauntered over. “I'm afraid I'm not a good Nancy Drew. Only person I saw follow you out was JT. Then he got a phone call and took off like a bat outta hell. All the rest of the people who left just went to the bathroom.”

“Thanks for your help. I did get to talk to Devin about what I needed to.”

“Cool.” She turned to head back to the party room.

“Odette, which direction did JT go?”

She pointed to the only side exit where there wasn't a guard stationed.

Even in Northern California the night air held a chill. Liberty shivered in her jacket and strode over to the bus. No sign of JT in the driver's compartment. Out of habit, she rounded the front end of the bus and checked to see that the alarm was armed.

That's when she heard it. A muffled thump.

What the hell was that?

She followed the sound, stopping when the noise became sporadic and she couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Then she heard it again.

Sounded like someone was smacking a heavy bag with a baseball bat.

She picked her way along the back wall of the event center, lured by grunts and low-pitched male voices. She paused in front of a concrete loading bay and scanned the area. Pale yellow light from the lone lightbulb shone ten feet above the ground by the loading dock's back door.

In the corner were two figures, and one guy was whaling on the other.

Silently creeping along the concrete wall into the loading bay, she kept her hand close to her gun.

“Stop.” The guy on the ground wheezed. “I'll get the money. I promise.”

“Heard that one before. Carny ain't happy. Been six months that you owed him, JT.”

She froze. JT?

“Chumley fucked me up bad in Kansas City. I was outta work for three months! You gotta cut me some slack. I said I was working on it. Alls I got on me is five grand. I swear I got something goin' on that'll pay Carny in full.”

Jesus, what the hell was JT into?

Right then she decided not to get involved. But she couldn't take a chance they'd see her, so she pressed her body against the wall where the shadows were the deepest.

“Gimme the fuckin' money. And I'm keeping half of it as personal compensation for havin' to track you fuckin' down
again
.”

“But—”

The standing guy smacked JT across the shoulders with some kind of club.

JT yelled in pain.

“Shut the fuck up. Anyone comes running and I bust you in the face, understand?”

All she heard was a whimper.

“Good. Now get your flabby ass off the ground and gimme the money.”

JT rolled to all fours and pushed upright with no help from the thug. Then he stood and dug his hand into his jacket pocket and passed over a thick wad of bills. “That's all I got. That don't even leave me money to eat.”

“Boo-fuckin'-hoo. I saw you stuffing your face in that room with all the tables of fancy food. You don't look like you're starving anyway, lard ass.” The thug swung the club and laughed when JT leaped back. He started to
walk backward out of the docking bay. “Stay right there until I'm gone. One week, motherfucker.”

Liberty's heart raced when the thug passed by her. But he was too busy watching JT to see if he attacked him to notice her. After the guy cleared
the area, she counted. She hit one hundred and twenty when she heard an engine start and tires peel away.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.” JT wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket and took out his phone. He started to pace. “I need to talk to Waverly O'Brien. No, you can't tell him who's calling. Just tell him it's about some pictures he'd be interested in.”

Waverly O'Brien. Why was that name familiar?

Then it clicked. The reporter from the religious magazine
Song of Solomon
who wrote the nasty article about Devin turning his back on his core audience by performing “What Love Isn't.” So why was JT contacting him? And what pictures was he talking about?

Son of a fucking bitch.

Of course JT would have pictures of Devin and his groupies since he'd been Devin's bus driver for a few years. Given the fact she'd just heard he owed someone money, the bastard planned to sell them to get himself out of debt.

Or maybe, all those feelings of being watched meant that JT had been snapping pictures of Devin and her. But why? She was nobody.

But Devin isn't. His love life had been reported on for years.

“No, I won't hold,” JT snapped. “I'll leave a message. You tell him to expect a call from me tomorrow or I'll find another magazine to publish these pictures of Devin McClain and he'll lose out.”

JT hung up, muttering to himself.

No way was she letting this piece of shit hand-grenade Devin's career. No. Way.

When he started to shuffle up the ramp, Liberty stepped out of the shadows. “Hey, JT.”

The man jumped about a foot. “Oh, uh, hey, Liberty. What're you doin' out here?”

“Getting some fresh air. But it's funny. Something out here smells rotten. Like really rotten. Rotten to the core.”

JT froze about fifteen feet from her, his hand in his pocket. “Did you follow me?”

“I figured what goes around comes around. You've been following Devin and me everywhere.”

“Lady, you're whacked.”

“So you don't plan on selling the pictures you've taken of us to settle a debt?”

“I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about.”

“Don't lie. I heard your phone conversation. And I heard you whining to that enforcer. That attack on Devin's tour bus never was about him, was it? It was all about you. You've been fucking him over since the second you started working for him.”

The shift from clueless bus driver to slimeball was instantaneous. “You think you're so fuckin' smart. But you ain't the first bitch to suck Devin's cock and you ain't gonna be the last. So why don't you just go and get back on your knees where you belong and keep your mouth shut unless you're blowing him?”

Liberty laughed. “You are such a pig. But you're smart enough to keep Devin and the tour company snowed. You stole his guitars and hocked them, didn't you?”

“Back off.”

“All the other weird shit that went missing, you did that too. Changing the hotel reservations. Sending groupies Devin's way.”

“Shut your mouth and back off or so help me God I'll—”

“What?”

Then he pulled a gun out of his jacket, pointing it at her with a very shaky hand. “I said back off, bitch.”

Her heart raced, but she kept a calm facade. “You gonna shoot me now?”

“If I have to. I'll tell people you were being attacked and I jumped in to save you and some crazy motherfucker shot you dead.”

“How much money do you owe?”

“Why? You got a spare two hundred grand? Right. If you did, you wouldn't be trying to fuck your way into Devin McClain's bank account.”

Liberty kept walking backward, letting him think he was pushing her forward against her will. “Why didn't you ask Devin for the money? Two hundred large is chump change to him.”

“Because I don't wanna lose my job! I told you these people on this tour are my family.”

A few more steps and he'd clear the concrete wall protecting him from all sides.

Come on. Keep moving.

“Bullshit. Family doesn't steal from family. Family doesn't lie to family.”

JT reached up to wipe his bloody nose with the back of his free hand. “Maybe not your family, but mine sure as fuck did.”

Footsteps skidded on the cement behind her.

Please don't let it be Devin.

“Jesus, JT, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Crash boomed.

“This is your fault,” JT yelled at her, and his hand holding the gun wavered enough to worry her.

“Put down the fucking gun,” Liberty said evenly.

“You're making me do this. Right now I'd be better off in jail. Carny's guys can't reach me there. At least not in this state.”

“Liberty,” Crash snapped. “Just fucking shoot him.”