Resisting Velocity (21 page)

But she knew why.

She rolled to lay flat on her back and finally forced her eyes open to stare up at the ceiling. This entire tour had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions, danger, and feelings that she hadn’t quite given a label to yet. Unfortunately, the ride would be over in just a few days and it was time to make a decision. Stay and be with Zane—or leave and say goodbye for good.

Fingers dancing in a rhythmic pattern on her belly, her eyes open but unseeing, it seemed like the whole trailer was closing in on her, suffocating her. She swung her legs over the side of her makeshift bed and strode into the bathroom with brand new determination.

She was going to make up her mind. Now.

Her choices were simple: Forgive Zane for all of his stupidity and announce her love for him. To someday become his mate, maybe even become the alpha female of Elysium, despite her less than social behavior with the pack in the past. She knew the guys would welcome her, blaze the way for her.

Or she could walk away at the end of the tour with some amazing memories and a handful of bad ones. Hands flattened against the countertop, Charlie leaned forward and stared at herself as thoughts, memories, and choices danced round and round in her head. Until, at last, she forced her mind to stop resisting and just—choose.

She loved Zane.

A thrill ran down her spine, light and tingly, and the beast inside seemed to know exactly what was going on, because Charlie felt a definitive shift as she settled. Finding herself smiling, she bent over and pulled out the hidden away box of hair dye. Ripping it open, she began to read.

A couple of hours later, Charlie was grateful for the fact that Zane and the guys were in Conner’s care, practicing for the show and far away from the mess in the once-tidy trailer—hair dye and Charlie were apparently a bad combination.

Looking wearily around the bathroom, she felt a giggle form in the back of her throat. She had managed to get purple droplets all over the place and the longer they were out in the air, the darker they got. What was a bright and spunky color in her hair made the walls, floor, sink—okay, pretty much every surface in the bathroom—look like a bottle of grape jelly had exploded, violently. Having never dyed her hair before, Charlie now understood why women shelled out a ton of cash for a professional to do the dirty work.

Charlie hummed a merry little tune and began to tame her black and purple tresses and once the roar of the hair dryer had ended, she stared up at herself in the mirror with worried eyes. The entire underside of her hair had received the bleach kit then the Velocity Violet dye. Once dried and pulled into a ponytail, there was no missing the large amount of purple, or how crookedly it’d been done. But it had been done.

Shaking her head, she started to wipe at the worst of the mess, then stopped. It was probably going to take some heavy duty cleaner to get the dye out, so why bother? She could practically feel the hustle and bustle going on outside and knew the stadium had to be filling up with ready-to-rock fans. The excitement in the air snapped and crackled and with a bounce in her step, ready to make her declaration to Zane and enjoy the first show as his official girlfriend, Charlie quickly got dressed.

She pulled on skin tight leggings, an equally tight black baby-doll tee, and a pair of killer boots before bolting down the steps, merging with the crowd as she headed for her destination. She waved to the few stragglers that hadn’t yet made it backstage and changed her direction just a bit when she saw Lola loitering just outside of where the backstage access area began.

Lola had been an obnoxious burr up her butt, the reason Charlie had bought the hair dye to begin with, and she really wanted the other wolf to see it, no matter how petty that made her. Possession rolled in, clouds on a sunny day. Zane was
hers
. Even thought she hadn’t gotten to say the words out loud to him yet, it felt amazing to declare it to herself.

She loved Zane.
Mine…
Her beast rumbled in agreement.

“Hey Lola.” With a casual air to her voice, she relaxed her stride and eased to a halt next to the woman. Lola was dressed in black leather and spiky-heeled boots.

“Hi.” The one-word greeting might as well have been “drop dead”.

Charlie smiled anyway. “Are you not going backstage for the show this time?”

“Oh, I’m going. I was just seeing who all was going to be back there.”

“That’s different. You usually prefer to be right up front and don’t care who’s behind you.”

“Whatever, I care tonight, okay?”

“Touchy much?” When Lola scowled at her, Charlie shrugged. “Okay then, I guess I’ll see you inside.” After several moments of silence, it was obvious the jealous woman wasn’t going to acknowledge her, so Charlie gave her a wave and sauntered off.

Wait for it…
And there it was—the gasp of outrage as Lola noticed the purple in her hair and it drew a chuckle from Charlie. She’d never been the sort to mock others, but damn, it felt good to stake her claim.

Now she just had to tell Zane.

The idea of giving him a very public, very loving kiss brought a blush to her cheeks and Charlie’s pace grew quicker, excitement waging war with nerves to be victorious. She spotted Zane near the edge of the stage. She raised her hand to flag him down, opened her mouth to call to him—and the world exploded with a blast of sound. Charlie felt a wave of heat dance over her, followed by a sharp pain at the back of her mind, and everything went black.

***

The explosion rattled Zane. He picked himself up off the floor with a snarl of curse words, whipping around to see what exactly had been hit. The back line of amps were smoking, crackling fire licking up their sides, and the side of the stage was scorched where something had blown up in a rather nasty way. People scrambled around with shouts.

God damn, that had been close. How the hell was this happening? Security had flooded the place since the shooting that had ended Jeremy Meyer’s life; everything should’ve gone smoothly. Zane was beginning to wonder if they had a mole, someone working for them that was also working for the enemy, and the idea soured his gut. They’d background checked every last person in the crew, they’d—

His mind screeched to a halt when his name was shouted out amidst the panic backstage. Zane turned to see Benji waving wildly, his face more pale than usual—and then he saw the injured woman he was kneeling beside, the only serene face in the crowd.

Charlie.

His wolf roared to life and it took every last ounce of control Zane had in him to cage his beast back down, to not change right then and there mid-stride. He dropped to the ground beside the unconscious Charlie, fighting back a whirlwind of anger and frustration.

“Damn it!” He wanted to gather her in his arms, take her away from all the chaos, but he knew better than to move the injured. Instead, he shouted for High Velocity’s personal medic.

He couldn’t smell blood; that was a good thing, right? But how close had she been to the explosion? She could have internal bleeding, she could be dying even as he just sat there and worried. He should do something, he should— Mira arrived before he could finish that train of thought. She began to feel Charlie over, checking for wounds.

He watched with a sick ache in his gut, fretting over her shoulder until Mira turned and looked him right in the eye, fearless. “I know you’re worried, but you’re not helping anyone sitting here fussing. Trust me; I’ll take care of her. Go find your band and let me do my job.” Her tone was firm, commanding.

Benji took his arm and led him away from the area. Zane shook his head, trying to keep his world from reeling, but it only made it worse. As what-ifs plagued his mind, he didn’t realize Benji was in his face until he spoke. “Zane, breathe.”

“She could’ve died,” he snapped.

“But she didn’t. She’s fine. You know how our Charlie is. She won’t go down without a fight.”

Micah jogged up a moment later. “Amps are severely fucked, but luckily we have backup. My drums got hit, but the rest of the instruments weren’t touched.” He paused, meeting Zane’s gaze. “Not to be a coward, but maybe we shouldn’t go on. Conner’s got people checking the stage for any more booby traps, but hell.”

“Charlie got hit.”

“She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or?”

Zane frowned. He couldn’t see why anyone would go after Charlie, unless it was to get to him. He was praying this was just a freak accident, but instinct was on the other side of the fence, roaring at him, telling him to face the music. “I don’t want to play the show.” He kept his voice low. He wanted to be with Charlie, wanted to make sure she was okay.

Benji and Micah looked at him, frowns on their faces, as if they were weighing the dangers of the situation versus the chaos that they would bring upon themselves if they didn’t go on. “We should talk to Parker first.”

“You know Parker. He’ll just say fuck it and demand we play anyway.”

“Someone’s out there, trying to put the fear of God into us. And we’re taking the bait. Okay, so maybe we’re a little freaked out. We’re proving them right. Are we seriously going to be scared off by our amps exploding?” The outburst from Benji was enough to pull his mind from its rut.

“Charlie—”

“Charlie’s fine. You’re the one who’s spooked. You’re letting them win.”

Zane sucked down a breath, running both hands through his hair, messing up Reese’s handiwork without even thinking about it. He stopped and tried to fix the damage, imagining her expression when he went on stage looking like he just rolled out of bed, in a bad way. “I just…”

“Dude, did you see what blew up?” Parker burst from the crowd, his eyes bright with excitement. He seemed to falter as he saw the guys’ faces and toned it down a notch. “Uh oh, Zane’s got his serious face on. What happened?”

“Charlie got caught up in the explosion. Zane doesn’t want to play the show.”

“What the hell, man? We’re so close to being done with this tour. We can’t just run off because some big, scary bastard is trying to kill you. You gotta laugh in the face of danger. What happened to the old Zane, Mr. I’m Scared of Nothing? Huh?” He poked Zane in the chest. “Is Charlie breathing?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Grow a pair, Alexander. She’s alive. She’s fine. She would want you to play the show. We’ve got, oh, about ten minutes before we go on. I want you to go over there, pull your big boy pants on, gather your wits, and get your ass up on stage before I kick it.” Parker imitated kicking someone’s ass and both Benji and Micah snickered.

For a moment, Zane just stared at him, trying to sort out his true emotions and feelings from the panic flowing wildly through his system. If someone really was out there, trying to get rid of High Velocity, then Parker was right. He was letting them win. “Okay.”

“All right?”

“Yeah. We’re playing the show. I’m sorry, guys, just—”

“Can it. You have eight minutes. Go make sure Charlie’s safe then meet us on stage.” Parker let out a whoop. “Let’s do this shit, guys!”

Zane wound through the crowd as quickly as he could and was slammed with relief when he saw Charlie sitting up, propped up against the wall. She was holding an ice pack to the back of her neck and she looked irritated, but alive. His chest squeezed as he ran the distance between them, making Charlie glance up, then wince at the sudden movement.

“Shit, you okay?”

“Been better. Apparently I got hit with debris from an explosion I hadn’t anticipated.” Her smile was wry. “The doctor doesn’t think I have a concussion, but I’ve got a bitch of a headache. Maybe you should take a look.” She bent her head down and Zane drew closer, focused on the back of her neck. There was a long cut just below her hairline that was already healing, thanks to werewolf magic.

And then it hit him: Her hair. Half her hair was a brilliant purple that contrasted perfectly with her natural ebony locks. She’d never believed in following the trends, even when the rest of the crew had adorned themselves in Velocity Violet as sort of a tribute to the band.

“Charlie—”

She cut him off with a kiss, wild and demanding, that touched him to the core. Any other words were stolen away. She turned to face him, tangled her fingers in his hair, then pulled away. He looked at her, a mix of shock and a pleased smugness about him, when her lips twisted into a beautifully wicked smile. “Hey, Zane. Guess what?”

“You hit your head harder than you thought? Not that I’m complaining, but—”

She nipped at his lip, a growl simmering in her throat. “I love you.”

Desire coiled in his gut at her words, igniting a fire that he’d have to extinguish. His thumbs brushed against her cheeks and the smile that danced across her face was beautiful, radiant. “I love you more,” he said on a laugh, skimming teeth across her jaw before planting one last kiss on her lips. “But I have a show to play. Promise me you don’t have a concussion and that you’re serious.”

“What, did my hair magically turn purple before the explosion?” She rolled her eyes, then gave him a push. “Go play your show. Wait.” She curled her fingers in his shirt and dragged him back for one last kiss, smiling against his lips. “Okay, now you can play. I love you.”

And his heart sang.

Chapter Eighteen