Fractured Beat (Meltdown Book 1) (38 page)

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Grant!” the woman standing next to me called out. Without so much as glancing in her direction, he grabbed my hand, pulled me down the stairs and whisked me behind the back of the stage. The sound of heels clacking on the floor echoed from behind us as he yanked me into a dark alcove and placed his hand over my mouth. The clacking got closer and stopped directly in front of where we were standing.

“Where’d they go?” a voice called out.

“This way!” someone shouted.

Once the clacking subsided, Grant dropped his hand and replaced it with his mouth. Talk about playing with fire. We could be discovered at any second and I didn’t care one bit. All that mattered was the man standing before me, the man who’d handed me his heart on that stage tonight. I broke the kiss in order to get my bearings. Grant took it as me trying to get away and, like a predator stalking its prey, took a step forward. When I stepped back, I lost my footing and landed on my butt… on something furry. It felt like a large stool.

Grant chuckled, that is, until I had my hands on his fly and he realized where this was leading. His humor melted into an exaggerated “Fuuuuuuck” and it was my turn to smile. The fact that I couldn’t see a damn thing only heightened my senses. After fumbling a few times, I finally had him unzipped, freed from his briefs and right where I wanted him. His breath hitched when he felt my tongue and he let out a hiss of approval when I took him deep into my mouth. We’d done this many times before, but never, had it ever, felt like this. It was daring, exhilarating and so crazy stupid it wasn’t even funny. “Deeper,” Grant panted. I inhaled through my nose, relaxed my mouth and took him as far into the back of my throat as I could without gagging. When he grabbed the top of my head and picked up the pace, I knew he was close. I was waiting for his release to hit the back of my throat, when he pulled out and gruffly ordered, “Panties off now.” Without a second’s thought, I lifted my hips, pulled up the skirt of my dress and yanked down my panties. I gasped when he dropped to his knees before me, and shivered as he skimmed his fingers up my thighs. As he wedged his hands under my ass, I felt the warmth of his breath ghost against my cheek. I turned my face and our lips connected. As he touched the tip of his tongue to mine, I wanted more – I wanted it all. “Put me inside you,” he murmured against my mouth. As quickly as humanly possible, I took him in hand, lined him up to my entrance and gasped when he surged inside. Using his hands on my ass as leverage, he pulled out and slammed back in. We were being bad, but it felt so good. “Fuck, I wish I could see your face right now,” his sexy voice rasped. The risk of getting caught combined with his smell, his voice, the song he sang to me, the way he looked at me – all of it – sent me sailing right over the edge. Hands in his hair, mouth fused to his, I wrapped my legs around his waist and urged him to give it to me faster, harder – anyway he wanted to give it, I would take it. Sweat pooled at my breasts and back, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about one damn thing except the man who was buried deep inside me. Without any warning it hit me so hard it practically knocked the breath out of me. “Yes, fuck yes,” Grant growled, as he planted himself deep, and let go.

As he fought to catch his breath, I dropped my head to his shoulder and whispered, “I love you. Thank you for the song tonight. It was beautiful.”

Once we straightened ourselves up and were somewhat presentable again, he pulled me close, placed a gentle kiss on my lips and said, “I’m going to love you forever, Mallory Jane Scott.”

With a heart full of love and a backside covered in fluorescent green fuzz, we walked hand in hand down the hall to greet the fans who were waiting for Grant in the VIP lounge.

High Noon

Grant

T
he entire crew,
roadies and all, were having brunch the next morning in a private dining room at the hotel when we finally got the call. Hank was in the middle of a heated argument with Mallory about how Bob Barker and Dick Clark were not the same person. Interested in hearing Mallory’s rationale behind thinking they were one in the same, when in fact they were vastly different, I wasn’t paying attention to the fact that Hank was no longer participating. That is, until his eyes lifted to mine and he held up his phone indicating he had a call. My whole body tensed.
Please let this be it.

“This is Hank,” he answered. After a short pause, he stood and nodded his head toward the door before heading in that direction.

I stood and kissed the side of Mallory’s head. “This is it, baby. I’ll catch up to you in a bit,” I told her. On the way out the door, I caught Nash’s eye and indicated for him to meet us in the lobby.

“It’s a go,” Hank said, as he ended the call. “Garrett and Cas both want to be here for the moment of reckoning. I assume that’s not a problem for you?” he asked.

“Nope.” I rubbed my hands together and smiled. “I’ll call Jim and Steven. Jim Heart and Steven Short were the top dogs at Shart, one of the top entertainment industry law firms in Texas. Jim was well known in the music industry and it didn’t hurt that he thought Kirkland was a pompous ass. All we needed now was a time, a place and Kirkland.

Two hours later the arrangements were set. Our next stop was Maine, but on Wednesday we would be in Ohio. According to Blane, Kirkland was planning on joining us in Ohio. Unbeknownst to Kirkland, Blane was flying in Happenstance’s lawyer, Karl, and told us not to worry about a thing. He’d make sure Kirkland was present.

The night before the meeting, Nash and Hank helped me break the news to Chaz and Luke. To say they were surprised was an understatement – try surprised and pissed off. Neither one of them understood why they’d been cut out of the loop. Chaz seemed particularly bent out of shape. I tried to explain it wasn’t anything personal, but he stormed off muttering something about always being treated like an outsider. I was on the verge of telling him exactly how I felt, when Nash stopped me. He was right. Chaz was a hot head and felt slighted at the drop of a hat. He would eventually come around.

The morning of the meeting we had a planning session with our lawyers. Cas and Garrett had flown in from Charlotte the previous night and joined us. I wanted Mallory nowhere near Kirkland when he blew, so I left her hanging upstairs in the room.

We all agreed it was best to let the attorneys handle the talking. If need be I would step in, but I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. I was afraid that if Kirkland pushed me, which was more than likely going to happen, I would lose my shit and pop him one. Once we nailed down the details we took a forty-five minute break. Since we didn’t want Kirkland to catch wind that his world was about to be rocked, we moved down the hall to a smaller room to wait for Blane’s text. While Jim and Steven stepped out the side door for a smoke, we shot the shit with Cas and Garrett. That’s when Garrett told us about Sarah. I’m not sure what got us talking about her, but when Garrett described his visit with her across the street neighbor, my blood went cold.

“Whoa, hold that thought for a second,” I told him. I snapped my fingers at Hank, who was across the room talking on the phone. Once I had his attention I motioned him over.

“What’s up?” he asked when he reached us.

“Listen to this shit,” I told him.

“I was just saying that I took a look around Sarah Harmon’s place and noticed an elderly lady sitting on her front porch, which directly faces Sarah’s front yard. When I asked her if she’d been interviewed by the police concerning Miss Harmon’s death, she laughed and said there was no way in hell the police were going to mess with that house. I asked if she’d seen anything unusual the day Sarah died. She said she’d seen a nice looking blonde haired man leave the house just half an hour before the ambulance showed. She said she’d seen him a handful of times over the past six months.”

“Fuck,” Nash quietly exclaimed.

“What if it’s Blane?” Chaz asked. Those were my thoughts exactly.

I opened my mouth to ask what in hell we were supposed to do now, when the man himself texted. My gut churned as I stared down at the text. Kirkland was in the lobby and heading for the conference room. What if I had it all wrong? What if this was a set up? My eyes met Hank’s and I could tell he was thinking the same thing. So was Nash. We may be about to walk into a huge ambush. I had a sinking feeling we were about to get fucked.

“Look, even if that was Blane, this,” Cas pointed to the file on the table, “is all Kirkland. It’s Kirkland’s signature on those checks, Kirkland’s email address and Kirkland’s relationship with The Meadows. Let’s take one thing at a time, here. Right now, it’s all Kirkland. Worry about Blane tomorrow.”

“Plus, Blane isn’t the only nice looking blonde haired man in existence,” Garrett added. He was right. I was being paranoid.

With Jim and Steven leading the charge, we headed out the door and down the hall. As we filed into the conference room, one by one, Kirkland blustered, “What is the meaning of this?” As rehearsed, Hank, Luke and Chaz carried in chairs and strategically placed them around the table. Once we were all seated, Blane strolled in with Karl.

“What is the meaning of this?” Kirkland asked again. Steven waited for Blane and Karl to sit before he pulled a file from his briefcase and slapped it on the table in front of us. Kirkland was clearly agitated.

Steven slid the file over to Jim. Jim opened it, pulled out a document and turned it around so Kirkland could see it. “This is a list of the board of trustees of The Meadows. Do you see your name anywhere in this list?” he asked.

“You know I do,” Kirkland said between clenched teeth.

Jim whipped out a second document. “These are the by-laws pertaining to how a board member must conduct himself. Do they look familiar?” He turned the document so Kirkland could see.

“Yes, yes,” Kirkland waved it away.

Jim flipped the page and said. As you can see, I have highlighted each portion that you failed to adhere to.”

Kirkland laughed. “Oh for Christ’s sake, are you kidding me? It’s a code of conduct, not a penal code.”

“So you admit that you used your position on the board to fit your own agenda?” Jim asked.

“Everyone does,” Kirkland replied.
What an idiot,
I thought. I glanced over at Nash and he shook his head.

Jim handed Steven the document and pulled out a third piece of paper. “Here is an email between you and Dr. Whitfield instructing him not only to admit Mr. Hardy into his facility, but to diagnose him as an addict, whether or not it happened to be the truth. For the record, I stated this much less crudely than you wrote it,” he added.

No one said a word.

“I didn’t write that,” Kirkland stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Jim pulled out a fourth piece of paper and flipped it around for Kirkland’s viewing pleasure. “No? So I assume this isn’t your handwriting or your signature on this check made out to a one Frederick Whitfield?”

I leaned forward and squinted at the piece of paper. “C’mon, man, I’m worth way more than that,” I snidely commented.

Kirkland visibly paled before his eyes shot to Blane. “Why you ungrateful little shit,” he hissed.

“Would you like for me to continue?” Jim asked.

“I would,” Nash interjected.

“Same here,” Luke chimed in.

Kirkland glared at Karl and said, “Do something.”

“I’m sorry, but my hands are tied here,” Karl told him.

“What do you mean your hands are tied, you’re my lawyer,” Kirkland waved his hands in the air, “So…help me. Explain how this is all hearsay or something.” I could tell by his trembling lips that he was about to blow his lid. I couldn’t fucking wait.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t work for you Mr. Hamilton,” Karl stammered. I wasn’t sure what he meant by this and by the expressions on everyone’s faces, they didn’t either.

“You damn well work for Happenstance. Being that I own the company that means you work for me!” Kirkland shouted at him.

“You’re correct, I do work for Happenstance. However, by my records, you only hold the company stock as collateral. Mr. Hamilton, Blane that is,” he corrected, “is still the shareholder of record. Unless and until you foreclose he still owns the company.”

The whole room froze.
Holy shit.
This was better than I’d ever imagined.

“What?” Blane asked. Clearly he was as floored as everybody else was. All this time he thought his dad had him by the short and curly’s.

“This is ridiculous and you know it.” Suddenly his face split into an evil smile and I braced. “You owe me, boy. I bailed your ass out. Now you and I both know that you don’t have the means to pay me back. If you don’t immediately sign those shares over to me, I’ll foreclose and you’ll never get another penny from me or from Happenstance,” he threatened.

“Not if we pay his debt,” I said out loud. All eyes turned to me.

With a flushed face and balled fists, Kirkland stammered, “I will hold your ass up in litigation for years and drag Happenstance along for the ride.”

“You can try to hold him up in litigation, but do you really want to do it from prison?” I countered.