Hillbilly Rockstar (7 page)

“Thank you so much. I appreciate y'all comin' to the show tonight.”

Devin realized there wasn't anyone else waiting in line to talk to him. Before that changed, he headed for the food tables, only to find most of the food gone, except one mini sandwich and a handful of chips. Better than nothing. He devoured it in about five seconds and glanced up to see Liberty watching him.

She wore the blank expression of someone who's seen it all, done it all and was bored with it all.

That expression didn't change one iota as he wandered to her. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Not as good as you've had.”

Of course she'd point that out. “I meant the show. What did you think of it?” Why had he asked when he knew how brutally honest her answer would be?

“It was . . .”

“What?”

When Liberty leaned forward, her silver eyes shone with pleasure. “Fucking spectacular. I've never seen anything like it. And it's lucky you had other security keeping an eye on your safety because I couldn't look away from you . . . I mean from the show.”

Devin grinned. “Thank you. I mean it.”

She pushed a plate of food toward him. “I noticed by the time you got a break there wasn't much food left. I didn't touch this. Go ahead if you want it, although it is cold.”

There was a glimpse of the real Liberty, the thoughtful woman behind the gun. “Thanks again.”

“So what happens now?”

“Usually after the first show we have a meeting with the crew to talk about problems. In fact, they're all waitin' for me in the arena right now.”

She eyed the security guys. “Their shift is about up.”

“Let them go. I'll be surrounded by people the rest of the night. You're here to escort me back to the bus.”

As Liberty spoke to the security team, Devin couldn't help but admire the way she dealt with them. Professionally, with a hint of don't-fuck-with-me charm that should've been off-putting but was effective.

Devin knew he shouldn't be having those thoughts, but even after just one day, he knew he'd never met a woman quite like Liberty. And he looked forward to getting to know her better.

She nudged him. “Come on, slowpoke. Crash has beckoned you over, like, two times.”

“Sometimes I'm a little spacey after the performance high wears down.”

“I imagine it's hard to shut off that adrenaline rush.”

He looked at her. “How do you know that? You're a performer?”

Liberty shook her head. “I assume it's similar to being in a firefight. The intensity puts you on another plane, and when it's over . . . you don't crash right away. You want to do something that'll keep up that level of intensity.”

Shocking that she did understand. Was this her way of telling him she thought having a woman to take the edge off after he got offstage was okay?

“But just because I get it doesn't mean the women you use and discard do.”

And . . . there it was. Judgment. Before he could remind her who he fucked wasn't any of her fucking business, she spoke again.

“Get moving. They're waiting on you.”

Devin grabbed a beer from the cooler and joined his crew. For the next half an hour they dissected the show from start to finish. By the end of his second beer, they'd changed the lighting on a few songs and decided on a short rehearsal tomorrow to get a better balance between the fiddle, the drums and the guitars.

Liberty waited in the wings and fell into step with him as they exited the arena.

“You up for a poker game tonight in your fancy-ass new ‘I'm a rockstar' tour bus?” Jase asked.

“Nah, man. I'm whupped.”

“And he's got press meetings in the morning,” Liberty reminded him.

“Catch ya later.” Jase took off.

Crash said, “You've got that hospital visit tomorrow before rehearsal.”

He felt Liberty stiffen beside him. “I know.”

They reached the bus. Liberty deactivated the alarm and unlocked the door.

“You'll have to show me how to do that,” Devin said.

“Why? Chances are you'll never be unattended.”

There was a cheery thought.

Reg peered through the beer window. “You're back later than I expected.”

“Been a long day.”

“I hear ya. All was quiet tonight, except for some girls yelling how much they loved you.”

Devin blushed. “Thanks for sticking around.”

As soon as Reg was gone, Liberty locked the doors and pulled the curtains. Then she got right in his face. “Why didn't you tell me you had another commitment tomorrow?”

He scowled. “It's personal.”

“It's personal,” she repeated. “Since the moment I signed on as your
personal
security, I'm in your
personal
business, Devin, all of it. What don't you get about that?”

Would it piss her off if he mentioned how hot it was when fire flashed in her eyes and she went toe-to-toe with him? Definitely. Might be worth getting shot at.

He shrugged. “It's not a big deal.”

“Then what is it?”

In lieu of answering, he returned her icy stare.

“Fine. Since I didn't plan extra security for a personal hospital thing, you'll have to cancel.”

Devin herded her until her back hit the wall. “No fuckin' way. I will be
there. So think of this as your chance to prove that you—just you—can protect me.”

She waited for an explanation, her bodyguard mask in place.

“Where I'm goin' is a hospital—a children's cancer hospital—so you can't wear your gun.”

“Oh, this just gets better and better.”

“Suck it up, G.I. Jane. And you'll put on a happy face for those kids, understand?”

“How much media will be there?”

Stung, he stepped back. “None. Jesus. You think I'm doin' this for some media attention? What kind of publicity-hungry asshole do you think I am?”

She threw up her hands. “I don't know! I don't know you, okay? And this caught me completely by surprise.” She inhaled a deep breath. “How many people know you're going there tomorrow?”

“Crash. I didn't mention it to my agent, and I forbade the tour promotion company from turnin' it into a media spectacle. I don't do this for any reason other than it makes me happy to put smiles on those kids' faces. Even for just an hour.”

Her eyes searched his. “No bullshit. This is really important to you, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He collapsed against the wall, shoving down his resentment that he had to share something so intensely personal with her. It was one of the few private things he had left. “These kids that have cancer . . . they deal with so much pain and so much uncertainty. Days, weeks, even months in the hospital. I remember how my little sister would talk about how much she loved it when ‘special' people came and did things with them.”

A moment of silence passed. “Your sister had cancer?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to her?”

A sharp stab of pain still lodged in his heart every time he thought of her. “She was diagnosed with leukemia when she was seven. The
treatments didn't work on her, and she passed on two days after her ninth birthday.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen. She was the sweetest girl in the world. And she suffered . . .” He swallowed hard. “It about killed all of us—me, my mom and dad and
older sister, Renee—to watch her, knowing we couldn't do a goddamn thing about it. So when I'm on the road, I make time to hang out with kids like her.”

Liberty's hand pressed against his chest, over his heart. “I'm sorry. God, Devin, I'm so fucking sorry. I can't imagine your loss. And I'm sorry that I questioned the reason why you were doing it. It was a dick move on my part.”

Shocked by her apology, he opened his eyes, surprised to see a sheen of tears in hers. “I don't talk about my family. Very few people know about her. The grief . . . then and now, it's private, you know?”

“No, I don't know. Thank you for telling me.”

Devin placed his hand over hers. “I know you don't want to be my confidante, but we will be livin' in very close quarters, so I hope we can be friends.”

She blinked at him and opened her mouth. But she shut it and nodded. Then she slid her hand free.

“It's after midnight. You a night owl?” he asked.

“I'm more an
early to bed, early to rise
type. So I'll call it a night. I don't have to warn you not to leave the bus or let anyone in, do I?”

“No. I'm lookin' forward to some alone time.” He smirked. “Just me and my big-screen TV.”

“Have fun. You'll have to show me how to run it.”

“The TV in my bedroom?”

Liberty rolled her eyes. “No. The one right there.” She pointed to the forty-eight-inch screen that dropped down from the ceiling.

“I can do that.”

Halfway down the hall, she stopped. “What was your sister's name?”

Why did she want to know that? He said, “Michelle,” and she had no idea how hard it was for him to choke out.

“Pretty. Night, Devin.”

T
he next afternoon Liberty accompanied Devin to the children's hospital.

She waited outside the room, letting him do his thing with the kids. They stayed for nearly two hours. As they walked out, in a moment of sympathy, she'd taken his hand. He'd squeezed her fingers and kept her close enough to his side that their arms brushed. The intimacy in their simple touch hinted at a deeper connection between them—which was as scary as it was thrilling.

But on the ride back to the event center, he pulled away into total silence.

Devin was waylaid outside the arena doors by a couple of enthusiastic female fans. He chatted with them for several minutes and called over one of his roadies to hand out backstage passes. Liberty heard him tell his admirers to come to his dressing room in an hour, when he finished rehearsal.

The girls squealed with excitement after Devin disappeared inside.

Un. Fucking. Real.

Her internal mantra of
no judgment
was drowned out by the loud woofing sound in her brain, reminding her that county music star Devin McClain was a dog.

During rehearsal, she stayed in the shadows of the stage, feeling naked without a weapon. She'd agreed to leave her guns locked up on the bus
while they were at the hospital. She should've insisted they stop to get them after the hospital visit, just to be safe. But the only danger Devin appeared to be in right now was getting run over by his raging libido.

After the stage cleared, she hung back while Devin talked to Crash. Her
curiosity threatened to get the better of her, but she forced herself to stay in place, out of earshot of their conversation.

When Devin cut down the hallway to his ready room, Liberty followed.

Crash fell into step with her.

“What's up?”

“Dev wants some time to chill. He'll stay in there until the concert starts. He said to tell you to go back to the bus.”

“So the security we hired is already here?”

Crash shook his head.

“Guess that answers that.”

“Liberty, he doesn't need—”

“Don't cover for him. I don't give a damn if he's dangling from a fucking trapeze with those two chickies who flashed their tits for backstage passes. He can fuck both of them until he's dehydrated from losing excessive body fluids. But I
will
be stationed outside the door the entire time. At least until arena security arrives. We clear on that?”

Crash sighed. “Yes.”

“Do I need to make it clear to Devin again why I'm here?”

“Maybe. Hell, I don't know. He's in one of them moods where—”

“He needs naked fan adulation to help him through his rough day?”

“Goin' to those kids' hospitals does him in every fucking time. But he keeps doin' it, and afterward, he needs a distraction or two. Surely you can understand that.”

“We all have different coping mechanisms. If he wants to wallow in pussy for a few hours? Great.” Not really, but Devin's coping mechanism was none of her business. Her business was keeping him safe. “I just hope the walls provide a decent sound barrier.”

The ladies who'd been given passes by the roadie showed up. Liberty eyed their clothing—too little of it to hide weapons. Then she blocked the door. “Purses, please.”

The first woman, a busty brunette in her midtwenties, glared at her. “What?”

“Your purses need to remain outside with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” Liberty shrugged. “Take it or leave it, but those are the rules.”

The big-haired, big-boobed blonde demanded, “Who are you?”

“The person keeping you from hanging out with Devin McClain if you don't hand over your handbags,” she said tartly.

The door opened, and Devin lounged in the doorway. “Are you ladies gonna argue with my personal assistant or are you comin' in?”

“Of course we're coming in,” the brunette cooed. “Just wondered why we can't have our stuff.”

“Can't take the risk of cameras or cell phones. Don't worry. She'll keep an eye on it, won't you?”

“Absolutely,
sir
.” Tempting to snap off a salute.

Devin raised a brow at her sarcastic response. Then he focused on his fawning fan girls. “Now that I know you two lovelies can follow the rules, let's see how many of them rules you're willin' to break for me.”

Un. Real.

The door closed after the two women handed over their bags. She heard the lock slide into place. At least his big head was still somewhat engaged and he'd remembered to engage the lock.

Crash dragged a folding chair over for her. “Might as well be comfortable. Anything else I can get you?”

“A clipboard? So it looks like I'm doing something besides sitting out here listening to him doing his fans.”

He laughed. “I can bring you the schedule for the next two weeks, and you can double-check the security recs.”

“That'd be great.”

The hallway remained deserted. But the quiet wasn't a blessing—she could hear every moan, groan and giggle drifting out from the room. Or possibly that was her imagination. Either way, she made a mental note to always carry earplugs.

Time dragged. She'd begun to make little hash marks every time she heard “Yes! Yes! Yes!” when someone said her name. Her head snapped up.

“You're Liberty, right?”

She squinted at the guy with longish brown hair, a soul patch and a
sweet smile. His bulging biceps indicated he hauled heavy objects. “Yes, I am. Who are you?”

“Name's Check. I handle the band's instruments.”

“Do they call you Check because you're the guy who says ‘Check, check' into the microphones before the show?”

He groaned. “Original, huh? But no one would know who you were talking about if you said my given name—so Check is easier.”

Liberty smiled. “Did you need something?”

“Saw you sitting here and came by to say hey. I wondered if you'd met the other equipment guys.”

“Just Boomer and the dude with the cigar.”

“That's large-and-in-charge Sarge. He's head of stage setup, front-of-house merchandise stalls and roadies.”

Liberty's gaze landed on Check's tattoo—a marine insignia. “A jarhead, huh? How long?”

“Eight years.” He cocked his head. “Which branch owned your soul?”

“Army. Twelve years. Been out a little over two.”

That seemed to impress him. “A lot of us guys in this line of work did our time in uniform.”

They started bullshitting about the life that only those who'd lived it could understand. Swapping good-natured insults. Trying to one up each other with stories.

Then Sarge showed up, bringing chairs for himself, as well as Mike—who oddly enough didn't handle the sound system—and Rick, who rotated between driving the equipment truck and the band's bus.

For the first time in days, Liberty was completely in her element.

She'd just finished a story with “I don't give a flying monkey's ass if you're a fuckin' general. Find me some goddamn coffee or I'll shoot you myself,” and the guys were laughing uproariously when the door behind her opened.

The laughter died. Immediately, Check, Rick, Mike and Sarge pushed to their feet. Check said, “See ya around. Come have a beer with us some night.”

She looked up at Devin, who wasn't wearing the smug smile of a sexually satisfied man but an expression of annoyance.

The groupies sauntered out, each stopping to whisper in Devin's ear before snatching their purses. “Can't wait for the show tonight,” the busty brunette tossed over her shoulder.

Neither she nor Devin said anything as the women sashayed down the hallway. It surprised her that the blonde didn't throw out her back from the exaggerated sway of her hips.

Liberty stood and stretched. Rather than say, “Finished already?” she opted for, “Ready to go back to the bus?”

“I've decided to stay and work on new material until the show starts.”

She glanced at her watch. “Backup security should be here soon. I'll make sure they don't bother you.” She grimaced when her ass connected with the hard metal seat again.

“You wanna sit in here?”

So she could choke on the scents of sex and cheap perfume? Uh, no, thanks. “I'm fine.”

“Are you hoping your roadie admirers will come back and entertain you?” he said sharply. “You guys were incredibly fuckin' loud.”

“Did it hurt your vocal cords to have to shout out your climax over our conversation in the hallway?” The instant she said that, she wished she could take it back.
Not professional, Masterson.
“Sorry. That was out of line.”

Devin said nothing.

She kept her features schooled as she flipped through the notes she'd taken, hoping he'd get the hint and return to his love nest.

No such luck. Devin crouched beside her. “My roadies ain't dumb. Didn't any of them question why a woman with a military career would be parading around as my personal assistant?”

Her gaze squared off with his. “First of all,
sir
, I worked as a personal assistant to my CO during my third tour, so taking this job isn't such a stretch. And you're right; those guys aren't dumb. They've been there.
They know what it's like to flounder after leaving the military.” She dropped her voice. “Second, my position with you is confidential. I'd never violate that for a cheap laugh or easy camaraderie. But I will be working
with these guys for months. By being on good terms with them, I can better protect you.”

“Bein' on good terms means you're gonna take them up on their offer to drink beer?”

Jesus, if she didn't know better, she'd think Devin was jealous. “No,
sir
.”

“Would you have a beer with me?”

What the hell? “No,
sir
. I don't drink on the job.”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Stop with the
no, sir
bullshit. We both know that sarcastic
sir
is your verbal shorthand for asshole.”

The man saw far more than she credited him for. How would she survive four months with him when they'd managed to piss each other off at least once a day for the last two days?

His warm fingers slid beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. Why did he have to have such compelling eyes? Why did her damn heart skip a beat when he touched her?

“I don't want to always be at odds with you, Liberty.”

“Me either.”

“Good.” His face softened. “I forgot to say thank you for comin' to the hospital with me today.”

Don't be sweet
. She had a better handle on things when he was being a douche. “You're welcome.”

“I was serious about you havin' a beer with me once we're locked down in the bus tonight and on the road.”

“We'll see.”

“Woman, you don't give an inch, do you?” He sighed softly and stood. “You'll be at the show tonight?”

“Of course.”

He smiled, a genuine smile, not the practiced media smile he used with everyone else. “I'll see you then. Right now, I'm feelin' inspired to write.”

“I've heard good sex will do that.”
Jesus, Liberty. Can't you just keep your fucking mouth shut for once?

“Don't believe everything you hear.” He walked into the room and shut the door behind him.

The second night's performance was better than the first. Everyone was in high spirits. Devin had fulfilled his media and fan requirements the previous night. No groupies hung around backstage. Strangely enough, Devin sat in the arena and watched his stage set being torn down.

What was he doing? Making sure the roadies did teardown to his specifications? Dissecting his performance?

Liberty kept an eye on the brooding singer, watching as he tapped his fingers on his thigh, lost in some rhythm inside his head. She'd never spent time around artistic types. She wondered how people like Devin dealt with the constant pressure of life in the fishbowl.

When he stood and scaled the arena stairs, she intercepted him at the top of the aisle.

“I should've known you'd be close by.”

“I thought you'd be used to your lack of privacy by now.”

Devin shook his head. “To be honest, I don't want to get used to it. That's why I find myself in the stands after a performance.” He turned and looked at the stage. “Sometimes I look at all this and can't believe it's my life.”

Not what she'd expected from him.

He faced her again. “I'm ready to go to the bus.”

As they approached the motor coaches, Liberty noticed Reg sitting in a lawn chair beside the main door. Having a guard outside the bus indicated someone inside the bus was worth guarding. It wasn't a security measure she'd asked for. So who had implemented it?