His Rock & Roll Girl (Emerald City #2) (4 page)

“Just tell me what’s going on, lover.” Quinn’s hard tone didn’t match the cajoling words. “I thought we’d worked this out. You were looking forward to seeing the country.”

It was true; she had been. When he and Lionheart had signed their contract, she’d been ecstatic for them. Especially for him. This was his dream. And when he’d asked her to go on tour with them, to be the girl by his side, she’d known how lucky she was.

Except he seemed to know it too. And since she was about to drop out of college to do this, she wanted to know he saw as much potential in their future as she did. She’d tried to hint at first, and when that hadn’t worked, asked him outright if they were more than a fling.

He always brushed her off. Just like today. Told her things like, she knew what they had. Turned the questions back on her, asking why she couldn’t just enjoy them for what they were.

She was sick of it. She knew there was only one solution, and it gnawed at her gut, but there was no other way. She wasn’t going to surrender her future for his whimsy.

Roz wrung her fingers and paced the short length of her office. “I don’t know how they got in,” she repeated for what felt like the five billionth time. The studio was secure. It had to be, to keep the equipment safe, and for the sake of the people who filmed there. Riot glass on the one entrance door. Biorhythm locks everywhere. But even her cameras had gone offline.

Tears of frustration and anger pricked the back of her eyelids. Part of her blamed Quinn for this, but it was a tiny part. Mostly, she wanted the cops to be done talking to him, so she could wrap herself up in his arms, the way he used to. To find comfort and security like he’d offered in the past. That thought had to go now. She wasn’t going to let a little stress convince her yesterday had been anything more than fun.

“You’re sure no one on staff had any issues with you or with the business?”

“Yes.” The single word was barked out louder than she intended. It felt good to let her impotence leak out in the shout, and she didn’t try and reel herself back in. “I already told this to the last guy. And the lady before him. I’m sick of fucking telling you people this. I just want you to finish and get the hell out of here, so I can clean up. So I can get back to work. So I know I’m not in any danger—” Her voice cracked on the last sentence, and she clenched her hand to keep the anger from becoming a sob.

She sank back into her chair and drew in a shaky breath. “I just… Are we done yet?”

The man wouldn’t meet her eyes. He pocketed the tablet he’d been using to record the conversation, and stood. “Almost. You can stay here, if you’d prefer. We’ll let you know when we clear out.

She buried her face in her hands, even before he left the room. The insurance would pay for the damage. She wasn’t worried about that. They’d have an appraiser over, as soon as the police left. The news studio that had had to cancel two days in a row was furious, but at this point, she didn’t care if they never rescheduled.

But the violation. The doubt. This studio was her baby. Every inch of her ached with the thought someone she knew might have done this. It was almost worse than if they’d just broken into her home. That was just where she slept. This was what she’d built. Her frame shook, as she swallowed back a sob, and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep from breaking while the place was still buzzing.

“Oh God, Zee.” Quinn’s voice wormed its way through the bedlam in her head. He covered her hands with his calloused palms, his touch warm and comforting. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry.”

Another impulse to fall against him filled her. To drop from her chair, land in his lap, and just disappear in the comfort for a few minutes. He’d always been incredible at that while they dated. Chasing away her stress. Reminding her it was all going to be okay.

But that wasn’t what they were to each other anymore, and now would be about the worst time possible to convince herself otherwise. She rubbed her face, grateful no tears had fallen yet, and fixed her gaze on him. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I saw the walls in the lobby.”

She rolled her chair back enough to take herself away from his reach. Something inside snapped, when she broke the contact between them. She obliterated another rush of frustration, before it could consume her. “Just some asshole, right? We’ll take care of it.”

His jaw clenched, and he stood. “I suppose.”

She forced herself to her feet as well, and nodded toward the exit. “Are they done talking to you?”

“They said they might call me for more, but they have all they need for now.” He reached for her.

She stayed out of his grasp. “Glad to hear it.” A new thought entered her mind, and she hated her brain for dragging this up now. Why couldn’t she just let him leave, and pretend she’d been too frazzled to question his original motives? But now the doubt was in her head, she had to know. “Do you want to schedule some time to come back with the entire band? To film?”

He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked away. “We’ll see how the tour schedule goes. Let me know when things are back up to par here, and we’ll work it out.”

Damn it. A new flavor of angry hurt surfaced. At least it was a distraction from the mess around her. “Did you even plan on booking time here? Or was that just bullshit?”

He finally locked his gaze on hers again, a storm raging in his eyes. “We really do want the studio. I’m here alone because I wanted to make things right with you.”

She wouldn’t let the words affect her. Couldn’t. “You could have just said so.”

“Would you have made time?”

The question dug deep. She knew he was twisting the conversation. This was just like back then. Turning the blame back on her for overreacting. Refusing to say what was actually on his mind. What
he
was feeling.

She couldn’t do this right now.

She didn’t have much composure left, but grabbing it from deep inside and pulling it to the surface was comforting. It numbed the doubt and blanketed the helplessness. “I’m sorry we couldn’t work something out, Mr. Blaydes. Maybe next time.” Her voice was cool, even to her own ears, and she let herself believe she meant it.

“Lover, please.”

“Don’t call me that.” Ice coated her words. She nudged him toward the exit. More turmoil boiled inside when she saw the fans starting to gather beyond the police lines again. Had one of them done this? Was one of her staff wishing they were out there with the girls? “Enjoy your flight out.”

He fixed another hard gaze on her, eyes searching her face. She stared back blankly, keeping her expression impassive.

“I will. Thanks.” His frigid tone shifted to match hers. Seconds later, he was strolling out the front door, toward a waiting car. He nodded at two women—girls?—in the growing crowd.

Their squeals pierced Roz’s eardrums, as they fell into step beside him, one hanging off each of his arms.

Truth crashed in around her. She had just done everything she hated him for. Swallowed her feelings. Bit back the one chance to be honest with him and herself. Destroyed maybe her only chance to tell Quinn she still loved him, for fear of rejection. She sank onto the arm of a nearby sofa, clinging like mad to any composure she had left. She failed to stop the tears from leaking from her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m not going with you.”

Quinn stared back at Roz. The words had reached his ears clearly, but he had to have heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”

“On tour.” Her every syllable was clear and measured. “I’m not going with you.”

Panic clawed his brain, and he smothered it with confidence. He had this under control. “Long distance is going to be tough. We’ll have to go months without seeing each other.” His mouth kept talking, even though part of him knew he should have stopped there. “There will be a lot of other girls on the road.”

A scowl set in. “I’m sure there will be.” The uncertainty was gone from her voice, replaced with a sharp edge. “And I’m sure now you’re single, you’ll have lots of fun getting to know each and every one of them.”

Single? “Zee… Rosalie, we’re not breaking up.”

She gave a short, cold laugh. “Yeah, lover, we are. Goodbye.”

Quinn lay on his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. Every time he tried to grasp a thought, it flitted away. He’d led the girls from Roz’s studio as far as the hotel lobby, signed photos on their phones, and sent them on their way. That had been almost twelve hours ago.

What was wrong with him? He couldn’t get
her
face out of his mind. Memories of her head on pillow, long, black locks spilling out around her laughing face. The sound of her gasps from lunch the other day—short, desperate, intense.

Was it even possible to love someone so much?

Love?
What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t fall in love. Sure, they’d fit perfectly together three years ago, but even if she’d gone on tour with him back then, it wouldn’t have lasted. He cared about her, but love?

Except, every time the word repeated in his head, it felt more and more right, and at the same time completely terrifying. Love meant commitment, and surrendering part of himself.  Of his life. Of freedom.

So why did it sound so appealing?

His phone hadn’t been at the studio. Given the circumstances, it was possible it had been stolen, according to the police, and he wouldn’t have a new one until tomorrow. They’d also asked him if he could stay in town another day or two, in case they needed him to ID someone or answer more questions. He’d originally planned on it anyway, so he agreed.

But that meant he was stuck alone with his thoughts, no real access to funds until his replacement phone came in tomorrow, and no desire to stare at the walls any longer.

He snarled at the empty room, and left it behind him. It was late enough, the elevator and hotel lobby were almost empty. He stepped through the revolving doors, and a wash of rain slammed into him, drenching him almost immediately. He didn’t care. Being soaked didn’t register on his scale of thoughts worth clinging to at the moment. Besides, it was another thing he loved about Emerald City—frequent summer showers.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to walk. He listened to the patter of drops as it mingled with the sounds of night time traffic and the stomping of his feet hitting the sidewalk. Every time he tried to redirect his thoughts—to their upcoming tour, to new songs they’d been working on, to anything—his mind rebelled and drifted back to Roz.

He passed a Mag-Bus stop, sign proclaiming all rides within city limits were free.
Might as well.
It had nothing to do with the fact the line ran past Roz’s studio. Going back to the hotel wasn’t appealing, and his jeans couldn’t hold any more water. Fortunately, the car he hopped onto was almost empty. A couple of teenage boys huddled in back, laughing and pointing at something on their phones. An older woman sat at the other end, head bowed and glasses in place, so he couldn’t tell if she was reading or sleeping.

The scenery passed, buildings becoming less commercial and more industrial. Every muscle in his body tensed, as they drew closer to the point of his fixation. He pushed the button to get off at the next stop, and moments later stepped back into the pouring rain. He should have been surprised or upset, or something, that he’d dragged himself to Roz’s studio again.

But the only emotion he could find was disappointment. It wasn’t like she was going to be around so late at night. The front door was boarded with security grade plexi-board, the blacked-out temporary fix blocking all light and not allowing a glimpse of inside.

He turned away. Damn it.

“Quinn?” Her soft question pushed back all his meandering thoughts, until it was the only thing left in his head.

“Zee.” He whirled. She stood a few feet back, just outside the door, rain drenching and suctioning her clothes to her. Dark circles lined her pinched face, but she was the most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen. He held himself back when she crossed her arms. “Why are you working so late?” he asked.

“Apparently the world didn’t stop just because the office got trashed. I lost half a workday dealing with the cops this morning.” Her voice was strained. She licked her lips. “What’s your excuse?”

Instinct pushed a vague, arrogance-filled answer to the tip of his tongue, and he let it slide out before he could consider it. “I just wanted to walk in the rain, you know?”

She took a step back. “Right.”

He couldn’t do this. It was time to stop being a coward about his feelings for her. “No, it’s not right. It’s not even true. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Her expression didn’t soften, and her mouth stayed snapped shut. Hard eyes stared back at him.

“I’m sorry. For not being honest about why I’m here. For every time I lied to myself about how I felt. About hurting you.” But this wasn’t all. He’d come to her to show her what she’d been missing out on, yet he’d come to realize he was the one at a loss. Nothing mattered without her. Not the fame. Not the money. “I love you, Zee.” The words were easier to push out than he thought.

“Fuck you.” Her words echoed in the rain. “You can’t do that.” Was that a tremor in her voice? “Over and over again, you’ve given up your right to tell me what you feel. It’s too late.”

He wanted to argue. Plead. Cajole. Seduce. None of those was the answer, though. “It’s true I don’t deserve to weigh you down like that. Do you want me to take it back? I’ll still mean it either way.”

“This isn’t fair, Quinn.” She unfolded her arms and stepped closer, the clouds in her expression darker than the ones blocking out the moon. “Why couldn’t you give me this when I asked for it? It’s too late now. Our lives don’t intersect anymore, and I’m grateful. I’m glad you left. My life is better this way. I never would’ve become anything, if I’d stayed by your side.”

Every one of her words dug deeper, and for one of the only times he could remember, he didn’t have an argument for her.

“So take it back or don’t.” Her chin quivered. “I don’t care. We lost our chance.” Her head dropped, and seconds later, her body started to shake. She wrapped her arms around herself, and quiet sobs filtered to his ears.

His chest clenched at the sight, until he thought his ribs might crack. Something flashed in his mind to walk away; she’d given him her answer. He ground out the thought, and finally let his instinct take control of his actions. In a few short strides, he closed the distance between them, and wrapped his arms around her. He expected her to push him away, but she sank into his grip, tears shaking her body.

“I’m so sorry.” His lips moved against her hair. The pouring rain drowned out the rest of the world, and if he dove into the moment, he could pretend they were the only two people who existed. She was so warm, pressed against him. So fragile. “I was terrified of what it meant. You have every right to be mad, but I still love you.”

Her response was another sob. Her fists clenched bits of his T-shirt, and she leaned into him more. He held her, running his fingers through her hair, until her cries became short hiccups for breath.

She didn’t look up when she spoke. Though his shirt muffled the words, he heard them as loud and clear as anything. “I love you, too.”

He tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him. Even with red-rimmed eyes, storm mingling with her grief, she was still gorgeous. He brushed his lips over hers, memorizing the taste of salt and rain and her.

Her hands slid to the back of his neck, and she held his head in place, and crushed against him with a hungry kiss. Every inch of him flared to life, and he held her captive. He pushed his tongue hungrily into her mouth. Every time she whimpered and slid against him, his cock got harder. It had been good in the past, but it had never been like this.

The whir of a laser pistol winding up filled the parking lot, and something hard pressed into his temple.

Chuck’s low growl reached Quinn’s ears. “Get the fuck away from her.”