Chapter 27

Nicole

Mason and I stumbled into the hotel after two in the morning. My stomach churned with memories of a lifetime of pain as we were forced to walk through the casino to get to the front desk. The lingering smell of stale smoke taunted me—that was what my father had smelled like whenever he returned home from gambling. I wanted to climb into a shower and scrub the stench off me.

Lights from the slot machines flashed, attempting to lure in the unsuspecting. Even at this hour the casino was busy, with men and women of all ages. Some looked like zombies—pretty much how I felt after attending the funeral and then traveling the rest of the day. The only difference was that my resemblance to a zombie was due to a lack of sleep. The people in front of us had been turned into zombies by the slot machines.

Waitresses wearing stilettos and revealing dresses carried trays of drinks to the tables where patrons were involved in their card game of choice. The men at the nearby table barely gave their waitress a second glance, their attention focused on the dealer and the cards laid out in front of them.

Mason stopped for a moment. I had no idea why. I was too busy watching a man at the blackjack table who reminded me of the last time I’d seen my father. His dress shirt was disheveled and his short brown hair stuck up at odd angles, the result of him shoving his hand through it too many times. Nausea churned in my stomach when I saw the wedding ring on his finger. This man probably also had kids at home who had no idea what their father was up to. If they were lucky, he didn’t live around here; he was just here for a day or two before returning home to his happy family. If they were lucky, he wasn’t a gambling addict.

The man lost his last remaining chips and his face paled. My guess was that he had lost more than he’d bargained for, more than he could afford. He removed himself from the table. A woman who looked like she was more desperate to win than to breathe quickly filled his empty spot.

I couldn’t watch any longer, and started walking away. I didn’t care if Mason was with me or not; I just needed to go to the room and sleep. Preferably for the next ten years…or until it was time to leave for the concert.

The benefit of getting in so late was the lack of a huge line at the registration desk. One guest was being served by the clerk, and there was a couple waiting in front of me. Even though they looked like they could fall asleep standing right there, their weary gazes kept shifting back to the casino.

Then their eyes went wide, as did their mouths. I spun around to see what had them so enthralled. Mason was approaching, hot as ever, despite what he had gone through with his family and despite having been awake for close to forty-eight hours. I had at least fallen asleep during the flight, but he’d told me he hadn’t.

There was something different about him all of a sudden, but I couldn’t figure out why. It was as if he had gotten a second wind.

Then I realized what it must be. We were about to check in to our rooms, and he was no doubt hoping for sex before hitting the sheets. The way I was feeling right now, I’d probably fall asleep in the middle of it, and not even Mason’s talent for giving me orgasms could keep me awake.

The customer at the front desk walked away and the couple in front of me took his place. Mason wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, his chest against my back. “You’re spending the night with me, right?”

“I don’t have the energy for sex.” My words sounded tired even to my own ears.

“I’m not expecting us to have sex tonight. I just want to wake up with you next to me.” He nibbled the shell of my ear, and despite my state of near collapse, my body sat up and paid attention. “Then we can discuss the matter of sex when we’re both awake. Deal?” He glanced over his shoulder at the casino before his warm breath was on my ear again.

I leaned back against him, letting him momentarily support my weight. “Okay. Deal.”

After what felt like a lifetime, Mason and I stepped up to the registration desk. I checked in first. Then it was Mason’s turn, and he asked for two key cards for his room and handed one to me.

“I’ll meet you in the room,” he said. “There’s something I have to do first.”

“What?” I couldn’t imagine him having the energy to do much more than drag himself onto the elevator and stumble down the hallway to our room.

“It’s no big deal. Just something I have to quickly do. I promise I won’t be long.” He fidgeted with his key card, a sheen of perspiration glistening on his face.

“Are you sure it’s nothing?”

He kissed the end of my nose. “Promise.”

I nodded, because what else could I do? He didn’t want to tell me and I had to trust him. “All right, I’ll see you upstairs.” I took from him the duffle bag that we had been using as luggage for the trip to L.A. It contained the only clothes I’d have with me until I returned to the tour bus.

I walked down a short hallway to the elevators and pushed the button. I didn’t even have the energy to glance back to see where Mason had gone.

The ping of the arriving elevator had me doing a happy dance…in my head. The doors opened, and I entered and pushed the button for my floor, struggling to keep my eyes open. Naturally the god of irony thought it would be funny to make my room a good hike from the elevator once I got to my floor. I prayed the entire way there that he wouldn’t be cruel enough to render my key card useless.

Luckily for me, he listened. The door opened and I stepped into what had to be the sweetest sight for my poor exhausted body and brain. The king-sized bed beckoned to me, and I walked over to it, thinking I would lie down for just a moment or two—to test it out, nothing more.

But after traveling on the tour bus for the past nine weeks, and after everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, the bed’s pull on me proved to be stronger than I’d expected. My eyes drifted shut.

When I opened them, it took me a moment to remember where I was. The lack of the tour bus engine humming in my ear was my first clue.

I was lying on the bed, fully clothed. Daylight streamed through the open curtains, though fortunately it was cloudy outside, so it wasn’t as bright as it might have been otherwise. The light by the door was still on, as was my bedside lamp. According to the alarm clock, it was eleven-fifteen. The way I was feeling—which was a helluva lot better than when I’d lain down last night—another few hours of sleep wouldn’t have hurt.

I shifted around to see if Mason was awake yet. But instead of finding him or a hint that he had slept in the bed last night, the bedding on his side was smooth and untouched.

I pushed myself to sit and listened for any indication he was in the bathroom. When I couldn’t hear anything, I climbed out of bed and clicked the bathroom light on. There were no signs that anyone had used it since we’d checked in.

I examined the room again. Still nothing to indicate Mason had even come into the room last night. Maybe he had decided to let me sleep, and he’d slept in my room instead of his own. I checked my phone, but he hadn’t left me a text, nor had he phoned me.

I grabbed a change of clothes and my toiletries and hit the shower. Once I had scrubbed off the two days of travel and dried my hair, I checked my phone again to see if Mason had tried to contact me while I was showering. Still nothing.

I sent him a text. Where are you? Missed waking up to you in bed.

When I didn’t get a reply, I sent Nolan a text, asking if he had seen Mason this morning. He responded a few minutes later that he hadn’t. Neither had any of the other guys when I texted them.

Jared suggested that Mason was still sleeping in his room, since we had arrived so late. I didn’t want to admit that I was in Mason’s room and he hadn’t shown up.

But if you see him, Jared texted, tell him “Without You” hit #1!!!!

Congrats! I texted back. I wasn’t too surprised. It was one of my favorite songs from their latest album.

Unable to stand not knowing where Mason was, I grabbed my purse and went downstairs. My plan had been to ask at the front desk if Mason had asked for a second key to my room after all. But as I walked past the casino, something made me glance toward the blackjack tables, and my breath stalled in my chest.

Mason was sitting at a table with a tall, gorgeous blonde next to him. She was holding what could’ve been either orange juice or some sort of alcoholic beverage. He had a bottle of beer. She didn’t appear to have been there all night; she looked like she was freshly showered and ready to spend the day with the drummer.

Anger surged through me, tempered only slightly by the realization that I could not make a scene. The band didn’t need that. It was also kept in check by the fact that Mason wasn’t even paying attention to her, his focus instead on the game he was playing.

From what I could tell, he wasn’t a novice at the game. But he also wasn’t winning a huge amount of money. Just how long had he been here? How much had he lost?

I walked up to him. “Mason? What’s going on?” Hurt bled into my words, even though I had been aiming for a casual, non-accusatory tone.

“He’s with me,” the blonde said, as if that explained everything. Her voice was smooth and sexy, much like her dress, which was a complete contrast to my jeans, lacy white tank top, denim jacket, and cowboy boots. She gave me a once-over, clearly deciding that my outfit was cute but not suitable for hanging out with a rock star.

“Actually,” I said, “he’s with me.”

She peered at Mason for confirmation, but he was too busy to notice her. He nodded at the dealer to indicate that he wanted another card. “Hit me.” Three of hearts. “Stay.”

The dealer’s next card was a ten. He lost; Mason won.

I expected him to keep playing, the way my father would have, but he just gathered his winnings and turned his sexy smile on me. “What time is it?”

Like it always did whenever Mason smiled at me that way, my heart beat like the tail of an overly excited puppy. “Almost noon. Have you been here all night?”

“Sorry, I didn’t wanna upset you, what with your father’s history and all. I wanted to play a hand or two, and did better than I expected.”

“So you didn’t lose any money?”

“Nope. I bet a small amount and got lucky. Don’t worry, I’m not like your father.” His gaze drifted back to the table for a moment before returning to me. The woman hanging around him continued to stare at him, as if imagining him naked. Couldn’t say I blamed her for that. “And I’m finished. Let me just cash out.”

“Who’s the woman?” I asked as we walked away from the table. By some small miracle, I kept myself from sounding like a jealous girlfriend. I was trying to come across like a colleague who wasn’t screwing around with her boss and was curious, nothing more.

Mason blinked and glanced back at the table, as if he had no idea what I was talking about. A sensual smile grew on her face that made me want to step on her toes—purely accidentally, of course. Her smile dimmed at Mason’s indifferent expression.

“I have no idea,” he said. “I think she was hitting on me at one point, but I wasn’t paying attention. She was only interested in me because she recognized me from the band and because I was winning.” He flashed me the sexy one-sided grin that made all my girlie parts hum. “Besides, she’s not you.” That got them really revved up.

While he went to cash in his winnings, I sent Nolan a text, letting him know that I’d found Mason. He replied that the guys were heading over to the hotel’s Tex-Mex restaurant and they’d meet us there.

I told Mason this once he returned from the cashier. “I guess lunch is on you,” I said with a smirk. “How much did you win?”

“Three hundred and fifty dollars.”

I stopped short. “Are you kidding me?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, I got lucky.”

“I’d say.” It was no wonder my father had gotten hooked on gambling. I could understand how it could easily happen. You win a few times, and once you start losing, you’re positive the winning streak will resume soon.

Mason shifted on his feet, and his bloodshot eyes scanned the area. He looked both wary and exhausted, which wasn’t too surprising given that he hadn’t slept yet.

“Do you want to meet up with the rest of the band for lunch and then get some sleep? You’ve got time before the interview this afternoon.”

He scrubbed his face with his hand, swaying slightly, and I recalled that not only hadn’t he slept, but he’d also been drinking beer. “I’m not hungry, and I don’t feel like seeing anyone right now. I’ll just go to the room and meet up with the guys later.”

After what had happened yesterday at his father’s funeral, I wasn’t too surprised he felt that way. But his bandmates were like brothers to him, and he needed them more than ever.

I laid my hand on his biceps, over the tattoo that said “I am a fighter” in Sanskrit. “Are you sure? They have some great news to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you come to lunch and they can tell you themselves?”

“I’d rather not right now. Why don’t you tell me?”

I grinned, barely restraining myself from jumping up and down while squealing like a fangirl. “ ‘Without You’ hit number one. Congratulations! You guys finally did it.” I flung my arms around his neck and hugged him hard, doing my best to ignore the smell of smoke now clinging to him. “I’m so proud of you, Mason.”

He hugged me back, but it lacked the level of enthusiasm I would have expected. I chalked it up to his exhaustion.

“Thanks. Can you do me a favor?” he asked.

I released my arms from around him and stepped back. “Sure, what?”

“Don’t mention anything to the guys about the gambling. If…if Kirk hears how much I won, he’ll want to gamble, and that’s not a good idea.”

“Why?” But then his meaning slammed into me, and my eyes widened. “Kirk used to gamble?”

Mason nodded. “But he doesn’t want anyone to know, so don’t say anything to him, all right? He’d kill me if he found out I told you.”

“Okay.”

He kissed me on the cheek. “I promise I’ll make it up to you for last night.”

“It’s okay. Just make sure you get some sleep, and text me when you wake up.”

“I will.”

Mason headed for the elevators, and I walked to the restaurant around the corner, where I was meeting the guys. They were already seated when I got there, drinking sodas.

“Where’s Mason?” Jared asked.

“In his room.” I bit my lip, wondering how much to tell them about yesterday. In the end I decided they needed to know. For Mason’s sake. “Look, about yesterday…Mason’s father died four days ago, and he and I returned to L.A. for the funeral. Something happened there, and I think he’s still upset about it.”

They all stared at me, shock clearly stamped on their faces. Nolan was the first to recover. “How come he never said anything about it to us?”

“Probably because he was upset when he first found out. None of his family had bothered to tell him his father was dying of cancer. He only discovered what had happened because he saw the obituary.”

Aaron glanced at the other guys, then at me. “So how come he told you and not us?” There was no curiosity to his words—instead, he was pissed. They were like brothers to Mason, but by keeping them in the dark, Mason had acted like his own asshole brother, the one who hadn’t told Mason about their father’s death.

“Because he’s in love with her,” Jared finally said, his gaze locked on me.

Kirk and Aaron both looked surprised at this revelation. Nolan, not so much.

“What happened at the funeral?” Kirk asked, skipping past what Jared had just told them.

Shit. I guess I should have expected that. “He wasn’t exactly welcomed with warm fuzzies.”

The guys looked far less surprised by this than they had been about the news that Mason was in love with me. Whatever had happened between him and his family, they knew about it.

And whatever it was had them worried.

“Why is his family so upset with him?” I asked.

“That’s something only Mason can tell you,” Nolan said, confirming what I’d already suspected they would say. Their loyalty to Mason came first.

“You’re sure Mason is in his room?” Kirk asked me.

“He said he was going to bed. I have no reason not to believe him.” Just like I’d had no reason not to believe Mason when he told me early this morning he was coming right up to our room after he did something first.

The something that had kept him from coming to bed like he’d promised.

A bad feeling kicked me in the stomach. I shoved it away. Mason wasn’t my father. He wasn’t addicted to gambling.

Unlike my father, he knew how to walk away.