Chapter 2
Liza sat on the plush white couch of the hotel suite, scrolling through the news sites on her laptop. The media was salivating over the arrest of Justice’s father with lurid headlines.
Father of Savaged Illusions’ lead singer suspected of attempted murder!
Did Justice Cade’s father stab the singer’s girlfriend Liza Glasner?
She rubbed her temple, unable to believe how badly things were spiraling out of control. It’d been hours since the drive home from the hospital, getting the call, seeing the media covering Justice’s house and finally landing in the penthouse. Since then, Justice had gone back over to the house to grab a few things, met with the lawyer and tried to see his dad.
Noah had refused.
Apprehension gnawed at her like a ravenous hellhound.
“No.”
Justice’s snarl jerked her gaze up from her computer. His face was carved into harsh lines that made him look closer to thirty than twenty-four. He was wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt, his tatted arms bulging with wiry strength as he spun and strode away from her. The lines of his back strained the soft cotton of his shirt. Clearly the conversation with his business manager wasn’t going well. The arrest was having a serious ripple effect.
“Back off, Christine. I don’t need a damned publicist right now, I need to figure out how the fuck to get my dad out of this mess. He didn’t stab Liza.” He whirled, glaring at the elevator doors. “I should be doing something,” he muttered.
Guilt and worry tightened a steel band around her chest. And beneath all that, a little pang of loss. Another publicist? Liza had been the band’s publicist.
And you’re part of the reason they lost too.
That pang grew into hurt. Damn it, she’d been good at her job, and she’d loved being a part of his world and having an important role to help him achieve his dream. Now she was being pushed aside.
“Fine. Have the publicist send me the statement.” He hung up and dropped his arm. With the late-afternoon light flooding in from the huge terrace behind him, Justice appeared to have the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Setting the computer aside, she got up and went to him, slid her arms around his waist and laid her head against his warm chest. Maybe she wasn’t on the inside of his career anymore, but she could give him this—her love and comfort.
His arms folded around her. “Christine’s worried Court of Rock might pull the summer tour offer she’s negotiating. With my dad arrested, the media is spreading crazy rumors. And Jagged Fucking Sin suggested my dad stabbed you because he knew you were setting me up like you did Gene Hayes.” He glided his hand beneath her shirt to spread over her back.
Her chest tightened at the mention of Hayes and the knowledge of how much her past caused problems for Justice and the band. “He wasn’t arrested for that. It’s just a warrant for unpaid tickets.” But the truth didn’t matter; the media made the link, and now it was out there like a virus, infecting the public.
“The publicity chick is going to craft a statement clarifying that to blast over social media and put out to the news and entertainment sites. My dad’s lawyer said he’ll probably be arraigned tomorrow on that, and with luck, we can pay the outstanding tickets and fines and they’ll let him go. The guys will be here for that as a show of support and unity.” His jaw bulged. “Maybe.”
Maybe? Another frisson of concern rippled through her. That fight in the greenroom the night Liza had been stabbed…had the damage gone deeper than Justice let on? “You said you and the band were okay.”
“We are.”
“What are you not telling me?”
He sighed. “We lost, Beth. What do you think is going on? I let the whole goddamned band down. Lynx is drinking himself stupid, River’s fucking out his anger with any willing female. Gray’s vanishing and reappearing like a magician and Simon…” he shook his head, “…he’s gone so cold, he’s a machine. I think the only time he feels anything is with a guitar in his hands.”
In the last weeks, she’d come to genuinely care about all the band members, and now they were falling apart.
“And when my band needs me the most, here I am, trapped in San Diego taking care of my injured girlfriend with my estranged father in jail on trumped-up charges because they suspect him of trying to kill you.”
She flinched. “Trapped?” Was that how she made him feel? A weight and obligation?
Justice lowered his gaze, his eyes losing that icy sheen. “Shit, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m torn, that’s all. My friends need me, you need me, my dad’s in trouble and he still won’t see me.” He touched her face. “You’re not trapping me. I just can’t be everywhere.”
It was more than that, Liza could feel it. The squeeze on her chest tightened. “Christine told you to distance yourself from me, didn’t she? That it looks bad—like your own dad was trying to protect you from me.” If Justice wasn’t a musician dependent on fans for his and the band’s success, it wouldn’t matter so much.
But they needed every fan they could get to rebuild their career. And that was why Justice was so torn; he was getting real pressure.
“Christine doesn’t decide who I love. I do, and I chose you.”
Sincerity rang in his words, but was it really that easy? The whole reason they hired Christine was to help them achieve the fame they passionately craved. The band planned to record their own album, go on a tour…the pressure was going to multiply. She wanted that for him and yet feared it at the same time. If she was in the way with her past and so many rock fans hating her, would Justice one day realize he’d be better off without her?
Adding to his strain wouldn’t help, so she didn’t tell him that. Instead, she smiled. “Yes you did, and now you’re mine. Christine can kiss my ass.” The manager had already made it clear to Liza that she disapproved of her and Justice’s relationship.
“There’s my fiery Beth.” Amusement flickered in his eyes, then he sobered. “What the hell is taking the lawyer so long? She’s supposed to call after talking to my dad and meeting with the detective.”
He’d barely gotten the words out when her phone rang. Justice released her, grabbed it off the couch and brought it back. “Police department.”
She eyed the screen. Was this the break they desperately needed? Her heart thumped as she answered. “This is Liza.”
“Miss Glasner, this is Detective Jenkins. I’m here in the lobby with Mr. Cade’s lawyer. We’d like to see you. I have some pictures to show you.”
Surprised, she asked, “Here in the hotel?”
“Yes. Mr. Cade’s lawyer said you’re staying here. Since you just got out of the hospital, I thought it’d be easier for me to come to you, rather than asking you to come down to the station.”
She looked up at Justice. “The detective and your dad’s lawyer are here.”
“Give them the code for the penthouse elevator.”
Liza relayed the information and hung up. “He wants us to look at some pictures.”
Justice led her toward the couch. “How’s your pain?”
“It’s okay. But I need to run to the bathroom before they get here.”
“Call out if you need anything.”
She made her way into the bathroom, took one look in the mirror and winced. Yeah, well, she was alive, and the cuts and bruises would heal.
A few minutes later, she shuffled over to the couch. Justice helped her settle in then handed her a glass. “Peach iced tea.”
One of her favorites. “Thanks.” She took a sip, then asked, “Did the lawyer say anything to you about pictures?”
“No, but she hadn’t seen my dad yet.”
Before she could answer, the elevators doors opened. Liza recognized Detective Jenkins from when he came to talk to her in the hospital. The woman with him was fiftyish, wearing tailored black pants, a silk shirt and gray-streaked brown hair and red glasses. She said hello to Justice, then focused on her. “I’m Myra Bolton. You must be Liza?”
After the obligatory handshake, she asked, “Is Noah okay?”
The woman’s hard gaze softened. “Mr. Cade is very stressed and withdrawn, but I believe he’s coping.”
Detective Jenkins slid his gaze around the penthouse as if he expected a bad guy to suddenly pop out from behind a couch or door, then landed on her. “Miss Glasner, you look a little better than the last time I saw you. How are you feeling?”
“Worried. Noah didn’t stab me.”
The man flattened his mouth. “So Myra has said. Repeatedly.” The detective sat on one of the gray chairs facing the couch. “This would be easier if Mr. Cade cooperated.”
“You tried to play hardball. That’s a mistake with Mr. Cade,” Myra interjected. She turned to Justice. “I spoke to your father and read his statement. Mr. Cade told the police he didn’t do it. He said he was there, saw the attack on Liza and reacted by tackling the man off her, then the two of them wrestled on the ground. The attacker broke free, got up and ran off. Mr. Cade chased, but lost him because of his bad hip. But he insisted that he recognized Liza’s attacker.”
Shock punched her. “Who is it?” Who hated her that much?
Justice surged to his feet. “Then why is my dad under suspicion?”
“This is where it gets confusing,” Myra answered. “Mr. Cade doesn’t have a name, but he swears he has pictures of the man on his cell phone. He said that the guy had been around Justice’s house and the auditorium for a day or two.”
Liza blurted out, “Wait, you’re saying Noah was watching the house? I talked to him the day of the attack. He walked up behind me as I was unlocking the front door.”
Myra nodded. “He said he was, well, he claims he was sort of watching out for you.”
“Me? Like…” Her eyes burned, and a hot lump knotted her throat as she realized what that meant. “That’s why he stayed in the parking lot instead of leaving after Justice’s performance.” She swung her gaze to Justice. “Your father was there to protect me, and now he’s in jail.”
Justice eyes narrowed, and his jaw twitched. He stood next to where she sat on the couch, nearly vibrating with fury. He swung his gaze to the cop. “You have pictures of the man who attacked Beth, uh, Liza, and did nothing? Instead you hassled my father? Why? Because he’s a scarred, broken man who sleeps on the streets? An easy target to pin this on?”
A chill went down her back at the sharp confrontation riding Justice’s tone. How long could he hold it together?
Jenkins glared back at Justice. “Your father has Miss Glasner’s blood on his jacket. And he has pictures of her on his phone, along with that video Gene Hayes released. In addition, his phone had been used to go into a private online group of Hayes’s fans that brag about how much they hate Miss Glasner and believe she ruined Hayes. They want her to pay, and there are a lot of threats against her. It’s possible Mr. Cade believed Miss Glasner was harming your career too and decided to remove her permanently.”
“No!” Liza couldn’t believe this. “Noah was a Marine. He told me he had friends who laid down their lives so people like Hayes could have a right to a trial. He called Hayes a coward for running. He didn’t believe Hayes.” She started to shake her head to emphasize her point, but a shaft of pain from her stitches made her clench her jaw.
“I’m trying to get to the truth.” Frustration bled through the detective’s words. “I want to know who stabbed Miss Glasner, and if it’s your dad, he’s going down for it. But if it was someone else? Then I’m going to find him and put him in a cage where he belongs.”
Liza believed he meant it. She settled her hand in Justice’s, trying to calm them both. “How can we help?”
“Mr. Cade was following you for a couple days. It’s clear from the pictures.” The detective opened his briefcase, pulled out a clipped set of grainy eight by tens and handed them across the coffee table.
Liza took the pages. A seed of pain lodged in her stomach as she flipped through. There was one of her locking up Justice’s house, another of her getting in her car in the driveway. More of her walking in the parking lot of the auditorium. And still another outside her apartment building. What was happening? Her hands trembled. “Noah took these? Why?”
“It’s not what it looks like, Beth.” Justice shoved his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “Dad wouldn’t…there has to be a reason. He’s never hurt anyone off the battlefield. Even in his worst rages, he never lashed out at me or my mom.” He spun to the detective. “What about the other pictures? Or did you just come here to scare Liza?”
Myra jumped in. “Mr. Cade is insistent the man who attacked Liza is on his cell. He was able to tell me exactly which shots they were and we’ve printed copies for you to look at.”
“The pictures of Miss Glasner showed a pattern of possible stalking. Or Mr. Cade was doing exactly as Jenkins said and watching over Miss Glasner.” He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a second set of photos. Returning his attention to Liza, he asked, “Do you recognize anyone in the group shots or the close-up of the man?”
Justice took them and sank down next to Liza.
She leaned in to get a closer look. The first one was definitely a man on a sidewalk, but it was too blurry to identify him. “Is that the sidewalk in front of your house?”
“Yes.” Justice flipped to the next one. It was of several people, including some reporters in front of the house.
Liza studied the faces. “I don’t… Wait.”
Justice turned, his eyes honing in on hers. “What?”
“That one.” She pointed to a guy standing behind the reporters. She could only see part of his head. Blond hair, young…but half his face was blocked by a video camera. “Something about him.” She glanced up. “I didn’t get a look at my attacker that night. But this guy…it’s like I’ve seen him somewhere before.” She tapped Justice’s thigh. “Keep going.”
He went to the next photo.
It was a close-up of the same man. Liza stared, taking in the square face and light blue eyes, struggling to recall why he looked familiar. “I know him, but from where?” The answer was right there, just out of reach.
“Wylie’s,” Justice snarled.
It snapped into place. “Oh my God. You’re right.” But why? It didn’t make sense. She shifted to the lawyer. “Noah said this is him?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?” the detective demanded.
“All I know is his name is Hans. He was with a friend one night at Wylie’s Cantina. Justice and I were there, fans surrounded Justice, and I was taking pictures when I tripped and fell into his friend, who accidentally spilled beer on me. The friend was very apologetic, but this guy…” Liza held up the picture, “…he was a jerk. He tried to take pictures of my wet shirt. I told him no. He grabbed my arm, and I kicked him. He was furious, but Justice came up, and the guy didn’t touch me after that. Wylie threw him out.” Frustration stewed in her belly. “His voice—that sneer in his voice, it was the same one who told me, ‘Message from Hayes…’” She left off the last part, you cunt. “It’s him. But how did he know who I am?” As soon as she asked it, she flushed with her own stupidity.
It had been less than a week after that scene at Wylie’s that the Gene Hayes video came out and Liza’s name and image saturated the media. “But why?”
“That bastard. You humiliated him, got him thrown out and then you’re all over the news. He had a grudge.” Justice flipped through the rest of the pictures. One showed Hans lurking by her apartment building. The last picture was of him in the crowd of protesters that had been outside the auditorium the day of the Court of Rock finale.
Justice pulled out his phone and snapped some shots of the pictures.
“Hey, I—” Jenkins reached toward the photos.
He jerked his head up. “I believe you want the truth, Detective, but that’s my dad trapped in jail and my girlfriend this prick stabbed. I’m not sitting on my ass doing nothing.”
Jenkins leaned forward. “Don’t do anything stupid that lands you in a cell alongside your father.” He turned to her. “Miss Glasner, this Wylie’s is where you work part-time, correct?”
“Yes, but I was on leave while doing the intern competition on Court of Rock.”
“Okay, I’ll need the date of this incident and the contact information for the manager of Wylie’s Cantina. I’ll see if they have a way of tracking his name. We’ll find and talk to him.”
Liza gave him the information, but her mind tumbled and whirled over everything they’d discovered. “Did you get Ben’s statement? He and my friend Emily Manchester were with me when I was attacked. Ben saw Noah tackle the man stabbing me.”
Jenkins finished writing down the contact info. “Eyewitness testimony is often unreliable. Dr. Chambers only got a quick look. And you never saw your attacker’s face. Additionally, we had conflicting stories from other bystanders. You were out of sight of the parking lot cameras.” He took the pictures back from Justice, rose, then fixed a stare on her. “Miss Glasner, I don’t know if Mr. Cade will be able to get bail tomorrow. Right now, with the fact that he had pictures of you on his phone, he admitted being in that parking lot waiting for you, and your blood is on his clothes, I’d seriously think about your safety.”
Justice jackknifed to his feet. “She’s safe with me. I’m not going to let anyone hurt her.”
“She’s already been hurt and is damn lucky to be alive,” Jenkins said. “Next time, you might not be so fortunate.” The detective strode to the elevator and hit the call button.
Liza grabbed Justice’s hand. “Don’t.” Anger bled from his stiff fingers and his coiled, ready-to-spring posture.
Myra stood. “We’re making progress. If you have any questions or concerns, call me. I’m going to fight hard for your father, Justice. The warrant for outstanding tickets we can handle, but if they arrest him for Liza’s attack, he’s in trouble.”
“What can we do?” Liza asked.
“Hope the cops find this guy Hans. Otherwise, Mr. Cade is the only viable suspect, and the police are under extreme pressure. I’ll be in touch in the morning.” She joined the detective waiting in the elevator.
Once they were gone, Liza scooped up her computer. “Send me the pictures of Hans.”
“What are you doing?”
She opened her search engine, ignoring her throbbing head and the pain in her wound. “Finding Hans. I’m not letting your dad go down for this or Hans get away with trying to stab me.”
Justice crouched in front of her, his hands covering her thighs. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What?”
“Eat something, take your pain pills and let me get you comfortable in bed. Then I’ll send you the pictures, and we’ll both search.”
“But—”
“Beth, I can see you’re in pain. Please. Everything else in my life is fucked up right now, so let me do this right.”
“Do what?” Her throat tightened. Worry and stress were carved into his face, yet here he was, noticing her discomfort and fatigue.
“Take care of you. Love you.”
“Okay.” Her heart swelled. This was what love was, and Liza basked in it, soaking it up. She desperately wanted to give the same back to him “We’re going to find him and clear your dad.”
Every day she fell deeper in love with Justice. Moments like this reassured her that their love could survive the pressures of her past and his career.
* * *
Justice’s neck and jaw ached like a bitch. He’d spent the last several hours dealing with the publicist, then the fact that Lynx and River weren’t answering their phones, which had held up the approval of the press release. Finally Simon and Justice made an executive decision to approve the damn thing. But where the hell were Lynx and River?
Better not be in jail. Swear to God, he’d beat the shit out of them.
He checked his phone again. Nothing. Fuck.
He shifted his attention back to the laptop, trying to figure out how to locate Hans with only a first name and cell phone picture. He’d searched for the private forums of Hayes’s fans that wanted Liza to pay, but all he’d found so far was some public rock music sites where a few people went off on a tangent about Liza ruining a mega star. It was ugly and made his head throb with the need to find and kick their asses.
“Have you found anything?”
Beth’s voice startled him. He set the computer down and stood. She had on her glasses, a T-shirt and panties. She’d crashed about thirty minutes after he’d gotten her in bed, and slept several hours.
“No.” Frustration and sitting on his ass was driving him out of his mind. “Do you need another pain pill?” He checked his watch. Yep, it’d been four hours.
“Not yet. I’m getting some water. I…” She scratched at her wrist.
After crossing to her, he caught her chin and studied her haunted eyes. “Bad dreams?” She had night terrors sometimes.
“Gene Hayes and Hans. They were both in the room, and I couldn’t wake up. I tried, and I couldn’t even scream. I don’t want to go back to sleep. I’d rather sit out here.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm. “I hate being scared. Hate that we’re trapped like animals in this hotel and your dad’s in jail, while Hans is out there free. I hate this.”
He gently tugged her against him. The back of her shirt was slightly damp. She must have woken up in a sweat. He stroked her hair. “We’ll get him, Beth.” He led her to the couch and settled her in with pillows and a blanket. After he got her some water, he sat next to her and picked up the laptop. “I can’t find the bastard Hans or the site the detective said my dad had been on.” He studied her face, looking past the cuts and bruises to the amazingly strong girl who’d survived so much. He wouldn’t bring up the other sites that spewed vile things about her, especially after she’d just had a nightmare. They both needed a break.
He wrapped his arm around her, easing her against him. The night was quiet, a silky solitude that settled around the two of them. He stroked her lip, careful of the scab. “I miss kissing you. A real kiss, the kind that gets me hard and you wet, and we both forget about everything else but us.” His heart thudded, and heat spread.
“I look like hell.”
“You’re gorgeous, Beth. I’m going to show you how much I want you once you’re healed.” All the furious frustration riding him gathered into hot desire. Need. Sex had always been a release for him, but with Beth? It was something more. Bigger. Every time he thrust into her, he felt like he’d found his home. And when she cried out, it fed his desperate need to be loved.
Her mouth parted, and color warmed her cheeks. “How do you do that?”
“Make you want me?” It wasn’t cockiness. Okay, it was. But Beth didn’t hide how she felt from him. She let him see the desire flowing in her eyes, chasing out the earlier fear. She wasn’t up to sex, and she trusted him to know that. But this was something else—intimacy. Knowing they could bask in the want.
“It’s a sweet ache,” she said softly. “The first time I’ve felt alive since…”
“Your attack?”
Bringing her knees up, she curled into him and found a comfortable place to rest her head against his shoulder. “Since your band lost and that fight in the greenroom. Simon said I was your Yoko and that you had to choose between me and the band. When I was walking out that night—before the attack—I didn’t know which you’d choose.”
Regret tugged at him for not reassuring her more at the time, but he was glad she’d told him. Beth didn’t have to hide her feelings or fears. “It’s not a choice. You’re the woman I love, but music is my dream, the one thing that kept me going.” Screwing up and getting his ass tossed in juvie, and his mom leaving him there—part of Justice had gone dark that day, turning him hopeless and angry. Then he’d met Lynx, and they’d come up with this dream—a rock band—a chance to prove their worth.
She laid her hand on his chest. “I know. I’m so sorry you didn’t win Court of Rock. You should have. I hate that I might have been a part of the reason why.”
“Beth—”
“No. Let me say this. I’m not your Yoko. I’m here for you, supporting you a hundred percent. When I fell in love with you—it was all of you, and that includes the rock star. A setback like losing Court of Rock isn’t going to stop you. You guys are coming back, you’re going to record your album and fight your way to the top. And I’ll help however I can. Once we find Hans and get your dad out of jail, you’re going back to work on your dream, Justice. Hear me?”
“Every fucking word.” She believed in him even when he’d fallen short. Despite being in pain, exhausted and worried, she’d come out here and soothed him. “I love you so damned much.”
“You’d better. And this isn’t a free pass, buddy. You’re going to be playing gigs and traveling with hot groupies coming on to you. You keep your hands off them.”
He wrapped her hair around his hand but resisted the urge to tug her head back. “Only groupie I’m fucking is you.”
She snorted into his shirt. “I’m not your groupie, ego freak. I’m not any man’s groupie. I don’t care how amazing a singer you are or how much I love you.”
He couldn’t help but grin at her new name for him and the fact she loved him. The groupie tag was a sensitive subject for her. Beth’s mom had been a hardcore groupie and dragged Beth around with her following bands, getting drunk and stoned, and young Beth had seen way too much.
“I’m your very possessive girlfriend. I find out you’ve screwed another woman, I’ll go on a chicken-killing spree—every chicken in your house will die. Then I’ll leave.”
He blinked at the sudden shift in her, the hot passion riding every word. The chicken threat made him laugh. She seemed to love the chicken decorations living in his kitchen—all courtesy of his grandmother, from whom he’d inherited the house. “My chickens are safe from my jealous, bloodthirsty girlfriend. I’m not going to screw around on you, but I would love to have you travel with me. You can work on your book, and if you get bored, kick some groupie ass. And every night, I’ll have you hot and naked in my bed.”
Her fingers stilled on his chest. “I don’t know. I need to figure out a job, an internship, and I’m finishing my degree this fall.”
He stifled the stab of disappointment. What did he want, for her to drop her entire life to follow him around? Besides, he knew how important her goals were to her. She needed to live her own life, not in the shadows of fame like her mom had. “I know. I was thinking for the summer tour—it’s two weeks in July and the first week of August. You won’t be in school then. I’m not sure you should go back to your waitressing job.” She’d be too easy of a target now that her identity had been exposed. “Or you can fly out and meet me for a few days. We can play rock star and groupie.”
She laughed. “Only if I’m the rock star. Told you, dude, I’m not a groupie.”
No she wasn’t, and the sound of her laughter, the feel of her against him, calmed the anxiety that’d been riding him for days. “What you are is mine. But I can work with being your groupie. You can play famous author. Keep your glasses on. I have a thing for chicks in glasses who write.” He had a thing for her. So did his rapidly engorging cock. Just the feel of her against him, her husky laugh, the fact that only a T-shirt and panties covered her. He could slide his hand beneath the blanket and up her bare thigh… Nope. Not going there. She was exhausted and too sore. His cock could wait until—
His phone vibrated.
For a second he was tempted to reject the call. He didn’t want to lose this moment with Beth.
“You’d better check that. Something could have happened with your dad.”
She was right. Snatching it up, he eyed the screen and frowned. “That’s weird.”
Beth looked over. “Screech? The nightclub owner?”
“Yeah.” He switched to speaker. “Hey, man, what’s up?” It was nearly 11:00 p.m.
“Got a problem here. Two of them. Lynx and River are stupid drunk.”
“In your club?” It took a second for him to catch on. “They’re supposed to be in L.A. not San Diego.”
“Got a ride with some chicks. The girls left. The guys are fighting and causing trouble. If you don’t want them to get arrested, get your ass over here.”
Un-freaking-believable. “I can’t leave Liza.” But he couldn’t let his two friends get arrested either. Savaged Illusions couldn’t afford any more bad news.
“Go,” Liza cut in. “I’m safe here. But if they get arrested, Court of Rock’s going to pull that summer tour offer.”
He didn’t have a choice. “I’ll be right there.” Hanging up, he said, “Are you sure?” She was safe, but would she feel secure?
“Yes. The elevator locks. I can’t sleep anyway. I’ll watch TV until you get back.”
Every time he thought this day couldn’t get worse, it did.