Resisting Velocity (7 page)

After a little practice session in his trailer with Parker, strumming his trusty acoustic and softly singing the words to the songs they were to play that night, Zane made a beeline for makeup with just enough time to spare. His personal artist, Reese—a bubbly young woman from his pack, who had quite an eye for beauty—worked, humming quietly to one of High Velocity’s older songs while Zane went over everything in his head. Music helped him think, helped him finalize plans or, in this case, obsess a little bit over the ones he’d already laid.

It would all go down—one way or another. This would either be brilliance in the making and land him a chance with Charlie, or a big fat failure. In that case, she’d probably figure out his plan, give him a couple of black eyes, and strut off and he’d never see her again. He let out a soft sigh. No choice now but to stick it out and wait.

Zane leaned forward in his chair and inspected his reflection—perfection, plain and simple. He was beautiful, he could be a little bit vain. “You did damn fine tonight, sweetheart,” he told Reese, who beamed at the compliment. Ruffling his hair so it was picture-perfect, he kissed her on the cheek and headed for his Fender.

What he found instead, as he slipped backstage, was the wafting scent of blueberries—Charlie—with a tinge of chemical perfume lacing her natural aura. He shook his head as a smile crept across his lips.

At least until he caught sight of her.

Zane stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as he took her in. She stood just off of security, alone in her own little world…looking like something that came out of Playboy magazine. He’d never seen her outside of her uniform and
shit
. Her slender frame was wrapped in a tiny neon blue skirt that barely skimmed past her thighs and a shirt that showcased a lean stomach. A sparkle of diamond caught his eye as she turned her head and smiled right at him when she met his gaze.

Damn, but she was beautiful. So much skin, it kicked his imagination into overdrive as he imagined stripping each skin-tight piece of clothing off and laving over her bare form. A wave of want surged through him, hot and fierce, and his wolf rose to the surface howling. He bit down, clenching his teeth, squaring his jaw as he fought off the urge to change. Once he was sure he had him tamped down, he strode forward.

He wanted to say screw the concert. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and carry her to his trailer, to rip her clothes off and fuck her senseless. He wanted to hear her voice, husky and edged with passion, screaming his name for the world to hear. He wanted to take her, to claim her…

He was surprised how calm his voice was when he spoke with those images swarming through his head. “What are you doing, Charlie?”

She’d seen him coming and was moving in his direction. They met halfway. The air was still, but he could smell the faint tinge of anxiety that veined through her essence, cinnamon sprinkled on blueberries. She tipped her chin up and held herself, poised. “Having fun.” Her smirk was all too sexy. “You?”

“Trying to keep my wolf reigned in so he doesn’t take you, right here on the stage, in front of thousands of sets of eyes.” This time, emotion made his tone a rasping growl. Barely controlled. She set him on fire, made him wild…

Her eyes widened a fraction, but her laugh was careless.

Daring.

And oh, he
would
dare.

Zane took one fluid step forward, his fingers clasping around her wrist. Charlie stiffened, met his gaze, but he was already pulling her into him. She made a soft sound as he claimed her mouth, his lips fierce, tongue demanding. Need billowed over him in a torrential downpour and he was barely able to break away, nipping her lip on his exit as Parker shouted something from across the set.

He took a shaky breath in and straightened, his gaze lingering on the soft curve of her lower lip. “That’ll do for now,” he said, more to himself than to her, and Charlie only stared at him. She looked torn—torn between reaching up, grabbing him by the hair, and stealing a second kiss—and running with her tail tucked.

Zane took a step back. “Get out of here so we can make magic. I’m assuming you have an amazing seat?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes gleamed with defiance, annoyance.

“Good.” He flashed a quick grin. Just as she thought she was out of the red, he took another quick kiss.
There’s plenty of time for that later, Alexander.
Before she could say another word, he was jogging towards the band.

With dimmed lights and the murmur of anticipation in the crowd, High Velocity set up on stage. And when Zane strummed the first chord, people began to shriek. He swelled with a certain sense of pride as he nailed the song, dancing with his mic and belting out lyrics. He was a showman, through and through.

This here, right now, felt amazing. No. Better than amazing, better than he’d ever imagined it would be growing up, yearning to play a simple chord on his beat up pawn shop guitar.

Zane turned his head as Parker’s deft fingers danced across the keyboard, his solo flying free. The gleam of the lights made the chunk of Velocity Violet streaked through Parker’s—and the other guys’—hair light up as if under a black light. Then shadows fell across the stage and Parker winked as he ducked out to do his dirty work.

Zane’s stomach tightened. No. Everything would be fine. He trusted his guys. He trusted his plan.

The last song in the lineup was a softer one, acoustics and jazzy drums. Zane’s mind spun in three different directions, making him a little jumpy. He finished up and, with the crowd’s cheers as backdrop, headed backstage.

Parker was guzzling a root beer and when he caught Zane’s eye, his grin was smug. Pleased with himself. Micah hadn’t said two words since they went on stage. Maybe he felt a little guilty.

Benji cradled his bass to his chest, glancing between the three of them. He caught Zane’s eye for a moment, then swung and pinned his gaze on the lower-ranked Parker. “You look like the cat that ate the canary. What’s up?” His tone was testing and nerves punched Zane square in the gut.

Shit. Did he know?

Parker let out a hoot. “Gonna get lucky tonight. Twins. Hells yeah.” The lie was smoothly executed and highly believable, if you knew Parker. Zane let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. The guys broke into laughter about something that he didn’t hear, but he couldn’t be bothered.

“Hot. Damn.” Micah’s whistle was approving and Zane knew that Charlie was headed their way. Parker was nearly drooling and Benji’s face went red. He turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction. The other two quickly made haste, probably to give Zane some room.

Zane stepped towards Charlie, one hand extended as his mind whirred with the possible outcomes.

***

Tonight Charlie’s eyes were a bit clouded from the magic web the music had spun around her. As they band had burst into their opening song, she’d been in the front row in her ridiculous rebellion outfit and heels, trying valiantly to seem like she belonged there.

Slowly, their music—but most importantly Zane’s voice—had lulled her into swaying with the beat. The beast within had switched between itching to move as the concert had built to deafening highs, to being soothed with that silken voice. High Velocity had a way of getting the fans going as wild as possible, only to cool them down fast to avoid the riots. The rollercoaster inside her soul had been an…awakening.

Perhaps the revealing clothes and wobbly heels weren’t something she would want to deal with on a day-to-day basis, but after getting to blend and merge into the crowd, the fandom, Charlie felt like she had finally found and accepted a little part of herself, the part hidden away from the world. The part that was going to want to walk a bit on the wild side some days, but not go rip-roaring through it at a hell for leather pace. She could do without that.

Looking up into Zane’s eyes, her wolf began to pace and burn, wanting to run and play, just like a few short nights ago. Charlie stepped forward, placing her hand on his forearm and gave him some of her weight to bear. She couldn’t help but stare at him—his music, his warmth, his soul were all-consuming in her mind and her lips parted to speak of the heat between them.

She never got the chance.

An explosion lit up the stadium with a crash of sound. The stage shook with the effect and the few fans still at the back of the seating screamed their terror. Flames danced, cackling merrily as their destruction ensued that the first few rows of seats would never be used again.

Reacting purely from instinct, Charlie threw herself in front of Zane, shoving him to the ground. He let out a hoarse sound beneath her, but her mind was too busy racing, splitting the surface of the reverie from moments ago. Conner was already running in their direction, shouting and cursing a blue streak.

She could see the other members of security with their walkie-talkies glued to their ears. From her position, crouched on top of Zane, her posture aggressive and alert, she tried to see if anyone had been on stage—or worse, down in the first few rows.

“Conner?”

The slight hesitation in her voice was the only outward sign of weakness she gave. She’d been trained for disasters like this. Fans sometimes had twisted minds and bizarre ideations on how to create publicity, all the way down to political groups that would do anything for a chance to get on their soapbox to discuss their cause. Too bad High Velocity had always been pretty easy going and neutral on hot-button topics. Mostly because it was hard to hate a group that didn’t answer one way or another to direct questions.

“We’ve got confirmation on the other three guys; they were already on their way out when it happened. So far, no injuries, thank god.”

She released a small sigh of relief as she digested this news, but before she could say anything else, Zane was jostling her from his spot flat on the ground. “Off, woman,” he growled, his wolf right under the surface.

Refusing to be embarrassed for doing what came naturally—protecting Zane—Charlie took her time climbing off of him, making sure that her ridiculous excuse for a skirt stayed down as far as it could to ensure her modesty remained intact. Right now, she’d really do just about anything to be in a pair of slacks and one of her blouses, if not her old security uniform.

“Thanks. Not that I didn’t appreciate the view, but I was facing the wrong direction to get the full effect. If you like to try it again…”

“Can it, Alexander. Someone just blew a big chunk out of the stage. A few minutes earlier and you would’ve been cat food. We’re just lucky no one got seriously hurt.”

He at least had the good grace to look a little sheepish. “Heh, yeah. That’s good.”

She glanced over her shoulder, a slight bout of paranoia creeping up on her, then waved Conner over. “If you have everything under control, I’m going to get the boys gathered in one place and keep them there until things settle down.”

Zane tapped her shoulder. “I can hear you, you know, and I wouldn’t really consider myself a boy—”

“Not in the mood right now. You could’ve been blown up.”

“Aw, I think that you’d actually miss me!”

“It’s not too late to shove you onto those hot timbers.”

“Baby, they wouldn’t even be near as hot as you are right now.” He flashed a grin that made her, admittedly, a little wobbly in the knees. Men like Zane Alexander shouldn’t be so damn sexy…

Conner cleared his throat from beside them and Charlie felt a guilty flush spread through her body. “Uh, Charlie, did you want something specific from me?”

“No. I just wanted to verify that everything was going all right. You know what needs done—we’ll have to do a media clean up and—”

“Charlie. I’ve got this. You trained me, remember? I’ll call you in an hour to give an update to pass along to the band. Just be safe.” With a sharp nod to Zane, Conner spun and headed in the opposite direction.

“I think I might just agree with your decision to put him in charge. I feel like I just got scolded by Daddy,” Zane murmured beneath his breath.

“That scolding is going to keep your tail safe. Let’s get out of here. I feel like a sitting duck just out in the open like this.”

“Okay, but only if I get to first base tonight.”

“Quit daydreaming and move it.”

“Beauty before brains, sweeting.”

With a mini-snarl on her lips, Charlie went against the wave of people and moved in front of Zane, walking as quickly as her high heels would allow. Hopefully they had enough brains to assemble in a situation like this, but she’d bet money that they’d be bitching up a storm about having to miss out on the after-concert partying.

Better safe than dead.

She’d been so intent on scanning to the left and right of them that she hadn’t really given the trailers more than a passing glance. But as she neared them, she saw Micah, Parker, and Benji standing right out front, their eyes wide and a little confused, and Charlie’s gut dropped at the word smeared in blood red across Zane’s trailer.

Die.

Shit.

Micah stood stiff as a board, unreadable, one corner of his thin lips turned down. Parker’s inability to take anything seriously stayed true; the young wolf was lounging on the steps, as if he had better things to do with his time. And Benji kept glancing between his band mates, needing a reassuring touch.