Sultry Groove (Reckless Beat #4) (28 page)

“We?” Ryan scoffed. “Give me the
god-damn
envelope.”

“Come on, Ryan.” Mason maneuvered between them, making the rhythm guitarist retreat. “Back off.”

“Fuck you and your perfect life,” Ryan spat, barging Mason’s shoulder, sending him backward into Leah. He stormed away, shoving through the ballroom doors with a harsh slam of his palms against the wood.

“I’ll go after him.” Mason started for the door.

“No.” Leah shook her head and hastened on her stiletto heels to grab her handbag off a nearby seat. “I will.”

“Wouldn’t it be better—”

Sean cut Mason off with a hand against his shoulder. “They’re best friends. Let her go.”

“Sean’s right.” Sidney’s voice was gentle. Nurturing. “Let Leah go.”

Their band manager didn’t wait for their approval, she ran through the door Cameron pushed open again, and out of view.

The room chilled, or maybe it was just the blood in Sean’s veins.

“Fuck me drunk.” Blake’s eyes were wide, their dark depths filled with empathy. “What the hell just happened?”

“I have no clue.” Sean collapsed into a nearby seat.

“Maybe we should go.” Mitch ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. “No offense, Sean, but I don’t feel like hanging around to put shit on you anymore.”

The side of Sean’s mouth lifted, only he couldn’t pull off a smile, no matter how routine it was to talk shit when times were tough. “Thanks.”

“Are the two of you going to be OK?” Gabi asked, pinning him in place with the sadness in her eyes.

“Yeah. Sure.” He still had to nail this routine before he had the luxury of leaving. “If something happens, can you call me right away? I feel like shit.”

Mitch gave a jerky nod.

“Question is, do you feel like shit because of Ryan—” Mason started, an unconvincing grin on his face, “—or because you dance like a girl?”

“Don’t worry, bro.” Blake strode forward. “I’d feel like shit if I danced like you, too.”

Sean gave him a quick jab to the ribs as he passed and shoved him toward the doors. “Fuck you, asshole.”

Mitch chuckled, placing an arm around Alana’s waist, pulling her tight against his body. “I’m actually going to go to the hotel and fuck my wife.”

“
Mitchell
,” Alana snapped.

“What?” He kissed her cheek. “Don’t deny it. You know you’re going to jump me as soon as we’re alone.”

Sidney came up beside Mason, entwining their hands. “I don’t know why you guys always have to joke at times like this. I really don’t.”

“We’ll follow you out,” Cameron muttered, jerking his head toward the other security guard.

Sean watched his friends leave, the videographer and cameraman slinking out behind them. What an epic fuck-up. He felt completely hollow and consumed with grief all at the same time. Could his day get any worse?

Sasha cleared her throat and smiled when he met her gaze. “We’re all alone now, big guy.”

Yes. Yes, it could.

“What do you
want to drink?” Sean glanced over his shoulder, not surprised to find Sasha taking a selfie with him in the background. He mimicked her pose, tilting his head to the side and smiled like he was high, hoping to ruin at least one of the twenty-five million photos she’d taken of herself since they arrived at the hotel bar.

“Gah!” She whacked him with the back of her hand and chuckled as she examined the image on screen. “Oh, I actually like that one.”

He rolled his eyes and jerked his head at the bartender. “Two beers, thanks.”

With only one day left up her sleeve, he was sure this woman was going to be the death of him. Apart from Mason, he’d never met someone filled with such unwavering confidence. He wished her future husband all the luck in the world, if she was ever capable of finding a guy who could love her more than she loved herself.

If she wasn’t swiping her lips with gloss, taking selfies, or adjusting her clothes so more cleavage was on display, she was talking, non-stop,
about herself.
She was nothing like Red, and it made him miss dancing with her all the more. It made him miss her, full stop.

When the bartender returned with their drinks, he handed one to Sasha, then slid off his stool. “Let’s go sit in the back.”

He led the way, ignoring how she screwed her nose at the first taste of beer. It was going to be a fucking long night. One he didn’t want to share with Red if it meant dragging her down with his bad mood. Not that she was returning his calls, anyway. He’d speak to her tomorrow. Hopefully by then he would’ve heard from Ryan, and not be up all night worrying about his friend’s safety.

“Sooo.” Sasha fixed him with a saucy grin. “You’re quieter than I expected.”

He took a hard chug of his beer and then ran a weary hand over his mouth. “It’s been a rough day.”

“I thought we nailed it.” She frowned, yet still continued to smile. How the fuck did she do that? It was like she was constantly stoned, always smiling, always happy, and nauseatingly flirtatious. It made his head ache. He didn’t deny she was a nice woman under all her annoying attributes, but he was sick of tip-toeing around her blatant attempts to get him in the sack. He had no interest in sleeping with her. After years craving everything the world had to offer, his broody little redhead was all he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’m not talkin’ about the routine,” he muttered.

“You mean Mel.”

He didn’t bother to answer, he simply stared at her for long moments, noting the differences between the beautiful woman before him and the one he wished he was with. There was no denying Sasha was hot. She just wasn’t his type, in looks or personality. And the more time he spent with her, the less attractive she became.

If he wasn’t entirely focused on getting more information on Red, and figuring the best way to get her to open up to him, he would’ve gone home as soon as the rehearsal ended. No matter how much Sasha begged him to join her.

“Have you got a thing for her?”

“Yeah,” he drawled with derision. Where the hell had she been all day? “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks.”

“Oh…” Sasha’s eyes widened. “Wow…I didn’t even…I just assumed…”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t picture the two of you together, that’s all. Mel’s…um…”

If the next words out of her mouth had anything to do with Red’s scars, he’d walk. He’d be out that door and backing away from the music clip. He’d already become sick of the contrast between how he viewed the woman he was head over heels for, and the way she viewed herself. He wouldn’t allow if from anyone else.

“Yeah?” he growled.

Sasha pressed her lips together and smiled. It was gentle and whimsical, the first real emotion he’d seen skitter across her features. “I guess I’ve only ever seen her with her ex, Simon, and you’re nothing like him.”

“No shit.” A weight lifted from his shoulders. “The guy sounds like a dick.”

“He is.” Sasha’s delight faded. “After the accident, he changed. It was like the flick of a switch. There was no more love or support. He was obviously only with Mel because of her status in the dance crew.”

“I don’t even know what happened in the accident. She won’t talk to me about it.”

“At all?” Sasha frowned, still whimsical, still pretty. “Not even when she showed you her scars?”

“She doesn’t know I’ve seen them.”

“
So you haven’t had sex yet
?” Sasha’s voice rose. “Oh, boy. That’s not a good sign. Once you’re on Mel’s radar, it’s pretty much a sure bet you’ll get laid. That woman used to be voracious. People sometimes joked that she was a narcissist…no. That’s the wrong word…necrophiliac. Shit, that’s wrong, too…
Nymphomaniac
.”

More than one nosy bar patron turned their way at Sasha’s raised voice.

“I assume that’s your natural hair color,” Sean drawled, fixing a glare on the numerous drinkers now eavesdropping on their conversation. “And we’ve had sex. She just won’t let me touch her anywhere on her left leg, and we’re always together with the lights off.”

“Whoa.” Sasha’s gaze lowered, focusing with intent on the condensation covering her glass. “I wish I knew what to say to help. She never held any qualms about sex while we were touring. I’m not sure how much she told you, but there used to be a hell of a lot of bumping uglies. This one time, Melody was straddling Tyson—”

“Yeah, OK.”
Fucking hell.
Sean held up his hands in surrender. “I get it. No need for details.”

She flashed him a look of chagrin. “Sorry. It’s a shock to hear she’s become inhibited.”

“I wouldn’t call it inhibited.” Even with Melody’s stipulations, she was still the best sex he’d ever had. “I think she’s just different now. Less confident.”

“Then that’s a true shame.” Sasha sipped her beer, scrunching her features as the liquid entered her mouth. “I was shocked when I found out she’d given up performing. Everyone in our dance crew was envious of her talent. Without fail, every time she was shown the choreography for a new song, she’d outdo the instructor. Not intentionally. She had a gift. She wasn’t just
in
the spotlight, she
was
the spotlight. Her moves demanded attention in the most ethereal, mesmerizing way.”

Sean didn’t doubt it for a moment.

“No matter how much we loved her, we were all a little jealous of how easy dancing was for her.”

“By chance, you wouldn’t know how I’d get that woman back?” Sean murmured. “How do I help her find the confidence again?”

That was his goal. The only mission he now had in life. As much as it was a gift to have her beauty all to himself, he didn’t want to deprive the world of what she could give. He wanted to meet the woman she used to be. He wanted to see envy in other people’s eyes as they watched her perform.

“I don’t know.” Sasha shrugged. “I wish I did.”

“Her sister thinks I need to push her.”

“And what do you think?”

He chugged his beer, pondering his answer. “I think I’m too scared to risk hurting her.” It had killed him to slam his truck door and walk away this morning. And he’d barely given her a nudge. How would he cope if he shoved her over the edge and she didn’t bounce back?

“I’m not sure how she’s got you fooled. The Mel I know is made of grit and determination.”

“That’s all fair and good to assume she’s the same woman, but what if I push her off the edge and she falls?”

“And what if she soars?”

Sean raised a brow. “Did you really just say that?” Jesus Christ. What the hell was he thinking? This woman spent most of her time admiring herself. Was he really going to listen to her drivel philosophy?

“It made me sound smart, didn’t it?”

He winced. He was on his own with this decision. Push Red and risk losing her. Or ride out the secrecy and watch it tear them apart. Either way there was a slim chance of obtaining what he wanted. What scared him the most was that he’d battled himself over his career and Sidney for so long now that he didn’t think he had much fight left in him.

“Sweetheart, after mixing up nymphomania with necrophilia, I don’t think anything could make you sound smart.”

Melody hadn’t slept.
The hours of darkness had seemed more sinister. The ache in her leg more prominent. Her heart yearned for the past, or a different future. Either one would be fine. Only neither was within her grasp.

Or was it?

She was lost. Uncertain. And the adrift sensation made her nauseated. She needed something. Anything. Just a glimmer of hope to kick her out of the depressing funk she’d immersed herself in. Unfortunately, the spur-of-the-moment call to her previous employer didn’t gain the result she needed. Jaxon Sharpe hadn’t been excited to hear her voice. She didn’t know why she expected otherwise.

Well, maybe she did. Jaxon had been the last person to praise her. He’d adored her skills, never holding back on his vocal adoration in front of the entire dance crew. All she’d wanted was a glimpse of that praise. Maybe even a hint that he’d kill to have her back on his team. It wouldn’t take much to bolster her pride.

It was delusional. A long shot. A seriously shitty idea.

“Mel, I’m not going back on tour until next year. Even then, I’m looking at taking the dance crew in a different direction. It wouldn’t be a great fit for you.”

It was a push. An aggressive shove backward into a depressive tailspin.

Not that returning had been an option. There was no way she could dance in front of a crowd. But the harsh slap of reality pulled her up short. All he’d had to do was pay her a compliment. Tell her he couldn’t wait to see her back on stage. A mere mirror of the praise he’d given her in the past.

Instead, she’d had to abruptly end the call, unable to hide the waver in her voice. There was no loyalty in her industry. There was none in Sean’s either. Beauty and public perception were everything. And yet again, she was made to feel like nothing.

Yes, Blair was readily available to give biased compliments. Sean would, too. At least, until he learned the real woman beneath her concealing clothes. That wasn’t what she wanted.

In honesty, she didn’t know what she wanted. But she knew enough to come to the conclusion that a future with Sean would be too hard on her lacking self-esteem. The early, brutally clarifying hours of early morning helped her set her path, and the future outlook broke her heart. The text she received from Sean once the sun rose was even harder to bear.

Morning, Red. If you could turn up early this morning, I’d appreciate it. We’ve got a lot to talk about.

Only they didn’t. She wasn’t going to turn up at all. Yesterday’s dance rehearsal had made the local late evening news. Her studio even received a mention. But it was the image of Sean leaving the hotel, side by side with Sasha, that reminded her she would never be good enough.

She didn’t want another hour, not even a minute spent with jealousy weighing her down. It was a nasty emotion. Something she couldn’t handle. Sean wanted fame and recognition. She wanted seclusion, and a steady stream of choreography work to keep her income stable.

Their dreams were in different realms, never destined to meet.

As much as she cared for him, she couldn’t carry on knowing she’d be a damper on everything he was set to achieve. There was only one road forward. One path. And hers didn’t involve Sean, no matter how heartbreaking it was to admit.

Instead of messaging him back, she emailed Leah, sending a brief note that she wouldn’t be attending today. She’d done her job. Sean and Sasha were more than capable of handling the final day on their own. Melody would only get in the way.

She hit send, then crumpled to the floor, waiting for a reply that never came. Every second left her bereft. Every minute she pictured Sean turning up at the Hennabrook only to realize she wasn’t going to show.

He’d be angry. Heartbroken. Probably shattered enough to push himself harder to nail the music clip. No matter how much the jealousy churned, she needed to hope for that outcome. Seeing him fail would only inflict more injury on her beaten soul.

There was no malice in her decision, only the devastating realization that this would be her life from now on. The quietness. The loneliness. The sorrow that built with every brush of scarred flesh until she thought she couldn’t take the failure anymore.

Hiding was the only option. She could feel it within herself. Every inch of her was highly strung, every nerve frayed. She was poised to break, merely waiting for the catalyst to push her over the edge.

She needed to return to her normal routine. No love. No excitement. Just work. In no way was she giving up on life. If anything, she was more determined to find her groove. It just had to be in her own way and on her own terms. Baby steps.

She wished Sean success and happiness. She wished him the world wrapped in a neat little bow.

She just wasn’t the person able to give it to him.

***

Sean arrived early,
scouring the hotel parking lot for Red’s car. She wasn’t here. Hadn’t returned his message from this morning. Or the ten calls from last night. He was getting worried.

He strode into the ballroom, immediately hit by the bright glow of stage lights aimed at the dance floor. The room buzzed. Lighting, sound, and camera crews worked together, like ants in a field, placing the final touches on the room before they were scheduled to start shooting.

Nobody else had arrived. Not Sasha. Not Leah. Or Ryan, who hadn’t returned his calls from last night either.

“Hey, tiny dancer.”

Sean closed his eyes at the sound of Mason’s voice, and worked to loosen the tie around his neck. This fucking suit was killing him.

“Leave him alone.”

Sasha’s tone only made the day’s outlook worse.

But there was a group, numerous sets of footsteps approaching. Maybe Red was here. Maybe she hadn’t received his message to arrive early.

He opened his eyes, turned, and got whacked with a wave of disappointment. Mason, Mitch, Blake, and Sasha strode into the ballroom, with Ryan slinking forward at the back of the group.

Sean ignored the need to greet Mason with a jab to his ribs and jutted his chin instead, silently asking about the rhythm guitarist.

“He’s doing OK,” Mitch murmured. “He passed out in my hotel room.”

“And you didn’t think to let me know?” Sean knew Ryan could handle himself, but when his friend didn’t crash at the penthouse last night, he’d been worried. Not panicked enough to call the police—that would’ve been today’s plan. But concerned enough to be up all night wondering where he was. “You could’ve called me.”

“I sent you a text.”

“You sent that to me, asshole,” Blake muttered. “Minutes after I left your hotel room.”

Mitch shrugged. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Sasha sauntered forward and rested her hand on Sean’s chest. “How you doin’ today? You ready to perform?”

“Yeah.” He couldn’t take his attention off Ryan. The guy looked like shit, puffy eyes, black bags underneath, yet he was scoping the room with determination, his brow furrowed as he maneuvered around people to search every inch of equipment.

“Everything OK, Ry?”

Ryan met his gaze. “Where’s Leah?”

A cold shiver ran along Sean’s spine. The haunted dark-blue eyes staring back at him said it all. Something had happened.

“Are you fighting with her again?”

The rest of the band paused, expecting an answer they didn’t want to hear.

Ryan scowled. “I just want to know where she is.”

From Sean’s periphery, another figure entered the room, giving him hope it was either Leah or Red. He tilted his attention, only to be disappointed.

A vaguely familiar man strode into the room, a nervous smile on his face. “Morning, everyone.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Mason muttered.

They were all on edge, Ryan most of all if the way his gaze kept drifting to the doors was any indication.

“The name’s Dylan. I’ve met you all before, at one stage or another. For the next few weeks, I’m going to be your temporary manager while Leah takes a short break.”

Sean’s chest restricted. He chanced a brief glance at Ryan and found the color had fled his friend’s features.

“A
what
now?” Blake broke away from the group, striding toward Dylan. “I’m pretty sure Leah hasn’t taken a day off since she was born.”

The man inclined his head. “I’d assumed the same. But I’ve been told a situation occurred overnight that resulted in her needing time off.”

Sean turned his focus, along with Mason, Mitch, and Blake, to shoot daggers at Ryan.

“What the fuck did you do, man?” Mason marched for the rhythm guitarist.

“Nothin’.” Ryan hung his head, betraying his guilt.

The room fell into silence. All four of them—Sean, Mitch, Blake, and Mason—made a beeline for Ryan, getting comfortable in the guy’s personal space. The five of them were family. Unbreakable. Their support never wavering…unless one of them fucked with Leah, then all bets were off.

“Has anyone else spoken to her since yesterday afternoon?” Blake stared at them all in question, noting each shake of the head before he settled his steely gaze on Ryan. “You were the last to see her. So spill. What the hell happened?”

“Fuck off,” Ryan muttered, his eyes filled with so much sorrow Sean almost felt the need to back away. “She’ll turn up.”

“Do you think she would’ve organized this knob jockey—” Mason jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Dylan, “—if she planned on turning up? What the fuck went down last night?”

Ryan’s brows were pulled tight, his glare trying to be lethal but held too much pain to back up the silent threat. “I’m outta here.” He strode forward, shoving Blake, who grabbed him by the bicep and yanked him back.

“You’re not leavin’ until we know she’s all right.”

“She’s fine.” Ryan’s face contorted in pain as he yanked his arm from Blake’s grasp. “We had a fight, that’s all.”

“You better not have touched her,” Sean growled. He wanted to pummel something. Someone. He was so sick of hurting. Of aching. Of suffocating in pain he wanted no part of.

Ryan blanched, his lips parting as if Sean had punched him in the gut. “You think I’d hurt her?” His voice barely registered. “I fucking kissed her, OK?”

Hell.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Dylan was the only one stupid enough to break the silence.

Sean glared over his shoulder, his blood turning volcanic as he pointed a threatening finger at the asshole. “Shut the fuck up.”

“It was a mistake. I was…” Ryan shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Jesus Christ.” Dylan’s voice rose. “This drama is the exact reason why our firm doesn’t allow relationships with clients. You know Leah will lose her job, right?”

“And you’ll lose your teeth if you don’t get the fuck out of here,” Blake seethed, hitching his three-quarter sleeves higher up his tattooed arms.

“I have no choice. I’ve been appointed as interim manager.”

“Right now, you have two choices.” Sean approached the asshole, calm as shit on the outside, furious as hell on the inside. “Fuck off and live to see another day. Or stick around and see how long it takes for me to lose my temper.” He cracked his knuckles. Sneered. “I’ll fuck you up good and proper.” He wanted to. Badly. He needed an outlet. A way to vent all the shit that was tearing his insides apart. “I’ll enjoy it, too.”

“I’m flattered by your enthusiasm—”

“Cameron,” Sean yelled, hoping the bodyguard had arrived and was standing out of view outside the open ballroom doors.

“Yeah?” Cameron entered the room, shoulders tight, nostrils flaring.

“Get this asshole out of here before I do something I’ll regret.”

Cameron inclined his head and strode forward, one big wall of threatening muscle.

“Come on, guys, I’ve gotta do my job.” Dylan retreated as the large men approached. “Fine. Have it your way. No matter what you do, it won’t stop Leah getting in trouble from management.”

Cameron grabbed the man’s bicep, twisting it so the asshole was forced to jerk forward. “You threaten Leah, you threaten us all.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Mason whispered at Sean’s side. “If he tells her boss, I’ll do it. I swear I will.”