The Farther I Fall (11 page)

She looked back to see Lucas in profile, pausing between lyrics. As she watched, his tongue stroked a long, slow, thorough path up and around the head of the microphone. A ripple of screaming and catcalling went through the audience and Gwen's fingers tightened on the railing surrounding the booth. She fought to keep her face neutral, although her heart threatened to pound out of her chest.

Craig was cursing and complaining to Cathy; Gwen was only faintly aware of his words over the pounding of her heart. “That asshole,” he was saying. “I've got half a mind to send
him
out there with the damn toothbrush and the bottle of Listerine to scrub that bastard down . . .” Gwen was still staring at the stage as Lucas continued the song.

“. . . can you have a talk with him?”

“Mm?” The world floated at a remove, like her head was underwater.

“I said, can you—oh hell. Never mind.”

Gwen took a breath, breaching the surface. “No, no, it's fine. What? You want him not to do that anymore?”

Craig gave her a wry face. “Not with the microphones, anyway.”

“Right, I—right. I'll mention it.” Gwen was flushed and sweating all over. How was she supposed to react when Lucas just demonstrated to thousands of people exactly how he gave a blow job?

She knew he'd slept with other men. She just didn't expect to find evidence of it so overwhelmingly
hot
.

By the time the show ended, she had about recovered her senses and was ready to go down and give Lucas a lecture on the proper care and maintenance of electrical equipment. The door to the booth opened as she was preparing to leave, and the tech who'd helped with the ground lifting earlier stepped in.

“I found something I think you need to see.”

“Me?” she said.

The tech shrugged. “You, Craig. Somebody.”

They followed him down and through the labyrinth of corridors leading to the backstage. “I was starting teardown, and when I unplugged the gear Lucas was done with, I got a hell of a shock. Knocked me on my ass.”

“How bad?” Gwen grabbed his arm and started looking him over—there were no signs of breathing difficulty, and his pulse felt okay. “Did it knock you out?”

He shook her off. “I'm fine. But I found this.” A row of electric cords lay neatly coiled, the plugs visible.

“What the hell?” Craig picked up one of the plugs. Gwen tried to see what he was seeing, and shook her head.

“What is it?”

“Somebody's pulled the goddamn grounding pin out of all of these plugs.”

She leaned in and could see where a third prong was missing. “I don't understand—why would someone do that?”

“I've seen people do it to fix a ground loop like we had earlier,” the tech explained. “Cheap and easy fix, and stupid as hell.” Gwen shook her head, confused. “With no grounding, the electrocution risk goes way up.”

Out on stage, Lucas was wailing his way through the last encore. She thought of how he'd flinched from the mic during sound check. “We used these lines during the show?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck? I thought we checked this stuff,” Craig said.

“We did, before soundcheck. It must've happened afterward.”

“Wait.” Gwen held up her hand. “You're saying that sometime between sound check and the show, someone came back here and messed with the equipment? Why?”

“Might have been someone thinking they'd help with the ground loop,” the tech said, his eyes cutting to Craig.

“Or?” Gwen pushed.

“Or it might have been someone trying to get somebody hurt.”

Gwen and Craig exchanged a glance. “I'll look into it,” Craig said. “Don't tell him anything yet.”

She excused herself from the two of them and pulled out her mobile. “Lee, we've had another incident. Call me when you get this.”

***

“Lucas, what in the hell were you doing tonight?” Craig demanded. Load out was finished, no one was ready to go to bed yet, everyone was sprawled in Gwen and Lucas's room—and it was theirs, Gwen thought. It disconcerted her how quickly the group had started thinking of the two of them as a unit. Not a week out of Detroit, and they were already Gwen-and-Lucas, or Lucas-and-Gwen. A day of tour-time felt like three of regular time. Things happened faster, seemed more intense. Half the time she felt like the matriarch of a large, weird clan. Or maybe a cult.

Gwen curled up on the couch; Lucas sprawled beside her, leaning against her shoulder. Lucas rolled his head against Gwen's shoulder to look at Craig. “I thought I was giving a damn good performance. What did you think I was doing?”

“Oh, I don't know. Trying to get yourself killed?” Craig stubbed out his cigarette. “Licking a live mic—not smart on the best of days, but when half the fucking equipment is ground lifted? What the hell, man?” Gwen had agreed not to tell Lucas yet about the sabotage until they had a better idea how it happened or if it even was sabotage. It might have been a well-meaning crew member. No sense in worrying Lucas about a maybe.

Maggie looked up from the conversation she was having with Cathy. “Showing off is what he was doing.”

“I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about,” Lucas said.

“Oh?” The gleam in Maggie's eye was predatory. “That little move looked pretty familiar to me. What about you, Gwen?”

“No, I hadn't seen him lick a microphone before tonight.”

Lucas grinned up at her, looking nearly as shark-like as Maggie. “I don't think she was talking about micr—”

“Yeah well, I haven't seen you do that yet either.” Gwen kissed him once to shut him up, to the glee of the others. The attention in the room shifted back and forth between the two of them like spectators at a tennis match. Gwen caught the increase in tension and realized the others thought this was some sort of revelation about Lucas's sexual history. Even Lucas seemed to be watching her reaction closely.

“Yet?”

She smiled. “It was pretty damn hot, I'll say that much.”

She turned to say something to Maggie but found her mouth redirected back to Lucas's for a longer, more thorough kiss.

Cathy shoved up from the floor. “Annnnd, I think that's our cue to get out.”

“No, it's okay,” Gwen said.

“No it's not,” Lucas said. “Get out.”

“Lucas.” She tried not to laugh. “Stop.”

“Unless you want to see us both naked in about five minutes, get out.”

Three people stood up and started gathering shoes and empty bottles. One didn't. “What if I do want to?” Maggie, of course.

“Oh please, you've seen it all before.” Lucas sat up.

“I didn't mean you.”

Gwen was uncurling herself from Lucas and found herself grabbed and dragged halfway across his lap. “She's mine. I'm not sharing her. Go find your own.”

“Do I get a say in this?” asked Gwen, grinning.

“No,” Maggie and Lucas said.

“Christ, you two are scary.”

“Good night, Maggie.” Lucas looked pointedly from her to the door.

Maggie laughed and stood up. “Fine, fine. Good night, you two. Try to get
some
sleep, okay?” She closed the door behind her.

Gwen shifted to a more comfortable position on his lap. “I'm yours, am I? What happened to you being one-night-stand material?”

“Mm. Okay, maybe on a temporary basis.” He smiled down at her, trailing fingers along her scalp. She closed her eyes, his hand sending drowsiness and warmth running along her nerve endings. He leaned down and kissed her on the temple, then over one cheekbone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” It wasn't entirely a lie—Gwen had been tired for weeks.

“We'll have some time to rest at Christmas.”

Relieved he didn't push further, she nodded. “Looking forward to a break.”

“Have you thought about what you want to do?”

“Well.” She nuzzled against his chest, getting drowsier by the minute. “I thought I might go back to LA. Sam and I haven't spent Christmas together in years.”

“Mm.” He kissed her hair, then stood, carefully balancing her in his arms, making her squeak and tighten her grip. “You could come home with me.”

“Home where?” The rocking motion as he carried her toward the bedroom gave her a feeling of warmth, like being wrapped in a soft blanket.

“Virginia. My family's house.”

Drowsy as she was, his voice held enough tension to perk her up. She yawned. “Um. Meeting your family. That's . . . edging toward ‘boyfriend,' isn't it?”

He laid her down on the bed and started gently undressing her. “Maybe not. Maybe I was thinking more about the enormous bed and the room with a fireplace.” His fingers skimmed over her skin, sending spiraling sparks through her body. “I don't want to be away from you for so long.”

She laughed and squirmed under his hands. “What would your parents think?”

“My mother will be thrilled you're not a man.”

“Well, with that low of a bar for parental approval . . .” She tried not to think about what that said about his family and their level of acceptance. “I'll think about it. Now come here. I'm cold.”

***

Lucas jerked awake to the sound of someone talking in the bedroom. He heard Gwen moving next to him, muttering. Lucas held still, thinking he'd woken her. She muttered again, and he turned on the bedside light to check on her. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her head rolled to one side, her lips moving.

“Gwen.” Softly at first.

More muttering, something that sounded like, “Hang on.”

“Gwen.” Louder.

The twitching threatened to become thrashing.

“Gwen.”

She jerked awake, eyes wide and unseeing for the first two seconds. “Mm?” She struggled to a sitting position.

“Are you okay?”

Gwen scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of both hands, then shook her head, hard. Her breathing uneven and her voice low and rough with sleep, she said, “Yeah. Fine. I'm fine. Sorry if I woke you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” The sentence felt odd in Lucas's mouth. He was fairly sure he'd never uttered it before.

“Nothing to talk about.” Gwen threw back the covers and sat up, massaging her left shoulder as if it pained her—the shoulder with the scar. He reached for her, and she shrugged him off.

“Nightmare?”

“Do you ever sleep?” Gwen's voice had an edge to it as she focused on her shoulder.

“Sometimes.” He scrambled to find something, anything to say. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I'm sorry. I should have warned you. I can go sleep on the couch.” She grabbed a pillow from the bed and walked out before he could protest. He followed, pulling on a pair of shorts. “Go back to bed, Lucas,” she said.

“Gwen, I—”

“I don't want to talk about it.” She punched the pillow on the couch, then threw herself down on it.

“Okay, all right.” He went over to his guitar case, the old acoustic he carried with him everywhere. It had even followed him into rehab. “Will it keep you awake if I play?”

Gwen turned over with a sigh. “I don't know. It might.” Her eyes met his. “I think I'd like that though, either way.”

“Lie back down,” Lucas said. “At least try to sleep. I'll stay in here with you, if you want.” He snagged the guitar and sat on the floor next to the couch.

Gwen settled back down, curling on her side. “Lucas?” Her voice was subdued. “Thank you.”

Lucas bent his head over the guitar with a faint smile. “You're welcome.”

Gwen's eyes closed, and eventually her breathing evened out in peaceful sleep. Lucas played for a long time after, pausing to look at her every so often. What had happened to her? And why did he feel so protective of a woman who could clearly take care of herself?

Charleston, Charlotte, Atlanta—the cities clicked by with an easy familiarity, taking them into December. Gwen had finally started to relax a bit. There had been nothing further from the stalker, making her hope that maybe the man had given up. “Liam” had vanished without a trace.

After the show in Nashville, Lucas was complaining as Gwen walked him to the lobby to sign autographs. “‘Music City,' and I bet that club wasn't half full.”

“It wasn't so bad,” she said. “They loved you.”

“Yeah, all twenty of them.”

“I counted at least thirty,” Gwen deadpanned. “More if you count the waitresses and the bartender.”

“Thanks. Thanks bunches.”

“Happy to help. Besides, I thought everybody in Nashville liked country.”

“It's never been this bad before.” By then they'd reached the lobby, and his performing mask fell into place and Gwen took up position nearby.

In the green room afterward, the party consisted mostly of the crew and a couple of local music execs, the noise down from a dull roar to a murmur. It was just as well; they were all tired, and she'd rather Lucas got some sleep than put in an extended appearance, Music City or no.

“Now what else am I supposed to think, hm?” Gwen smiled at the low, cajoling tone in Lucas's voice. She'd seen him charm his way across the country like this. “A crowd that small, makes me wonder just how much you appreciate me, Joe.” The slight emphasis he put in “appreciate” told Gwen that Joe was his biggest target and that he was turning on the charm to the point of flirting. At first it had made her uncomfortable, but she quickly realized it was the most effective way Lucas had to influence anyone who came backstage.

Now, seeing the slight widening of poor Joe's eyes gave her a swell of pride. Poor bastard. He'd be agreeing to whatever Lucas wanted in about five minutes. She shook her head and laughed, catching Cathy's eye from across the room. They shared a grin, and Gwen settled in to watch him win them over.

“You know, he's always liked men.” Gwen looked up to see Sally standing at her shoulder. “I think the only thing he likes better is tour managers.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows. “Okay.”

“You didn't know that?” Sally crouched next to her with a falsely sympathetic look on her face. “I wouldn't take it personally. He says the tour managers are always easier to control with his dick.” She smiled. “Lucky you, though. I hear he's very talented.”

Before Gwen could reply, she heard a voice yelling outside the room. “Let me in! He deserves to know!”

She stood, on alert, her right hand hovering at the edge of her jacket, where the grip of the Sig Sauer was hidden, as she stepped to Lucas's side. Was this it?

A woman pushed into the room, and Gwen relaxed slightly. She was young—younger than Gwen by probably ten years. She wore a black and electric blue minidress and the heavy, pale makeup favored by many of Lucas's fans. She was distraught, and Gwen took her hand away from her gun for one simple reason: the woman was carrying a drowsy child with long, curling blond hair, maybe a year old. “Where is he?” She looked around the room. “He deserves to see his son!” Lucas showed no signs of recognition.

Craig, however, went pale. His eyes cut to Cathy, who hadn't noticed his reaction. Gwen's stomach dropped as she caught on. He hurried to the woman, saying something about getting things taken care of. The woman shrugged him off. “You bastard, you've been ignoring my calls for a year.”

“Sarah, please.” The words barely reached Gwen's ears, spoken softly so as not to carry. It didn't matter. Cathy had already looked at the woman, looked at the child in her arms, and reached her conclusion.

“Who's this?” Cathy sounded friendly enough as she crossed the room.

Conversation in the room lowered as people started paying attention. Gwen exchanged a glance with Lucas and he nodded. She joined the three and murmured, “Let's all step outside and talk.” She herded them out of the room and down to a quieter corner of the backstage area.

“Where have you been?” Sarah said. She shifted the little boy, who whined and tried to snuggle his mother's shoulder, his thumb going to his mouth. “I've called, I've emailed. I even had a lawyer contact you, you son of a bitch.”

“Craig, who is this?” Cathy didn't sound as friendly now.

“I'm the mother of his child, who the hell are you?”

It wasn't hard to do the math, looking at the toddler and weighing his age against the three years Cathy said she and Craig had been together. Gwen put a steadying hand on Cathy's arm.

“Sarah, this is Cathy.” Craig put his arm around Cathy and pointedly said, “I told you about Cathy, remember?”

“Oh yeah, your
girlfriend
. Girlfriend or not, Tyler's still yours.” Sarah brushed Tyler's hair back from his face. “Baby, wake up, your daddy's here. Say hello to daddy.” Tyler complained, but he opened his eyes. Even Gwen could see he was a dead ringer for Craig.

Craig didn't meet anyone's eyes, not even the baby's. “Gwen, can you give us a minute?”

Gwen looked to Cathy, who nodded. The tension was high, but not high enough that someone was liable to get physical. “All right. I'll be right in the green room if you need me.”

“Who's
she
?” Sarah asked as Gwen was walking away. “Your other girlfriend?” Christ, this was going to get ugly.

People were filing out of the green room, the party over even though it was barely past midnight. She found Lucas sitting at the mirror scrubbing off the last of his stage makeup. “How bad is it?”

“Bad. Kid looks just like him.” She tried not to think about what Sally had said—Lucas had warned her that this wasn't long-term. She'd known it going in.

Lucas winced. “Did Cathy know?”

Gwen shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“That asshole. I told him, over and over again, not to screw this up.”

“I don't think he listened.” She tugged at his hair. “Come on. Let's go make sure they're all right, then get you to bed.”

***

“You're getting better.” Gwen tried to catch her breath. The exercise mat beneath her was cold, so she held out her hands for Lucas to pull her back up.

“Yeah, but you're small. It's easy to push you over.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss her. “What happens if this guy is a lot bigger than me?”

“It's not about size, it's about leverage. Come on, again.” This time when he pulled her up, she could tell he was distracted. “You're not focusing,” she said.

“Yeah, sorry.” The dark circles under his eyes weren't just smudged stage makeup from the night before.

“Look, it's not even likely you're ever going to see this guy—”

“I know. It's not that.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “This thing with Craig and Cathy—it's like watching your parents split up.” Cathy had moved out of her room with Craig and into Sally's three days prior. The crew was choosing sides, despite everything Gwen had tried to defuse the situation.

“Cathy's younger than you.”

“Not like that. I mean . . .” He walked over and sat down on a weight bench. “I thought they had it. I mean, really had it. They've been so good together.”

Gwen nudged him with her hip until he scooted over and let her sit down beside him. “You sound practically sentimental.”

“This goddamn business.” He rested his chin on his hand. “I don't think any relationship can survive it.”

“Is that speaking from experience?” she asked.

“Me? No. Not really.” He paused, then added, “There was someone, briefly. He was, well”—Lucas laughed, sounding embarrassed—“he was the tour manager before you.”

Gwen felt a stone in the pit of her stomach. Sally hadn't been wrong, then. “The job split you up?”

He shook his head. “The coke split us up. My fault. Last time I saw him was in London, the night I OD'd.”

Curiosity won out over her stinging feelings. “Was that why—?”

“He broke up with me before the OD,” Lucas said. “And I wasn't drowning my sorrows, if that's what you're asking. I was trying to show him just how okay I was, by getting high and finding someone hotter than he was to spend the night with.”

“We need to get out of here. Our time's almost up,” Gwen said. She didn't want to hear anything more.

“Gwen.” He caught her arm. “I don't do that sort of thing anymore. None of it.”

She smiled faintly. “Except sleeping with your tour managers. You still do that.”

“Not a court in the world would convict me.” He leaned over to kiss her. “Not when they look as good as you.”

The kiss made up her mind. The boundaries clarified. This wasn't about taking care of him, or even keeping him safe. This part, the feel of his arms going around her and pulling her against the sleek lines of his body, this was just another job perk. Nothing else. She could enjoy it for what it was, or she could spend time worrying over her feelings. Aware of the glass walls fronting the hotel gym, she caught his hand as it dipped toward her arse and murmured, “I think we both need a shower, don't you?”

***

Gwen's muscles hummed with contentment after the shared workout and hot shower, the latter complete with a pair of groping, fumbling orgasms that left them giggling as well as gasping. Shower sex was never the elegantly sexy thing you saw in the movies, but it was fun. Lucas tried to coax her into bed for more, but tempted as she was, she had too much to do.

He wandered the suite, clearly bored and unhappy, while she sat at the desk and tried to make sense of the security plans for the upcoming shows. Lee had emailed her long checklists and procedures to follow. Gwen had password-protected her computer with a strong twinge of guilt. It was better than trying to explain to Lucas why she was getting regular emails from his brother.

“We haven't heard anything new in ages,” he said. “Why are you so worried?”

“Because stalkers don't stop,” she said. “They wait.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Hm?” Gwen tabbed away from the latest email and turned around.

“Bodyguarding.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Close protection,” she corrected, “and no.”

The inevitable question of how she knew what to do didn't come. Instead he sprawled across the bed on his stomach, grinning up at her. “You are my bodyguard, though.” He dropped his voice to a purr. “God, that's sexy.”

A tremor rippled through her, but she tried to turn back to her desk, rubbing at her forehead. “It's really not. It's not something I should be doing alone either. If I were doing this the right way, someone would be checking out everywhere you go before you get there, someone would be doing background checks on the people you might come in contact with . . . so no.” She had her suspicions that Lee
was
doing background checks, but he hadn't confirmed it. “What I'm doing is . . .
not enough
. But you're stuck with me.”

He slipped off the bed and stood behind her, sliding one hand up into her hair and resting the other on her shoulder. “I still think it's sexy.”

Gwen gave him a wry grin over her shoulder. He was being so utterly obvious, it was hard not to be charmed. “If I were a rubbish collector, you'd think it was sexy.”

“Mm.” He leaned down to kiss her. “No. You, yes. Your job, no.”

“Speaking of my job . . .” She tried to turn back to the plans on her desk. He ran his fingers through the short strands of her hair and she leaned back appreciatively, still trying to focus.

He crouched beside her chair and breathed into her ear, “Surely you can take a small break. I won't tell anyone.” She closed her eyes and gave in when he leaned close and traced the tip of his tongue on a long trail up the side of her neck, from the collar of her T-shirt all the way up to her ear.

“God—” She grabbed his arm and pulled him into her lap, making the hotel chair creak alarmingly. She ignored the risk to the furniture, instead tightening her arms and raking her teeth over his collarbones. “Naked,” she said. “Now.” The effect of the command in her voice was obvious and immediate. He fumbled with his robe, trying to pull it off while sitting down, then gave up and stood. She watched him, curling her fingers tight over the arms of the chair. He pulled away his shirt and shimmied out of his pajama pants, tugging them down over his hardening cock, leaving him naked, as ordered. She wanted to push him farther, to see what his limits were, to see what he'd do for her, but she'd start slow.

She wet her lips but made no move toward him. “All right,” she said. “Now go lie down. On your back.” He reached for her to draw her along, but she shook her head. “I'll be there in a bit.” The bed was a mess anyway, so he pushed the blankets back before crawling across the sheets to lie down. He ran his hands over the sides of his body, across the tops of his thighs, staring at her, and she knew he was trying to entice her to come closer. But she wasn't ready to give him what he wanted, not yet.

***

He couldn't believe he had ever seen her as anything other than utterly gorgeous. She'd
ordered
him. His skin felt too tight and he'd fought the urge to fall to his knees. He'd goofed around with that sort of role-play before, and it had been fun, but the thought of giving her control burned away his thoughts and left behind nothing but ash.

She sat where she was, watching him. God, he loved her like this. Utterly in control and willing to push him, to tell him what to do. He'd never craved any other human being the way he craved her. As his right hand brushed against his cock, she said, “No. Not yet,” and he shivered. There was a soft
zip
as she unfastened her jeans, still sitting. She opened them just enough and drew one leg up over the arm of the chair, reaching into her panties to start teasing herself.