With Vengeance (11 page)

The reverse was also clear. If she screwed up
on stage, that was it.

Swallowing her trepidation, Kat allowed the
glow of her success and optimism for the future seep in. She barely
managed not to skip as she followed the band outside.

“We’ll head to my place, get a few things
done and have a bite to eat before we go out,” Klement said as he
loaded her guitar into his Suburban. Kat nodded, a thrill of
excitement running from her head to her toes. He
was
going
out with them tonight! What would she wear?

She smiled at the view as they drove out of
Denver and headed back toward the secluded village of Dark Score.
With her joy, the sun seemed brighter, the foliage greener.

“What songs are we doing tomorrow?”

“We’re not going in for the weekend,” Klement
answered. “Besides, we gotta work on your car.”

A measure of Kat’s elation ebbed away. Her
shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get it going again. And,
if worse comes to worst, you’ll be making enough money from this
gig to buy a new one.”

“I don’t want to buy a new one.” Her voice
came out more pitiful than she intended. “It was my dad’s car.”
Actually it had been her stepdad’s, her only
real
dad, and
she almost clarified, but then her face flushed in embarrassment.
What was it about Klem that made her want to pour out all of her
baggage?

Instead of looking at her with scorn, he
nodded with understanding. “It’ll be fine. We might have trouble
tracking down the injector, and if the gas tank is rusted out we’re
in for a whole new level of hell, but we’ll fix it.”

We
. The word did funny things to Kat’s
insides. He spoke as if they were a team.

Closing her eyes, she brushed off the
sentimental musing. Of course he was used to talking like that; he
was in a band.

When they pulled up in the driveway, he
hopped out and unloaded her case. “Go on in, I’m going to the
garage to get a list of what we’ll need before I call the parts
stores.”

“Cool,” Kat agreed. “I’m going to take a
shower.”

Something flickered in his eyes before they
hardened. “Lock the door,” he said.

She couldn’t help a dopey smile at his
protectiveness. “I will.”

After her shower, Kat tried to call Kinley to
tell her the good news, but her friend didn’t answer. She thought
about calling IT Guy to tell him, but decided to hold off until
their next support call. He might think it was weird for her to
call him for social reasons. She’d never done so before, and she
wasn’t sure why she wanted to do so now.

Focusing on the here and now, Kat opened her
closet. She wanted to wear a dress tonight. Nothing too slutty,
just cute. Grinning, she settled on a black A-line with skulls all
over. They’d go great with her knee-high boots.

When she met the guys in the kitchen, they
whistled. Her cheeks pinkened as she sat on one of the stools at
the island counter next to Klement, and Roderick served some
sautéed shrimp to die for, along with a crisp salad and delicious
rolls. As they ate, Klement talked about the parts he’d located for
her car and how long it would take for the stores to get them
in.

“Let’s smoke a bowl before we head out,” he
told the guys after wiping his plate with the last bite of his
bread. “You can come upstairs, too,” he told her. “You don’t have
to smoke.”

Kat shook her head. “That’s okay, I wanted to
text Kinley. She’s on the road with Viciӧus, so I haven’t been able
to tell her the good news about Thrashfest. Also, I want to take a
look at the site and make sure everything’s running fine.”

When they left her, she sent Kinley a text.
While waiting for her friend to reply, she spotted a plate of
chocolate cupcakes on a plate by the microwave. The plastic wrap
was lifted, and it looked like a few had been eaten. Kat licked her
lips. She hadn’t had chocolate in days. And if they were going out
drinking, it would be good to eat something absorbent.

Unable to resist the temptation, she grabbed
one.

Chapter Nine

Klement passed the pipe to Roderick.

The drummer frowned. “You’re not taking
another hit?”

“Nah, I’m saving myself for a cupcake when we
get back.”

Cliff’s eyes widened. “You mean, you didn’t
have one yet?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m driving,
remember? I’m just having a hit for now.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” His friend gave him a
lopsided grin. “You’re missing out. The body high’s kicking
in.”

Roderick nodded. “Damn. You made a potent
batch this time.”

“I know.” Klement beamed. “Just licking the
batter off the spoon and bowl knocked me on my ass last night.”

Cliff took the pipe from Rod and took a hit.
“Which plant did you use?”

“I did a blend of Schnozberry and Sticky
Wicket. And no, I’m not sharing the recipe for the bud-butter.”

Roderick laughed. “Did you call our manager
about Thrashfest yet?”

Klement nodded. “Yeah, and he already
contacted the booking manager. They have our rooms reserved. We’re
going to be at the Alpine Valley Resort. Viciӧus, Deity, and a
couple other bands will be there too.” He paused before making a
suggestion that had been on his mind for awhile. “I want us to
write a song in honor of Lefty’s memory.”

The others nodded, then they all spent awhile
discussing lyrics, drumbeats, and measures before Klement looked at
the clock and frowned. They’d left Kat downstairs alone for over a
half hour. If her cute dress and brilliant smile were any
indicator, she was probably anxious to go.

He ashed out the pipe. “I suppose we should
go. I want to get back early. I gotta work on Kat’s car tomorrow.
Meant to do some on it today.”

They went downstairs to see Kat walking
slowly across the living room floor. She stared down at the
polished wood, taking careful steps as if there were hidden
pitfalls and bogs within the varnished pine.

Klement put a hand on her shoulder,
surprised. “You okay?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, pupils
dilated. “I feel kinda dizzy and the floor looks funny.” She took a
shaky step and grabbed the arm of the couch.

Klem glanced over at the kitchen counter.
“Uh, you ate one of those cupcakes, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Her lower lip quivered with fear.
“They’re laced, aren’t they?”

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry.” Guilt stabbed him in
the gut. “I made them with THC butter for the guys. I should have
told you, or put them away, or…I’m sorry,” he repeated. Behind him,
Cliff and Roderick burst out laughing.

“Oh man, you’re in for one hell of a ride,
girlie!”

“It’s a strong batch, love.”

Klement glared at his bandmates. “Shut the
fuck up. It’s not funny. The stuff gives her panic attacks.”

“Oh shit,” Kat whimpered. “Oh shit, oh shit,
oh shit!”

Her panic visibly mounted, and Klement guided
her to the couch to sit down. “I don’t think you should go anywhere
tonight.”

She bit her lip and nodded.

Cliff ran a hand through his hair and shifted
on his feet. “It sucks to leave her alone here when it’s supposed
to be her celebration.”

Kat’s panicked gaze darted up to him, and it
didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was scared to be left
alone.

“We can celebrate tomorrow,” Klement said
firmly.

“But—”

He cut Cliff off. “You guys can go out, but
I’m staying with her. It’s my fault she’s in this state.”

Roderick shrugged. “It’s okay, we can stay.”
He approached Kat and offered a tentative smile. “Cliff and I ate
some too. We can enjoy the high together.”

She looked back and forth at Cliff, Rod, and
Klement. “I’m
not
enjoying it. I can’t breathe. I can’t…I
can’t…” She trailed off and curled up in the fetal position on the
couch. “Please don’t look at me. I know I’m being pathetic.”

Cliff paced around, restless. “Damn, it
is
hitting her hard. What should we do with her?”

“I’m right here,” she grumbled from the couch
cushions.

Klement eyed her huddled form with growing
worry. Her whole body shook like a leaf. “It might be best if you
guys go ahead and take off to the club. I know when people are
having a bad trip on something they sometimes get overwhelmed when
they’re crowded. I’ll take care of her.” He placed his hand on
hers. “Does that sound okay with you, Kat?”

She nodded. “I don’t want to ruin everyone’s
night.”

Cliff practically ran to the door, eager as
always to drink and socialize and maybe find his next conquest.
Roderick just shook his head and grabbed his car keys out of his
pocket. “Ring me if you need anything.” He smiled down at Kat.
“Feel better soon, love.”

After the guys left, Klement lightly stroked
the back of her hand. “Is it okay if I sit by you?”

“Uh-huh.”

He sat on the couch and reached over to
lightly caress her back. “What do you usually do when you have a
panic attack?”

“I usually take my Xanax and…”

Klem shook his head. “It’s probably not a
good idea to mix it with the THC. What else?”

“I curl up in a ball and wait for it to go
away. Then I listen to music, or watch a movie, practice my
guitar…” She squirmed like she had a bad itch. “Can I take my boots
off? They’re bugging me.”

“Of course.” He tried to ignore the way her
skirt rode up on her thighs.

She fumbled with her footwear, getting more
frustrated when the laces tangled in her fingers. Klement gently
pushed her hands aside.

“Let me.”

He removed her boots, savoring the feel of
her bare calf in his hand. “Damn,” he said, “your feet are tiny.”
And adorable.

“I know. Buying shoes is a bitch.” Her
shaking grew worse. “How long will it take for this stuff to wear
off?”

He shrugged. “Depends on the person. For a
lightweight like you, probably a few hours.”

“Hours?” she squeaked. “Oh God, I wish it
would stop now! I keep seeing bad memories flashing before my
eyes.”

Klement’s heart clenched in helpless agony.
More than anything, he wanted to make things better. “What if you
open your eyes?”

“Then I get too dizzy!” she wailed.

“I’m so sorry, Kat.” Why hadn’t he warned her
not to eat one of the damn things? He rubbed her back in slow
soothing circles. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Actually, this feels nice.” She took a few
deep breaths, and her shaking subsided to a fine tremble. “I’m
sorry I’m such a wreck.”

“No,” Klem said. “It’s all my fault.”

“Most people probably have a good time on
these things, but with me it’s like a bad ’shroom trip or
something. I keep seeing my father beating my mom, beating me…” Her
teeth chattered. “He was a cop.”

Klement’s hand tensed on her bare shoulder.
“So
that’s
why you were so freaked out earlier. And you keep
his car?”

“No, it was my stepdad’s car. He was the one
who got me into metal. Our house caught on fire, and he died saving
us.”

Her voice broke in a strangled sob, and
Klement winced. So that was where the PTSD came from. That, and the
abuse she’d suffered. His heart clenched as the suffering emanated
off of her in tangible waves. Every cell of his being surged with
the need to comfort her, to protect her…

He gently pulled her onto his lap. Even
though it was inappropriate and dangerous as hell, she felt like
heaven in his arms.

***

Richard watched Klement Burke’s house through
his binoculars.

The sight of the black 1960 Plymouth Fury
just outside of the garage made him seethe with envy. When that fag
bassist pulled it out to push Kat’s piece of shit car into its
space, he’d had to cover his mouth to keep from screaming. He
couldn’t believe anyone would bother trying to fix that fucking
thing, let alone supplant a beauty with it. He’d tried to convince
Kat to get rid of the Subaru and buy another car, but she
stubbornly clung to it because it was her stepfather’s. Not even
her real father’s. Stupid girly sentimentality.

Laughter bubbled in Richard’s throat despite
his rage. Good fucking luck fixing that thing. He’d heard that
sugar in the gas tank would fuck up a whole car, and sure enough,
he’d watched Klement go into the garage and only spend a few
minutes there before he walked out shaking his head. Now she’d have
no choice but to get rid of it.

He was about to leave when he saw Cliff and
the drummer—that British dude whose name he never remembered—come
out of the house. Richard wondered what Cliff had thought of his
present.

The two band members got into the drummer’s
Hummer and took off. Richard waited awhile to see if Kat and
Klement would join them, but they didn’t.

Richard rolled his eyes. Kat was probably
being a hermit as usual and piddling time away on her website or
practicing her guitar. He smirked. Or maybe the control freak
bassist was putting her through her paces because her playing
wasn’t up to his standards.

Sure, she was talented, Richard admitted, and
ungodly so for a chick, but good enough to play with one of the Big
Six in metal? He couldn’t fathom it. They’d probably let her in for
the gimmick of having a girl in the band. Or they just liked her
tits.

Thoroughly bored, he rose from the bushes and
made his way through the woods bordering the road, not emerging
until he reached his car, which was parked in an overgrown turnout
a quarter mile away. He needed a beer. And more money.

As he drove back to Denver, he called his
delivery guy the minute he got a cell signal.

“How’s the account look?”

“We sold fifteen eight balls last week and
another five this week so far,” Chris said cheerfully. “We’re
cooking another batch tomorrow.”

Richard did the math in his head. “So, four
grand.” And he had some product of his own if he needed extra cash.
But he didn’t want to risk getting busted here.