Rock Redemption (Rock Kiss, #3)(68)

Arresting blue eyes landed on Kit, Vance’s lips curving. “Kathleen Devigny. I don’t think we’ve ever met in person. A pleasure.”

Kit made small talk, then watched helplessly as Jeremy led Sarah away. The other woman had put on a good face, but whatever it was Abe had said to her, it had hit deep and hard. Noah was right—their marriage might be over on paper, but it wasn’t over in their hearts, no matter if they appeared to have moved on.

Hurting for them both, she looked around until she spotted a couple she knew and went over to join them. When Noah returned, he tugged her into a slow dance on the improvised dance floor.

“Jesus,” he muttered, holding her close. “Abe’s f*cking torn up. I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed David. He’s always been able to calm Abe down.”

Kit could see that happening—David was so stable. “Where are they?”

“David took him for a walk.” He tightened his arms around her, his hard, muscled body moving just enough to tantalize. “We’ll keep him away from Jeremy Vance for another two hours and that’s it. No drama.”

“Two hours?”

“Sarah told Abe she and Jeremy are leaving via private chopper tonight.” He ran his hand down her back, his cheek pressed against her temple. “Now, will you dance with me, Kit?”

The way he held her—there was such tenderness in it that he confused her all over again.

“Yes,” she said, surrendering to the magic of this weekend.

And every beat of her heart, it whispered… be with me.




An hour after the best dance of his life, Noah was sitting on the couch watching a rerun of a football game and psyching himself up to take a sleeping pill when there was a bang on the side of the bus.

“I’ll see what it is.” Kit, dressed in a short nightgown over which she’d wrapped a kimono-style robe that reached her ankles, ducked out from the kitchenette where she’d been grabbing a glass of water.

She was so f*cking beautiful.

That he could’ve handled. He’d have screwed her and moved on. But Kit, she had a heart and that heart cared about him. He didn’t understand it, but he was going to hold on to her care as long as humanly possible.

“Wait.” He beat her to the door. “No chances, okay?”

A scowl darkened her face at the reminder of her stalker, but she nodded and stepped back, letting him open the door. The cause of the disturbance was clear even in the post-midnight darkness. Abe had another man shoved up against the bus, one arm to the guy’s neck and his fist cocked back to smash into the man’s face.

Jumping out barefoot, Noah slammed out his hand and caught Abe’s fist before it would’ve pulverized the other guy’s mug. He didn’t care about the stranger. He cared about Abe. The keyboardist was dangerously strong—if he’d landed that punch, he could’ve done serious damage, ended up in jail for grievous bodily harm.

The security guys Noah had hired to spell Butch and Casey were as big, but they were following orders and staying in position on either end of the bus. He’d made it clear they weren’t to leave their posts for anything short of an emergency. All Kit’s stalker needed was a single opportunity, a momentary lapse in their concentration.

He was aware of Kit jumping out and flying toward Molly and Fox’s bus next door. Abe, meanwhile, was pushing against Noah’s hold, causing Noah’s biceps to bulge and his body strain to hold position. “Fuck it, Abe, pull back,” he gritted out as the man Abe was holding against the bus began to choke.

“Abe, stop!”

Only at the ragged feminine cry did he become aware of another person in the shadows. She’d been kind of crumpled against Fox’s bus, which was why Noah hadn’t noticed her at first, but now she tugged on Abe’s arm. “Stop!”

Shit, it was Sarah. That meant there was a good chance the man Abe was trying to kill was her fiancé. Noah had never understood Abe and Sarah’s relationship, but he’d felt Abe’s muscles flicker at Sarah’s voice, so he didn’t tell her to back off.

“Abe!” Sarah cried again. “Stop it!”

Making a wordless sound of rage, Abe wrenched back just as Fox appeared. The man behind Noah began to cough and rasp at the same time. “I’m going to f*cking call the cop—”

Abe roared and would’ve come toward the idiot if Fox hadn’t body-slammed their bandmate into the side of the bus. Leaving the lead singer to handle Abe, Noah turned to the man—what the hell was his name?—and said, “Shut the f*ck up.”

The patrician-faced man flinched at Noah’s ice-cold voice but squared his shoulders nonetheless. “I’m pressing charges.”

“Yeah?” Noah wanted to sock the * himself. “You do that and I’m going to release the security-camera footage of Sarah’s face and how it got that way.” He’d glimpsed the bruises, the bloody lip when she came over to try to stop Abe.

Jeremy Vance, that was his name, swallowed. “There’s no footage.”

“You sure? After that shit the last * tried to pull with Molly and Fox? There sure as f*ck are security cameras pointed at all external areas.” It was no lie—the cameras were mounted discreetly on different parts of the buses.

The shithead looked unsure. “Your primitive friend isn’t worth my time,” he said at last in a voice that screamed wealth and breeding.