Liam: The Lost Billionaires, Book 3 Read online

  “Maggie, I’ve got you a hotel for the next six hours. The bus will be ready to pull out at 4am…” Julie kept talking as she ran to keep up with me. “Maybe you can sleep away some of those dark circles. You look awful. Oh, and you were flat in the last song. You need to work on—”

  I held up my hand to quiet her. “A hotel would be lovely, but I’m not getting out of bed for the next 12 hours. Forget the hotel room. I’ll just go straight to the bus. We can leave whenever the crew is ready.” With that, I brushed past her.

  I couldn’t handle another word about where I had screwed up. I knew I could have done better, and I would do better. I had to. I was going to make it in this industry no matter what anyone said. I would prove to my parents I hadn’t ruined my life going into show business.

  I scooted out the back with the band, and we all scattered to our respective buses, leaving the roadies to break down the stage and pack us up so we could get on the road.

  Walking into my trailer, I slammed the door behind me, shutting out the world. I shed my clothes one piece at a time, leaving a messy trail behind me for the maid or for me to clean when I woke up. I was too tired to pick up after myself. I practically crawled back to the bathroom and stood barely three minutes under a hot shower before falling face down, wet and naked onto my silk sheets. I was instantly asleep, too zoned out to notice the subtle inconsistencies between the way things were and the way I had left them that morning.

  It wasn’t until the next day, when I finally awoke, that I realized someone had been in my trailer. I knew instantly it hadn’t been part of my crew. A stranger had broken in, touched my things, and violated my privacy. The changes were subtle. The first thing I noticed was that the pen I’d kept in a notebook on my nightstand was missing. I didn’t really notice at the time, but later I would spot other things out of place.

  The cleaning crew came around mid-morning, and the lady who tidied my bus hadn’t been in after I’d left. I made sure the same person on the crew cleaned my space every time. It helped cut down my anxiety over having a stranger in my space. Julie knew I was OCD about those kinds of things and tried to keep the changes to a minimum. I couldn’t control everything else. My life was so hectic on tour my trailer became my little corner of sanity, my safe space. It was a place for everything and everything had its place. That’s my motto.

  The sunlight crept under my sleep mask, waking me. I rolled over, pushed the mask up, and cracked one eye open to check the time. I groaned when I realized the glowing red numbers read 8:00am. Burying my face in my pillow, I hid from the new day. I hadn’t just fallen into bed at 2am—a heavy metal band had set up residence in my skull, thumping between my ears in time with the wheels of my bus as they bounced along the highway.

  I pushed the mask further up onto my forehead and tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes. My eyeballs felt gritty, dry, and far too big for their sockets. I sweat so much on stage it didn’t matter how many bottles of water I drank before and during the performance. I almost always woke up dehydrated.

  Reaching one hand over, I groped the top of my nightstand for my water bottle. That’s when I realized my pen was gone. I always tucked it into my notepad, clipped on and close by in case the muse hit and I needed to write down music or lyrics in the middle of the night.

  “What?” I sat up, disoriented and confused. I pushed the mask further up onto my head and squinted. I leaned forward to hang over the side of my bed. Half on, half off the mattress, I flailed around until my fingers felt the pen wedged between the nightstand and the base of the headboard. “How the hell did this get down here?”

  “Julie?” I called out, dragging myself back up onto my bed and pulling the tangled sheet up under my arms. “Julie, are you out there?” The emptiness of the coach echoed back at me. She liked to come over the morning after a show and review all the things I’d done wrong and needed to do better. She always saw things I never noticed while performing.

  I exhaled forcefully and thanked God she wasn’t there yet. Sitting up, I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and in one fluid movement, bounded out of bed and snagged my purple silk robe off the back of the bathroom door.

  I slipped into the robe, feeling the smooth fabric glide over my naked skin. I tied the sash around my waste and opened the door to the living room, enjoying the peacefulness of my space. I never could have maintained such a grueling tour schedule sharing my space with someone else.

  Reflexively, I reached out to re-align the framed photos of my parents. For some reason they weren’t angled to face the door. I always kept them turned that way so they were the first things I’d see when I walked in. I always kept those two pictures on a shelf, parallel at 45-degree angles, lined up in a row. It was like having my parents watch over me.

  Chapter Three

  Liam

  “Hey, Liam. How are you?”

  “Mason?” I was surprised to hear my childhood friend on the other end of the phone. “Wow. It’s been a long time.”

  “You’re a busy guy.” He chuckled.

  “You too.” His voice launched me on a trip down memory lane. “Life’s changed.” We had spent hours hiding in the mailroom at Hendrix BioTech and sneaking smoke breaks by the loading dock. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “What have you been up to?”

  “I just finished an op in Brazil. Some ambassador’s kid got snatched by human traffickers and was about to get shipped to the Middle East to be part of a sheik’s harem. We got her back, but it was messy.”

  “You do visit some interesting places.”

  “I guess. Where’s life taken you recently?”

  Mason cleared his throat. “I just got back from Central America, and I’m more than ready to stay close to home for a while.” He must have put his hand over the mouth piece because I could hear his muffled voice calling to his wife. “Kinsey, your dad is calling. Come get your phone.”

  “How’s old Noah?” I asked.

  “He’s still Noah.” Mason changed the subject quickly. “Anyway, I need a favor.”

  “Okay.”

  “One of Kinsey’s friends is in a spot of trouble. The friend thinks someone broke into her tour bus… more than once. I was wondering if you could do your thing.”

  I took a deep breath. I hated to refuse a favor, but I had other plans. “I don’t know, Mason. I don’t really want to spend a lot of time back in the states.” In fact, that was the last place I wanted to be. “Jeannie is there.” Just saying her name hurt. I pulled a well-worn photo from my pocket, touched the face, and the ache in my chest intensified.

  “That was a raw deal, Liam. No one deserves what she did to you.” The back of my neck turned hot. I still didn’t want to talk about it. Thankfully, he didn’t dwell on it long. “But this woman really needs your help.”

  “Text me the info.” I said, sighing. “I’ll check it out, but I’m not promising anything. I’ve got a job over in Romania—”

  “You’ve got guys for that.” Mason interrupted me, the urgency clear in his voice. “Liam, this woman requires a special touch. She needs you.”

  “Fine. I’ll fly in and talk to her, but I’m not promising to take the case myself.” I pulled up my schedule and started checking flights. The sooner I was back overseas, the happier I would be.

  “Thank you,” he said. “That’s enough for me. I’ll tell Kinsey you’ll take care of her friend.”

  “Just don’t promise something I can’t deliver, Mason.”

  “Ha!” He chuckled. “I always thought you were the one who would be the lawyer, not Luke. You always hedge your bets.”

  “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Thanks, Liam. Take Care.”

  “You too. Bye, Mason.” I dropped the phone on the plain wood table in front of me and stared at it as if it would bite. It was stupid, really. Intellectually, I knew the chances of randomly running into Jeannie were infinitesimal, but I really didn’t want to go back to the states no m
atter how much of a chicken that made me.

  I stood up and paced in the small room, my combat boots thumping loud on the pine floor. My eyes never left my phone. As I stared, it began to vibrate, alerting me to Mason’s text.

  Reading the mission details didn’t make me any happier about taking the job. If Mason and I hadn’t shared a history, I would have called him back and told him to find someone else. Instead, I scrubbed my fingers through my hair and let out another deep sigh. Finally I sat down, picked the phone up again, and dialed a number by memory.

  He answered on the first ring. “Boss?”

  “Ben,” I barked, “I need you to put together a team of three guys and set up round-the-clock security for a celeb—a Maggie Lane. She’s the lead singer of a band called Indigo.”

  “Indigo? Really? I love their music.” Ben sounded excited, and that was never good. Normally Ben, my right-hand man, spotter, and best friend was cool, calm, and collected. He had been invaluable on this last op before accompanying the girl back to the states. I needed that guy back, not a gaga groupie.

  I’m not sure what it was about this mission. We did high profile cases all the time, but this one felt like a really bad idea.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been gone too long to know who the latest fad bands are,” I replied dryly. “From what I’ve read, she’s a stubborn, entitled celebrity.” I took a moment to calm myself. “But she matters to Mason’s wife Kinsey. I’m doing him a favor. This girl—Maggie—he thinks she’s being stalked.”

  “Three guys? Eight hour shifts? Onsite trailer?” Ben rattled off our standard operating procedures for round-the-clock protection.

  “Roger that. I’ve got a few things to wrap up here in Brazil with the human trafficking ring we took down. You take point on this and call me on the sat phone with any questions.” I stood and started pacing again, working some of the lingering stiffness out of my legs.

  “Ten-four. When will you be back in the states, Liam?” I could hear a pen scratching as Ben took notes.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t want to come back right now. There are too many bad guys still waiting to be caught down here.” A groan escaped me. “But I promised Mason I’d meet this woman.” I pulled a piece of gum out of the leg pocket of my cargo pants and popped it into my mouth. “The feds have contracted us on several cases, and they’re willing to pay big money. Our accounts will be more than flush again soon.”

  “Pretty sure they’re never not.” Ben laughed. “I’ve seen the books… but okay. I’ll keep you updated. See you soon.”

  Maggie

  “Hey, Maggie! Come here!” I heard Elijah holler as I sat in my trailer, curled up on the couch, drinking a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Really?” I hollered back as I tucked the pashmina shawl around my shoulders and stood. Walking to the trailer door, I looked out the window and saw several large men dressed in black fatigues standing with Elijah. Opening the door, I stared for a moment. “Who are you guys?”

  The strangers towered over Eli and the other guys in the band. They had broad shoulders, close-cropped hair, and stern expressions to match their dark clothes. Their tight t-shirts were tucked in at the waist, displaying the guns on their hips.

  “Scorpion Security, ma’am. Mason Alexander sent us.” Their leader turned to me. “I’m Ben. I run the field office here in the states.” His presence was overpowering.

  “Uh… nice to meet you?” My nerves were rattled. I don’t like big men. My father always seemed huge growing up. He was stern and demanding, expecting the highest achievement from me and accepting no less.

  “I need a copy of your schedule, ma’am. We’ll need access to your trailer and any other place you go.” He pulled a clipboard from under his arm and flipped several pages. “I have a list of rules here. They are all drafted with your safety in mind. You’ll need to have one of us with you at all times—”

  “No, no, I’m sorry. There’s been a mistake.” I cut him off and started to back away. “We’re going to stick with the company we have. I’m so sorry to have inconvenienced you guys.”

  I had no interest in having these hulking military guys watch my every move. Julie’s rent-a-cops wandered around, drank coffee, and kept the groupies away from my trailer. They gave me space. I could deal with that. These guys meant business. These guys scared me. They were going to disrupt my routine.

  “Miss Lane!” he called after me as I turned and fled back to the safety of my trailer. “Miss Lane!”

  “I’ll go talk to her,” I heard Julie say as I slammed the door shut behind me to block out the rest of the world. I fell face down on the couch, ignoring the crinkling paper beneath me.

  “Maggie?” Julie peeked in the door. “Can I come in?”

  “Ummppphhhh.” The pillow I buried my face in muffled any answer I gave.

  “No pouting.” She came in, sat on the couch next to me, and tried to pull me up to look at her. “You know you need these guys, Mags.” She gave up on trying to move me and rubbed my back instead. “Come on. You were freaking out just last week over the last letter.”

  I flopped over and put my head in her lap. “What do I do, Julie? They want to come in here.” Through the pillow under my chest, something hard poked me. I growled, pulled it and the pillow out from under me, and threw them both to the floor.

  She started stroking my hair. “You let them. It won’t be forever. They’ll figure out what’s going on and then we go back to life as we know it.”

  “Jules, you’ll always be here for me, right?” I couldn’t keep it together on my own. She always knew what to do. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” The rhythmic movement of her hand through my curls soothed me. “You’d fall apart the first day I left. Indigo needs a strong hand to guide it, and God knows it isn’t you. I’ll always be here.”

  “You’re so good to me.” I cried for a while and then dozed off, knowing Julie had it all under control. I never looked down to see the picture I had tossed to the floor—a grainy photo of a doll with its hands bound and a noose around its neck.

  Chapter Four

  Maggie

  “Really?” I almost ran right into the huge man standing just outside my bus door when I opened it after lunch. “Can you guys go lurk somewhere else?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. Orders.”

  I huffed at him before slamming the door shut again. I couldn’t walk two feet without tripping over one of Mason’s G-men. I already regretted confiding in Kinsey about the crazy letters I kept receiving.

  With their broad shoulders and tight butts, Mason’s guys would have made great eye candy except for their brooding, threatening demeanor. Dressed all in black with matching close-cropped haircuts, each with a curly cord leading up to one ear, they were almost indistinguishable from one another. None of them said much. They simply shadowed me everywhere I went, demanding to know where I was going and what I was doing every minute of every day. I’d had enough.

  Gathering my courage, I squared my shoulders and opened the door again. This time, I walked down the steps and right past him. I’m in charge here.

  “Miss Lane.” The man posted outside my trailer held up his right hand as his left hand touched his earpiece and he spoke quietly to someone on the other end.

  “Out of my way. I need to talk to my drummer.” I dismissed him with the wave of my hand and strode across the gravel parking lot.

  “Miss Lane!” He hurried after me, his heavy boots crunching on the rocks with every step. “You need to follow protocol. I need to know where you’re going. You need to wait while we clear the way.”

  “That’s silly.” I laughed and shook my head. “There is nothing dangerous between here and the band’s bus.”

  “You don’t know that, Miss Lane. That’s why we’re here.” He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face as he walked next to me. I guess I was frustrating him. Well, he was frustrating me too. I was too
busy to run every move I made by some stick-up-his-tight-butt ex-military giant. I needed the creativity my freedom afforded me. If I wanted to stand under the full-moon and twirl in circles while singing the words in my heart, I needed to be able to do it without prior security clearance. Otherwise, the music would never come.

  I wished I had never confided in Kinsey. I hadn’t expected her husband to sic his bodyguards on the situation, effectively tying me up in a straightjacket of rules meant to curtail my every movement. I was sure everyone was overreacting to the break-in and the letters. Already feeling suffocated, I wasn’t about to admit I suspected someone had broken in the day before these guys stormed my bus.

  Knock. Knock.

  I rapped on the door to the guys’ vehicle and waited, impatiently tapping my foot on the bottom step.

  “Hey, Maggie.” Elijah pushed open the door and held it so I could enter.

  I smiled, walked into the living room, and thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have to share a bus with the guys. I loved them to death, but they were pigs. Compared to my spotless space, theirs was a sty. It was covered in dishes, dirty clothes, beer bottles, random instruments, and sheet music.

  “Hey, Mags!” Dylan and Levi yelled from where they lay sprawled out on facing couches, fooling around with their guitars.

  “Hey, guys.” I bit back a comment on the mess. “Did anyone pick up some sheet music I had backstage last night?” After a very late breakfast I had called Julie to see if she had found it in the rehearsal area or in my dressing room. I’d already gone through every drawer and cabinet in my bus. The latest song I had been writing was nowhere to be found.