12. Chapter 12 - Axl
I can't get her out of my fucking head.
It’s been three days since the concert. Three days since I had Dahlia against my bathroom vanity and three days of replaying every sound she made, and every expression that crossed her face when she came.
And now, I am sprawled across the couch in our recording studio like some lovesick teenager, staring at the ceiling instead of working on our new album.
"Earth to Axl!" Marcus waves his hand in front of my face. "Dude, we've been trying to get your opinion on this bridge for ten minutes."
I blink, forcing myself back to reality. "Sorry. Play it again?"
Derek rolls his eyes from behind his drum kit. "He's still thinking about Mystery Girl."
"Her name is Dahlia," I say, then wince when all three of my bandmates exchange knowing looks.
"Ooooh, Dahlia ," Luke mocks in a high-pitched voice. "Tell us more about Dahlia ."
I flip him off. "Fuck you."
Marcus puts down his guitar and drops onto the couch beside me. "Seriously, though, what's up with you? I've never seen you this hung up on anyone."
"I'm not hung up," I protest, but it sounds weak even to my ears.
"Bullshit," Derek laughs. "You've checked your phone fifty times today. You haven't hit on a single groupie in three days. And you keep zoning out with this stupid smile on your face."
"I do not," I growl.
"You're doing it right now," Luke points out.
I throw a guitar pick at him. "Can we just focus on the fucking music?"
"Not until you admit you're obsessed with this chick," Derek insists.
"I'm not obsessed," I mutter. "I'm just... interested."
Marcus snorts. "Interested? Bro, you've slept with half the women in this city and never once asked for their number afterward. Now you've got your investigator tracking down one girl. That's not just interest. That's borderline obsession."
He's right, but I'll die before admitting it. I've never chased a woman in my life. They chase me. That's how it works. That's how it always worked.
Until Dahlia.
"Whatever," I stand up, needing to move. "She was different, okay?"
"Different how?" Luke asks, genuinely curious now.
I run a hand through my hair, struggling to find the words. "She saw me."
"We all see you, dumbass," Derek laughs. "You're not invisible."
"No, I mean..." I pace across the studio. "She saw me . Not Axl Valentine, the rock star. Just... me."
The guys exchange glances again, but this time there's no mockery in their expressions.
"Shit," Marcus says softly. "You really like her."
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. I snatch it up so fast I nearly drop it.
"Valentine," I answer, trying to sound casual.
"I've got what you asked for," says Ricky, my investigator. "Took some digging."
My heart rate kicks up. "Tell me."
"Dahlia Baldwin. Thirty-two. Geneticist with a focus on rare mutations. Works—or worked—at Helix Labs until recently. Now she's contracted with Blackthorn Biotech."
"Blackthorn?" The name sounds familiar. "The pharmaceutical company?"
"That's the one. Run by Evan Blackthorn. He's a rich bastard and a bit of a recluse."
"What else?" I press, aware that my bandmates are watching me.
"She lives in the university district, but..." Ricky pauses. "That's where it gets weird. She hasn't been home in days. Neighbors say some cop showed up and took her away. Then she was spotted at your concert, obviously, but after that... nothing. It's like she vanished."
My stomach tightens. "Is she in trouble?"
"I can't say for sure. But something's up. Her lab was broken into the week before she disappeared. And get this… her research is about the Crimson Plague."
The name sends a jolt through me. The Crimson Plague. The virus that's killing shifters across the country. I didn't know she was doing important work.
"You got a number for her?" I ask.
"Yeah, sending it now." My phone pings with a text. "That's all I could dig up without raising flags. Do you want me to keep looking?"
"Yeah. Keep me posted." I hang up and stare at the number on my screen.
"Well?" Marcus prompts. "You gonna call her or just stare at your phone all day?"
I flip him off again, but I'm already pressing the call button. My palms are sweating. What the fuck is happening to me?
The phone rings three times, and I'm about to hang up when she answers.
"Hello… Dahlia Baldwin speaking." Her voice is just as I remember it, low and rich.
"Dahlia." I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "It's Axl. Valentine," I add, in case she's forgotten.
There's a pause. "How did you get this number?"
Not exactly the enthusiastic greeting I was hoping for.
"I have my ways," I say, trying to sound mysterious rather than creepy. "I wanted to invite you to my next show. It's a private performance, and very exclusive. I got you VIP access, of course."
"You tracked down my number to invite me to a concert?" She sounds more confused than flattered.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you," I admit, ignoring the exaggerated kissing noises Derek is making in the background.
Another pause. "That's... flattering. But I'm not sure I can make it. My schedule is pretty packed for the next few days."
"I can be flexible," I offer quickly. "Any day that works for you."
"It's not that simple," she sighs. "I'm in the middle of some complicated research, and I can't really leave right now."
"I could come to you," I suggest, aware that I sound desperate, but I am beyond caring.
"I don't think that's a good idea," she says gently.
"Because of the other guy?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
"What other guy?" She sounds genuinely confused.
"The one who picked you up after the party. Tall, brooding, looked like he wanted to rip my head off."
"Oh. Leo." She laughs softly. "It's complicated."
"I'm good with complicated," I insist. "Just give me a chance to see you again."
There's muffled talking on her end, like she's covering the phone to speak to someone.
"I have to go," she says suddenly. "I'm sorry."
"Wait…" But she's already hung up.
I stare at my phone in disbelief. Did she just blow me off?
"Ouch," Luke winces. "That was painful to watch."
"Shut up," I growl.
Marcus pats my shoulder. "Welcome to the real world, rock star. Sometimes women say no."
"She didn't say no," I argue. "She said she's busy."
"Which is woman-code for 'not interested,'" Derek points out helpfully.
I throw my phone onto the couch. "She's interested. You didn't see how she was with me that night."
"Maybe she just wanted a one-night stand with a celebrity," Luke suggests. "Some people do that, you know. Sleep with famous people for the story."
"Not her," I shake my head. "It wasn't like that."
"Face it, bro," Marcus says. "You've finally met a woman who doesn't fall at your feet, and you can't handle it."
"Fuck you," I snap, "I'll get her. You'll see."
"Five hundred bucks says you won't," Derek challenges.
"You're on," I say without hesitation. "Let's get back to work."
We run through our song three more times, but I keep fucking up the bridge. My mind isn't on the music.
"That's it," Luke throws down his bass pick. "We're done for today. Axl can't focus for shit."
"Sorry, guys," I mutter.
"Don't apologize," Derek says, spinning a drumstick between his fingers. "Just fix whatever's going on in that pretty head of yours before tomorrow's show."
"I'm trying."
They pack up their gear, and soon I'm alone in the studio. I pick up my guitar and start playing.
I play for hours, trying to work through my frustration. By the time I finish, my fingers are cramping, and the studio is bathed in moonlight.
As I'm packing up my guitar, my phone rings. It's Ricky again.
"Tell me you have good news," I answer.
"I found an address."
I grip the phone tighter. "Where is she?"