39. Torren
39
TORREN
I pull my car into the spot next to Sav’s Porsche and scan the underground lot for Jonah’s car.
Normally, I’d be with him. He’d have stayed at my place, or we all would have opted to stay in the hotel. Instead, I wanted to be alone with Callie, so I took her to my apartment, and I left Jo to fend for himself. I didn’t want to admit the whisper of worry that it had caused, but the relief I feel when my eyes land on his car makes it undeniable.
It all worked out fine, though. Thankfully.
As Callie and I are climbing out of my car, a pink sport bike rumbles to a stop behind me. I flash Mabel a grin as she hops off the bike and removes her helmet.
“I thought you’d ride with Sav.”
“I slept at Kat’s last night,” she says with a playful waggle of her brows, then she bounces her eyes between our vehicles. “Damn. Everyone rolled up separate. Not a single armored SUV.”
I chuckle and move toward the elevator. With the exception of Sav, band security is always a little more relaxed when we’re in LA. We don’t use drivers unless we want them. We don’t take bodyguards unless we think we’ll need them. In fact, this is the first tour where Mabel, Jonah, and I have each been assigned our own 24/7 detail, and it was difficult as hell to get used to. Having some slack on the leash again feels fucking delightful .
“Feels almost like old times.” I say the words on a dramatic sigh, sounding just as wistful and nostalgic as I intended, and Mabel laughs.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Why not?”
Mabel looks toward Callie as she answers her. “Now that we tend to draw more attention, we always travel together for shows. Even in LA, we stay in a hotel. It kind of serves as a home base, I guess. It’s safer and easier and more efficient. This whole staying wherever and rollin’ up on our own thing before a show is not the norm. Ham must be getting an ulcer having so many moving parts to track.”
Callie flicks her eyes from Mabel to me. “So why did we do it this way?”
Mabes points her finger at my head, calling me out, and I shrug.
“I wanted to have you to myself for a night.” Callie’s cheeks pinken, and I pull her under my arm. “And I’m glad I did it.”
Callie hasn’t given me an answer yet. I surprised us both when I asked her to move in with me, but as soon as I said it, I knew I meant it.
I’ll think about it, she’d said, but there was a smile on her perfect lips as they formed the words, so I’m hopeful. If I could spend every night like the one I spent with her last night, I wouldn’t want for anything else. I could listen to her play Beethoven every single day and not grow tired of it. When she fell asleep naked and wrapped in my arms, I stayed awake and replayed memories with her over in my mind while listening to her soft breathing.
I’m fucking in love with her.
It’s so intense that I want to laugh at myself from five years ago. The version of myself who thought he knew what love felt like. That fucker was clueless. How I feel for Callie pales in comparison to how I’ve ever felt about anyone else. I ache for her. I wake up and go to bed with her in the forefront of my mind. I even have a running list in my phone’s notes app of random ideas that will make her happy. Gifts, trips, gestures. I’m fucking gone for this woman, and there’s no coming back from this.
I rest my cheek on the top of her head as we step into the elevator and Mabel hits the button. We head to the lobby, then we cross the lobby to the private elevator for the penthouse suite.
As with all other shows, we have rooms reserved at a hotel while we’re in town. Like Mabel said, it serves as a home base. We’ll start here before heading to the venue. We’ll end here when the show is over. But unlike in other cities, tonight we’ll have the option to sleep at the hotel or head back to our own places. I already know what I’m doing, and the thought of getting Callie back in my bed sends a surge of heat straight to my dick. I’m fighting off an erection when the elevator pops open and we step into the private hallway outside the suite we’ve rented.
Walton stands outside the elevator and focuses on Callie the moment she comes into view, his shoulders loosening slightly. Poor guy. He didn’t like when I told him I’d drive her, but the fact that he takes her safety so seriously makes me respect him more.
“Walton,” I greet with a nod, which he returns.
“Mr. King.”
Callie snorts a laugh at the formality, and I narrow my eyes playfully at her as I lead her into the hotel suite. Jonah is sprawled out on a chair with his headphones on, and Mabel skips off toward one of the bedrooms, probably to get dressed, but I’m stopped by Hammond immediately.
“You’re late.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him. “I was in the garage early. You track my phone, so you know it’s true.”
He huffs, and I flick my eyes to Sav snickering behind him. She’s dressed for the show already in a pair of ripped black jeans, black fishnet tights, and black combat boots, but when I see the band on her shirt, I bark out a laugh. Callie looks to see what I’m laughing at, then she gasps.
“Oh my god! Where did you find that?”
Sav smirks and gestures to the Caveat Lover tank top she’s wearing. “Oh, you mean this super cool vintage band tee? Online.”
“Damn, that’s years old. Like pre -Black Widow old.”
“I had to pay like two hundred bucks for it, too, so the buzz is buzzing about your band.”
Callie shakes her head. “That’s crazy. I could have gotten you one for free. Pretty sure Rock still has stacks of them in his mom’s garage.”
“Keep ‘em,” Sav says with a wink. “Maybe we’ll use ‘em.”
I leave Callie with Sav to talk record label things—they have a meeting set up with the rest of Caveat Lover before Thursday’s show—and I seek out Damon.
He called me last night and told me there was nothing helpful on the hotel security footage. He even went to the florist, but it was a dead end. I didn’t tell Callie, but this second bouquet has my anxiety spiraling. Something is just fucking off, and I don’t like it.
“You’re still good to stay with her?” I ask the moment I’m in front of him.
“I won’t leave her side.”
“You and Walton both.”
“Yes, sir.”
My body relaxes knowing Callie will have them both with her tonight in the VIP tent. I went back and forth over whether to ask her to stay out of the crowd, but I can see her clearly when she’s in the VIP tent. When she watches from backstage or in a private club box, I can’t. I want her to stay where I can see her.
I know it’s probably nothing. I’m probably being overprotective, and the bouquet is likely just from an adoring fan.
But I love Callie James, and I won’t take risks with the woman I love.
The rest of the afternoon goes on like usual. We eat together. We ride to the venue together. We go through soundcheck. We fall into routine, and by the time the opening band is finishing their set, my earlier concerns have been dampened by the pre-show adrenaline rush.
I kiss Callie one more time before Walton leads her to the VIP tent, and then I post up with Sav, Mabel and Jonah, readying to play the first of three make-up shows in Los Angeles. The energy before this show is especially heightened because it killed us to cancel the original shows a few months ago, and we pushed hard to reschedule those shows as soon as possible. You can actually feel the excitement humming throughout the arena, not just from the fans, but from us as well.
The lights dim, the crowd starts to cheer, and just as Mabel takes her first step toward the stage, Red throws himself in front of her.
“Stop. We have to get to the cars.”
Before any of us can even ask what’s happening, the lights in the arena turn on, the whole crowd groaning from the shock of the lights. I can barely make out an announcement asking attendees to calmly find the nearest exit before we’re being shoved down a hallway and herded by Sav, Mabel, and Jonah’s security details.
“Where’s Callie?” I ask, craning my neck to find her. “What’s going on? Where’s Callie?”
There are a lot of frightened, anxious faces backstage—roadies and venue employees rushing about, directed by police and security guards—but none of them belong to Callie. My throat tightens and my heart starts to race. My feet stop working.
“Where the fuck is Callie?”
“She’s okay,” Red says. “She’ll meet us outside. Walk.”
“What the fuck is going on, Red?” Mabel’s voice is high-pitched and shaking as we rush down the hallway.
“There’s been a threat. That’s all I know right now.”
I turn immediately, ready to rush to the VIP tent, but Red throws his body in front of mine.
“Callie and Levi are with Damon and Craig. They will meet us back at the hotel. Walk.”
I let myself be shoved down the hall toward the exit doors, and the moment I step into the night air, I scan the darkness. The traffic noise is loud, but it’s blended with muffled sounds of the announcements being made inside the arena and the buzz of the concertgoers evacuating out into the street. Still no Callie. No Damon and no Craig.
“What the actual fuck is happening?” Sav asks, turning wide eyes on Red. “Was someone hurt? Is Levi okay?”
Red doesn’t answer, and my skin crawls.
“Red,” I bark. “Was someone hurt?”
“I don’t know yet,” he says quickly. “We need to get back to the hotel.”
In a daze, we’re split up and shoved into cars to be shuttled back to the hotel. We’re dropped at an entrance off the street and snuck into the elevator, trying to avoid the growing crowd of reporters in the lobby. The moment the elevator doors open on our floor, I run into the suite and find it empty. One by one, my band members and their security details appear, but no Callie. I take deep breaths and try to stay calm, but I’m failing. I can feel myself succumbing to panic.
“Where are they?” I say, flinging myself on Hammond the moment he steps through the door. “What the fuck is going on? ”
Sav’s hands are clutched together in front of her body, face twisted up with worry. Levi isn’t here either, and the expression of fear on her pale face is exactly how I imagine I look. It’s certainly how I feel.
“An arena security guard found a backpack with three guns stashed near a trashcan on the club level.”
To Hammond’s credit, his voice stays steady, but the news is no less shocking. Mabel gasps. Jonah curses under his breath. My stomach clenches.
“Do they know how they got there?” Sav asks, voice trembling. “Do we think it was...I mean...was it meant for our show?”
I know what she’s thinking. What we’re all thinking. It’s her stalker.
“We don’t know yet. We’re working on it.”
The room falls silent seconds before the door to the suite opens, and it’s like a tidal wave of relief hits me when I finally set my eyes on Callie. I rush to her and wrap her in my arms. She feels cold and she’s trembling slightly.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I rub my hands up and down her back trying to soothe her. “It’s okay. You’re here. It’s okay.”
She shakes her head against my neck, and I hear her sniffle as her shoulders start to shake. I hold her closer.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s okay.” I look up and make eye contact with Damon. “What happened?”
“Evacuating from the floor was a bit chaotic,” Damon says slowly. “Some pushing and shoving. A lot of yelling. It was...overwhelming.”
I nod and tighten my hold on Callie. “Let’s go lie down. They’ll tell us when they learn something.”
She shakes her head and pulls back. “My sister. My mom. I need to check on them.”
“We can call them. I’m sure they’re fine.”
“No. No, Torren.” Callie lets go of me so she can pull her phone out of her back pocket. “I got this from Glory. I didn’t see it until after we were in the car coming back here.”
Callie hands me her phone, a text thread with her sister open on the screen. I scan a few texts between Callie and Glory about the show tomorrow, then there’s a message from Glory that says, “okay, fancy.” I furrow my brow and scroll to find a photo of a bouquet of calla lilies.
For a moment, it doesn’t register what I’m seeing. At first, I think Callie sent her sister a photo of the bouquet she got in New York, but then I see the background of the photo. It’s Callie’s kitchen. My eyes widen as the realization takes over, and I whip my eyes back to Callie.
“Were these delivered to them?”
“I don’t know,” Callie says, voice trembling. “They’re not answering their phones now. Mom or Glory. I’m trying not to freak out, but...I just think I need to go to them. I just need to check on them. I can be there in thirty minutes.”
“No. No, I’ll figure it out, okay? I’m sure they’re fine. It’s past nine, now, so they’re probably in bed. It’s okay.”
“Glory never goes to bed this early.”
I smooth my hands down her hair. “Did you show Damon?”
“Yeah. He said he’d look into it.”
“See? It’s okay. I know it’s hard, but just stay calm.” I wrap her in my arms once more. “God, I’m so fucking glad you’re safe.”
“Me too.”
I press a kiss to her head and close my eyes, breathing through the absolute terror I had felt just minutes earlier. If something had happened to her...
“C’mon,” I whisper. “Try to rest a little. They’ll figure it all out soon.”
Callie nods and lets me lead her to one of the attached rooms. It’s empty but for some of Mabel’s things, and I pull the sheets back and sit Callie on the bed. I kick off my shoes, then kneel to the ground and pull off hers before urging her to scoot over. Just as I move to climb in with her, there’s a knock at the door connected to the suite.
“Torren, I need to speak to you.”
Hammond’s voice is clipped, and I sigh, forcing a tired smile on my lips. Like I’d hoped, Callie returns it.
“I need to go humor Ham,” I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You stay here and rest.”
“Sure.”
“Everything is okay,” I repeat, forcing confidence in my tone. “We’ll see Glory and your mom tomorrow.”
Callie smiles, and I head back into the suite. Mabel is sitting on the couch, but Sav, Levi and Jonah are missing. I make eye contact with Hammond, and he jerks his head to the door heading into the hallway. Without question, I follow him. Hammond leads me down the hall and into another empty suite, presumably the one Jonah and I would be staying in if we were staying in this hotel. When I find Jonah inside, my assumption is confirmed, but then I see Damon, Craig, and two people I’ve never seen before. A woman in a pantsuit, and a man in a police uniform. I arch a brow and look right at Hammond.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve got something I’d like you to watch.” Hammond holds his hand out to one of the strangers and is handed a tablet. “This is security footage from the club level of the arena. I want you to tell me if you recognize the person wearing the baseball hat.”
I nod, but I can’t bring myself to say anything as I train my eyes on the tablet. The woman next to me reaches over and pushes play, then surveillance video covers the screen. My heart is thundering, echoing in my head as I watch the footage.
A man in a baseball hat comes into the frame holding a black backpack. He keeps his head down, but something about the way he moves, about the hunch of his shoulders, makes my skin feel tight and uncomfortable. It’s eerily familiar yet wholly foreign, and I find myself holding my breath. I don’t breathe as I watch him set the backpack next to a trashcan, and then he paces. The quickness of his gait, the unnatural thinness of his frame. Chills skate down my back.
“No,” I whisper. No one responds.
The man peeks his head into the arena a few times, making sure to duck away whenever someone comes close, and then he takes a phone out of his pocket. He seems to send a text, a move that makes his hands visible. I focus on the tattoos covering his fingers, and then on the jagged scar on his forearm, just before he takes off running.
My jaw drops, and I shake my head, but I can’t bring myself to speak yet.
“Do you know who that was, Mr. King?”
I look into the eyes of the woman. Instead of answering her, I deflect.
“Who are you?”
It’s Hammond who answers.
“Torren, this is Detective Amy Gallagher and Officer Stuart Draft.” When I bring my attention to Hammond, he’s frowning at me. “I need you to tell me if you recognized who that was in the video. ”
When I don’t speak, Jonah scoffs, and I whip my eyes to him. There’s a slight mocking smile curling his lips, anger coming off him in waves. He sneers at me.
“You’re a fucking coward.”
“That video doesn’t mean shit.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, right now?” Jonah takes a step toward me. “You saw exactly what I saw, and I know who that was.”
I grit my teeth, my jaw popping under the pressure. “He wouldn’t do this.”
“That backpack—the one your deadbeat felon brother stashed behind the trash can—that backpack had fucking guns in it.” He steps so close to me that I can smell alcohol on his breath mixed with spearmint gum. “What the fuck is Sean doing with three guns at our show, Torren?”
“Back up.”
“You think it was an accident? Maybe he forgot to take the three fucking Glocks out of his bag, huh?”
“He wouldn’t...”
The defense dies on my tongue as my head starts to spin, and Jonah lets out a taunting laugh. I try my best to ignore him and turn my attention to Ham.
“How’d he get the guns in? There are metal detectors everywhere.”
“We’re still looking into that,” the detective says.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying and failing to get control of my errant thoughts. Sean. Fucking Sean . He brought a gun to my show? Why? I know he resents how successful the band is now. I know he hates us for kicking him out right before we made it big. But a gun? Three fucking guns? What the hell was he going to do? Kill us? Kill our fans?
The realization makes me dizzy.
He brought three guns to an arena filled with nearly twenty thousand people. If someone hadn’t found that backpack...
“Do you know where he is now?” I ask, opening my eyes once more and setting them on the grim faces staring at me.
“We’re still searching. Now that you’ve made an ID, we can put out an APB. We’ve swept the hotel, and we’ve set up a patrol?— ”
“You think we’re in danger?” I cut the detective off. “You think he’ll come after one of us?”
Jonah laughs again, and I scowl in his direction.
“He’s been fucking stalking Sav, Torren. He’s not just going to go away.”
“The fuck are you talking about? He hasn’t been stalking Sav.”
“God, you’re such a fucking moron. Use your fucking head, would you? Who else would hate seeing you and Sav dating? Who else would want to send Sav death threats anytime there’s even a hint that you’re fucking her?”
My eyes widen as Jonah’s image goes fuzzy around the edges. His voice wobbles as he speaks, my ears straining to hear him over my own labored breathing. The letters Sav got from her stalker...they always called her a cunt. Over and over. A cheating cunt. A lying cunt.
A cunt bitch .
My brother’s voice from my recent visit home blares in my head, and as I remember his words, I can see them written in the same font as Sav’s letters. Like it should have been glaringly obvious all along.
Not dating that cunt lead singer anymore.
You chose that cunt bitch’s band over me.
Still the cunt bitch’s lap dog.
The realization must show on my face, because Jonah claps his hands together. Once, twice, three times, until I’m dragging my eyes back to his sneering face.
“And now that you’re done with Savannah, he’s moved on to Callie.”
“What?” I fist my hands at my sides, resisting the urge to swing. To cut off his taunting voice.
“The fucking flowers, Tor? The calla lilies? Sav’s letters stop but then Callie starts getting flowers? You think it’s just a fucking coincidence? Or maybe he came to shoot up the place tonight because sources now say you’re sticking your dick in both of them. Either way you flip it, this is your fucking fau?—”
I swing.
My knuckles connect with the bridge of his nose, a sickening crunch vibrating through my wrist and forearm. Jonah stumbles backward, hands moving to cover his face as blood gushes down his lips and chin. He lets out a laugh that tapers into a groan.
“Fuck you, Torren.”
I watch him sit onto the couch and drop his head between his knees, then I turn back to the other people in the room. The two strangers look extremely uncomfortable, but Hammond looks irritated.
“Was that really necessary?”
I shake my hand out and nod. “Yeah, it fucking was.”
Hammond flicks his eyes over my shoulder and assesses Jonah cooly. He’s now slumped back on the couch with his head resting on the cushion, neck and shirt covered in blood. I don’t wait to see if the bleeding stops. I don’t ask if he’s okay. I’ll apologize later.
“I’m going back to Callie. Come get me when you find him.”
I leave the room without another word. I bypass the door to the other suite and instead walk directly to the room where I left Callie. I knock, but there’s no answer. She’s probably sleeping, so I pull the keycard from my wallet and open the door as quietly as I can.
I walk on light feet toward the bed. I have every intention of climbing under the blankets and holding her against me for as long as possible, but I find the bed empty, and even before I rush through the door connected to the suite, I know she’s gone.