She stepped around him and offered a mug of coffee. "You don't like me, do ya?"

Accepting the cup, he raised it to his mouth. It was the Hawaiian blend he kept in the back of the cabinet. Dark roast and black, the way he liked it. No surprise she'd been paying attention. "I don't like anyone. Ask around." He didn't like any of his tour managers. They were too often intrusive and demanding, assigning rigorous schedules and nagging endlessly about itineraries and travel expenses.

"I see." Her face crumpled.

For fuck's sake. "You're a nice girl. Don't take it personally. Just do your job quietly, and we'll get along fine."

She nodded, molding a smile in her creased expression. "We're fixin' to roll out in a few minutes. Gotta be in Little Rock in a couple hours. After the sound check, we need to check into the hotel suites-" Her gaze flicked over his shoulder, and her smile wavered.

Hands ambled around his waist, and a tight little body pressed against his lower back. He handed his mug to Ella and twisted in the circle of arms.

Darts of silver shimmered in the blue eyes smiling up at him. Heaven help him. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Her rosy lips bowed up. "Still not tired of hearing that."

With one hand framing her face, he cupped the back of her thigh and lifted her to straddle his hips. She crossed her ankles over his ass and drew his bottom lip between hers.

He'd never get enough of this woman. He spread kisses over her mouth. "Mmm. Morning."

"It's four in the afternoon," Ella huffed.

Charlee pushed her hands through his hair. "Mmm. Coffee. It tastes like morning on your lips."

"Ella." He nibbled and licked at Charlee's mouth. "Some privacy?" Another nip. "We'll be along shortly."

"Sure thing."

Chapter Eighty.

Three hours later, Charlee cruised the dining room in the rear of the Little Rock arena, one hand in Jay's, the other gripping her growling stomach.

"You should've eaten on the bus." He narrowed his eyes at her as he led her along the tables.

Brisket, sourdough rolls, coleslaw, potato salad, and a dozen other catered dishes scattered the surfaces. The hearty fragrance of liquid smoke and seasonings produced another rumble in her belly.

"Let's see. Microwave burrito on the bus? Or catered meal? Hmm..." She slammed to a halt. "Oh, wow. Is that-"

She released his hand and lurched toward a small bowl filled with a smooth yellow mixture specked with green and orange chunks. She fumbled for a spoon and dug through it. Chopped eggs, pickles, oranges. She thought her favorite dish was her own secret concoction. Apparently, it was a catered side in Arkansas.

"What the hell is that?" He scrunched his nose.

"This is the way to my heart, Jay. Pay attention. Egg salad. Mandarin oranges. Chopped gherkins." She cradled the bowl to her chest and shoveled in the first bite. The tangy sweet ambrosia launched her taste buds into a writhing orgasm. "Oh, God. I'm so not sharing this."

His lips rolled, working to contain his laughter. "I don't think you'll be fighting anyone off."

He was right about that. An hour later, she plodded after him to the edge of the stage, the entire bowl of egg salad pitching violently in her stomach. She perched on an Anvil case and wrapped her arms around her waist.

The din of screaming fans thundered from the stands, inciting a rip-roaring headache. She moaned.

"Charlee?" Brown eyes hovered as he squatted before her. His hand prodded her brow, cheek, and neck. "Fuck, she's burning up."

Another hand followed the same path, less gentle. "I'm going to take her to the hotel." Nathan raised her chin and lifted one of her eyelids.

"Stop." She swatted at his hand and a burn hit low in her belly, doubling her over.

"One minute till show time." Faye skidded next to Jay, swiping a finger over her phone screen, with Ella on her heels. Faye glanced up. "Oh honey, you don't look so good."

"I'm fine." Nausea twisted her insides. A chill chased the sweat on her spine. Ugh, she'd eaten too much.

The guitar intro tiptoed in, hushing the roar of the crowd. Jay remained in a crouch between her legs, worry wrinkling the skin around his eyes.

She spread clammy fingers over his cheek and attempted a smile. Her hand fell away, limp and trembling. Dammit. "Your fans are waiting. Go do your thing and blow them away."

His jaw set, and his fists flexed on his thighs. He jerked his chin at Nathan. "Take all the guards with you except Tony." Eyes boring into her, he rose, mouthed, "Love you." Shifting into the shadowed corner beside her, he clicked a button on his headset and rolled into the first verse of Running Up That Hill, a Kate Bush cover song.

For a moment, the pain dimmed as she absorbed the calming tones of his timbre. He sang the song like Placebo, eerie and dark, a soul-deep vibration.

Another pang slammed into her. She cupped her mouth and swung her head, catching Nathan's eyes.

He half-carried, half-ran her to the nearest bathroom. Standing over her, he gathered her hair as she heaved bile and eggs. After a few more violent projections, she gasped, spit, and slumped to the tile floor.

"I don't know what's worse." He muffled his mouth in his arm as he kicked the flusher. "The smell or the fact that I recognize ninety-nine percent of what came up. Eggs? Did you even chew them?"

A shiver battered through her and her mouth teemed with saliva. "I don't feel good."

"I know, sweetheart." He lifted her in the cradle of his arms, set her on the vanity, and wet a paper towel under the tap. "Can you make it to the hotel before you toss any more eggs?"

"Funny guy." She yanked the towel from his hand and wiped her face and mouth. She didn't want to go and abandon Jay with only one guard, but it would've been an argument she didn't have the strength for. "Better scrounge up a trash bag or it might be a really long ten-minute drive."

Chapter Eighty-One.

Charlee emerged from oblivion with a throbbing head and a sandpaper tongue. She patted the bed through the dark. Cold and empty. She was in the suite she shared with Jay, but where was he? "Jay? Nathan?"

The dim light beyond the bedroom door caught flickers of a pacing silhouette. She shuffled through the room and stopped at the threshold.

Phone to his ear, Nathan's expression was severe, cheeks crimson. He looked up. "She's awake. Call you right back."

She toyed with wet strands of her hair. Must not have been asleep that long. "What's wrong?"

"How do you feel?" He approached her, rested a palm on her forehead. "Fever's broke."

"Who were you talking to? Was that Jay? Is the show over?" Why wasn't he there? She shook off the paranoia creeping over her.

He dropped his hand. "Anymore nausea? Diarrhea?"

She sunk into her shoulders. He'd officially seen it all. At least she'd had enough coherency to wipe her own ass and administer her shower in privacy. "No. I think it's passed. No more egg salad. Ever."

That didn't produce that smile she was expecting. The nausea returned. "Is it Jay? Where is he?"

He studied the black screen on his phone. "Charlee...he...Fuck!" He spun and paced through the room. "The show ended two hours ago. He's...he's in the hotel."

Some of the tension unclenched in her stomach. "So he's safe? Roy doesn't-"

"No, Roy doesn't fucking have him. He's safe for the moment."

For the moment? "Did he do something to piss you off? What are you not telling me?"

His pacing made helter-skelter zigzags through the sitting room, his hands on his hips, eyes on the floor.

Head spinning, she reeled into the bedroom, flicking on lights and shoving on a clean pair of jeans. "He's in the hotel? Where?" she shouted as she tagged the water bottle from the table and gulped it down. Turning, she slammed into Nathan. "Take me to him."

He scrubbed a hand over his face and stared at her out of hard eyes. "Tony's with him. It's in her employment contract...fuck, it's my contract not to interfere." He pressed a fist against his thinned lips, his eyes flicking through the room, divulging nothing.

Her heart galloped a furious tempo. Was Jay drunk? Oh, God, was it drugs? Please don't let it be drugs. "What's. Not. In the contract?"

Lifting his phone, he tapped the screen and held it to his ear. "We're on our way...Yes, We."

Without meeting her eyes, he treaded to the door and stepped into the hallway. He spoke in low tones to the dozen or so guards lining the corridor. Something about formations and doorways. She didn't pay attention, her mind whirling through a binge of scenarios. Jay passed out in the lobby. Jay swimming in his own puke in the hotel pool. Jay spread out beneath a mob of naked groupies. Her stomach bucked.

She trailed Nathan's stiff stride down the hall. Maybe hers was just as stiff. She couldn't feel her legs amidst the confusion of emotions gripping her body. Rather than turning toward the banks of elevators, he continued toward the opposite wing. As with most hotels, the band leased the entire top floor. He was in another room? With one of the guys maybe?

Tony's rigid profile appeared ahead. As Charlee drew near, she didn't detect anything different about the guard's stance, but the look in Tony's eyes flooded her with dread. She knew that look, saw it in the faces of Jay's friends when they'd learned about her past.

Standing in front of Tony, she squared her shoulders and met the Marine's gaze. "Who's room is this?"

"Ella's."

Her shield surfaced, an internal reaction, one she hadn't experienced in years. It spread over her body and shrouded her heart. Beside her, barely-restrained rage fumed from Nathan. She'd deal with him in a moment. "Is he high?"

Tony didn't blink. "Yes, ma'am."

The shield wavered with the cracking twinge in her chest. Disappointment rocked her body. She dug the heel of her bare foot into the carpet, a subtle thing, but it rooted her. "Do you know who gave him the drugs or when he took them?"

"No. I watch his surroundings. It's not my job to notice a sleight of hand between friends."

Maybe one of the roadies, then. Forget it. The how or who wouldn't undo the damage. She just hoped...what? That it was a mistake? That there was another explanation? That he hadn't shit on the trust she'd given him. Again. What a fool she was.

The door to Ella's room glared at her. She knew she was stalling. She had to go in there, but it might destroy her.

Tony shifted her weight. "It's against my contract to dictate where he goes. I can only advise."

"But you called Nathan so I would know."

Her face softened. "It's the best I could do. I'm sorry, Charlee."

"Me too." She stood taller and faced Nathan. "I'm going in there alone. No punching on Jay, unless it's defensive."

He gave her a reluctant nod, his chest puffed out, muscles seemingly ready to ignore her.

"I mean it. No drama, okay?" Fuck, was she strong enough? How would she survive this? A clog of heartache choked her voice.

Tony swiped a card key and turned the handle.

Charlee wasn't sure how long she stared at the crack in the door. Her armor quivered around her, her blood seemed to have drained from her body. Tingling and numb, she walked through the door.

Chapter Eighty-Two.

The scene that greeted Charlee locked her limbs and stole her breath.

Jay lay nude on his back, his erection glistening with the saliva stringing from Ella's mouth. She glanced up, naked and straddling his legs, then leaned down, lips parted to resume her ministrations.

"Get off of him. Now." Charlee's calm tone was at odds with the turmoil shaking her body. Oh God, oh God. Keep it together. This was not happening. He was not allowing this.

Ella licked her lips. "Now darlin', that's up to him." She gestured at the man between her legs.

He stared at the ceiling, moaning and bucking his hips.

The urge to run from the room and give into the tears burning the back of her eyes was overwhelming. She straightened her back and moved toward the bed. "Get the fuck off of him."