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By the time Steve returned to the bar, almost everyone had left. Logan, Max, and Dare were still there, and for some reason they were talking to Tamara. She’d looked better. She had a split lip and a darkening bruise on one cheek. When she smiled at him, he had the sudden urge to add a matching bruise to her other cheek, but he ignored her instead.
“Where’s Roux?” Steve asked his bandmates. “Was she here? What happened?”
“She was pissed,” Max said. “She beat up your girlfriend.” He pointed at Tamara. “And then she left.”
“My girlfriend?”
Behind Tamara, Logan was shaking his head and miming, apparently to keep Steve from denying the outlandish claim. What the fuck was going on?
“I have to take a wicked piss,” Logan said, now gesturing with a craning neck and pointing his eyes toward the bathroom.
Dudes didn’t typically go to the bathroom in a congregation the way that women did when they needed a private word, but this was an emergency. He nodded at Logan, who walked away.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” Steve said as soon as Logan was in the bathroom. And he sure needed one, but he made a detour to the toilet on his way to the bar.
“What the fuck is going on?” Steve asked Logan, glad they were alone.
“That chick is completely delusional,” Logan said, pointing toward the door.
“Yeah. So why are you talking to her and why does Max think she’s my girlfriend? Roux is my girlfriend.” Maybe.
“He doesn’t think that, Tamara thinks that. She thinks you’re here to protect her from that crazy woman who tried to take you away from her. Roux has a vicious right hook, by the way.”
Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Roux did that to her face?”
“Sorry you missed it. Awesome catfight.”
“Roux is the gentlest person I ever met. She would never . . .” Steve rubbed his face with one hand. He’d done that to her. Made her act out of character and hurt someone.
“You have to tell me why you fucked Tamara in the first place. You can’t possibly be that desperate. Did you freak out over commitment and self-sabotage, or . . .” Logan peered at Steve through squinted eyes, as if he were the most challenging puzzle ever construed.
“God, no. I don’t remember fucking her.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I got really drunk that first night in Donington, and I saw her on the way to my room, but then I blacked out, and the next thing I remember, Roux is there trying to wake me up.” The only thing that could explain his lapse was that Tamara had shown up at his room and he’d been so wasted that he’d done those things with her. Steve swallowed the bile climbing his throat. Every time he thought about what he must have done, he felt sick.
“That psycho probably roofied you.”
“What?” Drugged him? She had taken a swig off his bottle of whiskey. Had she slipped something into it when he’d been distracted by hating her presence? “Does that work on guys?”
Logan snorted. “If you don’t care that his dick can’t get hard.”
His dick hadn’t been hard. That would explain how she could suck it without straining herself.
“So she drugged me, entered my room uninvited, molested me while I was unconscious, and then posted the pictures online. Is she that fucking stupid?”
“I think that’s been established, but ew. I’m really sorry, dude. That’s truly fucking horrific.”
He had to tell Roux what happened. Or what he thought had happened. How could he be sure, though? Maybe he’d been so drunk that he’d invited Tamara up to his room for a good time. But even though he couldn’t remember hours from that night, that possibility didn’t feel right to him.
“Can they detect rope in the system, like in a blood test or in the urine?” He was very familiar with drug testing, but not with Rohypnol. It was one of the few drugs he’d never tried, and he sure as hell would never slip it to some unsuspecting female. “How long does it stay in the body?” It had been almost three days; maybe too much time had passed. He did have a rock star liver and kidneys, after all. He cleared drugs and alcohol from his system like a professional.
“How the fuck would I know? Do I look like the kind of guy who’d know anything about date-rape drugs?”
“You’re the one who thought of it, so it must be the only way you can get laid.” Steve was teasing, but he got a punch in the chest for his taunt. “Maybe Butch knows.” Because if Steve had Rohypnol in his system, he could prove that Tamara had staged those photos. Or at least have enough evidence to convince Roux that he hadn’t cheated on her. She’d have to forgive him then.
“If Butch doesn’t know, he’ll find out; he’s that awesome. Now, can you leave? I really do need to take a wicked piss.”
Steve frowned. They were in a one-person bathroom, not one with multiple urinals and stalls. What must the regular patrons be thinking about the two of them holed up together in there? More fodder for the rumor mill.
Steve went to the bar to order a drink. He wondered if the bartender knew anything about date-rape drugs but figured the man would think the worst of him if he started asking suspicious questions. He collected his drink and returned to the table, not sure how best to handle Tamara. Maybe she’d spill her secrets if he played along. He would not, however, touch her under any circumstance. He chose Logan’s vacated seat so that he sat across from her rather than beside her.
“Does your face hurt?” he asked. It’s killing me, he added silently, sipping at his Irish whiskey. He’d likely never touch Jack again. He stared into his glass, wondering what Roux had been drinking to set her off on a rampage. Or maybe her attempts to rearrange Tamara’s face hadn’t had anything to do with alcohol. It wasn’t the first time a pair of women had come to blows over him, but it was the first time he hadn’t found the idea entertaining. Had Tamara hit Roux in return?
He shifted, trying to get comfortable in an uncomfortable situation. Why was he sitting there sipping whiskey when he should be looking for Roux? No mystery there. He was afraid how much it would hurt his heart when she rightfully told him to go fuck himself.
He shifted again.
If he could prove that he’d been drugged and hadn’t wanted to cheat on her, would Roux believe him? Would it matter if she did? He rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. Had he really allowed Tamara’s tit to touch his lips? He rubbed his tongue against his upper teeth as if to scrape off an unsavory flavor. Had he licked her? Even accidentally. God! Did women have these odd thoughts after they’d been violated, as if what had happened was somehow their fault? And rather than blame their violator, did they imagine that if they’d done something different they could have avoided being molested?
He knew those feelings were bullshit, but there they were. How had she gotten into his room? He had to have let her in; no one but Roux and Zach had a spare key. Unless Tamara had convinced the front desk to give her one. Or maybe she’d gotten her hands on a housekeeper’s key. She was sneaky enough to do it, but he doubted he’d ever discover the details. Surely she wasn’t dumb enough to tell him.
“It hurts a little,” Tamara said, touching the cut on her lip with the tip of her tongue, bringing Steve’s attention back to the table. “I know I should press charges, but Dare’s right. We’d be tied up in international courts for ages. Not worth it to me. Knowing that you’re finished with her is enough punishment for her.”
Steve choked on his drink, and Max whacked him heartily on the back.
“It’s a good thing we pulled that crazy woman off your girlfriend here.” Max’s fingers dug into Steve’s back. A warning? Or . . .
“Yeah, good thing,” Tamara said. “Her father was a murderer, you know. No telling how far she would have gone.”
“How do you know about her father?” Steve asked, pushing his hands under the table and clutching his thighs. Tamara’s tongue was uncharacteristically loose. If he kept his cool, she might let something slip.
Tamara smiled. “It’s my job to dig up dirt on celebrities.”
He hoped the heartless wench didn’t print a story about Roux’s past. Roux didn’t need the ghosts that haunted her to become public knowledge.
“Though she’s not much of a celebrity,” Tamara said. “Not like you guys.”
Max leveled one of his million-dollar smiles at her. She blinked as if hypnotized.
“I’m sure Baroquen has a lot of secrets,” Max said. “Do you think that’s why they wear costumes?”
Steve punched Max’s knee, but his gaze never strayed from Tamara’s.
“Oh, for sure. Why do you think Sam is so interested in them? All of them have horrible stories in their pasts.”
Steve stopped breathing. Sam was interested because they were talented and extremely marketable and . . . perfect little tragedies to exploit in his tabloid.
“That tabloid of his is gaining readership rapidly,” Dare said. “Must be exciting to have your byline on every page.”
“Not every page.” She grinned. “Bianca writes some of the articles.”
“About stuff anyone can find on the web,” Dare said, and he actually reached across the table to stroke a line down the center of her hand. “But you’re out in the trenches, getting the real juicy stories. I hope Sam is paying you well.”
Tamara peeked at Steve and then at Dare’s finger before drawing her hand away and tucking it under the table. What? Was she afraid Steve wouldn’t like Dare to touch his girlfriend?
Logan flopped down in the seat next to Tamara. “What did I miss?” he asked.
He received three sharp, cautionary looks from his bandmates. They were working their collective charm on this woman, and hopefully they’d learn more before she realized she was being played.
“Dare making a move on Steve’s woman,” Max said, winking at Tamara, who flushed.
“He’s always been a sucker for saving a woman in peril,” Steve commented, hoping Tamara thought he was referring to her fight earlier and not to the fact that he was moments away from losing his cool and pulling a Roux on her.
Steve was ready to play a card now, though he probably wouldn’t be as slick as the two sharks that had been baiting her before he’d arrived. “The other night was a pretty special evening between us.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “Why would you post those pictures online?”
“I didn’t.”
Flabbergasted, he looked up. She had to be lying. Had to be. But her expression read innocent.
“Who . . .” He breathed out the word.
“I sent them to Bianca. She said I’d never get you no matter how hard I tried. Guess she was wrong.”
A toe brushed his ankle and pushed up his pant leg to trail up his shin. He scooted his chair back.
“Bianca posted them?” He massaged one eyebrow; his head hurt. “Why in the fuck would she do that?” He didn’t expect an answer.
“So Sam can’t blackmail her anymore.”
Steve looked from Dare to Max to Logan. They looked as clueless as he felt.
“Sam is blackmailing her?”
Tamara shrugged. “Why else would she take his money?”
“Because her tabloid is going bankrupt,” Dare said.
“She wanted it to go bankrupt. Tax write-off.”
“So she isn’t broke?” Steve asked.
Tamara laughed. “After all the money she got from you in the divorce? She’s set for life.”
“How is Sam blackmailing her?” Max asked.
And just how many people could one man screw over at one time? Sam had to have an infinite number of dicks in those Armani trousers of his.
“He has proof that Steve never cheated on her, and his infidelity was the whole reason she won such a huge settlement. He said you could file a mistrial or something and get all your money back plus interest. I don’t know all the details, but she was really freaked out.”
“Actually, lots of people know he didn’t cheat on her,” Logan said. “Steve let her win.”
Steve couldn’t deny it. He’d been called an idiot more times than he cared to admit for giving her the lion’s share of his fortune. Bianca fearing that he would take all her money made him want to laugh. Why hadn’t she asked him about it? How had she fallen for Sam’s trickery? Probably for the same reason Max had fallen for it all these years: Sam was better at playing a role than any award-winning actor.
“But those pictures were taken recently,” Dare said. “How does that stop Sam from proving Steve didn’t cheat all those years ago?”
“Once a cheater always a cheater?” She shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her since she posted them. Maybe she thought that defense would work retroactively. Or maybe she wanted to hurt you or even me for proving her wrong and finally getting the man she stole from me. Or maybe she wanted my boyfriend to see them, which is fine, because I don’t need him anymore.” She grinned at Steve. “Whatever her reason, things are definitely working out in my favor.”
Yep. Totally delusional.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Logan said, reaching across the table to flick Steve on the shoulder. “That thing you wanted Butch to look up for you?” He bit his bottom lip, raised his eyebrows, and lifted his chin. “Seventy-two hours. I googled it.”
Steve did some quick mental math and figured it had been sixty hours, maybe more, since Ms. Delusional had slipped him the drug. He’d better find a clinic or hospital that could take a blood and urine sample before it worked its way completely out of his system. He hoped he hadn’t missed the chance to strengthen his evidence. Short of getting a confession directly from the perpetrator, he had no proof that she’d taken advantage of him, and while that wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted the public to hear, he definitely wanted Roux to know that he would never intentionally hurt her. Especially not by messing around with the whack-job attempting to play footsie with him under the table.
“I’ve got to go get a blood test,” Steve said, staring directly at Tamara for the first time since he’d arrived.
She giggled. “I guess your red-headed angel wasn’t as clean as you thought she was.”
Steve took a deep breath to calm himself. “If anyone gave me a disease, it would be you,” he said, unable to stop himself. “But that’s not why I need a blood test. I need to see if I still have Rohypnol in my system.”
The blood drained from Tamara’s face. She might as well have tattooed a confession across her forehead.
“Rohypnol?” Max asked. “What’s that?”
“Rope. Roofies,” Logan said. “I’m sure you’ve heard of roofies before.”
“The date-rape drug?” Max lifted a brow at Steve. “Why would you take that?”
“I didn’t. Tamara slipped it to me so she could stage those pictures,” Steve said. He didn’t have the patience for being sneaky about this. He might as well lay it all on the table while there were witnesses.
“You don’t have any proof,” she said, standing up.
“Hence the blood test.” Or urine test. He wasn’t sure which he needed, but neither did she, obviously.
She backed several steps away from the table. “Anyone could have slipped it to you.”
“Only one person touched my bottle that night besides me, and that would be you.”
“I’m not that desperate!”
Logan sniggered and then burst out laughing. Steve was surprised when Dare and Max joined him. “She has to roofie men to get laid!” Logan announced to the entire room.
“Aw, I’ll shag the nutter if she’s on the pull,” a man at the bar said, lifting his glass.
Tamara darted out of the bar, and the laughter around the table died at once.
“Did she really roofie you?” Max asked.
“Almost certain she did.”
“That is fucked up. Are you going to report this?”
“I just want Roux to know I didn’t betray her.” And he needed her to know as soon as possible. The fear of her breaking it off with him made him hesitate to contact her, but he didn’t want her to anguish over the situation with Tamara for another moment. “Can I borrow someone’s phone? Mine’s smashed.”
Logan offered his, but he didn’t have Roux’s number. No one had it in their contacts besides him, and he couldn’t remember it off the top of his head.
“Shit.”
“Maybe Butch has her number,” Logan suggested.
He didn’t, but he did have Iona’s. And Iona would likely answer Max’s call. It didn’t take much to convince Max to call Iona. He put her on speaker and set the phone on the table.
“If you’re calling for your friend,” Iona said, “tell him to go suck a leper’s dick.”
Max grinned at Steve. He was obviously enjoying this.
“I just wanted to make sure you all made it back to the hotel safely,” Max said.
“Yes, we’re fine.”
“Is Roux still upset?” Max asked.
“Of course she’s fucking upset. Her boyfriend cheated on her with a tabloid reporter and was forced to resort to drinking and violence. Why wouldn’t she be upset?”
Steve clutched at his thighs so he wouldn’t blurt out some defense.
“You sound upset as well.”
“No one fucks with one of my sisters. You’d better tell Aimes to watch his back.”
“I have good evidence that those pictures were staged,” Max said. “Steve is not a cheater.”
“Everyone knows he’s a cheater. It was all over the news during his divorce. He didn’t deny it. Not even once.”
“If you knew Steve at all, you’d realize he doesn’t tolerate stress well.”
What the hell was Max talking about? Steve handled stress just fine. When he was stressed he just needed a bit of alcohol or some drugs, or to disappear from the spotlight for a while, or . . . So maybe he didn’t tolerate stress well. But that wasn’t why he hadn’t bothered to set the public record straight during his divorce. The truth hadn’t been worth the . . . stress. Steve rubbed a hand over his face. Apparently Max knew him a lot better than he’d realized. But he wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Roux. Getting her to understand the truth was worth any level of stress he’d be forced to tolerate.
“So rather than drag the divorce out into an even messier spectacle,” Max continued, “he let her vent her rage and just signed the papers.”
“Sounds like something Roux would do,” she said. “Can you believe she wants to hear his side of this? Like there is anything he can do or say to make this better.”
Steve blew out a quiet breath of relief. Roux was willing to hear him out. He prayed she believed him.
“I’m telling you, he was set up,” Max said. He gave Steve a pointed look. “I just hope he can find a way to prove it. The clock is ticking. He’d better find an open clinic before it’s too late.”
Steve slid his chair back, and he and Logan stood simultaneously.
“A clinic? He better not have given Roux any of that skank’s STIs.”
Max waved Steve off, letting him know he’d try to get Iona to understand the situation. Steve had to hurry. The clock really was ticking.
*~*~*
Hours later, Steve stood at Roux’s hotel room door, his hand raised to knock. Butch had already scored him a new cellphone and had his data transferred to it—there were so many perks to this rock star gig—but Roux hadn’t answered his calls and voicemails or replied to his texts. Hope had started to wither, but he had no plans to give up yet. He wished Zach was there to offer support, but he was halfway to Los Angeles by now. Logan had helped Steve secure the drug tests he needed, but it would be days before the results were in. He’d also discovered that a hair sample could be sent off and the drug—along with any he’d purposely taken—would be detectable for months after ingestion. The clinician had carefully recorded details of the incident in case he decided to take the case to the police. Apparently spiking a drink could lead to years of jail time, but he wasn’t sure he wanted his business made public. He felt like a fool for falling into Tamara’s trap, and though there was photographic evidence of the crime, he didn’t remember the violation clearly. It felt like it had happened to someone else. But if Roux hated him now and dumped him, he’d probably file charges against Tamara out of spite.
He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It was close to midnight. She might be asleep. Maybe he should have called her room first. Maybe . . .
The door eased open, and he was leveled by a blue-eyed glare. Raven crossed her arms over her chest. “You have some nerve showing up here after all this time.”
“I had important issues to take care of before I could explain what happened.” And he’d been more than a little nervous. He knew he wouldn’t handle Roux’s anger or her disgust well. His heart was already thudding in his chest. This kind of confrontation should be easier for a rock star, shouldn’t it? It wasn’t.
“Explain what?” Raven’s eyes narrowed. “How getting your rocks off is more important to you than my sister’s love? Fuck you.” She tried to close the door, but Steve lifted his arm to block it. Now that he was here, there was no way he was backing down without seeing her.
“Roux,” he called into the room. “I know you’re hurt and you probably hate me, but—” Raven kicked him in the shin. “Ow!”
“Go away or I’m calling the cops,” Raven threatened.
“I don’t care.”
“Or maybe I should call Iona.”
That woman was far more frightening than cops.
“Roux, I didn’t sleep with her on purpose.”
“But you did sleep with her,” Raven said.
“You found me afterwards,” he called to Roux, hoping she could hear him. “Remember how out of it I was that night, how sick? And all I did was have some whiskey.”
“A lot of whiskey,” Raven said. “Being drunk does not excuse your behavior.”
He hadn’t wanted to announce the depth of the situation to the entire corridor, but seeing as Raven was blocking the door, he didn’t know what choice he had.
“I know that, but I wasn’t drunk. I was drugged.”
“That doesn’t make it any better!” Raven shoved him.
“Tamara drugged me. She slipped something into my bottle.”
Raven cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “She put rope or ketamine or GHB or something in my whiskey and then molested me when I was unconscious.”
“Are you sure?” Raven said, some of the tension going out of her.
“That’s where I’ve been for the past few hours, at the hospital getting tested so I’d have proof. But it takes a while for the results to come back, and . . . I couldn’t wait until then to tell her the truth. Roux? Please say something.”
Raven searched his eyes for a long moment and then sighed. “She isn’t here.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”
“Because I think she’s an idiot for running back to you, for not wanting to believe the worst about you even though the entire world has seen proof of your cheating.”
“Running back to me? I haven’t seen her. She hasn’t answered her phone. I’ve been trying to reach her for hours.” His heart began to thud out of control. Maybe something had happened to her. He wouldn’t put it past Tamara to hurt her. Although Roux had effectively kicked her ass earlier that day, he wasn’t sure she’d even try to defend herself if she wasn’t drunk.
“Yeah, I know you’re obsessed. I have her dumb phone, and it’s been ringing and binging nonstop.” Raven shoved the phone into his chest. He took it from her hand, rubbing his thumb over the familiar puppy-picture case. “I thought I could get her to stay here if I took it away from her, but she left anyway.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Maybe you should check your hotel room, dumbass.”
“My room . . .”
Steve turned and sprinted down the corridor and to the stairs, not wanting to waste time waiting for an elevator. Security stayed out of his way as he fumbled with his keycard and threw the door open. A single lamp glowed beside the bed, and he didn’t see her at first. A huge sigh of relief escaped him when he spotted her curled up on the end of a loveseat, her eyes closed and her head resting on her arm.
She believed in him. He’d never had another person demonstrate that level of trust in him. Of course, she could be there to tell him off to his face, but she was there.
He crossed the room and squatted in front of her. He watched her sleep for a moment, knowing the peaceful expression of slumber would soon be replaced with fury or agony or any number of unpleasant emotions. He couldn’t resist touching her for long, however. He slipped a lock of hair from her smooth cheek, tucking it behind her ear. She murmured something unintelligible, and her eyes blinked open.
“Steve,” she said, sitting up straight.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Her eyes were puffy. She’d been crying, and the thought of her suffering over this tore at his heart. He hadn’t been there to hold her and assure her that everything was going to be okay.
“How could you?” she shouted. “How could you? With her?”
“I couldn’t,” he said.
“You did!”
“I didn’t.”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Steven Aimes.”
He tried to take her hands in his, but she slapped them away.
“I’m not playing you, baby. Will you listen to what really happened?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded, but she didn’t look at him as he tried to figure out where to begin.
He set her phone on her lap. “I’ve been trying to call you since I got my phone replaced. I broke my old one when I saw those pictures of Tamara online.”
“That doesn’t erase them from the Internet, you know,” she snapped.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if I could erase them?”
“And they weren’t pictures only of Tamara. That was you there with her.”
“Roux . . .” He shifted to his knees, as squatting was starting make his legs cramp, and knelt at her feet. “Those pictures were taken at Donington that night you found me naked in my puked-on bed.”
“I figured that much out, and I know you were really drunk that night, but still . . .” She blinked back tears. “Are you going to screw around on me every time you get drunk?”
“Of course not. I’m not a cheater. I’ll never screw around on you.”
“You already have.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed.
“I was a little drunk,” he admitted. “Maybe a lot drunk, but I don’t pass out cold like that after drinking. I sure don’t throw up, black out, and lose hours of time. She drugged me, Roux. With a date-rape drug. I’m sure of it. I had samples taken to try to prove it, but she all but admitted it in front of my bandmates earlier tonight.”
“She drugged you?”
Apparently Max hadn’t convinced Iona to spread the word of Steve’s innocence.
“She fucking drugged you?” Roux bellowed.
Steve leaned away from the fury radiating off the sweetest woman he’d ever known.
“I believe so.”
“And then did those, those things to you while you were unconscious?”
Steve nodded. His stomach churned with queasiness. He couldn’t remember much about Tamara’s actions, but that feeling of nausea persisted every time he thought about what she’d done.
“I should have killed that bitch when I had the chance.” Roux sprang from the sofa and began to pace. “Can you have her arrested? Deported? Hanged?”
“I only care about not losing you,” he said, shifting from the floor to sit on the sofa that was still warm with Roux’s body heat. “I don’t care about her being punished.”
“I care. She raped you.”
“She tried,” he said. “But she couldn’t get my dick hard.” That was the one thing about that night that he remembered clearly. He tried smiling, but that sick feeling returned to the pit of his belly.
Roux stopped midpace and whirled to face him. “This must be terrible for you,” she said, moving to stand in front of him. She lifted a hand toward his head, but hesitated. “Is it okay for me to touch you?”
“Why wouldn’t that be okay?”
“One of my sisters was raped, and she couldn’t stand for anyone to touch her for a long time after. If you want me to keep my distance, I understand.”
“I want you touch me,” he said. “I need to know that this hasn’t destroyed what we have.”
“Of course it hasn’t.”
She slipped her fingers into his hair and pressed his face against her belly, curling around him protectively. His arms slipped around her waist, and he hugged her close. Why was he trembling so hard? He couldn’t stop.
“I’m here,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I will always be here for you. Always.”
Her vow triggered silent tears to steal from beneath his clenched eyelids and slide down his face.