With Vengeance Read online

  Cliff glanced back down at his phone. “He’s also calling you a fag.”

  The bassist laughed. “Oh, the old, ‘Klement is gay’ thing? That one never goes anywhere. And if it did, I still wouldn’t give a shit. It has no bearing on my playing.”

  Kat bit back a gasp. Some people thought he was gay? True, her gaydar wasn’t right a hundred percent of the time, but she didn’t get that vibe off of him at all. Not that it mattered one way or another…right?

  “Fine,” Cliff grumbled. Then he noticed her and brightened. “Oh, hi Kat. We were wondering when you were going to show up.”

  “My car had a flat tire,” she said, marveling that someone would dare mock Cliff and Klement. “I still need to wash my hands.”

  He favored her with a smile that should have made her melt. “Okay. Meet me in the third room on the left when you’re done.”

  Kat headed to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands. She followed Klement’s advice and took a few deep breaths. Thank God the guys didn’t seem to be mad at her for being late. Roderick appeared indifferent, Cliff was more concerned with his Internet bully, and Klement seemed to have been simply worried about her. Even though it was too soon for her Xanax to have kicked in, she felt better. Especially after combing her hair, which had been messed up from changing her tire.

  Klement stopped her just outside the isolation booth. “Here.” He held out a guitar strap.

  She looked up at him in surprise. It looked like one of those fancy ones advertized on her website. “What’s this for?”

  “I noticed that the one you have hurts your shoulder.” He fidgeted with the strap. “This one is padded and designed to distribute the weight of your guitar more evenly than your cheapo one. It also has a better adjustment range so you can get it to fit better.”

  Their fingers brushed as she took the strap. Warmth suffused her body at his kindness and generosity. Here she’d been terrified that he was angry with her, and he was giving her a present. “Thank you so much!”

  “Anytime. Let me know how it works.” He shrugged and headed into the sound engineer’s booth.

  Cliff had his gear hooked up and ready. “I’ve been waiting for you, doll.”

  Not knowing how to respond to that aside from gagging a bit, Kat hooked up her guitar and pulled the headphones over her ears. Hopefully he’d get the hint that she was here for business, not pleasure.

  Klement caught her eye through the glass of the booth. It looked like he and the sound engineer were having an argument. Finally, the sound guy spread his hand in surrender, moved a dial, and gave her and Cliff the signal to start.

  The bass and drums played in her ears just as Cliff started the rhythm. Kat mentally counted the beats before entering with the lead melody. Their chords blended together seamlessly and kept time with the bass and drums playing in the headphones. So far, so good. But when it came time for her solo, Cliff suddenly abandoned the background rhythm and played her part before altering it to another set of riffs.

  Kat’s jaw dropped in outrage. He’d done it again!

  The bass and drums abruptly shut off through her headphones, replaced by Klement’s angry voice. “Cut! Damn it, Cliff, will you stop fucking with her solos? You’re the singer, not the lead guitarist.”

  Kat silently cheered. Damn straight.

  “You said you wanted to keep that set of riffs I wrote.”

  Klement rolled his eyes. “Yes, but you’re not supposed to do it until the bridge after the second chorus.”

  “But I thought it would sound cool here.”

  Klement rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just do it how we planned and save the improv for the writing sessions.”

  “Okay,” Cliff said sullenly. “Sorry.”

  The bassist waved off the apology. “All right then. From the top.”

  The song began again, but this time Klement cut it off to scold her for not holding a note long enough, and it took six more takes, some interrupted by spats with the sound engineer, before he was satisfied.

  “Finally,” Cliff breathed when they finished the song all the way through and a break was called. He smirked at Kat. “Are you still liking the job?”

  “Actually, yes.” Sure, Klement could be a bossy taskmaster, and playing the same parts over and over again grew redundant and exhausting, but she felt like their takes improved every time. She felt like they were creating something together. Something she could take pride in being a part of.

  Still, she was damn grateful for the strap Klement gave her. Her old one would have killed her shoulder by now. And they still had another song to do.

  They met Klement and Roderick in a break room behind the lobby. Rod had brought lunch from a local burger joint. Kat’s stomach growled. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast.

  “My fingers hurt,” Cliff complained through a mouthful of fries.

  “That’s because you don’t practice enough,” Klement said without an ounce of pity. Kat bit back a laugh, but Roderick didn’t.

  Cliff flipped off his bandmates before turning to her. “You did really good in there. Few musicians can survive Klement’s anal perfectionism.”

  “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad,” the bassist protested.

  Roderick chuckled. “You’re almost as bad as Kubrick.”

  “Kubrick did films, not music.”

  “Thanks,” Kat cut in before another argument erupted. “And really, he’s not that bad.”

  Klement toasted her with his milkshake. “See? Now let’s get back to work.”

  The next song took only four takes, maybe because Kat had clued in to most of what they wanted her to do. And Cliff seemed to have lost all urge to get creative. Still, she was relieved when they were done for the day. Even her fingers were getting sore.

  Cliff high-fived her before they bent to unhook their gear. “Great job. Rod and I are going out for beers and pizza. Wanna join us?”

  The idea of having beers with Cliff Tracey and Roderick Powell would have made her squeal in delight only days ago, but now all she could think about was getting back to her room and practicing like a fiend to be good enough to tour with them. “No, thanks. I have to do some work on the website.”

  “You sure?” Cliff’s mouth twisted like she was speaking a foreign language.

  “Yeah, but if I finish up early enough I might catch up with you guys.” Though she doubted it. She did not want to do this work with a hangover.

  “I remember when I worked two jobs. It gets rough,” Cliff said. “You gotta just say ‘fuck it’ sometimes and have some fun or you’ll get burned out.” He inclined his head toward Klement, who was once more lecturing the sound guy, and whispered, “Or end up like Mister Six-jobs over there.”

  “Oh, he’s not going out with you guys?” A pang of sympathy struck her for the bassist. While his bandmates were partying, he was probably going to spend his evening listening to the tracks, making adjustments, and planning tomorrow’s session. “And did you say he has six jobs?”

  Klement entered the room, towering over them all. He bent and fiddled with the knobs on one of the amplifiers. “Four. I’m a workaholic.”

  As if afraid to be tasked with more work, Cliff took off.

  Klement picked up a discarded guitar pick from the floor and slid it around between his long fingers. “Sorry for barking at you earlier.”

  “No problem.” She had to tear her gaze from his hands as she packed up. “If you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong, I won’t get better.”

  “No, I’m not apologizing for how I handle sessions.” He tapped the guitar pick on his chin. “I meant about your pills. It was none of my business, and after losing Lefty I’ve been paranoid about man-made drugs.” He smiled. “Now, if you’d had a joint, I would have made you share.”

  She laughed. Kinley had told her that Klem was a bit of a stoner. “No, I can’t smoke that stuff. It gives me panic attacks.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said, in the same mournful
tone as every other pothead who offered to smoke with her. It was like it broke their hearts not to share.

  He went back to playing with the guitar pick. “Anyway, as for today’s session, you did very well. Tomorrow I’m hoping we can get your parts done for ‘Fractured Dreamscape’ and ‘Doors to Nowhere.’”

  Kat grinned, excited at her progress on the album and anxious to give them nothing but her best. “Did you want me to do ‘Fractured Dreamscape’ in G or in E?”

  As they talked, she felt a warm, tingling sensation between her thighs and Kat’s face flushed even though he couldn’t see what was happening. What the hell? It wasn’t as if they were discussing anything that should turn her on.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow…”

  Klement trailed off, frowning like his words didn’t match his thoughts, but after waiting a few seconds Kat didn’t think he was going to continue. Just as she headed for the door, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Hey, why don’t you come stay at my place? I have plenty of guestrooms. Then you won’t have to pay for a hotel or go to the Laundromat.”

  For a moment Kat blinked up at him in astonishment. If anyone else had grabbed her from behind she would have instantly panicked. Instead, the heat of his touch felt so good she wanted to purr.

  He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her response. Only then did she digest his suggestion and recover her voice.

  “Okay.”

  “Cool.” He gave her another one of those heart-stopping smiles. “I’ll make up a room for you and you can follow me up tomorrow after your session.”

  Kat’s clit began to throb. Shaking her head, she walked out of the studio as quickly as possible without looking like something was wrong. But by the time she got out to her car, her panties were soaking wet.

  “What the hell is happening to me?” she whispered.

  Chapter Six

  Richard watched Kat’s car pull out of the studio parking lot. Damn, it looked like she wasn’t fired. But hopefully the bassist was at least upset with her.

  He had enjoyed the look on her face when she walked out of her hotel room this morning. Her stupid smile had disappeared when she saw the flat. He’d also liked seeing her on her knees on the asphalt. But what pleasure he got from that dissipated when she busted out with her jack and lug wrench. Who taught that bitch to change a tire?

  He ground his teeth as he spotted Cliff and the drummer—he couldn’t remember the guy’s name—head out of the building. They got into Cliff’s Lexus, and for a moment Richard was tempted to follow them. But he didn’t really need to. He knew where the prick was staying. Besides, he didn’t know how to deal with him at the moment.

  As for Kat, he would just have to come up with something cleverer, more severe.

  As he headed to the grocery store to pick up some sugar, he spotted something gray and flat on the side of the road. Another idea sprang to mind.

  ***

  Klement tossed his keys on the counter and headed up to his music room to load a bowl. He’d done it. He’d invited Kat to stay with them. It was a bad idea, and he knew it. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d flinched and ducked when he’d handed her back the Xanax.

  She’d said she had PTSD. Given her lack of military background, it wasn’t from one of the wars. No, from her reaction today it was dead obvious that someone had abused her, and Klem’s fists clenched with the urge to beat the living shit out of whoever had done it. Equally intense was the instinct to pull Kat into his arms and shield her from further harm. The thought of her being alone in a seedy motel rankled even further.

  Willing himself to calm down, he took another hit off his pipe and focused on the matter at hand. At least with her staying here he had a better chance of making sure she was safe while working with the band. He didn’t like the idea of her being constantly exposed to Rod and Cliff, but at least they weren’t rapists or anything. Just in case, he’d put her in the farthest room from theirs…and closest to his.

  He took another hit and headed downstairs to his office. After logging in to Alpha Tech Services, his tech support server, he messaged Kat. After all, he needed to see how the new software was working. He wished he could call her, but after all their work today he didn’t want to run the risk of her recognizing his voice.

  Hey, it’s IT Guy, he typed. My phone died, but I just wanted to check in. How’s my comment program working?

  He frowned as he waited for a response. Had she changed her mind after all and gone out with the guys? That wouldn’t matter. She had the right to get out and have some fun after the hard workday, but…

  A tightness in his chest eased as she replied.

  It’s fantastic! I can’t thank you enough! All the spammers are gone! A half dozen smiley faces littered the chat box.

  Grinning at her exuberance, he typed, How was your second day at the studio?

  Great. Klement is a big perfectionist, but he said I did a good job. He’s the bassist but also the boss of the band. Still, it took a ton of tries to get the songs the way he wanted them. I was there for six hours and only got two songs done.

  Perfectionist? That was true enough, but did she mean that in a good way or a bad way? He wished again that he could hear her voice and be able to discern her tone.

  Wow, that’s a long time. It was a generic response, but he couldn’t think of much more to say and maintain a façade of industry ignorance.

  Kat continued. Part of what took so long was that Cliff kept trying to steal my solos. He did the same thing while we were jamming at Klement’s.

  Klement smirked as he replied. What a jerk. Did you tell him to back off and let you do your job? Although he was well aware that she hadn’t said anything, he wanted to know why.

  Hell no. I’m worried that if I call out the lead singer, I might not get to keep the job. Besides, the bassist told him to knock it off.

  Klement nodded at the screen. Her lack of confidence was an issue. Still, you should assert yourself more. They should respect you more.

  It took a while for Kat to answer. That’s a good point. Thanks for the advice. Now I gotta get back to work. Thanks again for fixing the site!

  Klem tapped his pen on his desk with irritation. He couldn’t decide whether that had been a polite blow-off of his advice, or if she’d actually taken his words to heart.

  Logging off of the site and closing the message box, he felt a twinge of guilt for continuing the deception. It was almost like he was spying on her. Actually, that’s exactly what this was, and he shook his head with disgust. From now on he’d keep his tech conversations strictly about her website and computer.

  He stretched and went downstairs to the bedrooms to get Kat’s ready. The one next to the master was smaller than the others, with only a queen bed and a dresser, but it seemed cozy enough with a TV, small desk, and plenty of closet space for her clothes. The only thing he didn’t like was that it didn’t have an adjoining bathroom. But the guys had taken those.

  He patted the light blue bedspread to test its softness…and coughed as a puff of dust flew up in his face. Shit, he would have to wash all the bedding. And after he stripped the bed and headed down to the laundry room, it occurred to him that he should probably also buy some food. And he should definitely clean the kitchen while he was at it.

  By the time Rod and Cliff returned from the bar, he was on his fourth cup of coffee and mopping the floors.

  “What’s with the cleaning spree?” Rod asked.

  “I decided to have Kat stay with us.”

  Cliff waggled his eyebrows. “Sweet. Can she sleep in my room?”

  Klement rolled his eyes. “I have seven guest rooms. She’s getting her own.”

  “Hey.” Roderick leaned against the counter, eyes narrowed. “How come you cleaned for her? You didn’t do that for us.”

  Why had he done that? He had no answer, so Klement resorted to an excuse that would placate them. “I meant to do it before you guys showed
up, but I got baked and forgot.”

  The guys laughed, completely buying it. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  The buzzer for the driveway gate sounded. Klement walked over to the intercom and pushed the button.

  “Yeah?”

  “Package for Cliff Tracey.”

  “What is it?”

  The voice was gruff and impatient. “Don’t know.”

  “Okay, hold on a second.” He pressed the button to open the gate and turned to Cliff. “You expecting anything?”

  “No, but it’s probably from Jen. She’s still not over me.” The singer’s mouth curved in a cocky grin. “Or maybe Sarah. She knows I stay here when I’m working on an album.”

  Klement rolled his eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t tell your chicks where I live.”

  Cliff put his hands up. “I don’t, I swear. I just figured that some might have gotten obsessive enough to follow me.” He walked off to answer the door.

  Roderick shrugged and rummaged through the cupboards and found a bag of chips. “Man, we need to go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

  “Fuck.” Klement slapped his forehead. “I knew I forgot something.” He didn’t want Kat to see his empty pantry.

  “Hey!” they heard Cliff yell. “Shouldn’t I sign for this?” A moment later, the singer wandered back into the kitchen carrying a box and shaking his head. “Damn, that guy took off fast.”

  “It’s late,” Rod said through a mouthful of Doritos. “You were probably his last stop and he wants to get to a party or something.”

  Klement nodded. “So, what’s in the box?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It looked like it came from the bakery, just a plain white box with no logo or anything. As Cliff opened it, Klement noticed that it also had no address label. But before he could say anything, Cliff dropped the box on the counter and drew back in horror.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Rod leaned forward and gagged. He dashed to the sink and threw up.