Wolf (Sons of Sangue Book 7), page 6
Tyler glanced at Grigore, anger rolling off him in waves. Likely giving up on the idea of trying to remove Grigore from their conversation, he glared back at Caitlyn.
“I don’t need you to get jobs.”
“No, Tyler, you don’t. You need talent for that.”
“Who’s the muscle?” Tyler used his thumb to indicate Grigore. “Taking to fucking goons these days?”
When Grigore meant to step forward, Caitlyn held her hand out to stop him. “My bodyguard is none of your concern, Tyler. Neither is who I choose to sleep with. I’ll have Josh return your money for your VIP ticket and escort you from the building. You’re obviously not here to see the show.”
“I paid for the damn ticket and I’ll be damned if I don’t stay for the show.”
“Fine.” She raised a brow. “Do what you want, Tyler, but this conversation is over.”
With one last look at Grigore, the man stormed from the room. Grigore wasn’t about to chase after him and leave Caitlyn alone in the room. And with Josh escorting the rest of the fans to their seats, he had no choice but to let Tyler go it alone. He’d make sure the crew kept an eye out for him, but not until after he talked to Caitlyn. She had a show to do and the last thing she needed was to worry about some loser from her past.
Although, said loser could be the one issuing threats. That deduction he’d keep to himself for the time being.
“You okay?”
Caitlyn’s breath shuddered. “I’ve been better.”
“What the hell did that fuck do to you that has you so worked up?”
She shook her head and briefly glanced away. At first, he didn’t think she’d answer, but then Cait looked back and squared her shoulders. “We dated until I found out his only reason for being with me was the notoriety he received from the media.”
“He tell you that?”
She harrumphed, shaking her head. “Of course not. I had to find out from one of his girlfriends who he had also been fucking. Then? He tried to make a joke out of it, with me being the butt-end. I stopped dating, tried to keep out of the public eye. It’s no wonder my tour has brought him back out of the woodwork. Tyler’s all about making the headlines and since he can’t do it on his own, he figures he’s got a second shot with me. He’s past news, Wolf.”
“You slept with him?”
Her downcast eyes answered him. For that alone, he wanted to follow the fuck and beat some sense into him. “We all make mistakes, Cait.”
When she brought back her moisture-filled gaze, it was like a kick to his gut. Somehow he knew they were no longer talking about Tyler. “Did you?”
“Sleep with other women? I’m no saint.”
“No.” She stepped closer, placing her pale hands on his tanned, tattooed forearms. “Did you make a mistake when you left me?”
“We’re standing here, aren’t we?”
“What do you mean?”
“Had I not left you, we’d still be in that shitty little apartment back in Detroit with me getting ready to sign up for AARP.” He stepped back from her and gestured toward the door. “It’s time for you to hit the stage, Caitlyn. Your fans await.”
She took a deep breath and headed for the door. When she opened it, she turned back, Grigore damn near running into her. “So you stand by your decision to leave me fifteen years ago?”
He squared his shoulders. “Not only do I stand by it, Sunshine, I’d do it again.”
Chapter 6
Grigore’s sixth sense needled him, raising the hair on his tattooed forearms. His gut rarely steered him wrong in the past and he wasn’t about to start ignoring it now. Caitlyn stood in the spotlight, damn near glowing like an angel sent from Heaven in her gold sequined dress, microphone raised as she hit a ridiculously high note.
Using his walkie, he alerted Josh. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Let the rest of the crew know something doesn’t feel right.”
“Because…” Josh let his response hang, apparently not about to take Grigore’s word for it. Stupid boy.
“Because I fucking said so, d-bag. Make sure no one gets beyond any of the checkpoints without proper ID double-checked. That means crew and media as well. I’m not about to take chances with Caitlyn’s wellbeing at stake. And since she’s paying your damn paycheck, I suggest you don’t either. And no matter what, make sure that last guy you brought to the VIP room is in someone’s sight at all time. If he so much as leaves his fucking seat, he’s followed. Got it?”
“Affirmative.”
The walkie-talkie went silent. Grigore’s point of contact was the crew manager, Josh, whose job it was to communicate with the rest of the men. Wolf didn’t want the hassle of micromanaging the team; that’s not what he came here to do. He had one job, and that was to make sure some shit-for-brains never got his hands on Caitlyn.
Two hours had passed without incident since the meet-and-greet. Grigore rubbed the hair on his forearms. But now? Something was amiss, he could feel it. Tilting his nose in the air, he scented nothing out of the ordinary. He heard Ryan Baxter’s gait as he approached, alerted to the man long before Grigore turned and greeted him.
“Josh says there might be a problem?”
“Good. The fuck actually took me seriously.”
Ryan smiled. “Probably more so out of the fear of receiving another beatdown from you.”
“Wise decision.” Grigore stroked his beard as he looked back to the stage. “I can’t tell you what it is, but something just doesn’t feel right. I wanted everyone on high alert.”
“Then it’s nothing you saw?”
Without giving Caitlyn his back, he looked at her manager. “Call it a sixth sense, Baxter. It’s never steered me wrong before.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way”—he glanced at the stage—“but I sure the hell hope it’s wrong this time, Wolf.”
“You and me both.” Grigore returned his attention to Caitlyn. “Make sure Josh is doing his job. If he doesn’t take me seriously, then you find someone who will.”
Ryan placed a hand on Grigore’s shoulder. “I’m on it. You keep Caitlyn out of the crosshairs of this psycho.”
“Don’t worry. I promised to keep her here on God’s green earth and I aim to do just that. The person who needs to worry is the one who threatened her in the first place, because I make no such promise to him.”
Grigore heard Ryan’s answering chuckle as his dress shoes struck the concrete in his retreat, leaving him once again alone to watch Caitlyn. He took the steel steps to the stage, careful to stay out of the eye of the public. She swayed seductively to one of her slower tunes. Damn, her ass looked fine hugged by all those shiny sequins. He could easily imagine peeling her out of the no doubt costly garment. Of course, he wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t play a major role in his wicked fantasies.
Later, after the show, he’d need to get Ryan to keep an eye on Caitlyn for a bit when they arrived back at the hotel so he could look up a little sustenance. He hated leaving her side for even a moment, but sinking his fangs into some young lady’s carotid wouldn’t earn him any points with the pop star. She’d likely freak the fuck out, and rightly so.
Maybe he’d even find a hot little number to help work off some of his sexual frustrations while he was at it. If he didn’t do something soon, even the adjoining rooms wouldn’t be enough to keep him away from Cait.
His willpower was seriously beginning to mock him.
Caitlyn may hate him but there was no doubt in his mind she still wanted him. That much was apparent from the scent of her desire when things heated up between them. Grigore was sure tonight would be no different, regardless of her non-negotiable term of sleeping in separate rooms. To make sure he was the stronger of the two, he’d need to slake that hunger elsewhere.
Grigore peered around one of the props and into the audience, particularly the first few rows where the VIP section was located. A quick scan of the rows didn’t produce Tyler.
Where the fuck?
He stepped back and pushed the button on his walkie. “Josh, tell me you have the latecomer in your sight.”
Silence greeted him. Son of a mother…
His gaze landed back on Caitlyn who did a little dance number to one of her more upbeat songs. She certainly knew how to move, probably giving half the young men in the audience woodies. Grigore wished he could stand back here all night and enjoy the show, but he needed to find Tyler like fucking yesterday. Scanning the crowd again turned up nothing.
Placing his walkie by his lips, he growled, “Josh? Where the fuck are you?”
Nothing.
“Motherfucker, I’ll beat you to within an inch of your life if you don’t answer me.”
Grigore took the steel steps by twos down to the back corridor, finding it completely empty. Where the hell were all the roadies? He knew he couldn’t leave his post without someone to watch over her. Caitlyn was his number one priority. Fury radiated through him, threatening to bring out the vampire. Grigore returned to side stage and took several deep breaths. He needed to calm down. Acting on anger resulted in making stupid mistakes. And that he couldn’t afford.
He tried one more time, holding the walkie to his mouth. “Josh,” he hissed, still receiving dead air.
Caitlyn walked to the front of the stage, singing part of the chorus before holding out her microphone for the audience to join in. The noise grew to a deafening volume. No wonder the crew wore earplugs. With his sensitive vampire hearing, it was overloud, not that it would hamper him from hearing any other oddities.
Looking back out over the audience, he still didn’t spot the moron from earlier. Crew members lined the front of the stage, making sure the attendees stayed behind the wooden barrier. He sure in the hell hoped Josh was doing his damn job and that was the reason he wasn’t answering his call.
Grigore’s gaze traveled the stadium, seeing in the dark fairly well, thanks to his vampire DNA. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A few more crew members were spotted walking the floor, but still no Josh. Or Tyler for that matter. Fans screamed, sang, danced, jumped up and down—
Back the fuck up!
His gaze returned to one of the dark, unused press boxes near the rear of the stadium. A lone man leaned against the steel and Plexiglas railing. What appeared to be a long-range rifle rested at his shoulder and aimed at the stage, more specifically Caitlyn. Wolf’s gaze flew back to her, where a red glowing dot now centered on her forehead.
Motherfucker!
He took off with speed unmatched by a human, reaching her about the time he heard the ping of the rifle being fired. Pushing Cait to the side, Grigore took the bullet to his left pec. His body jerked and he stumbled backward several steps. His eyes heated and his gums ached with the threat of the emerging vampire. He gritted his teeth to keep that from happening.
“Son of a motherfucking bitch,” he growled, his hand covering the bleeding wound. He didn’t think it hit anything vital to stop his heart, but it stung like a bitch nonetheless.
Lots of blood flowed from between his fingers. Fuck, the bullet must have grazed an artery. He’d survive the wound, but not without considerable blood loss. His need for sustenance increased tenfold.
Caitlyn screamed. Hysteria blossomed in her rounded gaze as she fixated on the blood seeping between his fingers. “You’ve been shot.”
Grigore covered her mic with his free hand to silence their conversation. “Focus, Sunshine. I’ll live. I need to get you out of here.”
Picking her up, he cradled her against his uninjured side and ran for the back of the stage, her band members quickly following suit. Luckily, he hadn’t heard any more shots fired from the rifle.
Ryan Baxter skidded to a halt just inches from them. “Is Caitlyn—”
“She’s fine.” He handed the cordless mic to Ryan. “Calm this crowd down before pandemonium hits. Kids could get trampled out there. I need to find this motherfucker, but first I need to secure Caitlyn.”
Ryan quickly mounted the stairs to the stage, trying his best, along with the crew, to calm the crowd and get them out of the venue without incident. Fuck! This was sure to bring the authorities and make major headlines.
Moments later, Grigore had Cait contained backstage in her locked dressing room, waiting for Ryan to watch over her. With any luck, the piece of shit who tried to shoot her was having trouble leaving the building due to the fans charging the exits.
A knock sounded on the door. Grigore turned the lock and cracked it open, finding Ryan on the other side. He further opened it and allowed her manager into the room.
“Lock the door behind me. No one gets in but me. Got it? Don’t open this motherfucking door unless you hear my voice.”
Grigore heard the lock click into place before he took off through the stadium, heading for the stairs. His wound had already begun healing, but he could tell the lack of blood had made him weak. His head swam, leaving him slightly dizzy as he took the steps, heading for the box office seats. Reaching the top landing, he leaned over, sucked in air and passed the fuck out.
* * *
Cait paced the dressing room, moments after Grigore having been carried in and laid upon a wooden bench. She gulped in oxygen, trying desperately to calm her jangled nerves and not wind up having a full-blown anxiety attack. Someone had tried to kill her. Of course, the threat looming over her was no surprise, hence the need for Grigore. But to have a gun actually pointed at her? Had it not been for Grigore, right now she’d be zipped up in a black body bag on her way to the morgue.
Looking down at him, she couldn’t help but note his pallor. Grigore was pale, so much so, his skin appeared nearly translucent. Dr. Wensink reported the nicked artery had somehow miraculously healed itself, but not before considerable blood loss. She had said the body was capable of things modern science couldn’t explain. This certainly was one of them.
Dr. Wensink had left moments ago to see about transporting Grigore to the nearest hospital due to his obvious blood loss. Thankfully, she had been in the audience to see the show. Upon witnessing the shooting, she had immediately come backstage to offer her help.
Caitlyn’s hand trembled as she lay it gently on the opposite side of Grigore’s bare chest, taking in the meager piece of taped white gauze covering his wound. It was the best they could do from the first aid kits found backstage. Blood congealed in the hair on his chest. She sucked in a sob, knowing this was her fault.
The good news?
Grigore was going to be okay and he’d saved her life by taking the bullet meant for her.
The bad news?
Someone had gotten close enough to take aim and if it wasn’t for Grigore, she’d be dead.
His lids fluttered open, his dark gaze landing on hers. He tried to sit, but Caitlyn applied a bit of pressure to his chest, keeping him on his back.
She brushed his long hair out of his face. “You need to stay still. Doctor’s orders.”
His brow creased. “Doctor?”
“There was one in the audience who came to help after she witnessed you getting shot. Good news, she says the artery healed itself. But you need blood.” Caitlyn smiled, trying to hold the tears at bay. Grigore didn’t need a blubbering female on his hands. “She’s arranging transport to a hospital.”
Grigore brushed off Caitlyn’s touch and sat up. “Like hell. I don’t need a fucking hospital. Like the doctor said, the artery healed itself.”
Stubborn man.
“She also said you needed blood, and that you should be checked over.”
“I’m fucking fine,” Grigore growled as the doctor reentered the room. His gaze landed on the woman. “Sorry, doc, but thank you for your help. No further assistance is needed.”
The doctor blinked in befuddlement, obviously shocked by his quick recovery. So was Caitlyn. Grigore should still be flat on his back, not acting as if the bullet to his chest was nothing more than a flesh wound.
“I’d still feel better if you were checked over and given some blood,” the doctor said. “You lost a lot. I’m surprised you’re even sitting, to be honest.”
He looked at Caitlyn, then to Ryan, who stood near the rear of the room on his phone. “Can you guys give me and the doc a minute? This won’t take long. Then we can get back to the hotel where we’ll discuss what the hell happened and how a fucking rifle got into the building. We’ll need to beef up security for tomorrow night’s show.”
“You won’t be doing anything.” Cait wagged a finger at him. “You’re going to the hospital. No arguments.”
Ryan shoved off the wall, patted Grigore’s good shoulder and said, “Excellent job tonight, man. We’ll give you some time with the doctor.”
Ryan ushered her from the room, to wait with him in the hall. The arena seemed eerily quiet now. Caitlyn wasn’t used to hanging around venues after the show. Usually, she was one of the first to leave. It didn’t help her nerves to know the gunman hadn’t been located.
“I’m worried about Grigore, Ryan.”
“As you should be. That man just saved your life. But thankfully, the doctor said he’ll be okay.”
Caitlyn bit her lip to still the trembling. She was a hairbreadth away from becoming a sobbing mess. “She also said he needed blood, and he’s refusing. Did you see how pale he was?”
“I’m sure the doctor knows what she’s doing. She’ll no doubt talk him into a quick trip to the ER. You and I will go back to the hotel so you can get some rest. I’ve arranged for a police escort. I’ve also hired some of Cleveland’s finest to patrol the venue for tomorrow’s show. No one will get past.”
Her face heated. “Exactly how did that happen the first time? For Heaven’s sake, Ryan. The man walked in with a loaded rifle.”
“I know. I’ll be speaking with the crew. There’s no excuse for a breach. It won’t happen again or heads will roll.”
“Let’s just hope one of those heads isn’t mine.”
“A couple of detectives will meet us back at the hotel. They want to question you.”
