Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

“Pretty. Night, Devin.”

Chapter Seven

The next afternoon Liberty accompanied Devin to the children’s hospital.

She waited outside the room, letting him do his thing with the kids. They stayed for nearly two hours. As they walked out, in a moment of sympathy, she’d taken his hand. He’d squeezed her fingers and kept her close enough to his side that their arms brushed. The intimacy in their simple touch hinted at a deeper connection between them—which was as scary as it was thrilling.

But on the ride back to the event center, he pulled away into total silence.

Devin was waylaid outside the arena doors by a couple of enthusiastic female fans. He chatted with them for several minutes and called over one of his roadies to hand out backstage passes. Liberty heard him tell his admirers to come to his dressing room in an hour, when he finished rehearsal.

The girls squealed with excitement after Devin disappeared inside.

Un. Fucking. Real.

Her internal mantra of no judgment was drowned out by the loud woofing sound in her brain, reminding her that county music star Devin McClain was a dog.

During rehearsal, she stayed in the shadows of the stage, feeling naked without a weapon. She’d agreed to leave her guns locked up on the bus while they were at the hospital. She should’ve insisted they stop to get them after the hospital visit, just to be safe. But the only danger Devin appeared to be in right now was getting run over by his raging libido.

After the stage cleared, she hung back while Devin talked to Crash. Her curiosity threatened to get the better of her, but she forced herself to stay in place, out of earshot of their conversation.

When Devin cut down the hallway to his ready room, Liberty followed.

Crash fell into step with her.

“What’s up?”

“Dev wants some time to chill. He’ll stay in there until the concert starts. He said to tell you to go back to the bus.”

“So the security we hired is already here?”

Crash shook his head.

“Guess that answers that.”

“Liberty, he doesn’t need—”

“Don’t cover for him. I don’t give a damn if he’s dangling from a f**king trapeze with those two chickies who flashed their tits for backstage passes. He can f**k both of them until he’s dehydrated from losing excessive body fluids. But I will be stationed outside the door the entire time. At least until arena security arrives. We clear on that?”

Crash sighed. “Yes.”

“Do I need to make it clear to Devin again why I’m here?”

“Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. He’s in one of them moods where—”

“He needs naked fan adulation to help him through his rough day?”

“Goin’ to those kids’ hospitals does him in every f**king time. But he keeps doin’ it, and afterward, he needs a distraction or two. Surely you can understand that.”

“We all have different coping mechanisms. If he wants to wallow in pu**y for a few hours? Great.” Not really, but Devin’s coping mechanism was none of her business. Her business was keeping him safe. “I just hope the walls provide a decent sound barrier.”

The ladies who’d been given passes by the roadie showed up. Liberty eyed their clothing—too little of it to hide weapons. Then she blocked the door. “Purses, please.”

The first woman, a busty brunette in her midtwenties, glared at her. “What?”

“Your purses need to remain outside with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” Liberty shrugged. “Take it or leave it, but those are the rules.”

The big-haired, big-boobed blonde demanded, “Who are you?”

“The person keeping you from hanging out with Devin McClain if you don’t hand over your handbags,” she said tartly.

The door opened, and Devin lounged in the doorway. “Are you ladies gonna argue with my personal assistant or are you comin’ in?”

“Of course we’re coming in,” the brunette cooed. “Just wondered why we can’t have our stuff.”

“Can’t take the risk of cameras or cell phones. Don’t worry. She’ll keep an eye on it, won’t you?”

“Absolutely, sir.” Tempting to snap off a salute.

Devin raised a brow at her sarcastic response. Then he focused on his fawning fan girls. “Now that I know you two lovelies can follow the rules, let’s see how many of them rules you’re willin’ to break for me.”

Un. Real.

The door closed after the two women handed over their bags. She heard the lock slide into place. At least his big head was still somewhat engaged and he’d remembered to engage the lock.

Crash dragged a folding chair over for her. “Might as well be comfortable. Anything else I can get you?”

“A clipboard? So it looks like I’m doing something besides sitting out here listening to him doing his fans.”

He laughed. “I can bring you the schedule for the next two weeks, and you can double-check the security recs.”

“That’d be great.”

The hallway remained deserted. But the quiet wasn’t a blessing—she could hear every moan, groan and giggle drifting out from the room. Or possibly that was her imagination. Either way, she made a mental note to always carry earplugs.

Time dragged. She’d begun to make little hash marks every time she heard “Yes! Yes! Yes!” when someone said her name. Her head snapped up.