Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

“Because like it or not, they are paying me to protect you, and you didn’t allow me to do my job today. This is my livelihood, not a fantasy where I’m spending months getting wild on the tour bus with a country rockstar. If I don’t report it, won’t it appear that I have something to hide? Who gets the blowback from it? You?” She shook her head. “Me. If you don’t trust me to protect you, then I’ll have to find a replacement you can trust.”

Was she . . . threatening him?

Her face held frustration and determination but no malice. “I won’t put you or myself in jeopardy. We’ve been on the road three days, Devin, and we’ve already had a major problem.”

“It won’t happen again. I swear.”

The look on her face said she didn’t believe him. “Excuse me. I need to talk to Reg before we take off.”

He’d be pissed off by her dismissal if he didn’t feel like such a fool. And things had been going so well between them.

You’re surprised you f**ked up something else in your life? Isn’t that the way it goes? One step forward and two steps back?

Devin grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed to his room. In the shower, he let the hot water pound on his back while he chugged the icy cold beer. Reality hit him. What if that guy’d had a gun? Or a knife? Those fifteen seconds could’ve turned out completely different.

Fuck.

Fuck, f**k, f**k.

He f**king hated this. How the hell wasn’t he supposed to react instinctively when a threat surfaced? It wouldn’t have mattered if Crash or Gage or Odette had been behind him. He would’ve done the same damn thing. He also hated that a couple of unknown, unseen crazy motherfuckers could upend his life. Force him to change how he lived and who he was.

Bitching, moaning, whining wouldn’t change a damn thing. Being proactive only got him into trouble. So for the time being, he had to trust in someone besides himself. Not his choice and completely out of his control, but in order for this bullshit to end, he had to let Liberty do her job.

He toweled off, slipped on a pair of boxer briefs and dropped into a push-up position. Four sets of twenty-five got his blood pumping. He switched and did three hundred ab exercises. Then he finished with a series of plank poses.

As Devin dabbed the sweat from his face and neck, he figured he probably should’ve waited to shower, but pushing his body had delivered the desired effect; he’d calmed down. He’d centered himself and was ready to offer Liberty the apology she deserved. But first he needed to work on his music.

Because at the end of the day, no matter where he was, that driving need never abated. He could prop his feet up anywhere, strap on his guitar and slip into the skin of what—who—he was meant to be. A singer. A songwriter. A modern-day wandering minstrel plying his trade in hopes to earn a few coins and a little respect.

And it stung that in trying to earn Liberty’s respect, he’d lost it.

Chapter Nine

Three weeks had passed since the truck-stop altercation.

After the incident, Liberty kept all interactions between them strictly professional. No sharing a meal or a beer or even a laugh on the bus. On the outside, it looked like nothing had changed. They worked out together. Liberty escorted him on his visits to children’s hospitals. She remained stationed outside the door of his ready room even though he hadn’t “entertained” any fans since Salt Lake City. Something had shifted, and he hadn’t been in the mood for that type of female companionship. Instead he’d used the time to fulfill his media requirements so afterward he could concentrate on songwriting.

Whether it was Liberty’s vigilance or just plain luck, there’d been limited security issues in the last three weeks. That’s not to say a few situations hadn’t arisen where his ability to give her the reins was tested, but he’d done it. Happily. Without even a single pat on the back from her.

Yet, in the last week, he’d sensed a thawing in her cold attitude. She’d actually initiated a couple of conversations that didn’t revolve around his security. And he’d lapped up that little bit of attention like a starving dog.

Things were tense all around with his bandmates and his crew. Tay and Jase were back at it. Odette and Steve complained about having to trade off the bus’s one bedroom with them. Sarge had issues between the roadies and ended up with a fist to the jaw when he broke up a fight.

Crash was tired of playing referee between all factions.

Since they had two days off and not a long distance to travel between gigs, Devin decided they needed to blow off some steam. Over the years, when this tension arose—because it always happened at some point during the tour—they’d organize a softball game. Or team up for laser tag. Or race go-carts. But this time, they needed a more extreme activity.

He was finishing a conversation with his agent when the buses turned off the highway and crossed to a county road. Naturally, that brought Liberty out of seclusion. Devin hadn’t seen her today, and he took in her bare feet, faded jeans and the flowing floral blouse that fell to midthigh. While he understood her clothing had to conceal her gun, her long, baggy shirts also covered up her ass—which was a damn crying shame.

She peeked out the window above the kitchen sink. “Why aren’t we on the highway?”

“Change in plans. We’re gonna have a little fun today. And before you ask, yes, we weighed the risk factors, and Crash already contacted the promotion company. They rented the place out for the entire day. And night.”