Syon was avoiding her.
It really pissed her off.
Liar… It stings.
Well, that too.
The other members of Toxsin had come by her suite for fittings, but Cid showed up with Syon’s missing-crotch pants instead of the singer.
“Pull a pattern off these.”
The road manager tossed the garment at her. She caught it but dropped them on the chair next to her. “I don’t clone. I do my own work. Always. I need a fitting.”
Cid was close to fifty by her guess but hiding it extremely well. His body was toned and fit, and only a hint of gray was visible where his hair had grown out at its roots. He fixed her with a hard look.
“You’re here to work on our schedule. Mr. Braden hasn’t had time for a fitting. In case you missed it, he’s a celebrity.”
“My work is custom.” Kate pointed at the two pairs of partially completed pants hanging on a rack, waiting for fittings. “If Syon wants a pair of pants that fit, I need him down here.”
She needed his ass and his hard-on, but she was avoiding thinking about the particulars.
Cid didn’t like her tone. Something slithered through her that left a very unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth. She realized she was getting a glimpse of what it was like to ruffle the feathers of those who considered Syon their bread and butter. If Syon told Cid to be a dick to her, he would without getting a single hair out of place. Cid knew who was signing the paychecks and didn’t give a shit about how many feelings got hurt while he was ensuring his meal ticket. Toxsin was bringing in big money, and that meant there were going to be big sharks swimming in the tank. No one was on tour who didn’t know when to abandon fair play.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The road manager left with an air of importance and no hint of remorse in his expression.
She should have dived back into the work she had.
Should have, but she walked across the suite and glared out at the San Francisco skyline instead. The sun had gone down hours ago, but the city was far from sleepy. There was a buzz and pulse that she could feel through the double-paned glass windows. Traffic was flowing below her, people thick on the sidewalks. Cafés were open, catering to the night crowd. It seemed too dedicated to spend the night working for someone who couldn’t be bothered to make time for a fitting.
Okay, she was miffed that she didn’t rate high enough for an hour of his time.
Kate shook off her grumpiness.
Syon had gotten his eight hours out of her. So it was quitting time.
She picked up her phone and trolled through Facebook and a couple of travel sites to see what the city offered for night entertainment. Surely there was a local hot spot somewhere close with a band or signature dinner dish that she could enjoy.
Her phone chirped. It startled her, but she grinned when she recognized the name of one of her Bay Area clients. His name was Clarence O’Malley, but it was a whole lot safer to call him by his preferred nickname.
“Hello, Conan.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to the Bay Area?”
Kate smiled, feeling ridiculously rescued. “It was last minute. Um…how’d you know?”
“You’re logged into Facebook, with the location app. You’re too cute to have that turned on, you know. Someone like me might use it to stalk you,” Conan said.
“Um…yeah.”
Conan chuckled on the other end of the line. “You doubt my badass-ness?”
Kate laughed and reached back to rub her neck. “Never. Just your level of desperation to resort to stalking. Last time I checked, you had a small harem.”
“Maybe. Get down to the lobby.”
“You’re here?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah, I drive my ass down to your end of the state because no one can sew leather like you. Just shut up the shop. Let’s grab a cold one and get some chow. Got a couple of guys I’d love to introduce you to. Can’t wait to tell them you were in my pants while you’re sitting close enough for them to see how hot you are.”
And that was why he liked to be called Conan. He claimed to be a barbarian at heart. Which made him just interesting enough to be fun.
“You’re on,” Kate said.
She wasn’t going to hang around waiting for Syon. She’d put in a full day. If she was going to be on tour, she might as well enjoy the sights a little. She could catch up on her sleep on the road.
She swung around and took a moment to run a brush through her hair and apply a fresh coat of lipstick. The elevators were express ones, and a few moments later, she was striding through the polished marble floors of the lobby. Conan had pulled up on a chopper. The doormen were eyeing him as security eased closer.
Not that she blamed them. Conan was rather typical as far as her clients went. His shaved head had a tattooed skull on the back, and his forearms sported more ink. He had a huge, square-cut jaw, and his nose bore the evidence of being broken. When he grinned, one full gold crown winked at the suit-clad security men watching him. The only way he wasn’t typical was in the fact that he ran a very lucrative business. The bodyguards edging in on him would have been surprised to discover themselves dealing with a man who could afford to rent out one of the exclusive penthouse suites. Ripped jeans and all. The guy owned several Armani suits, but needed to be beaten half to death before putting one on.
He revved the chopper and whistled when he spotted her. Kate swung the shoulder strap of her bag over herself, cross body.
She reached out and steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder before lifting her leg to get on behind him. There was a roar as Toxsin pulled into the half-circle drive, taking control of the space completely. Conan turned his head to admire the chrome work on the Harleys. Kate slid her leg along his back.
“What the fuck?” Syon ripped off his shades. “Get the hell off that chopper, Kate!”
She wasn’t completely on the back of the bike yet. Surprise kept her frozen. Syon threw his helmet and launched himself off his Harley.
“Know this dude?” Conan asked her, his attention on Syon. There was a clink as he kicked the stand into place. “His tone says he needs his ass kicked.”
“That’s the only action you’re going to get tonight,” Syon growled.
Conan was off the chopper the second Syon got close. Kate stumbled back as they faced off.
“She’s not worth it.” Ramsey grabbed Syon by the shoulder and tried to pull him back. “If she’d rather be in his pants, let the bitch go.”
“Oh, she’s been in my pants alright…real deep.”
“Conan—” Kate protested.
Syon’s growl cut her off as he took a swing at Conan. People screamed, and paparazzi moved in, their cameras rolling. Conan bared his teeth and launched himself into the fight. Syon snarled and went after him with blood lust on his face.
“Stop it!” Kate skirted around the tail of the chopper and tried to lunge between them. Ramsey turned and hooked her around the waist. He dragged her out of the way and scooped her up when she tried to fight him. She got out only half a sound of protest before he dumped her into someone else’s arms.
“Get her out of here.”
“Wait…”
Taz didn’t pay attention to her. He turned and carried her back up onto the curb.
“Forget this shit.” She kicked her feet up and succeeded in getting one knee loose. She put her leg down and pushed out of Taz’s hold.
Taz snorted and let her stand up. A second later he had her over his shoulder. There was still the sound of flesh hitting flesh behind her. She looked up as Taz hauled her through the front door of the hotel, to the delight of the paparazzi snapping pictures.
“Put me the fuck down!” Kate yelled.
Taz dumped her in an elevator but pushed her back into the corner as he jammed a key card into the slot. He stuck one finger out at her. “You can walk or I’ll carry you.”
“Like hell you will.”
The elevator jerked and started pulling them toward the top floor. “I want out of here. You guys are insane!”