Syon leaned down and kissed her. It was soft and quick, but it felt like a brand.
“Time to get down into the seats.” Cid had walked into the doorway, his standard, happy-go-lucky grin in place.
“Sure.” Kate walked toward the door.
“Got to take that.” Cid reached for the glass in her hand. “Stadium rules. No booze in the stands.”
Kate tossed back the last bit and relinquished the glass. One of the polo-shirted guys guided her through the backstage maze. Thick power cords ran along the floor. There were barricades set up to form walkways from the back of the stage to the performers’ room. The lights were already flashing, a preshow soundtrack playing over the speaker system.
The crowd was already filling the stadium with a dull roar, like distant thunder. It was only going to grow in intensity until Syon whipped them up into a storm of spine-tingling climaxes.
She was pumped up for it, edging her way into the crowd forcefully when people didn’t want to let her get to the seat reserved for her. The security guy made them move aside. He reached out and snagged the “reserved” sign off the seat and made sure she’d slid into it before the crowd converged. Surrounding the catwalk and stage was the mosh pit. People had arrived hours earlier to fill it, and they were pressing up against the stage without mercy for anyone in their way. They were there to be in the crush; no one was interested in maintaining distance.
The crowd surged toward the stage as the performers entered. She felt it as much as saw it—a wave that seemed to lift the crowd off its feet and send it crashing into the music. Kate was carried along with it, giddy to be a part of the exuberance.
The concert went on and carried her deeper and deeper into the current. She lost track of what was happening, Syon the only fixed point in her world. Everything else blurred, until it was just a backsplash of colored smears that spun in a crazy circle. People pushed against her, dancing, well, maybe it was dancing. Maybe it was more of a primal straining.
Rubbing.
Groping.
She stopped, trying to push someone’s hand off her butt. But concentration was impossible. In fact, holding her head up felt like too much effort. Her neck had lost all its strength; her eyelids felt heavy.
There were just hands everywhere. She felt them but didn’t really understand what was happening. She was leaning on the catwalk but moved her hands to push the groping hands off her. When she did, she slid down, falling beneath the weight of the next wave of people surging toward the stage. They flooded in, filling the spot she’d occupied, stepping on her as Syon and Ramsey whipped them into the last frenzy of the show.
Pain tried to make it through the haze clouding her thoughts, but at least the haze was thick enough to block most of it. It bore her into a tunnel of darkness that made the impact of feet insignificant.
Yeah…everything was insignificant.
* * *
“Can you tell me your name?”
Kate rolled away from the light being aimed into her eye.
“Do you know what’s happening?”
Whoever it was, they lifted her eyelid and aimed the light right back in her eye. It felt like a needle being shoved down the center of her pupil. She tried to roll the other way, pulling her legs up to fend off the spinning.
“It’s Kate Napier.”
She turned over, lifting her eyelids a tiny bit. There was something about the sound of that voice that she knew, but the world beyond her eyelids was a swirling mess. She sank back down into the abyss of unconsciousness.
Syon fought to get close to Kate, but the medics were pushing him back. Cops were holding people back, the blue-and-red flash of their emergency vehicles casting an eerie glow over the scene. Ramsey was suddenly there, the only person who could pull him back.
“She needs a hospital.”
* * *
“I’m going to fucking kill someone.”
The security guard near the emergency-room door sent him a warning glance that Syon ignored.
“Let’s watch what you say, mate. No need to say things you don’t mean.”
Cid tried to hook his arm, but Syon turned on him, curling his hand in Cid’s shirt front. “Why the fuck wasn’t someone watching her?”
He couldn’t get to Kate’s side, but he could sure as hell deal with his own people.
Cid covered his hand, smiling as the guard eyed them. He waited until the security guard looked away before answering. “Didn’t know she needed babysitting.”
Ramsey pulled him away, which likely saved Cid from getting his nose broken. Syon let Ramsey pull him across the waiting area before he shrugged free.
Beyond the doors behind the security guard, Kate was being treated. The local PD was struggling to keep the fans outside the emergency room as Syon and his bandmates paced the floor.
Two men finally came through the doors, heading toward him. “Syon Braden?”
“Yeah, I want to see her.”
“This way.”
“Just a minute.” Cid slid in between them. “Where are you taking my friends?”
“Somewhere we can talk.” One of the men held up a badge.
“Fine by me.” Syon pushed past Cid, but Cid shoved him back.
“I think you can do that only with a lawyer present.”
The detective turned and looked at Cid. “Since you’ve got something to hide, by all means, call your legal representative.”
“What the hell?” Syon demanded. “I want to see my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend—if she is your girlfriend—has tested positive for gamma hydroxybutyrate,” the cop said under his breath. “Now, maybe slipping girls roofies is normal in your world, but in my county, I won’t let it slide. She could have been trampled to death beneath that crowd.”
“Shit,” Ramsey cussed.
The cop raked them with a cold stare. “She’s under my protection, and I promise you, I’m going to do my best to get her to finger which one of you slipped her the spiked drink. So I can arrest you, celebrity or not.”
“You’re way off the mark,” Syon warned.
“I don’t think so,” the cop answered. He dug a business card out of his shirt pocket and tossed it toward Cid. “Call your lawyer. I think he’s going to be needed.”
“Fuck this.” Syon started toward the emergency-room doors, Ramsey on his heels.
“Yeah.” Taz joined in.
A second later, they were all slammed against the wall, the herd of uniformed officers outside the doors swarming in to take them down. Cid was in the corner, frantically making a call on his cell phone as they were handcuffed and hauled into squad cars.
* * *
“It’s been a long time since we’ve been arrested,” Drake observed. “Sucks that we’re not even drunk or in a titty bar.”
Syon lifted his hand and flipped him off. Ramsey mimicked the motion from where he sat on the other side of him. They were lined up in front of a pathetic television with the rest of the Saturday night jailbirds. Behind them, the booking officers were receiving the night’s offerings of prostitutes, drug dealers, and public intoxication offenders. Those who were orderly ended up in the chairs to await bail, while the rest were hauled down the hallway and locked into cells to sober up or calm down.
Syon nearly ripped the sleeves from his jail-issued top, he gripped it so hard. Waiting for bail sucked and was driving him insane.
“Cid’s falling down on the job. My little sister could have had us out of here by now,” Taz complained. “My grandmother could have done it too, and she doesn’t even speak very good English.”
“They’re stalling,” Ramsey stated, “waiting for Kate to sober up enough to finger someone.”
“Can’t wait for her to do it,” Syon said ominously.
Ramsey shared a look with him. They both returned their attention to the television in front of them, because the deputy assigned to watch the orderly crowd was doing his job. The choice was simple. Sit and watch television, or get locked into a cell with an added charge of resisting.