Unbearable Fear

  Unbearable Fear

  ML Guida

  Copyright © 2018 by ML Guida

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  About the Author

  Also by ML Guida

  Chapter 1

  Dead or alive, Skye Carr, the lead singer of the Vandals, would be Hector Savage’s. They were destined to be together.

  Always.

  “I love rock and roll. Take my hand and dance with me.”

  Skye belted out the words–only meant for him, her throaty voice caressing his soul.

  She danced on the Pepsi Center Stage, shaking her slender body. Long red hair flew around her face like a veil–silky to the touch.

  His heart thumped to the sway of her hips. Blood whisked down to his cock, making it throb and swell. Soon she’d be beneath him, begging him to take her.

  “Skye! Skye! Skye!” Men and women bounced and hopped around him screaming out her name. Their fists high over their heads moved to the beat of the drums and the strum of the guitar.

  Hector Savage clenched his fists to keep from strangling them. She didn’t belong to them. She belonged to him.

  He smiled like a spider watching a fly. Filing a protective order against him was pointless. His friend said she would be his. Promised him she would be his. They would be together.

  Always.

  He stood a foot taller than most of these parasites, but he needed to see her up close–much, much, much closer.

  He took out his binoculars. Sweat glistened down her face. The tight black camisole hugged her beautiful breasts that rose up and down as she panted. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. How she loved to perform. Before long, he would be her only audience.

  Escape was impossible. But sometimes his sweet girl needed to learn lessons. He was patient. He’d teach her that he was the master, and she was his slave.

  He flung his backpack over his shoulder, exited the row, and headed for her dressing room with her favorite color lipstick in his pocket.

  He passed a cop, avoiding his hard gaze, hoping he hadn’t recognized him. Hector’s hands twitched as if he were reaching for a gun.

  But his was locked in his glove compartment.

  His friend had given him the key to Skye’s dressing room and had guaranteed there would be no guards.

  Better not be.

  He walked down the hallway, whistling as if he hadn’t a care in the world, but his rumbling, grumbling insides were on red-alert.

  People huddled around the wings, watching Skye and the Vandals.

  No one stopped him.

  No one paid attention to him.

  No one cared.

  His tight muscles uncoiled like a snake. He’d made it. He snuck into her dressing room. Different sexy outfits hung on one rack. He walked over and sniffed a pair of her leggings–reminding him of a pumpkin spice. He thought about snagging them, but she’d miss them. Instead, he settled on a leopard scarf.

  Skye’s make-up was neatly organized in rows of eye-shadows, mascaras, and lipsticks, on a white dressing room table. His Skye had perfect silky skin and had no need for cover-up.

  He took the lipstick out of his pocket and wrote a message in big red letters across the large oval mirror. He opened his backpack and scattered black rose petals across the floor.

  “I’ll see you soon, Skye.”

  He left as quietly as he came, smelling the scarf as he headed toward his car.

  Chapter 2

  “Rock out, Bitches!” Skye Carr closed her fist and raised her left arm high over her head. The flood lights beamed down on her like a burning comet. Sweat trickled down her flush face and into her eyes.

  The spotlight fanned the cheering crowd, fluttering over mindless faces. Her breath dried up. Dried up like a prune.

  Hector’s gaze was on her.

  She couldn’t see him. But he was out there. He was always there.

  Watching her. Hunting her. Terrifying her.

  She pasted on a fake smile. “Thank you very much, Denver.”

  A bitter, sour taste filled her mouth as if she’d sucked on a bottle of whiskey. He’d hurt her once before. She’d never let him do it again.

  “Vandals! Vandals! Vandals!”

  The crowd roared, clapped, and whistled, chasing the horror from her whizzing heart.

  Pretending nothing was wrong, she strutted and motioned toward the back of the stage. “Let’s hear it for my drummer––Davey Logan.”

  Davey rapped on the drums and slammed the snare. His long hair flew around him like a hurricane.

  She smiled. His drums pumped up her blood.

  Gary Stanford was a few inches away. The lighting reflected off his shiny head. He was sweating as badly as she was. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Gary Stanford on the bass guitar.”

  He strummed on the guitar, making it sing and hitting a high pitch. The crowd howled and screamed.

  Skye ran her fingers through her sleek, sweaty hair. “Jeff Weaver on rhythm guitar.”

  Jeff hopped across the stage, jamming on his guitar. His long blond bangs hung over his eyes, but he never missed a beat.

  On stage, she felt safe with her band. They’d never let anything happen to her, but off stage was a different manner. The boys couldn’t be with her twenty-four-seven.

  They walked to the edge and held hands, then bowed three times. Jeff squeezed her hand tightly. He always gave her a reassuring grip that everything would be okay. She gave him a brief smile just to make him feel better.

  But he didn’t have Hector Savage following his every move. No, it was just her.

  They all took another bow then raised their fists.

  Skye picked up the microphone. “Good night, Colorado!”

  She and the band escaped to the backstage. As soon as they left, the bright lights turned on.

  The Vandals’ manager, Steve Walker, waited in the wings and held up his palm. “Good show everyone.”

  He was shorter than the other guys and wore his wavy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. With his wire-rimmed glasses, he always reminded Skye of John Lennon.

  Jeff, Gary, and Davey all gave him a quick high-five.

  “Thanks, man.” Davey rubbed his palms together. “Ready to party?”

  Jeff and Gary looked at each other, grinning. “Hell, yes.” Their voices reminded her of a couple of frat boys ready to go out on the town.

  “Last gig for a while.” Jeff shook his head. “I’m ready for a rest.”

  Davey gave Skye’s shoulder a brotherly squeeze. “Going to join us?”

  Sandra, Skye’s best friend, hurried to meet her with a big whole beaming grin on her face. For once, she’d worn her blond hair down and wore jeans and T-shirt.

  “No, I’m going to hang out with Sandra.”

  “Hi everyone.” She clapped her hands together and gazed at Davey with a love-sick puppy smile. “You were so good, Davey. I mean super good.”

  Davey’s smile ran away, and he dropped
his arms to his sides. He glanced behind him as if he were looking for a fast get away.

  Stupid idiot.

  Sandra was the smartest woman Skye knew, complete with a sexy body. Davey wasn’t interested. Sandra had a brain.

  “Davey, do you want to have a drink with Skye and me?”

  Skye grimaced at the over eagerness dripping from Sandra’s eyes and voice.

  Davey ran his hand through his messed-up hair. “Got plans, babe.” He held up his two fingers. “Peace out.”

  “Bye.” Sandra hung her head like the kid picked last.

  Skye put her arm around her slumped shoulders. “Come on, girlie, we’ll make plans of our own.”

  Sandra looked at her with the admiration of a kid sister. “Skye, that was amazing!”

  Skye gave her a tight squeeze. “Thanks, Smartie-Pants.”

  Sandra whispered in her ear. “God, Davey’s so cute, but he doesn’t even know I’m alive.”

  Skye kissed her check. “I love Davey, but sometimes he’s a total moron.”

  “I’m just not a sexy babe.”

  Skye hugged her. “Yes, you are. With an IQ that would make Einstein jealous. Never forget that.”

  Sandra’s cheeks turned bright red. She pushed up the glasses that framed her lavender eyes. “No wonder you’re in great shape. You must shed a thousand pounds the way you dance up on stage.”

  Skye sighed, whenever it came to compliments, Sandra changed the subject. Her mother sure had done a number on her.

  Skye took a towel that one of the roadies offered her and wiped her forehead. “It’s a work out.” She chugged a bottle of water. “Let’s go back to my dressing room, and then let’s party and pig out. I’m starving.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Skye led the way to her dressing room that was down the hallway. She scanned the walls and doorways for any signs of Hector Savage.

  “Party, party, party.” Skye pumped her fist and overly exaggerated her walk as if she’d already had a couple of drinks.

  Forget Hector.

  Sandra bounced on her feet as she walked alongside her. “Been waiting all week for this. My one time to escape the lab.”

  Skye winked. “It will be a night to remember.” She opened the door and froze.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Hector. Here.

  Not safe. Not safe. Not safe.

  Hot sweat. Ice-cold.

  Goosebumps broke out like small pox. Terror ripped into her heart like claws. She raised a shaking hand and covered her mouth. “Sandra.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  Red lipstick was scribbled across the mirror.

  You can’t escape me. I’ll always find you.

  Black rose petals were scattered on the floor.

  Sandra clasped her arm. “Oh, God, Skye.”

  “Steve.” Skye’s quiet voice skyrocketed to panic. “Steve!”

  Steve, Gary, Davey, and Jeff all raced toward her like the cavalry, roadies traveling behind.

  Tears stung Skye’s eyes. She pointed, her arm shaking. “Steve, you promised. You promised.”

  Steve grabbed her arms. “Skye, get a hold of yourself. Calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down, Jerk-off.” She yanked free of his hands. “You’re not the one who has to constantly look over your shoulder. You’re not the one who has to sleep with one eye open. You’re not the one who’s life has gone to shit.”

  Steve backed away and looked around as if to see if anyone would come to his rescue.

  But no one did.

  Jeff stuck out his thumb. “I’ll get security.”

  “Skye, I swear–”

  She held up her hand. “Shut up. Just shut up.”

  Steve’s eyes were sadder than an abandoned kitten.

  Skye took a deep breath and put her hand on top of her chest. Bambambambambam. Her heartbeat thumped louder than Davey’s bass drum during the finale. “I’m sorry. But how…how did Mr. Tall-dark-and-creepy get in here? The restraining order I have is fucking worthless.”

  Steve shook his head. “I don’t know. I locked this room personally.”

  She glared, plastering her arms to her side. She wanted to scratch out his pleading eyes. “I want out of here.”

  Steve frowned. “And go where?” His quiet voice scratched her nerves like a Brillo pad.

  Where could she go? Skye hugged her shoulders and rested her chin on her chest. “I don’t know.” Her angry voice shriveled into a whimper.

  A young security officer marched into the room. “I’m Officer Griffith. What’s going on here?”

  Skye tilted her head. “Dude…look…at the mirror.”

  He looked at the mirror then the black roses on the floor. “Do you know who did this?”

  Skye hesitated, remembering Hector’s punishments, his last threat, his steely eyes.

  Fuck him.

  “Savage. Hector Savage.”

  Officer Griffith pulled out a pad of paper and pen. “Who is he? A former lover?”

  “No. He was a psycho roadie obsessed with me.” Her sizzling voice electrified the room.

  The men all cowered. She could almost hear their thoughts. Crazy woman. Hormones out of whack.

  “I fired him several months ago.” Steve took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge between his nose. “I don’t understand how he got in here. I locked this door myself.”

  Jeff hugged Skye. “He’s a sicko. We won’t let him hurt you.”

  He’d said the same thing last time.

  Davey glared at Steve as if it were his fault. “Should be locked behind bars.”

  “Okay.” Griffith pulled out his radio. “I’ll contact the police. In the mean time, no one touch anything. I need everyone to step outside of the room.”

  Sandra escorted Skye out of the dressing room into the soft lit hallway. Davey, Gary, Jeff, and Steve, spread out around them like a human shield as they headed to the backstage to wait for the cops. The lights were doused in the mezzanine and front row seats. Chills whisked down Skye’s back and she couldn’t stop trembling. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Hector was hiding in the shadows, ready to lunge for her like a blood-thirsty vampire.

  She had to get out of here.

  “Skye, listen to me,” Sandra said in a hushed voice.

  “What?”

  She cupped her mouth and leaned next to Skye’s ear. “Do you remember my family’s cabin in Frisco?”

  Skye nodded. She’d never been to Sandra’s cabin, but knew it was in the heart of sky country.

  Sandra pulled Skye’s neck closer. “The cabin’s secluded, and there’s a caretaker up there. My mother just hired him to take care of it. I guarantee he won’t let anyone near the place.”

  “But…”

  Sandra put her finger on Skye’s quivering mouth. “I’ll take care of it. No one will know you’re there.”

  Skye’s heart ping-ponged into panic. Her dressing rooms hadn’t been safe. Five-star hotels hadn’t been safe. How could a cabin in the woods be safe?

  “Please.” Sandra squeezed her trembling hand.

  Skye bit her lip, hoping Hector didn’t have super-sonic hearing. “Okay.”

  A few days later, Skye was on her way to Sandra’s cabin. Sandra insisted on driving her gray practical Toyota.

  No bells. No whistles. No leather seats. No GPS.

  But then, Sandra could find her way back from the lost City of Atlantis.

  To fool Hector, they’d parked Skye’s Black Escalade––that had every fancy bell and whistle––at Jeff’s house. His house was on the opposite end of the Earth from Frisco.

  Skye had wrapped her hair up and hid it underneath a Colorado Rockies baseball cap. She had six of them and had one always stuffed in her purse just in case she needed to hide her bright red hair. She drummed her fingers on the armrest and kept glancing in the rearview mirror.

  “Will you relax?” Sandra patted Skye’s knee. “Steve said Hector’s stuck at the Denver poli
ce station.” She squeezed gently. “You’re safe.”

  Skye couldn’t bring herself to tell Sandra what had happened last time. She rested her head back. “You don’t know Hector. He’s a freaking bloodhound. I don’t know why. I’m not a supermodel.”

  Sandra put her hand back on the steering wheel. “Are you kidding? Men can’t take their eyes off you. Even when you’re wearing that stupid cap.”

  “Normally, that would have made me feel good, but it only makes me vulnerable. Maybe I should shave my head and gain five hundred pounds.”

  Sandra clicked her tongue. “Even if you did that, there’s no guarantee that Hector would leave you alone. You have a light that shines in you, Skye. A light that draws people to you.” She lowered her voice. “Like me.”

  Skye rubbed her temples. “I must have a death-wish. You really think this is a good idea to go to your cabin?”

  “Absolutely. You need a break, Skye. No one knows where you’re going, but me.”

  Skye didn’t buy Sandra’s overly confident voice. She caught a tremor of doubt. “I don’t know. I feel like I needed to let Steve know.”

  “Honey, from what you told me, whenever you tell Steve, somehow Hector has found out where you’ve been hiding.” She clutched Skye’s hand. “You need to trust someone else for once.”

  “Trust doesn’t come easy for me these days,” Skye mumbled.

  Steve had lost her trust with his insistence about keeping her safe. Sandra was heading into the same maze of mistrust.

  “But I’ll stay there. I’d feel better if I had a pack of pit bulls and an uzi.”

  Sandra stared straight ahead. “Not very optimistic, are you?” Her small voice mimicked the one she used when her mother criticized her hypotheses.

  Which was often.

  Skye was about to apologize but a dark-windowed car passed them. A red sports car. The same model Hector had.