The Final Countdown [Beyond the Angel Pack 5] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) Read online

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. I’m on team Edward. Well, I’m on team Edward and Jacob together actually. They really need to get rid of Bella and just jump each other, you know? I heard they were thinking about making it into a movie. I’m not sure about that though. Usually Hollywood destroys books when they make them into movies. They would really have to find some great people to play the roles though, and then maybe it will have a chance,” the young man rambled on.

  “What are you talking about?” Nicco asked in confusion. He had no idea what the hottie was babbling about. Who were Edward and Jacob, and what did that have to do with this kid finding him sucking the blood from the vagrant?

  “Twilight. Have you ever read it? It came out about a year ago. There is another one coming out soon, and I hope my foster Mom will let me get it. I had to sneak the first one from Ginny’s room while she slept, then get it back before she woke up, or there would have been hell to pay.”

  Nicco shook his head as he stared at the young man. “This is a book you’re talking about?”

  The young man sighed. “Yeah. Twilight. I guess you never heard of it. I mean, why would you with you being old and all? It’s a book for young girls actually, but I love it.”

  “Old?” Nicco asked with a raised brow.

  “Yeah. What are you like twenty-five? That’s too old to be reading a book like that.”

  Nicco smiled. Did this kid seriously just say he looked twenty-five? He would have to rub that in Vik’s face. If this kid only knew he had just celebrated his two-thousandth birthday. Of course, being a vampire, he didn’t look it, but he certainly didn’t look twenty-five either. Thirty maybe.

  “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone that you’re a blood sucker. I mean a vampire. Even if I did say anything, no one would believe me. My foster parents don’t give a crap as long as we don’t cause trouble and they keep getting their money from the state. The other kids in the house couldn’t care less what I said or did. They’re all just waiting to age out, and as long as I don’t touch their stuff, they kind of ignore me. And my caseworker doesn’t believe anything I say. When I told her the asshole John, my last foster father, was looking at me like I was a feast and I could tell he wanted me, she just ignored me. Then when John did come after me and tried to molest me, she lied to her bosses and said she had no idea, and then dropped me off with the Winston’s. Everyone knows the Winstons are the ones you go to when they can’t put you anywhere else and you just have to bide your time until you age out.”

  Nicco’s head was hurting from this kid’s ramblings. But from what he could gather, the kid was in the human foster system and living in a foster home. “What’s your name, kid?” Nicco asked.

  “I’m not a kid. I’m sixteen,” the kid grumbled angrily as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  Nicco smirked. “Forgive me, I’m sorry, sir. So, what is your name, Mister?” Nicco teased.

  “Thaddeus Blake, but everyone calls me Thad. And who are you besides a vampire?”

  “Nikolai Sinclaire, but everyone calls me Nicco.”

  “So, Nicco, are you going to have to wipe my mind like you did that guy, now that I discovered you?” Thad asked.

  “To ensure no one finds out about my kind, yes. How did you know I wiped out his memories?”

  “I don’t know. I just did. I watched you talking to him, then saw what you did. Now he’s sitting there with a strange far-off look on his face, so I figured you must have done something to him.”

  “You’re a pretty smart kid,” Nicco stated.

  “I’m not a kid. I may only be sixteen, but I’m more mature for my age than most.”

  “I believe you,” Nicco said with a chuckle.

  Thad narrowed his eyes at Nicco as he glared at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No, beautiful, Thad, I am definitely not laughing at you. I find you fascinating.”

  “And beautiful, I heard you say beautiful. Do you really think I am? Or are you just pulling my leg?”

  “No. I think you are gorgeous,” Nicco answered. And he did. Thad was incredibly beautiful, and Nicco had no doubt his looks would only enhance as Thad got older. He still had a few years of growing to do, but once he was an adult, Nicco knew he would be a heartbreaker.

  “I think you’re pretty sexy yourself there, Nicco. If I were only a little older, maybe you would give me a shot,” Thad flirted.

  “When you are no longer jailbait, come and see me, Thad. I will definitely give you a shot.” And Nicco meant it. It wasn’t every day you met your mate.

  Chapter One

  Today

  The roar of the crowd was deafening, and the clapping of hands and stomping of feet so thunderous he could feel it vibrating through his chest. Dax sang the last line of the song, holding the note for a few beats. The music stopped, the spotlight went out, and the lights above the stage went dark. The excitement of the audience increased as they began to chant, “Dax, Dax, Dax!”

  He had already done two encores and needed to get off the stage. His head was pounding, and he needed the bathroom. Dax made his way off the stage with the guys from his band on his heels. They separated, each going to their own dressing room. Once, a long time ago, he and the guys in his band had sort of been close. Then the day came where they had given him an ultimatum. It was either the man he loved or the band and the record contract they had signed. Dax didn’t want to give up either, but he knew he had to walk away from the one he loved for his own good, not Dax’s.

  It had damn near destroyed him, giving up the one who owned his heart, but this life on the road and in the spotlight, would have been too much for him, and Dax wouldn’t risk it. For six months after the promoter came to see him, he had tried to stay and make it all work, but he needed to be out on the West Coast, not in Pennsylvania. So he gave up his relationship and walked away. He and the guys moved to LA, recorded their first album, and went on tour. Dax had been so heartbroken and guilt-ridden for what he had done, that he turned into the stereotypical rock star. Drugs, alcohol, and sex. He drowned himself in an overabundance of each, trying to forget and chase the memories away.

  Their manager insisted he had to stay in the closet because the world was not ready for a gay hard-rock singer. The more that was taken away from him, the more resentful he became. He loved writing music, recording, and going on tour, but he hated the loneliness. After the first few years, he pulled away from the guys more and more. He blamed them for the hole in his heart and the emptiness that consumed him. One by one, the guys all found someone to love, and they were allowed to grab onto their relationships and deepen them, but he wasn’t. The guys also started resenting him because as the lead singer, he got more attention and fame than they did. So, the rift between them grew. Now they only made music together, but then ignored one another otherwise.

  Dax walked into his dressing room and slammed the door, quickly regretting it when his head felt like it would explode. Dax dropped down into his chair and grabbed the bottle of Jim Beam that sat there. He unscrewed the cap, placed the bottle to his lips, and tilted his head back, taking a long swallow. He lowered the bottle and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was soaked and plastered to his head and face. The makeup they made him wear, so he didn’t wash out in the lights, was running down his face, and his eyes were as dead as they had been since that day he broke his love’s heart and ripped his own out in the process.

  The door swung open, and Dax’s gaze met Jonas’s, their manager, in the mirror. “Don’t go too hard on that shit, you have to meet with some radio people in fifteen minutes,” Jonas stated as he walked in.

  “I’m not in the mood,” Dax grumbled and then took another drink.

  “Well, too fucking bad. You know the game, Dax. Make nice with the locals, and they play your shit. So pull yourself together and get your ass out there.”

  “Fuck you. You may be our manager, but we pay your salary, which means you work for us, no
t the other way around. So tell me what to do one more fucking time and watch how fast I stick my boot up your ass,” Dax replied, and then drank again.

  “Are we gonna have this argument again?” Jonas asked as he dropped down on the sofa to Dax’s left.

  Dax didn’t answer right away. He just took another drink of the bourbon. His headache was down to a dull throb, but now he felt light-headed. Dax wiped a hand over his brow as he took in a deep breath. His stomach began to churn, and Dax started feeling as if he were drugged.

  “Did you hear me?” Jonas asked as he stood and came to stand behind Dax.

  “What?” Dax asked, confused by what Jonas asked and why his voice suddenly sounded slurred. Yes, he had taken a few hits of the bourbon in his hands, but not enough to affect him yet. Shit, he had always been able to drink bottles of the crap before he felt any kind of buzz.

  “Dax? Are you okay, man?” Jonas asked and moved to stand in front of him.

  “Shit, man, of course I am,” Dax slurred as he stood and pushed Jonas away. The room spun, and Dax stumbled. Jonas caught him, but it was too late. Just as he felt Jonas grab his arm, everything went black and Dax could feel himself dropping.

  * * * *

  He heard a strange beeping coming from far off somewhere. Dax had no idea what it was, but the sound was getting fucking annoying. His eyelids felt heavy, but he fought against it and slowly peeked them open. His eyes were a bit blurry to start, but after blinking a few times, he was able to focus on the white ceiling tiles with the million little black holes. The sight twisted and morphed, and then suddenly he was looking at white fluffy clouds swirling around. Dax sat up quickly, but the clouds were gone, and the white tiles were back. What the hell?

  Pain raced through his gut, and Dax hissed as he looked down. That’s when he noticed he was lying in a bed under white sheets and he was wearing an ugly pink flowered hospital gown. He was sure Jonas and the guys were getting a kick out of him wearing that. Dax rolled his eyes, and a wave of dizziness hit him. Dax dropped back to the mattress.

  “You’re awake. Hold on, Dax, I’ll get the nurse,” Glenn, his bodyguard, said as he came into Dax’s vision. The large man ran from the room and returned a few minutes later with a cute nurse in her late twenties with black hair.

  She smiled as she came closer. “Hello, Mr. Dalton. I’m Shelly, and I’m your nurse. Let me take your vitals. I already called the doctor, and he’s one his way.”

  After that, everything was a whirlwind of activities. Shelly poked and prodded him, and then a short, balding man in a white coat came in and poked at him some more as he asked a million questions. Dax answered all of them, but still had no idea what was going on. Once the doctor stopped his exam, he asked Dax if he had any questions.

  “Yeah, what the hell happened?”

  “From what we can tell, you drank a little too much and passed out. We had to pump your stomach,” the doctor replied in a tight voice. Dax could tell the man disapproved of what he was claiming Dax had done.

  “I still don’t understand. I only had a few short sips off that bourbon—I shouldn’t even be drunk, forget needing my stomach pumped.”

  “Although we did only find a small amount of alcohol in your belly, I think most of it had already moved through your system,” the doc stated.

  “Well, think again, Doc, because I had just got off stage after sweating my balls off for almost three hours under those hot lights. I only drink water while performing, and I didn’t have anything besides tea before the show. There is no way a couple of shots of bourbon caused this.”

  The doctor looked at him in confusion. “Are you sure all you had was a few shots?”

  “Yes. Four tops.”

  “Then I don’t understand,” the doctor said and looked at a chart, skimming through some papers.

  “Did you run blood work?” Dax asked.

  “Yes, I’m looking for those results,” the doctor answered.

  “Then you should see there is no alcohol in my blood. I only drank the small amount, and you said you pumped it out,” Dax insisted.

  Just then the door opened, and Jonas walked in. “The nurse said you were awake. Hello, doctor. How’s our boy here?” Jonas asked and moved to stand next to the bed.

  “Shut up, Jonas, and don’t call me your boy,” Dax bitched.

  “Is that anyway to talk to the man that saved your life from alcohol poisoning?”

  “It was not alcohol poisoning, asshole. Since when do you know me to drink on stage?” Dax demanded.

  Jonas pulled back, looking at him skeptically. “Never, but what does that have to do with this?”

  “Do the math,” Dax replied.

  “Mr. Dalton is correct. There is no alcohol in his blood. I had the lab run a full panel checking for all kinds of drugs…” The doctor trailed off.

  “Let me guess. Because I’m a rock star,” Dax stated bitterly.

  “Frankly, yes, and what they found is disturbing,” the doc answered.

  “And what is that, Doctor?” Jonas asked.

  The doctor gave Dax a questioning look, and Dax nodded. “There is a large dose of Rohypnol, along with diphenhydramine and Fluothane in your system. If that drug wasn’t present, I would question your honesty, Mr. Dalton.”

  “Why is that, Doc?” Dax asked.

  “These days many people use Rohypnol and diphenhydramine as party drugs, but Fluothane is a drug used in anesthesia and is usually something prescribed.”

  “Can you tell me what this means, Doc?” Dax questioned.

  “All of these drugs have been used in committing crimes over the past few years. You may have heard of date-rape drugs.”

  “Yeah, sure, but I thought that was Ecstasy, otherwise known as X. That’s GHB, right?”

  “No, GHB and X are two different drugs, but are the most common ones heard of right now, but this other one was also used. Tell me, Mr. Dalton, did you feel sick? Nauseated, headache, chills? Maybe even shortness of breath or racing heart?”

  “Actually, yes. While I was on stage, I got hit with a wave of nausea, and I had trouble catching my breath. I just thought it was from performing, but thought it was odd because I never had that problem before. Then we were pushed back on stage to do another encore, and suddenly my head felt like it wanted to rip open. When I got back to my dressing room, I didn’t want to talk to anyone because the headache was just getting worse. Then I woke up here,” Dax explained.

  “While you’re on stage, do you have a towel or anything like that? Maybe something to drink?” the doc asked.

  Dax thought that was a strange question. “Yeah. We all sweat like pigs up there with all the lights and the jumping around. I keep a towel in the wings on either side of the stage, so I can grab them quick.”

  “I would like to have one of those towels to run some tests on, as well as that bottle of bourbon you were drinking,” the doctor said.

  Dax looked at Jonas. “Right. I’ll call over to Dusty and have him grab them,” Jonas responded.

  “Have him put them in a plastic bag of some kind to limit exposure to others,” the doc instructed.

  “Sure,” Jonas said and pulled his phone from his back pocket.

  * * * *

  It turned out the bottle and the towel both contained one or more of those drugs the doc had mentioned. After talking with the doc and the police, as well as Jonas, it was decided that someone was trying to drug and maybe kidnap Dax. Once the discussion started, Dax couldn’t hold back what he knew, and against Jonas’s advice, he told them about the stalker he had been dealing with for the past six months. He showed the cops the notes he had received and the texts. He had changed his phone number four times, and each time whoever this was was still able to get his new number and text him. The band’s head of security kept everything just in case, and Dax had told him to give everything to the cops.

  Because of who he was and the fact that it was happening across state lines, the FBI had been called in to inves
tigate. They recommended he get new bodyguards and add a few. Jonas had called one of the top bodyguard companies in the world and had them send over a few guys right away to stick by his side until the tour ended. They only had another week worth of shows, and now it was over. But instead of going home to LA, Dax was being kept in a luxury hotel in Chicago. He had been here for just over a week and all was quiet. Then this morning his phone beeped with a message and everything changed.

  Hello, Dax,

  You think you can hide from me, but you can’t. I told you that no matter where you go I would find you. Stop running from me. You’re mine, Dax, and I won’t give you up. You’ve had your fun, and now the tour is over, so it’s time you finally came home. It’s time for you take your rightful place by my side. I’ll be there soon to collect you, then we can finally be together forever. I will see you soon, lover.

  -O

  Now he sat in the back of a large SUV as it drove east down I-80. Two of his new bodyguards sat in the front seat, and another two sat in the third-row seating behind him. He wanted to laugh every time one of them grunted. He knew they were uncomfortable back there. These men were all so big that their knees had to be hugging their ears sitting back there, but Dax refused to turn and look, not wanting to bust out laughing in their faces.

  “So where are we going?” Dax asked.

  “We have a safe house in Cleveland. There is no way, whoever this guy is, that he’ll know where you are,” Ryder answered.

  “Cleveland? Great,” Dax sighed.

  “Look at it this way, Dax. It’s better than dead, or whatever sick shit this asshole has in mind for you,” Eddie replied.

  “Why not somewhere tropical, like Barbados or Tahiti? I could use some R and R on a nice sunny beach right about now.”