Page 26 of Savage Salvation

“Yep. A perk along with our handsome payday,” Cruz boasts, locking the door of the van that’s safely tucked in the corner of the garage, but I still feel uneasy about leaving the gear exposed when there’s a madman within the vicinity. But Cruz reassured me that he spoke with the night security staff to let them know all of our lifelines would be parked here overnight.

“Feels more like a kickback,” Isaac mumbles as we make our way into the lobby and step on to the elevator.

“I’m not tired at all.” Cruz looks to the three of us. Isaac and Benji seem completely calm, having already come down from the performance adrenaline. I’d never felt it kick in at all for me tonight, and now I’m even more tired. Clearly, Cruz isn’t ready for the night to end when he continues, “Y’all want to hang out for a while before we crash?” The invitation is meant for everyone, but his eyes are on me.

And my answer is a quick no, and Isaac and Benji follow suit.

“Y’all a bunch of killjoys.”

“Totally,” Isaac quips.

“Damn, dude. You got us this gig. I figured you’d be the happiest.”

Isaac mumbles something under his breath, stepping off the elevator.

I should check in with him, but I can’t deal with whatever this mood is. There will be plenty of time to talk on the four-hour ride home bright and early in the morning. The doors open for Cruz’s floor as he turns pointing to the both of us. “Last chance. Party on the tenth floor.”

“Pass,” Benji replies as I say, “Nope.” Again.

“Yeah. Fine. See y’all in the morning.” Cruz’s previous excitement has completely waned as the doors close, leaving just me and Benji ascending in silence until he steps off on the eighteenth floor.

“See you in the morning,” he says before the doors close behind him. He really is my favorite (and least moody) bandmate right now.

The elevator rises to the twenty-third, and highest, floor. As I step off, my fingers clutch the strap of my overnight bag. I really should’ve asked Isaac to switch rooms because being on the highest floor isn’t making me feel any better about staying here tonight. Once I slide the keycard in the slot, get the green light indicating the door is unlocked, and push my way into the room, amazement overcomes my apprehension.

The room is at least triple the size of any others we’ve ever stayed in, and I have this one all to myself. The lights of the skyline catch my eye but seeing I’m above almost everything makes my knees feel wobbly, so I walk over and shut the curtains to block out the night view of the city lights and head to the bathroom. The residual unease leaves me when I see the gorgeous en suite bathroom. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls encasing a vast showering area in the corner catches my full attention. I bypass the Jacuzzi tub; I just want a long, hot shower, and that’s what I indulge in. I’ve lost track of time, but I’d guess it’s been at least an hour of standing under the never-ending hot water. It simply felt too good to leave any sooner. The soft robe perfectly folded on the countertop looks inviting, but I opt to pull on my flannel pants and a T-shirt instead. I’m comfy here, but not that comfortable because I’m waiting on someone to tell me this was a mistake and I’m supposed to be sleeping elsewhere.

Once I unlock the bathroom door, I push it open and watch the steam waft out. Double checking the room door, I see the bar is still latched in place, so I make my way over to the king-size bed, pull the white down comforter back, then slide between the smooth sheets. My only thought is I hope Isaac can get us booked here a few more times as I drift off to sleep.

* * *

The banging against the door causes me to sit straight up, my heart hammering against my chest as the knocking continues. Looking over to the clock on the nightstand, I see the time is 3:23, the room still dark. The pounding continues against the door as I tiptoe to peek through the lookout hole. I expected a hotel manager, here to tell me to leave. Or even one of the guys telling me it’s time to go. Or maybe Gage with some ridiculous scheme to barge his way into the room. But it’s none of the above.

Memphis raises his fist and beats on the door again. “Kinsley, wake up.”

I’m more awake than I’ve ever been, so I unlatch the deadbolt—but leave the bar over the door—and pull it open the few inches it allows.

“Finally,” Memphis says with relief instead of the frustration I’d expected. “I need your help.”

“Go away.” I move to push the door closed, but the way he desperately pleads my name makes me halt. Pulling it back open, I look through the small opening at him. “What is it now?” Gage is up to something. He always is. And Memphis is the middleman.

“I need you to come with me.”

“Not gonna happen. Tell Gage to fuck off.” Especially since he disturbed my excellent night’s sleep in the comfortable bed.

“I can’t tell him,” Gage says, pushing his hand in between the door and the frame so I’m unable to shut it. “Kinsley, please come with me.”

I’m understanding why they are friends if he’s as relentless as Gage. “I will smash your hand in the door. Move it.”

“Sid is dead.”

Gage’s dad is dead? Those were the last words I expected to hear. “What?”

“Hayden called earlier and gave him the news. He seemed fine, but the moment his door shut behind me, he flipped out. I could hear him shouting and shit crashing around the room, but he won’t open the fucking door for me.” Memphis pauses. “He will for you. Please, get him to open the fucking door so I can check on him. I’ve been trying for hours, but he won’t give in. He hated his father, but he’s not okay, Kinsley. Please.”

My fingers cling to the cold metal doorknob, my mind spins a million miles a minute. But the only thought that breaks through is the ten-year-old version of Gage I saw crying for his mom mere months before I did the same for mine. But that Gage no longer exists anywhere but in my memories. And even he is fading out. “I can’t help you … or him.”

“That’s a shame. Because you seem to be the only person he cares about.”