Page 91 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

“I’m sorry to hear that. Liv sends her best. She wanted to come, but she’s with Caden at the doctor—just a cold, nothing serious.”

Remi stood behind Ben, arms crossed over his chest, shifting his weight impatiently. “So where’s Keltie? I need to talk to her.”

The tone in his voice raised my hackles. I took a deep breath, reminding myself we were in a hospital and Luna needed him to cooperate. “She’s with Luna, who’s very ill. She’s not leaving her daughter’s side.”

Remi’s mouth tightened. “I didn’t drive all the way here to be put off. I need to speak with her directly.”

I squared my shoulders. “I said no, Remi, and I meant it.”

“I’m not doing any bloody test without talking to her first,” he declared, his chin jutting out. “I have conditions.”

“Conditions?” Ben echoed, turning to face him. The disbelief in his voice matched my own. “You haveconditionsfor potentially saving a child’s life?”

Remi’s expression hardened. “I’ve been blindsided enough by this situation. Before I agree to a test, I need to know for sure the kid is even mine.”

Ben’s eyes opened as wide as mine did. “What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“A paternity test. I need proof that kid is mine. For all I know, she screwed every guy in the band.”

Remi’s casual cruelty, his blatant disrespect for Keltie and Luna—at that moment, I saw red. Ben took a step forward, fury etched across his face too, but my fist connected with Remi’s jaw first. The impact sent him stumbling backward, his hand flying to his face.

The sensation of knuckles meeting bone shot up my arm, a burst of pain that I barely registered through the surge of adrenaline.

A woman nearby shrieked, and several heads turned in our direction. Remi straightened, looking ready to lunge at me, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. His eyes burned with anger, but Ben grabbed his arm.

“You fucking hit me!” Remi shouted, drawing more attention.

Hospital security approached fast, led by a guy I recognized from high school. He’d grown into his lanky frame, now filling out the security uniform with broad shoulders.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, his eyes widening as he recognized Ben. “Holy shit, you’re Ben Rice!”

Ben cleared his throat. “Sorry about the disturbance. My friend here”—he nodded toward me—“had a justified reaction to some extremely inappropriate comments about a sick child.”

The guard’s eyes shifted from Ben to me. “Wait. Are you Holt Wheaton? Damn, man, I hardly recognized you. Heard you were playing with CB Rice now. My wife and I have tickets to your Valentine’s show.”

I flexed my stinging hand, feeling the skin pull tight across my knuckles. “Thanks for the support.”

The guy, whose name I still couldn’t remember, looked at Remi, who was holding his jaw, murder in his eyes. “Want me to escort this one out?”

“No,” Ben said firmly. “We need him—unfortunately. He’s here to take a bone marrow test for a child who needs a transplant.”

The guy’s expression changed immediately, understanding dawning. “Luna Marquez? My daughter’s in her class at school and talks about her all the time. Tell her they all miss her. She’s a great kid.”

A rush of warmth filled my chest at the mention of the sweetest, most precious little girl I’d ever met. She’d touched so many lives in her short time in Crested Butte.

Ben stepped closer to Remi, his voice low and cold, but carrying enough that I could hear every word. “You have two choices. Take the test right now, or I fire you on the spot. And I’ll make damn sure everyone in the industry knows exactly why. You’ll never work with another band again.”

Remi’s face paled beneath his well-crafted stubble. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Ben replied, his posture rigid with anger. “After what you said about her mother? I absolutely would. Don’t forget who brought CB Rice to national attention. The contacts are mine, Remi. The relationships are mine. Cross me on this, and you’ll quickly find out how thoroughly I can end your career.”

The standoff lasted several seconds as tension crackled between them. I’d never seen Ben like this—using his influence as a weapon. This was a side of him that explained how he’d risen to the top of a cutthroat industry.

Finally, Remi’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. Where do I go for the fucking test?”

I pointed down the hall. “Lab’s that way.”

“I’ll walk with you,” said Ben.

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