Session

Session Saving Abbie book 3 Maggie Alabaster Copyright © 2022 by Mirren Hogan 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. Cover by Book Brander Edited by Lily Luchesi Proofread by Nora Hogan Contents Untitled 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 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 About the Author Also by Maggie Alabaster Holding On Written by Tully Cole And any way you spin the words, You can’t help hearing yes. But there is never long enough, To tell me all the rest. I’m holding on, Barely holding on. Saving time, for you. I’m holding on, Hardly holding on, To the one I never knew. Time is an illusion, You know it never ends. But the start is no beginning, The healing never mends. I’m holding on, Barely holding on. Saving time, for you. I’m holding on, Hardly holding on, To the one I never knew. The choices you told me, The race to the lie, It will never be over, For you and him and I. I’m holding on, Barely holding on. Saving time, for you. I’m holding on, Hardly holding on, To the one I’ll never know. 1 Abbie "On the up side, she's quiet this way," Asher remarked. "She can't ask any stupid questions." "Yeah, that's the takeaway here," I said. The band and I were sitting in a hotel room in Adelaide, nearly at the end of the Australian leg of the tour, looking at the disembodied head of tabloid journalist Poppy Newton. The last time I saw her, she managed to get backstage at the festival in far North Queensland, just after I got hit in the face with a can. The band's manager, Jackson Beckett, and the owner of the label, Levi Jones, had security remove her. Things got a little heated, but not so out of hand that I expected to see her like this. Asher shrugged. "I'm not wrong." "Can we stop Asher from making stupid comments?" Penn asked from where he stood near the window. I didn’t know if he was standing guard or trying to keep apart from the rest of us. Maybe both. Of all the guys, he was by far the touchiest. I ignored Penn's comment and looked over at Zeke. "Please tell me you know a guy." His family was basically Australian mafia. If anyone could clean up this shit, it would be them. Same with Asher's family. Zeke shook his head slowly. "Not in this city, no," he said regretfully. "We'll figure something out." A knock at the door made me jump so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if I hit my head on the roof. "Jesus fucking Christ," I said under my breath. "Landon, see who it is," Zeke said to the rhythm guitarist. The younger guy nodded and bent to look through the peephole. "It's Jackson." Zeke only hesitated for a moment. "Let him in. He should know about this." Landon unlocked the door and eased it open. Jackson looked at him funny. "Anyone would think you guys are up to something." He stepped inside. Landon closed and locked the door behind him. "When have we ever done anything wrong?" he asked sweetly. Jackson raised his eyebrows at him. "Now I know you're up to something. What is it?" "This," said Tully, the lead guitarist. He waved towards the suitcase with Poppy's head inside it. Jackson stepped over and peered inside. His brow creased heavily. "Fuck.” His face paled, then he looked a little green. Hands to either side, he took a few steps back. “Where the hell—" He shook his head, turned and staggered into the small bathroom. He thudded to his knees in front of the toilet, retched a couple of times before being loudly, violently sick. "I guess we can rule out his involvement," Asher said lightly. "I'll make sure he's okay." Channing slipped into the bathroom. "What are we going to do with her?" I perched on the edge of a chair to the side of the room. "People are going to notice her disappearance. It's been almost twenty-four hours already, if I had to guess. I mean, that's about how long it's been since I saw her." "Same here." Jackson emerged from the bathroom, his face wet where he must have rinsed it. Channing had a hand on his shoulder. "As far as I know, security escorted her out, and she left the festival. I have no idea where she went after that." Jackson rubbed a hand over his damp forehead. "If I knew she was going to end up like this, I would have kept tabs on her." "Did anyone see her after she was kicked out?" Zeke asked. "You guys were on stage at the time," I pointed out. "She was long gone before you were finished." "That's right," Jackson said. He looked thoughtful, his eyes everywhere but on the head. "Asher, if we can repackage her and I can get a courier to take her to Melbourne, can you have your sister Rose deal with her?" "Absolutely," Asher agreed. "I'll talk to her now. How do you guys feel about the last person she spoke to being the guy who threw the can at Abbie?" I touched the mark on the side of my face left by the can. It could have been worse, but that asshole triggered a bunch of other people to throw cans and bottles onto the stage too. Monkey see, monkey fucking do. In spite of that, I said, "I don't want anyone to get in trouble for